#brain-wave manipulation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shaisuki · 27 days ago

Text

MY HEART IN YOUR HANDS

a night of his love bore a result. one that you can't escape from. you were still determined to let go of him and put him the story and happiness he deserves even you'll be left with nothing but a body with a shattered heart — Zayne is a another story. He's not willing to let you go when he's already in too deep.

❆ ₊⋆ ──── notes. inbox is open for any inquiries and requests that are related to this trilogy. thank you all for the support and the comments that made the sequels possible. i do apologize that it is rushed and all.

❆ ₊⋆ ──── taglist. @sillyfreakfanparty @chersyluvs @inzanekillian @regalillegal @quillsanddaggers @hebreeee @hi-itsmee @lupitalover @animegamerfox @xaakilove @iluvzayne @dstrctaya @roschea-arts @simpingpandas @auraficial @sill33witheen @popejar @skyline-night @aboobie @youraveragereaders @ssetsuka @nothoughts-justzayne

❆ ₊⋆ ──── content warnings. angst + yandere themes + implied noncon/dubcon + babytrapping + emotional manipulation + pregnancy + ooc zayne + possessiveness + brief descriptions of birth + insecurities + grammatical/typo errors.

READ PART ONE. PART TWO

It's probably a stomach bug or you overate which you always did when you're stressed.

That's what you said to yourself after breakfast when you came running to the nearest sink and hurling the contents of your stomach. The first purge came violently and the bits of your breakfast that wasn't digested by your stomach acid splatters on the pristine white sink of his kitchen.

Zayne rushes to your side. His white coat abandoned in the back of his chair and his sleeves are still rolled up while drawing circles in your back. You coughed up a bit, stealing a glance to him and your throat tightens and your stomach lurches forward. Another wave of nausea hits you.

The sound of the faucet being turned on registers in your brain and you watch as the once contents of your stomach slowly disappears and be washed away in the drain.

Concern was etched on his face. He takes a wash cloth, running it under the cold water flowing from the faucet, giving it a squeeze to wring out the excess water before bringing it to wipe the corners of your lips. His hand holding your jaw while he moves it to inspect your face.

After cleaning your mouth, he asks you a question. “We should go to the hospital.” He calmly says but there's a hint of tenderness in there.

“No. It's not necessary.” Straight out refusing him. It's just nausea, typical. There's several reasons for that but Zayne is quick to refute you. One of the cons of being with a doctor.

“It is needed. Clammy hands, elevated pulse and coldness, it could be a underlying symptoms of an illness. It's better to be sure. Your health should not be overlooked.”

Period. He didn't gave you any chance to refuse him again. He came with you all the way to the hospital and got you settled on one of the private rooms. Not the clinic for walk-in checkups or consultations.

You were kind of glad for the coldness of Zayne's hand while it massage the flesh of your arm. Personally taking your vital signs and doing the blood works while a nurse waits for his instructions. He taps your skin before sticking the end of the needle.

“You will feel a pinch.” He warns, it's not like you needed it. You survived in a fatal car crash and was prodded and wired to different machines.

Blood fills the syringe and he takes it out before putting it on a tray. “I need to get this done as soon as possible.” He orders and the nurse nods at him. Taking the needed information about you and rushes outside. Clearly, they were intimidated by Zayne and whatever he said is the unwritten rule in the book.

“You don't have to pause your work for me.” You surmised, resisting the urge to peel the band aid in your arm where he stuck the needle earlier to draw your blood.

“It isn't ideal but it won't hurt anyone for me to accompany you. Considering you're my patient and future wife. ” He affectionately pets your head. Pulling the chair besides your bed where you sat at. He sits right in front of you.

You ignore the last sentence. It doesn't ease your mind when Zayne is being overly affectionate to you like a housecat when it's near feeding time. Always watching, always close. He takes your hands in his. Marveling the smoothness of your own to his own scarred ones.

“It's going to be fine. Treat it like a another check up. We're only here to make sure you're fine.” His voice calm and assuring. Noticing the small tick when you're worried.

It didn't take long for your tests to come back. It wasn't a nurse who appeared but a another doctor. A woman wearing the same white coat similar to Zayne's, their identification card clipped in the left breast pocket of their uniforms.

Opposite to Zayne's stoic expression, she's bubbly for some reason. “Dr. Zayne.” She greeted the cardiac surgeon. A holographic screen appeared in front of her and with a smile that she fails to keep in doing so, she began to speak.

A sense of foreboding washes over you. You bit your lower lip unconsciously.

“There's no irregularities in the result of her blood tests, Dr. Zayne.” Her sight darting over you and Zayne. She glances back at the screen. “Although, the count of her red blood cells are lower and the white blood cells are higher than normal which is expected since hCG are detected in her blood.”

You didn't like where this is going.

“Congratulations, Dr. Zayne. She's pregnant.” She cheerily announces like it was a privilege to find out the most sought and talented cardiac surgeon is about to be a father.

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes at the sudden revelation. You raise your head to look at Zayne. The other doctor left to give you both privacy at the sudden news. Is that mirth on his eyes? It faded before looking at you but nonetheless it is present. His expression lax.

The memories of what transpired that night sent chills to your spine. You desperately wanted to forget that night but the ache in your body throbs and the hickey he left in your neck stings. You didn't know Zayne was capable of doing that.

“Zayne....” Your voice trails off as you call him. “Is it not to early for me to be pregnant?” Disbelief follows your every word. You meet his gaze. Begging for him to say the truth, that it was only a lie, a fluke, a mistake.

He wraps his arm around you. Your head on his chest and your world crashes when he spoke those words. “Blood results doesn't lie. It's more accurate than any other tests.” He explains. “I am glad that you are fine.” He says with such familiarity, voice gentle and warm. It was much tender than what he used when telling a patient of good news.

There's a flicker of revelry on his eyes as his gaze fixated on the windows before looking down at you.

“You're only pregnant.” He whispers. “It was bound to happen.” His hold on you firm. He presses a kiss at the top of your head. “Don't be so afraid.”

His hazel green eyes darkens as he said those words. “You won't be alone, I'll be by your side — just like I promised.” He murmurs. His arms secured around you, sensing that you're about to pull away.

It didn't bring you the assurance or the words you wanted to hear. Your fingers tightens around the crisp coat of his. Enclosed by your fists, you didn't care if it got wrinkled. All you can think is how you're going to raise a child. Your child with him.

“My parents are back.”

Zayne tells you to get a reaction from you while he loosens his tie. He just got home from overtime at the hospital. A traffic incident got him stuck. He expected that you're already asleep considering your condition but you were wide awake. Poring over the pages of your book.

He sees the furrow of your eyebrows from the reflection of the mirror on the wall. “Is it too soon for them to be back?’ Your voice were flat but for the sake of conversation you try to carry. Zayne ignored the tone of your voice. “The conference ended early.”

He takes off his watch and pulls the drawer to put it. Zayne turns around to see you flipping pages of the book. You didn't even glanced at him. Keeping your response clipped and only mmm's and yeah's. You didn't take the news of your pregnancy well.

It was sudden of course, it only happened that night and weeks later, you are with his child. Considering he monitored all your cycles and since you were under his care, there's a little bit of change in your diet. Foods that are nutritious and rich in boosting your chances of fertility. You didn't suspect a thing.

The night when it happened, he got swept away. Strongly feeling those emotions that he wasn't aware of and he snapped when you said those dreadful words. Why would you leave him now? Don't you love him anymore? He only made his point that night despite your tearful protests that breaks his heart.

He feels a bit guilty about it but was soon relieved. It was necessary. You're not going to leave him, not when you're carrying his child and it would be a shame to your family and there's the risk of you getting shunned. Affluent families doesn't take shame lightly. It was losing face and the honor that was built from time to time. He knows your parents won't agree.

It only happened once — you argued to him. After the test results came back all positive for your pregnancy. He easily downplayed it as normal and you were both a couple. Engaged and waiting to be married. A good time for the upcoming union but your tears told another story. You wanted to leave him and he used the oldest trick in the book. Impregnate your stubborn soon-to-be wife. It worked quite well. Side effect? Your fiancée won't take it lightly and will give you the cold shoulder. Fine by him.

He won't let you go that easy.

He keeps a firm grip on your hand as you both walked in the familiar hallways of the posh restaurant. It was traditional and had lasted through the years despite the frequent Wanderers wrecking havoc in the area. Following the maître d' in where the private room with both of your parents are waiting.

This happened a few times. It was usually you would walk behind him. Almost tripping — trying to catch up his long strides. He never bothered to look behind nor waited for you. Deja vu was the thing you hated. Forcing you to replay all the wasted efforts you put. A reminder that you were always overlooked, ignored. This time you weren't. Walking side to side with his hand intertwined to yours.

Birthdays, graduations and the milestones in one's life are always celebrated here in this very restaurant. Yours and his. It's the little things in life, Zayne's mother would say. It's also the way where Zayne, her son to make him come. Even when he's busy with his studies, he would come. Always the dutiful son that respects his mother's wishes.

On those times, he keeps the facade that you two were both fine. Not realizing that their children in front of their parents are strangers. A relationship strained that it makes family dinners unbearable. You and Zayne both perfected that. Keeping up with appearances.

The room was spacious. A huge crystal chandelier dangling on the ceiling. The light reminiscent of a candles burning in the night, creating a more subdued lightning but still provides the warmth and comfort of the area. It reflects on the cream colored curtains. Glinting on the silver cutleries.

“Here they are.” Is the first voice you recognized upon entering the private room. Your father's voice. Boisterous and good natured just the way you remembered it.

The maître d' politely bowed before leaving the room.

“Finally.” Another voice pipes up and it was Zayne's mother. You can see the slight crinkles on the side of her face. A total opposite of Zayne who keeps the same stoic look on his face.

“My apologies. There's a bit of traffic on our way here. Thank you for waiting on us.” Zayne apologetically nods his head. Light catching on his glasses.

You subtly pried his hand on your plush waist before going to greet your parents while Zayne's parents fuss over him.

“It's been so long, (Y/N). I hope you're faring well.” Your father says before you hug him. “I am.” You lied through your teeth but masked it as something warm to assure your father. You glance at your mother. Stiffly greeting her. The same cold hard stare that scared you and prevented you from bonding with her. You didn't blame her though. She was scared when she almost died giving birth to you. Thanks to Zayne's parents that she was spared from the fate.

“Mother.” Is the only word you can call her but nonetheless, she kisses your cheek. The little bit of affection she can spare to you. Maybe, it's also the reason why you settle for the tiniest of form of affections that were given to you that you're easily contented by it.

The other woman, Zayne's mother approaches you with warm eyes. You can see the lines on her face. A testament that she lived her life on her profession. You adored this woman like she was your own mother. “(Y/N), darling.” She presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“You look lovely as always, my dear.” Zayne's mother compliments you. Squeezing the flab of your arm which you didn't mind. “Is my son treating you well?” She whispers discreetly which isn't so discreet since she glances at his son who was talking to your parents. Her eyes wandering all over you and you failed to notice it. She knows.

“Zayne's treating me well.” You repeat her words. Assuring her that her son was nothing but the best towards you. It earned you a kind smile from her.

It wasn't far from the truth but Zayne was nothing like the man you knew since childhood and before the accident. You were used to his indifference but this was the another side you wished you didn't knew. All it took for you was to almost die.

The lines of her face became more prominent as she held your hand. “I can see that and you're doing the same to my son. I've never seen him so tender — devoted.” She smiles a little wider. The kind of smile knowing her child is somewhat happy in a place. “You know how my son is, always a little hard on himself. You've brought the best of him, my dear child.”

The worst. You wanted to correct her but looking at her kind, warm eyes. That looked out after you since you were a kid — you can't bring yourself to the truth. You've brought out the worst in her son.

“I hope so.” You murmured. Lowering your gaze.

You couldn't meet her eyes while telling a lie.

Zayne was putting pieces of different dishes in your plate. Keeping a sharp eye on the sudden change since you started your cravings and you have gotten quite sensitive to certain smells. A frown quirked in your lips meant you didn't like the food. A thin line meant it was okay and the twinkle in your eyes is what you desired at the moment but you will still refuse it with a pout.

He also noticed how you occasionally glare at him. Not hiding your frustrations at him but keeping it subtle not enough to raise suspicions for the elders in the table to pick up your sour mood directed to him.

There's the sound of ice clinking in the glass and a thud. Your father suddenly putting the glass in the table before a chortle left his lips. Highly amused at the scene in front of him.

“Old habits don't die, huh? You're always making sure she's well fed. I'm glad to know you're still taking care of her.” Your father said amused.

“It's the least I can do for her.” Zayne murmured after placing a chunk of the juiciest part of the meat to your plate. He made sure you take a bite out of it.

Another voice joins in and it was Zayne's father. “Ever since they were children, Zayne always keeps an eye on her and that's the time I knew he'll always look after her. My son here always earning brownie points to impress her.”

Funny how the adults see it. That was lie but also half of the truth. The brownie points was after the accident. It was suffocating now. You glanced at him and he still sports the same stoic look on his face.

“So Zayne...” His mother began to speak, her voice serious but there's a hint of warmth on it. “It's rather unusual for you to call us. Is something the matter we need to discuss?” She looks knowingly at the both of you, her stare a little longer on you before looking at Zayne.

The cardiac surgeon that is her son looks at you. His face hidden by the curtain of his bangs. “Yes.” He paused.

Reaching out for your hand and linking to his. The table grew silent including your parents and his. Suddenly aware of the seriousness in his voice. Anticipating for the news that is about to be revealed. The look on his eyes were warm when you stare at him.

“(Y/N) and I are expecting.”

Your heart dropped at his announcement. You can hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears from how fast it was beating. The familiar sensation of bile rising up in your throat surfaces but you tried to contain it.

Of course, he was going tell your parents and his about this pregnancy. This wasn't just a family dinner. He planned it. His parents back in town, knowing their conference was still ongoing abroad. Yours was easy to convince. They were much easier to involve and they trust Zayne more than anyone else in the world.

Zayne's mother is the first to erupt in cheers. “Finally.” She claps her hand in astonishment. You wanted to deny it but you feel bad, not when they are all expecting a grandchild from the both of you. The union will bore the result in no time but there's no wedding have occured, yet.

Before the accident you decided that you were going to discuss this with Zayne. Call of the engagement and you will both proceed in your life without attachments and pretend this awful engagement for the both of you never existed but it was impossible now. You're pregnant. A outcome of that night you badly wanted to forget.

Just when they're still reeling from the surprise that you were with child. It didn't stop Zayne from proposing again, something that you badly wanted to be free from.

“I understand the seriousness of the situation that comes with (Y/N)'s pregnancy since it was unexpected. Considering that it already happened. Will you allow us to marry as soon as possible before our baby is born?” His tone never faltered at those words. It was like reading from a script that he already prepared for. He was sincere and all.

Your body stiffens. Discomfort being etched to your face. “Did we? Isn't this too soon? I was hoping maybe after the baby comes.” You denied. There was no discussion of it or anything at all. You looked at your soon-to-be in-laws hoping they will disagree at the sudden wedding just because you're pregnant. You look at your parents for help too but you were quickly denied.

You tried to pry your fingers from Zayne's hand discreetly but he squeezes it. A warning. “The time's right, (Y/N). The engagement has been so long and it's a perfect timing before the birth of our grandchild. We were all worried that you two aren't planning at all” Your father commented. A bit concerned at your behavior. Your mother remained quiet. Zayne's parents agreed with your father.

“You don't have to worry a thing. Zayne's good for you. He's a good man.” Your father added. It's the start of every misery when it comes to arranged marriages.

“I apologize for springing this up. (Y/N)'s a bit shaken up since it was — we recently known that she's pregnant.” The pad of his thumb grazes your knuckles. His voice apologetic and remorseful enough to convince your parents and his. You really don't know him anymore.

“Oh darling. We understand. It's fine to feel that way. Trust me, everything's going to be overwhelming starting from now but it will be a breeze after you and Zayne are married.”

You pressed your lips in a thin line. Feigning to consider the implication. You glance at Zayne who's been quiet while his mother gently assures you that being married to her son will be the best choice for yourself and for the baby.

Your father must have sensed your hesitation. He reached for your hands. Holding it to his own wrinkled ones.

“I know marriage is not easy as it can be. Take me and your mother but we worked it out. I trust Zayne with all of my heart.” Your father takes your hand in his. “When we received the news of your accident, my heart couldn't take it. My little girl is hurt. Alone and scared without her father and when I knew Zayne was with you. I have never felt so relieved. Someone is looking after my little girl.”

His voice warm and you see your father, your old man — a little bit younger than his age. Like he was at peace that he knew that his precious daughter is in the right hands. Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes. You did love your father but your relationship with Zayne was the cause of your current misery.

“The baby...” He clears his throat. “My grandchild, consider it as a blessing to you (Y/N). After that inevitable accident and nearly losing your life. Consider it as a second chance to your life with Zayne.”

It was easy for him to say that but could you blame him? He didn't know. You wanted to shake your head in denial. The baby was no blessing. Zayne had put his baby in your womb as a punishment for wanting to leave him.

Everything was a blur to you. Worked it out? Your mother hated you. She can only spare you a bit of her affection. You desperately wanted to reach out to your father. Hoping that he'll listen to your plea but he had entrusted your life with Zayne cause no other man was enough to be with you. Zayne was the perfect husband that every parents wants for their daughters.

The dinner ended after they started discussing about the upcoming wedding. Zayne had excused you both with the reason that you need to rest early. Well wishes were made and Zayne's parents have decided to stay until the wedding.

The excitement was thick that even looking at them made you gag. There wasn't no malice on there cause it was for a good union that both families will be tied just like they wanted. It doesn't settle right with you.

They kept talking. How happy they were for there children being in love and the new addition of the family that will come in the next seven months. Hell, you didn't even knew you were pregnant and Zayne have known it before the tests. Simply because he knows you more than your own.

Uncertainty washes over you. This is not what you wanted. You were ready to walk away from all of this. Be shunned and be a disgrace to your own family. It will hurt but it was better than to be with him. Realizing that the Zayne you always wanted will never be him. There's always the shadow of doubt but alas circumstances changed that. He made it clear.

A gentle melody of the music being played in the radio fills the silence that is engulfing the both of you inside his car. You pressed your palm unconsciously to your stomach. It was still the seventh week of your pregnancy and there wasn't still a bump. The baby the size of a poppy seed sticking to your womb and doubted a baby bump will be prominent considering the natural roundness of your belly pouch. Well as normal people can see it, you're already pregnant.

“You've been quiet for awhile now. Do you want to talk?” He sees you rubbing your stomach. “No.” You answered him before pushing the button besides your seat. The seat reclines before you curled up. Ignoring him while he smoothly manipulates the steering wheel.

You continued to ignore him until you reached his house.

The heaviness of the air lays thick spreading in every corner that it was suffocating. Like the clouds bringing a storm.

“What were you thinking?” The silence of his house settled into you. Breaking it with a shout. The words slipped from your mouth. Your eyes blinks rapidly. There's a rattle of the chains from your sling bag as it hits the cold floor.

“What were you thinking, Zayne!?” You repeated. Your voice a little higher cause you never knew how to scream but someday you'll learn and maybe it was tonight.

Looking at that man who was once so dear to you. The man who you desperately wanted.

“Why would you do this to me? You didn't even want to be married — not to me, at least.” Your fist collided in his chest but he didn't budge. He welcomed it. He welcomed all the anger, the frustration.

“It is needed to be done.” He says without hesitation. A cold hard truth and you hated him for being true and honest with his intentions and feelings.

“Done?” You repeated the word as if your hearing had failed you and you turned deaf.

“How could you!?” You momentarily paused. Your voice quivered as you continued. “I gave you a chance. I was ready to walk away. I-I was prepared to leave anything behind cause I will never be yours. I will never be what you want. I will never be her.” A tear slipped from your eyes. Your body felt cold.

It was the truth. The cold hard truth. You gave up. How could you compete for a woman that holds his heart — his soul. That looking at him will ever remind you of her. That you will always be second. Part of you wished that you should have died that night.

The sight of your glassy eyes, burning with anger and frustration and hurt made his heart clench. It pained him to see you like this. Hurting over for the other woman. Yes, he admits it. He once loved her. Clinged to her existence cause it was the time that he felt that they belonged to each other until he realizes it was only an illusion. A sense of familiarity.

But what bothered him the most is your words. Leave him? Gave him a chance to walk away from this? From you? Why would you say that when you're already with his child. When all he did was take care of you?

He kept silent. His sight flickering between your teary eyes and the belly straining in your sundress. He lets you say it. Scream all your frustrations at him. You were in a delicate situation and he's letting you feel all of it but it doesn't mean he doesn't care. It's better to let it all out than harm you and the life growing inside you.

“I tried so hard for you. I learned things that I know would impress you. I learned how to bake. How to keep it shut. How not to annoy you. It didn't matter. You kept choosing her over me and now you want me? Decide for me? You're guilty. You're fucking guilty!” You screamed at him. Taking a breather because you didn't trust your voice no more.

“That's what you're feeling. You didn't love me! I smiled despite being hurt by you cause I know my place.” A violent sob racked through your body. You shoved him. Putting all the force of your anger and anguish in your hands. You want to hurt him so bad.

“You decided for me. You got me pregnant and you suddenly announced to my parents and yours that I'm pregnant. I — I — I hate you very much! I wished I died that night! I—”

I wished I died that night. Your words bouncing right back and forth in his mind. It rings on his head. The events that happened that night keeps replaying. Bleeding and unconscious. Barely breathing. You wished you died that night and what? Leave him alone in this world?

A frayed rope that was barely holding his emotions snaps, the ends wriggle — too late to realize what just happened.

Then his voice boomed. Akin to a crackle of thunder that shocks your insides that made you shut up. Staring at him wide eyed. The tears continued to spill.

“Enough!” He caught your wrists. Gently wrapped on his cold palms. “Don't you say that words again.” His voice back to the same composed ones. He pulls you closer to his. The scent of his seeping to yours and this is the times where you think Zayne can be warm too.

“Don't you say that words again. I will never let it happen to you again. Don't you ever say that!” He cups your cheeks. There's a slight tremor in his arms before composing himself.

The tears stopped and your anguish was replaced by confusion like you can't believe his words.

“Hate me.” He whispers. “Resent me. Hurt me.” He tenderly brushes the apple of your cheek. “Let me suffer with your hatred but I won't leave you. You are mine. And I will be with you for the madness you have to offer for me. I will take it — accept it — but don't you ever say those words again.” He says softly but there's the firmness to it. Making himself clear.

“You're mad.” Your voice came out unsteady. Disbelief painted in your face.

“Yes, I'm mad. If hatred is the only thing you will have for me in the long run. I will desire it as I desire you because you are mine.” His gaze locked into you. Clouded with darkness or simply madness.

A stray tear trickled down your cheek. Glistening in the trail of path of your still tear-stained cheek. He wipes it with his thumb. His gaze flickering between your eyes and lips.

“What happened to you? You're not the Zayne I knew.” Blinking slowly as try to clear your vision blurred by your unshed tears.

Is he for real? Or you got transferred to another reality where this version of Zayne madly desires you. Sees you for who you are.

There's only the sound of the breathing in each other's mouth. You can't process how to move or how to feel when he's holding you like this. None of you speak. Locked in each other's gazes. You were about to detach yourself from his hold and without a flicker nor a beat — he kisses you without a warning. The kiss that leaves you helpless.

It started out as soft. A tender kiss. The very first kiss you bestow when you didn't see each other for so long then the kiss turned out something as nothing but rough.

Feverish as his lips connected to yours. Pouring all those words that he can't speak of. That even the most sensible of man can be this emotional. Brought by the madness and the intensity of his feelings caused by this woman. His heart beating rapidly in his chest like a bird flapping it's wings wanting to be free.

He holds you close. Closer than he can ever hold. Afraid that if he lets you go — or loosen his grip you'll disappear. Forever lost.

His hand moves from the one holding your cheek to the back of your head and the other descending in the small of your back. Pulling you closer and deepening the kiss that you once lost to.

It was messy. The kind of kiss that all tongues. Dragging into each other. Tangled in desperation that air wasn't even a necessity.

You grip the lapels of his coat. It's the only thing you can hold unto while he keeps you caged in his arms. Leaving you no room to escape from his iron grip.

You were a marionette on his own strings but even he controlled your movements. You can't shut the thoughts running on your own mind.

Zayne's lips were warm on yours. You expected it to be cold but it was devoid of coldness but only the gentle warmth. It tastes like regret and sweet. Bittersweet you describe it.

He's kissing you. Pouring all the feelings he can't say to you and you thought of her. Does Zayne thinks of her while kissing you like this. Imagining it was her on his arms and not some fucked up, insecure woman who begs for attention that no one notices but only when she bleeds.

Still, you kissed him back.

He's not the only one who can kiss you like this. You kiss him while tears pours from your eyes. You didn't stop. You both didn't stop. Chasing each other's lips and tangling each other's tongues. Tasting each other's breath. You're a mess. A fuck up who enjoys being kissed by a man you love who loves another woman.

You dreamt what it was like to be kissed by him. It was sort of granted but it wasn't on your own terms. It was rough. The first night and the first time he kissed you. It was ugly as it can be but still it was a kiss. One that you yearned for a long time. If he wants the hatred you can give to him — then he's sure he will accept all the resentment you have to offer.

It was this kiss he craves — needed. The bitter taste of your regret but there's sweetness above it. Honest and raw that you loved him all this time and you were willing to throw whatever bit of your sanity left for this.

It was addicting. How the fullness of your lips molds into his. The scent of you driving him insane and the feel of your plush body pressed on him. He feels your pulse quicken under his touch. Knows that your heart beats for him and only him.

It's wrong but it feels so right. He couldn't think of her. Not like this. When it's your lips on his. Your touch burning on his skin. Electrifying. Maddening. He will accept this. Learn to embrace it. And when he's in too deep, he couldn't think of her but only you. In his arms. Trembling under his touch while you cried.

Suddenly, the coldness of that lingered on his body melted. Replacing with the burning feeling of your skin. Melting like snowflakes.

The taste of salt in your tears made it addicting. Like the sweets he's fond — tasting the hint of something that shouldn't be there but it's always right. Meant to be there. Everything's balanced. Everything's feels right when it's your lips on his. When it's you who consumed his thoughts.

He will freeze hell for you.

Looking at your glassy eyes and the spit stained lips mix with yours and his. He wipes your tears again. Pressing his forehead to yours and the silence engulfs the both of you with the exception of the gasps taking air again after the kiss.

“You're going to hurt us both, Zayne.” Your voice shaky and pleading.

“Yes, but what is pain when my love for you can endure everything. A love without pain shall not last. And my love for you will be eternal.” He declares without hesitation. That it is the truth and will only be the truth.

Your eyes widens at the depth of the darkness of his words.

“I'll fix us both. I will do everything in my power — whatever it takes. You're not going to leave me and I won't leave you.” His hand holding your cheek descends to your round belly. “Not when our child is growing inside you. Not when you're mine.”

He kisses your forehead with all the love and promise. For a future with you.

That night something broke. A bond that was long forged from ice and a frozen promise. A vow destroyed when his own blood and flesh sprouted inside you. And just like that, he broke the fate of his with a twist of his devotion for the woman in his arms.

The chapel is something out from a dream. A job well done for a kind of rushed wedding. You can see the vibrant hues of wisteria draping over the gables of the chapel. A willow tree in the distance. The air is cool and buds of the flowers are slowly blooming as they sprouted from the damp earth. There's a burst of rain earlier leaving the scent of the soil and the cool breeze gently caressing your skin. It's the weather you want for a wedding. A auspicious day to be married.

Your family insisted per Zayne's flawless convincing, you weren't sure if it was even one. It was the truth coming from him and it was better this way since you're still in the early stages of your pregnancy. Both of your families agreed without a fuss and the wedding day came.

You found yourself behind the wooden doors of the chapel that remains timeless as the years gone by and you can tell that it was maintained. You tried to look up straight ahead as you hear the faint music began to play. The instrumental version of your favorite song from a movie. The doors opened and you think to yourself — it is now or never — or maybe you can run away from this. Save yourself from another heartbreak and disappointments.

You think of the flowers decorated in the pews and how it took the effort to make it pretty for your special day. You recognized a few of them. It's going to be wasted on you. You didn't deserve pretty things. It's not too late. Your conscience told you but as you take your first step towards him — it didn't matter anymore.

During the days you spend thinking about the future as a stupid teenager that carried until your mid-twenties you envisioned your wedding with him. You will be dressed in white and you know Zayne will be handsome in his tailored suit. He's always handsome — you mused to yourself but after years of pining and yearning for him that will never be reciprocated — you abandoned the dream. Some things aren't meant to be.

Then suddenly, you're the one walking down the aisle towards him when you have already given up for this moment. A future with Zayne. A future for the man who noticed you when you knocked on death's doorstep and suddenly — poof — like a flick of a wand or the sudden appearance of a heartbeat in the electrocardiogram after you flatlined — he's marrying you and you doubt him.

He didn't love you. He was guilty for all of this that until this day — by marrying you, he will atone for the misfortune that fell upon you when it's not his fault. You were just born at the wrong time and place, carrying the resentment your mother that placed to you. You can't bring yourself to believe that he truly loves you.

He didn't need to do all of this and he acted like he didn't had a choice to be with her when you gave him the chance. You were willing to walk away! And then when you decided that your tears aren't enough for this relationship to last long, that it wasn't truly you — the heartbeats growing stronger in your stomach tells you how far he can go just to prevent you from leaving him.

Your thought drifted to her, lingering in the back of your mind and surfaces when you're at most vulnerable. A pure soul with a pretty face. Beautiful inside and out. Fearless and gentle to everyone. You were not. You were a thief stealing Zayne from her when you they're the happiest with each other. A coward for letting fear take control of you. Powerless.

The smile plastered on your face strains in your skin. The more you tried to keep it up, the more it numb you. You really can't marry him. You're stealing him from her. You didn't want him to resent you for existing but the gazes of everyone lies heavily on you. The thoughts still screams inside your brain.

And as you take his hand, you can't erase her.

He didn't missed how your eyes flickers between the doors behind you and him. Still contemplating to left after what he had done to secure this day with you. As if it the life he put in your belly isn't enough. That's why a wedding must happen with both of your families as the witness of this union.

Zayne stands there waiting for you, there isn't amiss from his usual stoic expression but his eyes tell something. Certainty. It wasn't arrogance but the confidence that you were truly his.

His gaze fall to the beauty of his bride — about to be his wife. Walking towards him, clutching a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The blues and greens a dedication to the commitment.

The wedding gown beautifully hugs your plush figure. The gentle swell of your belly strains against the fabric of your dress, it wasn't a baby bump but you're getting there.

The draped sleeves of your wedding gown delicately exposes your soft rounded shoulders. A touch of modesty and a tease there. Your hair woven into delicate braids and a silver tiara rests at the top of your head weaved with leaves and small blossoms of flowers. It is what considered a timeless and elegant look.

As you get nearer, Zayne basks in your softer features especially your face. A light make up enough to highlight your features.

It was the face he learned to love, the one he gets to look whenever you weren't looking. Him constantly admiring you from how your round cheeks puff when you're pouting and the fullness of your lips that he founds himself staring at it more than he can count.

There's a slight tremor in your hand as you take his and once you're facing each other in the middle of the altar, the priest beginning his spiel about the sacred vows of marriage and the people staring at the both of you — Zayne knows you will always be his and that is the finality of it.

His eyes remained on you the whole time. Admiring the bride that was about to be his. It didn't deter him how glassy your eyes look, at the cusp of crying. He reaches out to wipe the tear that rolls from your eye. He can hear the small awe of the crowd.

Don't cry. You repeated the words like a mantra. You're going to play in his cards but it didn't stop the single tear from rolling. All of this feels wrong cause it was never yours to begin with.

You keep your eyes on him and behind those piercing gaze of the green of his eyes — does he imagine of her instead of you? Does he think that it should be her standing in your place? That she should be the one dressed in white — them exchanging vows of eternity and not even death will part them and find each other in the next life.

Your chest felt tight and your stomach in a twist. You wished you can blame it on the pregnancy hormones or something cause it's easier to put the blame than take responsibility of your actions. You should have left, instead you waited for him and that was the biggest mistake. You were trapped with no way out.

In the same measured voice, he began to speak of his vows. The intensity is thick that you're the only one who can pick it up underlined with warmth that makes it convincing. He affirms you with those words, tinged with softness that is solely reserved for you. A rarity for those who have heard it.

His eyes never left you. Looking deeply into your eyes while he gently lifts your soft hand before slipping the ring in your finger.

“I do.” The words are hauntingly sickening when it was your turn to say it. Your hands tremble as you take his hand, you were scared that out of nervousness you won't be able to put it but lo and behold it slips smoothly on his scarred finger.

His hands cups your jaw, the coldness of his hands seeps into your skin. The priest have pronounced you both, husband and wife — the kiss is about to seal the union.

You only tipped your face to look at him and then, he's leaning down to you — bestowing the kiss that he's going to be yours.

The eyes, they will never lie. You see the same hazel green eyes of his looking at you and you wonder when he looks at you like this. His eyes soft but holds the composure, a hesitation that once never existed and with the love he made you believe but the love's dubious and the real one was the one he holds for her.

Her. You can't stop thinking about her. Sweet, beautiful her will never be compared to you. You glanced at the doors and for a brief moment you see her. Crying silently while the love of her life — kissing someone who is not her. You closed your eyes in surrender.

And when you feel the slow, soft breath coming from his mouth — you strategically move your face slightly to the side and only for him the corner of your mouth. A shaky breath escapes your lips. Swallowing the bitter invisible pill down your throat.

He remains calm and calculating under the rejection of his kiss towards you. He subtly pulls you closer to him and even when you reject his kiss in your lips, you will still feel his love as he gently kissed your forehead. A devotion that he hopes you'll understand and accept.

Silver Springs.

The place where Zayne took you after the wedding. A cozy place nestled in the middle of the woods with a lake view. Perfect for sunsets and sunrises. A perfect getaway from the bustling crowd of Linkon.

You wouldn't exactly call it a honeymoon and retreat is a more befitting word for it. A three day and two nights to be away from everyone. It was your first day as newlyweds — husband and wife. You didn't need to stay long in this place and Zayne have his duties as a doctor.

You didn't know what to feel after the wedding. Everything was rush from your pregnancy to marriage. You didn't thought of it and suddenly you're in the middle of the woods with your husband. The word is strange in your tongue. Zayne — your husband. The very one who had been so distant to you and he's the one who is constantly hovering over you.

Dusk had settled and Mr. Moon have made it appearance. The night is dark — dotted with tiny stars and the crickets chirped in the surrounding area. For some reason it gave you a peace of mind for a few minutes. It reminded you of the summers spent at the countryside where your siblings and you frolicked over the damp grasses and throwing mudpies at each other. Your mother disapproved but your father was forgiving. Children should be children — he says. You can't even hear a drop of scoldings from your old man.

Zayne's in the other room, putting the bags away. You didn't bother helping him. Already exhausted of what transpired yesterday and you want to sleep for now but your brain didn't allow. Since the beginning of your pregnancy, your sleep schedule was a mess. You were out like a light in the mornings and sometines you stayed up late like a night owl. If it wasn't for Zayne's interfering and making sure your sleep schedule was aligned to what a pregnant woman should have.

The door creaked and it revealed Zayne. Holding a cup of tea that helps you sleep comfortably. He places it on the bedside table.

“You're going to regret all of this.”

You blurt out of the blue. The words were sharp but it's a surrender. He stops in his tracks. His gaze falling down on you. Studying you for a second.

“What do you mean?” He asks evenly but he knows what you're referring to. He needs to hear the words.

Your absentmindedly caress your rounded belly. “Me. All of this.” Your tone bitter. “You're going to regret marrying me and having me to bear your children.” You say without indifference nor a quiver to your voice. Not yet. You're still not cracking.

“I don't regret any of it.” He says as he settled down besides you. The wind rustles the trees outside and crickets stopped chirping. The night falling into the silence.

You move to your side and without hesitation, you crawled towards him. Climbing on his lap, caging his thighs. He didn't react much like he anticipated this one and is relishing on the sudden affection of his pregnant wife.

He leans behind the headboard. Holding your wide hip and grounding you on his lap. Securing that you won't let go after such bold move.

“I won't ever regret of marrying you nor putting my child into you. It will happen in due time and I decided it's the best for the both of us.” He says flatly — like it was the reason that makes sense.

You remained silent. Reaching out to touch his face and he melts into your hold. Grasping your wrist as you traced the features of his face.

This man. Your husband belonged to her and you're the one touching him like this. Freely admiring how the light dances on his pale skin. The perfectly sculpted face that you think he was made from a god. Those thick lashes arched in novelty. Framing those narrow eyes of his with eyes the color of forest in spring dappled in sunlight.

“You were so out of reach from my fingers. I watched you. Loved you silently. Hoping that one day you'll look at me but you never did.” Your voice trembled. The calmness of your exterior starting to fade away the more you look at him.

“I heard I flatlined.” It was awful, during your stay at the hospital you heard how Zayne was desperately reviving you after your heart stopped beating, sending you into another cardiac arrest and almost had given up until your heartbeat had surfaced again.

“Was it only the time you realized you were truly afraid of losing me or was it I was slipping away from you?” You searched for a bit of emotion on his face but it remained stoic like he was thinking.

“I never feared anything more than losing you.” The fear, the pain, the guilt that wracked his whole being. All that crashes into a single tidal wave. Rendering him powerless to protect you from all the things that harmed you. It was out of his control of what happened to that fatal car accident that it almost costed your life.

It was beneath him. He had never been so useless his whole life. He never wanted to see you hurt again. Lying in the bed — fighting for you life.

“My mistake ks that I had never given you the chance to know you more but now, I have a lifetime to know you and I won't let anything get between us.” He squeezed the plushness of your waist.

“Yeah?” You asked not moved by his declaration. “What about her? You loved her.” Your eyes burn, thinking of her. He watched as the white of your eyes turned red — deeply affecting him that you still think of her when it was you he choose.

“She doesn't hold my affections the same you hold mine.” He says coldly like the entire existence of her was nothing and is a taboo one to speak that will get you cursed. His expression barely cracked. The reserved, calm exterior were nothing to the cold gaze in his eyes. Simmering with the unadulterated devotion and the darkness merging in those depths.

“That's it?” You murmur — unsure, like you can't believe what he said. “That's it?” You repeated again. All his life it was for her. Being a doctor specializing in the cardiology since she was sick, something in the heart. Devoting his studies to understand her condition and he says that like it doesn't matter anymore.

“You built yourself for her, Zayne — you loved her more than anything else and it is this easy for you to say that I'm the one who holds your affection when you turned like this after what happened to me?”

“I did love her but she's not you. She's not the one I married, not the one who's carrying my child. You're the only one that matters and it will be the end for this. We have a future together.” He says without indifference.

“You won't know the extent of my devotions — I will kill for you. Let the world know that you are mine.” He added. The room turns cold as he let those chilling words left his mouth without breaking eye contact. Frost have formed in the corners of the room but he's warm.

He watch as your eyes widens at his declaration. The heavy implications lays thick and it was true. You don't how far he'll go to such lengths for you, to prove that you're the only one. Enough to convince you to abandon the thought that you will always be second.

Kill. The word is strong. Shivers creep down your spine. It doesn't hold any hostility but the thought of him killing for you, scares you the most.

“I save lives and I can take one too — if anyone touches you — let alone a strand of your hair, I'm the last person they'll be looking at. I am capable of holding a knife to someone's throat much as I am with a scalpel. Nobody will harm you as long I am here.” He added.

In which he already did. The paramedics fault to sent the man also in Akso Hospital. The negligence of his drunk driving endangered your life and in the unforeseen future will also put the others. He just ended it. Administering small doses of potent drug that made it look like he peacefully passed away in his sleep.

“I turned you into a monster.” You whispered, about to remove yourself from him but he kept you on his hold.

“You didn't. You made me feel without restraints. Real. This is who I am.” The tone of his voice didn't change while he strokes your cheeks adoringly.

You were on top of him but is Zayne is quick to admonish you to place you beneath him, that he's always the one to be in control.

“My devotion runs deep for you, more than you will ever know.”

This isn't what you envisioned for your future. Forever tied to him for this lifetime. He took the words from your mouth but it doesn't mean it was enough to say it again.

“I will hate you in the long run.” You warned him but Zayne smiles softly at you.

“It's fine. I have enough love for the both of us. Enough for the two little ones.” A faint smile ghosted his lips. Already attached to the twins — to the thought of being a husband to you and a father to your unborn children. He rests his palm to your protruding belly.

He gently switches the position of you both and now you're lying beneath him. Your hair sprawled like dark halo in the pillows. “You didn't kissed me properly in our wedding.”

His gaze lingering on the soft plump lips of yours before looking at your eyes. “I'll be kissing you properly tonight. You won't deny me right?” It wasn't a question for he kissed you and it's not only a kiss he got from you.

It was a real honeymoon after all.

It's the first time in months you have seen her again.

In the quiet afternoon of the corridors in the hospital, dressed in her hunter uniform. You were done for your monthly check-up with Zayne in your side. His crisp white uniform is abandoned for his black dress shirt and trousers paired with his leather shoes. He's not a doctor today but a doting husband to his heavily pregnant wife.

The flowy pale blue sundress did nothing to conceal the pronounced baby bump. Straining against the fabric and it's the only piece of clothing that is providing you comfort. Loose and breathable.

It may the effect of your pregnancy but you weren't the same anymore when you've seen her. There's no more stinging burn in your eyes nor the heaviness in your chest. You felt at peace or you made peace with your emotions towards her. It's not the assurance that Zayne was your husband and pregnant with his child — it is because you surrendered.

There is no point on dwelling with your ugly insecurities towards her and besides you're going to harm your babies in your womb. You were already at risk with your pregnancy and you shall not strain the innocent babies growing inside you.

The thoughts will always linger. Zayne studies your reaction or the possible trigger of a meltdown but he found nothing. He should be assured — relieved but the neutral expression in your face didn't settle right with him and then he noticed — the mask you were wearing.

Well, it didn't last long for the facadé to crack. You were calm but there's still the hurt left in your heart.

He didn't speak of it but he keeps a firm grip to your plush waist. Shielding you from any possible stress that may harm you and the babies in your womb.

They crossed paths again. What once yesterday's silent promise was nothing to today's and future's commitment to you. He didn't spare her a glance not once when in the past he look at her like she's the most precious thing in the world but now, she was only a shadow. A remnant of the past. He couldn't bother not when there's you in his hold, pregnant with his children. A future he looks forward to.

After leaving the hospital, you were both walking in the nearby park in Linkon. The trees were lush with greenery, the pond glimmering from the sunlight reflecting in the water. The grass soft to touch. The weather wasn't also warm or cold just a right touch of being a good weather.

It's been a few paces and the you noticed it, the stares.

Of course, who would not stare at the eye candy besides you holding your hands. If Zayne weren't a doctor he could be a model. Posing on different cover pages of famous magazines dressed in the latest trends of clothing. Haute couture and all that. Walking in the runway. He must be used from all of it. Except he's not the only one being stared at. They're also looking at you and Zayne noticed that.

You were looking more radiant. Lovelier and fresh like a rain drop. The pale blue sundress did your voluptuous curves justice even with your bump. You could be quite oblivious to but not for long.

The stares, they were weighted and when people stares either they are judging or admiring and you always think of former. You weren't a pretty face nor have the body of a model or maybe it's just the bump. That's right the bump and you unconsciously squeezed your hand in his. Anxiety filling the pregnancy brain of yours.

“Is there something on my face, Zayne. They're staring.” You asked him unsure. Pulling your cardigan closer to you.

He turns around to face you. Another curious gaze from a man he catched giving them a sharp look that says back off before looking at you. “No.” His voice tender and assuring.

“It must be the bump or I've gotten too big.” He sees how your eyes turned sad and the tears was already there.

“It's not the bump. It's you.” His voice firm and it kind of scares you.

“They're admiring my wife.” He explains and the sadness were replaced of a assurance. “Don't worry about them. You have me.” He softly murmurs to you and you believe him.

It makes him want to protect you more.

Zayne took you to a nearby flower shop. Where a nice old lady owns it. Keeping in mind to pick the flowers you wanted to plant since you've been eyeing the vacant part of the garden in the house. You didn't need to tell him. He knows. You've also been much open to him, vocal about what you want.

For the twins, you spoke to him one night about how you wanted flowers in the garden. You wanted flowers to bloom for the twins and he's more than happy to fulfill that for you.

“When are you due, dearie?” A voice spoke besides you. A gardening can in their hand while they admire the potted plants near you. Her hair silver, kept into a neat bun. Their eyes kind and she reminds you of the nice grandmas you meet in the hospital during your checkups or anywhere.

“In a few months.” You said softly, your fingertips tracing the petals of the daises. Admiring the other variants of flowers, thinking of what you should plant for your babies.

She laughs in a light-hearted way. Patting her apron smudged with dirt from tending all the plants in her shop. “The little ones are joys, you know.”

Your mood dampened a bit, remembering how you got pregnant in the first place and Zayne notices about to intervene not wanting to upset you further. “First one?” The nice old lady inquired.

You smiled softly as your gaze drifts to your round belly. “Twins, actually.” You murmur.

“Double the blessing at the first try.” She muses, looking at you. “Pregnancy suits you beautifully, sweetheart.”

Your face warmed at the compliment. “Excuse me, dearie. I shall find you a selection of seed packets of flowers you might like for your babies.” She left with a smile and you turned around to meet his gaze.

“You don't need to hover.”

He keep his hand planted at the small of your back and you sighed. This man can be stubborn.

The old lady came back with the seed packets she promised. She noticed Zayne. “You take care of her.”

“I will.” His voice flat while staring adoringly at you.

You both left shortly after getting the seed packets and bulbs of the flowers you wanted.

“I'm staying home for today.” He tells you one morning. The sun were barely up and you were puking your guts out in the toilet. Six months in your pregnancy and nausea have been kicking you harder than ever. Your twins were literally taking up the space in your belly.

“Is that allowed? You're the chief surgeon.” You take his hand as he assisted you in getting back to your feet again and guiding you towards the bedroom.

“My colleagues can handle today's work.” He says it like it's the most obvious thing and if he says so. You don't have the strength to argue nor push him anymore not when you're already resting your head on his chest. The warmth of his body and the coldness of his hands is what you need.

“Mmm...” A small sound escaped your lips as you tried to suppressed the sudden movements of one of your twins. It was kicking your stomach. You raised your head to meet his gaze. “Calm your spawns in my belly.” Groaning as you feel the both of your twins getting more active.

The surgeon put his hand on your belly. Rubbing soft circles around it and the twins immediately settled down. You didn't mean to sound bitter and call your twins — spawn but with your emotions heightened caused by your pregnancy that is your husband's fault. You can't help it.

Triggered by the way you addressed your precious babies — the familiar stinging pricking behind your eyes started and it broke out when you look at him.

“I hate you.” The words slipped from your mouth and then followed by another. “I hate that you put them in my belly without asking me if I wanted them.”

You couldn't count how many time you said you hated him than you loved him still Zayne remains tender with you. He did said he got enough love for you and how will he accept the hatred from you.

He countered it. “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love that you're mine. I love that you're going to be the mother of my children.” Your lips curls up in a pout and quivered as you broke out in sob and he kisses your tears away until you calmed down.

It's not really a big price he needed to pay. He didn't regret his decisions cause it was planned and he only acted upon it. Similar to operations, you can't cut open without studying their condition and Zayne knew that you still love him.

If you should not have still loved him, you would have tried to escape him or hurt the two little ones growing in your belly but you didn't. You loved them, nurtured and took care of them with care. His extensions of devotion.

Even when you screamed and told him how much you hated him — why did you still accept him in your arms when he seeks it or the days where you look for him for the safety of his body he provided you with love and comfort.

Strongly besotted that when you tried to annoy him with your cravings having particularly developed a taste for the brightly orange colors of the carrots that should have been obliterated — he took a bite after you said that “I'm going to eat carrots cause you hate it so you can hate me too.” He long avoided that disgusting excuse of a vegetable and only you can make him eat it — not to spite you but to show that he will never hate you cause the mistake you only did was love him with all your heart.

There's also your pregnancy, he didn't thought about being a father but with you — everything's right. Falling into its rightful pieces.

Some nights, she crossed his mind. Thinking that he didn't truly loved her. He did became what he is today but it's not enough for a reason to stay. To love is to hurt. That phrase didn't justify when his love for her slowly diluted and was filled for you. Filling the cracks of your shattered heart. He only got hurt when he almost lost you — when your heart decided to stop beating.

He was terrified of losing you — of living a life without the sound of your voice or your presence haunting him.

You are his destruction and you shall be only his salvation.

Stained his hands with the blood of he saved and those who harmed you. He will protect you even it cost him what he believes in.

It was all the answers and the logic that he received that he didn't truly loved her cause Zayne only bleeds for you.

The twins came early as expected.

Aurora. His first born daughter and the eldest of the twin came into the world crying her eyes out like a newborn does. Her cries filled the quietness of the hallways and mixes with the storm raging outside.

The other twin — the one that gave all the doctors and nurses including him the scare. It wasn't visible since they were trained to be calm in situations like this. He didn't came crying for he wasn't breathing.

They had tried to all medical procedures to coax his youngest to cry or breath and even with his specialty in neonatal care, it didn't prepared him for this scenario until he sees your weakened state, reaching out for his child — your child with him.

Zayne didn't believe in miracles that it was only the will of the mind and body shall survive in dire straits but a mother's love for her child proves that miracles exist.

He placed your son to your chest and you cradled your unmoving child to your chest. “Mommy's waiting for you.” You whispered. Your voice hopeful — trying not to crack. Gently tapping his back to coax him to cry or breath or anything that he's alive. It was minutes of pure torture but you remained calm, you didn't let the fear of losing your child take over.

You didn't take your eyes off him. Tears are welling up in your eyes but you didn't let it slip and then it happened — a tiny flutter of breath — his tiny fists curls up in your chest. You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding and the tears fall before you can realize. You let out a choked laugh. Relieved that your baby boy is alive and well.

“Yue.” You call his name and he gave you the tiniest of smiles before his eyes began to open and stares at you with eyes similar to his father.

Outside the storm had passed. Dark skies began to part and to show the moon peeking through the stormy clouds. Shining brightly and fully.

The room is dim. The monitors beep and seeing you in bed brought unwanted painful memories for him. You're not in that situation anymore. You're alive and passed out from exhaustion despite trying to fight it earlier to admire your children.

The twins are resting in their separate bassinet. Already done with their tests and no health conditions were present. Both healthy and thriving.

Zayne loves his children before they were even born but his gaze fixated on his baby boy. The one who didn't cry and breathed not until surrounded by your warmth or hear the voice of his mother.

Similar to him whenever he wasn't near to you. His fingers gently stroke his baby's boy head then whispered. “You shouldn't scare your mother like that.” The baby only stirred, lips twitching as if understanding him.

He looks at you peacefully sleeping. He will never you put with this kind of pain again. He promised to himself. Admiring his wife blissfully vulnerable and beautiful.

“We're together now.” He said before placing a chaste kiss to your cheek.

At that moment with the twins and you resting, Zayne had never felt so complete in his life.

It felt surreal — how you managed to birth your two babies. Peacefully asleep in their separate cribs, dressed in their snowman onesies.

The pregnancy scared you and with Zayne constantly hovering over you adds the anxiety that you weren't going to be a good mother. You weren't even ready to conceived the both of them but Zayne wanted them — wanted to grow in your womb that you will have no means to leave him.

It mirrored how weak you are that you are easily manipulated with no control of your autonomy. Forced to be with his children without the thought how it will change the course of your lives.

Zayne became the cold and ruthless man that didn't know he was capable of. He would rather let you hate him than leave. You screamed — told all the foul words that you knew but he only stands in front of you with cold gaze. Did his heart even break when you told them all those spiteful words?

The nursery was quiet. The walls were pale blue, painted with arctic animals. Penguins in the corner with their black and white feathers, polar bears in their snow white fur and the other wall were dotted with tiny snowman.

It became your haven when everything becomes too heavy for you to carry. What once you despised growing inside you became your comfort. You hated yourself for hating your children when they were inside your belly cause how come you would want something you didn't ask for and when your baby boy came out almost lifeless and brought to life with your warmth — it frightened you.

They lay asleep. A twitch of their lips in there and their body stirring. You reached out gently to stroke your daughter's cheek with your knuckles. Sweet Aurora with her adorable smile. Melting hearts after she was born. She looks like you with your eyes in hers, taking your facial features and you hope she won't take after your personality.

You kiss the pad of your fingertips, pressing it to her chubby cheeks. You teared up a little. Your gaze fell to the other crib where your baby boy rests well he's not when he sensed you. Reserved Yue who only cries when you're far away from him. Always wanting to he with you.

You take him out from his crib to soothe him. Cradling him close to your chest and your baby boy looks at you with his father's eyes. The same hazel green that you didn't know wether to love or hate it but it belongs to Yue. The baby you almost lost. He's a mirror of Zayne. A tiny version of your husband and the resemblance grew bigger every day.

“You know how to scare mommy, Yue.” You whispered in the quietness of the night and his round eyes stares at you — unblinking.

You sniffle a bit. “Mommy won't wish anything but she hopes that you and Aurora would grow up, strong and healthy.” You laugh a bit to yourself. It was every mother's wishes to their children and you're no different.

Then your voice drops lower like you were on the verge of crying — you are but you only smiled. “But I hope you and Aurora won't be like me.” Your voice cracks. “Please don't be like me.” You repeated and your breaks with every word. “Please don't change to be loved — to be wanted.” You don't want a repeat of history. You don't want your children to be in the same pain you had gone through.

“Learn to leave when you're not needed or wanted and learn to stand up for yourself. Mommy will teach you how even she failed to do it for herself.” The first tear came rolling and Yue raises his tiny hands as if to reach you.

You laugh to yourself before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Mommy's sorry for telling you this, Yue.” You look at your daughter. “Aurora.” You silently call her name. “Mommy does not want her babies to be hurt.”

You wipe the tears using the heel of your palm before gently rocking your baby boy to sleep. You promised to yourself that they won't be like you. A weak coward who can only stand up for their self when it's only too late.

Zayne stilled for a moment when he hears you say those words. He didn't mean to hear it and assumed you were asleep except you weren't and he finds you in the nursery. Sitting in a rocking chair. Rubbing soft circles to your baby boy and then he hears you. Begging and broken.

After all this time you still think of that? That you still live in the past with the pain of his shortcomings but who could ever blame you — you were hurt by his own.

Slowly, he walks towards you.

The weariness of today can't compare to your pain. He holds your wrist — almost startling you and he catches the tear stains in your cheek and the embarrassment that followed.

He kneels in front of you. Reaching to wipe the tear stains on your face before cupping your round cheek on his large palm. “They won't know it. They will be loved the way I loved you.” He says in a calm voice that soothes your very being despite being hurt.

“I won't allow that.” His voice low enough for you to hear and not to disturb the children sleeping. “And you should never believe nor feel that.”

You were about to say something but your lips closed. Waiting for him to speak again.

“You were never meant to feel those things.” Brushing the tears with his thumb. “You're mine and I have a lifetime to spare and the next that you shall never feel these things again.” He assures you before standing up to press a kiss to your lips before his gaze fell down to his son who looks exactly like him. He softly caressed their soft head.

“Yue, Aurora and you shall never be in pain and I will rid everyone whoever tries to harm you all.” It's dark and chilling from how he spoke those words.

You only hoped that his words are true and there won't be a repeat of that again.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #lads x reader #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads angst #zayne x non mc #zayne x chubby reader #zayne x reader #love and deepspace x nonmc #love and deepspace x chubby reader #lads x chubby reader #non mc #non mc reader #love and deepspace angst #chubby reader angst #yandere lads

1K notes · View notes

somnoir · 4 months ago

Text

Damian's future husband

Got inspired by this specific line in a Tumblr thread and my brain went to work

Phantom was a strange hero—a vigilante that often worked with Justice League Dark. Constantine was always so antsy around the man, while Phantom himself often muttered about taxes and blasted fragments whenever said trech coat man was in the vicinity.

The Bats were, of course, initially apprehensive of the death defying being that could rip a man skeleton out of their body, manipulate space itself to rip open portals to different dimensions, and vanish better than they did. They were wary, mildly hostile after realising that Phantom had now issue killing.

But then time passed and Phantom was proven to not be a serial killer but only used killing as a last resort. Though Batman wasn't too pleased, he was—begrudgingly—tolerant of that. Because, yes, Phantom was a nice guy, a very likeable person in general. He made sure that the environmental damage during battles were kept to a minimum, he chose civilians over the enemy whenever it came to hostage situations, he was tactile and kind, and he cared so much for the innocent that he was willing to lose his innocence to keep theirs.

Of course Batman was fond of the young man, especially when he found out that Jason of all people had some sort of crush on him. A very big and almost pathetic one that he and Alfred would watch while sipping tea.

Seriously, Jason was his son! Has he not learned anything from his Brucie persona? The poor thing was like a Victorian maiden and would be scandalised at the mere thought of showing an ankle.

It was embarrassing how he'd practically start blue screening the moment Phantom was in the vicinity. As a father, Bruce was gracious enough not to bully his poor son whenever it came to Phantom. His siblings, on the other hand, held no such qualms and mercilessly dug into Jason.

In all honesty, he pitied Jason after hearing that Phantom assumed that Jason just didn't like him.

He really had to talk to him.

"You fucking hypocrite."

And that was a failure because Bruce forgot that he was just as constipated as his son.

"I'm not taking advice from the man who couldn't even try to be softer in his secret crush!"

With that, Jason slammed the door and left.

Okay... Plan B?

But what the hell was plan B?

Right.

Dick Grayson.

Bruce: About your brother...

Bird child #1: OH MY GOD

Bird child #1: THANK FUCK YOU FINALLY MENTIONED IT

Bruce: it's become an issue

Bruce: Alfred has commented that it's pathetic now.

Bird child #1: Wait wait

Bird child #1: I'll add you to the group chat!

And this Bruce Wayne found himself in a GC named 'Phantom of the Watchtower'. Along with all the complaints expressed by both family and friends when it came to Jason's bullshit.

Ah well... At least he wasn't alone in the suffering.

(Jason did not need to know that there was a video of him grappling through Gotham, Phantom passing by and waving at him, and Jason proceeding to hit a wall mid flight.)

Dick knows that his little wing has had trouble in relationships for a long time. His resurrection changed him, changed how he perceived his relationships. Dick didn't have the heart to be mad about it.

Phantom's arrival was a breath of fresh air for them.

But he suspects that Jason's attraction began with the fact that Phantom had died young as well. Fourteen from what was said. He had died much younger than Jason and had came back a hero, willing to protect the innocent and do what was best for those around him. Sometimes Dick suspects that Jason not only wanted to be with Phantom, but also to be similar to him.

Now he's watching Jason fumble with his words again, immediately going quiet once he realized that nothing coherent was coming out of his mouth. The helmet most likely hid how red his face was.

"Are you alright?" Phantom asked, frowning up at Jason. "You don't feel too good. Is the corrupted ecto acting up again? Oh, I knew I should have sped up the process of removing it but then it'd be very painful if I did it at once. And Frostbite recommended that we went slowly so we could monitor the side effect... And, and—"

"I'm okay." Red Hood immediately assured, his hand practically flying to Phantom's cheek then he shoved it down before he could even touch Phantom. "It's been a long day."

"Is the Joker out again?" Phantom's frown deepened.

Another thing Dick has learned about the dead and the undead! The fact that their murderer was still active unsettled then greatly and affected their entire mentality and behaviour.

"No. No. He hasn't tried escaping."

Phantom hummed, "I see. So what's bothering you."

"It's nothing." Jason grunted, sounding a little too much like Bruce for Dick's liking.

Okay, nope, he wasn't going to let this continue if his baby brother was going to continue making Phantom assumed he didn't like him. Nightwing to the rescue!

"Phantom! Hi!" Nightwing quite literally dropped into the alley, running his fingers through his hair and smoothly directing Jason away from whatever catastrophic misunderstanding he was walking into.

"Hello Nightwing! It's nice to see you again? How's Kori? Oooh! I wanted to invite her to a space date again—" He rambled on and on, eyes practically starry. Wait, nevermind. His eyes really were starry.

(Meanwhile, Jason was cursing his older brother for taking the attention from but also very thankful that Phantom didn't have to witness his stupidity again.)

Tim had noticed that the Joker hasn't attempted to break out in a long... Long time.

It's not a bad thing, no. It was great, in all honesty. But of course, Tim was paranoid, almost batshir crazy (pun intended, in the words of his damn boyfriends). The surveillance feed on Arkham was updated a long time ago, watching it very closely until static overtook the screen.

"Replacement," Tim startled, blinking before he saw Jason peering at him with a questioning look. Practically interrogating him on the spot. "The hell is that?"

"I don't know." Tim clicked his tongue, "This hasn't happened after Babs and I updated those damn cameras. Fuck, give me a second..."

"Did the Joker get out?" Jason practically growled.

"No, no. I'm sure he didn't. He would have been causing trouble by now." Tim reassured, clicking his tongue again before the feed went back to normal. Joker's cell seemed perfectly fine, with the Joker fast asleep on his little cot. "See, just some static. Maybe Phantom passed by."

The mere mention of Phantom has Jason blue screening, instincts kicking in as his older brother shoved his helmet over his head again. Then the idiot gets on his bike and speeds out of the cave.

Coward.

Tim whipped his head around, quickly surveying the area.

The static wasn't random. Phantom always had to be in front of the camera to directly affect the feed. So thank fuck when he made friends with Phantom's teammate—Pharaoh—and figured out how to fix any distorted imagery.

He sees Phantom standing over the Joker's unconscious body, plunging his hand into the maniac's chest and pulled out a glowing green orb. A core, from what he remembered. Holy shit, was the Joker a ghost too?

But he saw how Phantom seemed to put restraints around it, literal chains before shoving it back inside.

Slowly, Phantom turned to the camera, his entire figure still distorted, but he could see that fanged grin that his brother seemed to swoon over.

(The Joker was still alive, very much, but no one could understand how he was stuck in an almost permanent coma. Tim wasn't going to give Jason even more reason to start giggling over Phantom, unless he wanted to ruin the entire Dead on Main operation.)

Damian did not quite understand the insanity that was multiple individuals (including those that were not of their brood) attempting to matchmake Todd with Phantom. He didn't understand what was so great about Phantom, in all honesty.

He was heroic, powerful, and quite intelligent. Many people held similar traits. Perhaps it was the fact that he was a deathly being that attracted Todd in the first place.

"Hello, Robin!" Phantom greeted one day, eyes shimmering like the stars in his cape. "Superboy said you had something to tell me?"

Damian shifted slightly, "Yes. Are you aware of the Lazarus Pits?"

"Ah... Yes, of course. My court and I have been trying to destroy all of them. The Lazarus is corrupted ectoplasm that has been mixed with filth of all kinds." Phantom hummed.

"Filth of all kinds... Disgusting." Damian frowned, nose scrunching up at the memory that he's bathed in those pits before. "But I digress. I would like to assist in the destruction of the pits. Father and the rest of the family has fretted over my grandfather's pits for many years and we have barely grazed the surface on what the Lazarus truly was."

"I see! I was planning on asking Batman to help out on that. But since you've already asked, would you like to come to the Realms? I'm sure you can interrogate some of the ghosts your grandfather has wronged." Phantom grinned, already offering Damian a hand. He was floating, while Damian stood in the roof and stared at the hand.

It reminded him of the kryptonians. But Phantom's hand was cold and he didn't yank Damian the same way Jon often did.

No, Phantom took Damian's hand and then proceeded to hook an arm around Damian's waist, pulling him of the roof and into the air. And then they were flying into a glowing green portal that reminded Damian of the pits.

The moment they were in the infinite realms, Damian felt the overwhelming pressure of the dead. He swallowed the bile that rose from his throat as Phantom set him down on solid ground. The entire place felt eerie and strange, of course it was. This was the afterlife.

"Right, I forgot." Phantom cursed, "You're not as liminal as my family. Give me a second, baby bat." He murmured, his hand glowing green before it's gently pushed into Damian's chest. A sudden wave of warmth overtook his entire body and Damian stared at the ghost.

"I'm giving you a bit of Ecto to reduce any discomfort here in the realms. It'll flush itself out in 24 hours so don't worry about becoming overly liminal." Phantom smiled softly, before he offered his hand to Damian again. "Let's go? I have to stop by my keep to check the records of Al Ghuls victims."

"Of course."

And instead of being carried like a cat, Phantom picked him up bridal style and flew past what seemed to be floating islands and towards a large red and purple castle.

Is this was Todd feels? Damian asked himself, oddly enjoying this experience.

The moment they landed—

"Your majesty!" A floating eyeball yelled, rushing towards them. "You've brought an outsider—"

"Away with you." Phantom snapped, a crown and cape of stars suddenly appearing on him. "This is Robin. Ra's Al Ghul's grandchild."

"The Demon's head..."

"Yes, now shoo." Phantom snapped, before leading Damian away from the eyeball. "I'm sorry for my Observants. They're a conservative bunch."

"You are a king?"

"Mhm... Though I don't like to advertise it. The last king was a tyrant and I defeated him a little while after my death. I never intended to be king, in all honesty. But here I am." He gestured to the crown of fire and ice and the cape of stars. His grin was strained and quite troubled but he didn't mind leading Damian towards a large room filled with bigger files.

"Now, would you like to search yourself or do you want me to have someone else do it?"

Damian grimaced at the sight. "I'd prefer for someone else to suffer."

And that's how Damian found himself touring the realms, with Phantom happily bringing Damian to the arena where a ghost named Skulker awaited them. The man was a hunter, respectful towards Phantom yet troublesome as he challenged him. Phantom looked utterly annoyed, before he turned to Damian with sparkling eyes.

"What about you, Robin?"

And then Damian was fighting everyone and everything in the realms at the behest and amusement of Phantom. The ghost king provided him with different weapons each time an enemy switched.

It's only when they returned to the land of the living that he's informed that any weapon he's used is now his.

And he has a cat with him! The ghost of a small yet ferocious kitten that had his under Phantom's cape whilst Damian and other ghosts fought to glorious battle. Phantom kindly offered her to him, naming her Astra with the star shaped pupils in her eyes.

Damian is quite sure he has fallen in love.

Damian returns to the manor, utterly awestruck and infatuated. Thankfully (unfortunately), Todd is in attendance when Phantom carries him out of the portal, still held in a bridal carry with Damian actively clinging to Phantom like he had hung the stars (maybe he did).

"Sorry if we worried you! Robin wanted to help with our Lazarus problems since it's also your problem too." Phantom quickly explains once he saw Batman's troubled expression. "Don't worry about your gifts. I'll figure out a way to make you a dimensional bag."

Damian stared, "May I visit the realms again? If you would be amendable to it."

"Of course! You're my favorite, so why wouldn't I?"

Hah! Hear that? Take that, Todd!

Phantom vanishes into his portal seconds later, leaving Damian with the most beautiful and intricated sword in his hands. Blinking quietly, he whirled around and pointed the sword at Jason, who instinctively went into a battle stance.

"You may be my brother, Todd, but if you have not married Phantom once I am of age, I shall fight for his hand in marriage himself."

(Jason knows very well that Damian isn't joking and proceeds to practically plan the most novel-esque confession to date. Jane Austen might just be proud.)

Masterpost

#Damian's future husband #dpxdc #dc x dp #crossover #danny phantom #danny fenton #batfam #jason todd #red hood #Bruce's secret crush is either Hal or Clark in my head #I'm a sucker for BatLantern and SuperBat #Damian ends up crushing on Phantom after he gets spoiled with weapons and a cat #jason is whipped #poor guy knows his entire family and his friends have a gc #now he has to deal with his stabby little brother wanting to marry the love of his life #or afterlife #Danny just thinks Damian is cute cause he reminds him of Dani and sometimes Dan

2K notes · View notes

kirbmey · 4 months ago

Text

　 ྀི︶˚̣̣̣ ⠀manipulative!caleb headcanons ⠀˚̣̣̣︶ ྀི

synopsis: where your big brother shapes your brain as he pleases, because he knows what’s best for you and you always listen like good girls do ( > 〰 < )

tw: stepcest, manipulation, possessive, caleb is aggressive not towards reader, spit kink, mentions of smut, size kink, reader is stupid really, mentions of killing, usage of gege, kidnapping mentions, etc.

manipulative!caleb who made sure to take you to class and pick you up. every. single. day.

manipulative!caleb who woke up an hour before you had to, cooking you breakfast and putting together the outfit he wanted you to wear that day.

manipulative!caleb who kneels next to your bed, caressing your sleeping face so delicately as if you’d brake, staring at you for way too long.

manipulative!caleb who woke you up with wet kisses pressing against the soft of your skin, moving them to your lips when you started to stir awake ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ഒ

manipulative!caleb who has one of his big palms pressed against your belly (the same way he did when he slowly thrusted into you to feel the bulge in your stomach) and the other one caressing your messy hair, whispering a ‘good morning, doll’.

manipulative!caleb who helps you dress up, taking off your comfy pj’s so he could change your underwear into a fresh pair, keeping the old ones in his pocket.

“stand up for me, doll.” he said in a low tone, watching you from above as you did, noticing how you yawned and rubbed your eyes while being almost completely naked in front of him; nothing new to you two anyway.

“very good girl, now lift your legs.” he commanded again, kneeling so his eyes were directly leveled to your hips, kissing your belly and gaining a happy laugh from you, smiling at the sound.

his long fingers pulled your panties down, rubbing the soft plush of your thighs along the way before dressing you with a new pair, keeping the slightly wet ones inside his pocket, you’ve never really questioned that. he has to have his reasons, right? you know everything he does is for your own good (˶ •́◡•̀ ˶)

manipulative!caleb who’s completely devoted to you, worships you as if you were a mere goddess.

manipulative!caleb who sits you up on the kitchen counter and feeds you himself after brushing your hair and helping you do your make up, stealing kisses from you when your parents weren’t looking.

manipulative!caleb who gets on his knees once again to shoe your feet, kissing them too before doing so.

manipulative!caleb who drops you in front of your uni’s entrance, a wide smile plastered on his lips when he sees you waving at him effusively.

manipulative!caleb who doesn’t move the car an inch before seeing you disappear through the tall doors.

manipulative!caleb who enjoys scaring your friends away, mostly males. but females too. it’s a way to steam off the stress.

“you’re very quiet now, hmm? aren’t you going to whisper in my ear like you did with my sister?” he mocked, watching the man curl in pain against the alleyway dirty floor.

“what? can’t take a little punching?” caleb questioned, squatting next to him now, laughing genuinely when the young man spat blood out of his mouth.

“well, alright, let’s leave this here for now. it’s the second time i have to warn you.” he stood up, cracking his broken knuckles. “i’ll kill you if there’s a third.” he simply said, as if the words he mouthed weren’t serious.

“you wouldn’t be the first one anyway!” he spoke loudly as he walked with calm steps outside the alleyway.

manipulative!caleb who kinda manipulates your parents, too. he doesn’t want anyone suspecting anything.

manipulative!caleb who, to your parents eyes, is a very protective big brother who takes care of you since you were kids, nothing more than that.

manipulative!caleb who’s favorite time of the day is when he has to put you to sleep.

manipulative!caleb who, after showering you, feeding you dinner and tucking with you in bed, gets a little horny.

manipulative!caleb who likes to sit you on his lap in the darkness of your room, loudly kissing your lips and toying with the fat of your ass.

“hmmph, gege!” you yelped when you felt his big hands coming down you butt, holding onto his naked chest as you pouted.

“sorry, pips, I can’t help it.” he lied, he wasn’t sorry at all. “you know i get excited when we play like this, hmm?” caleb whispered against your lips, going for another kiss.

manipulative!caleb who likes to spit in your mouth when he makes you ride him, coaxing you to spit in his by telling you he feels thirsty and that’s the only way you could help him ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა

manipulative!caleb who likes it nasty, wet and messy, and gets his way by begging you over and over.

manipulative!caleb who whispers weak ‘i love you’s when he cums inside your creamy pussy; always.

manipulative!caleb who has to sleep in his room so your parents don’t question him, jerking off with your panties wrapped around his cock again and again because you’re the only thing he can think about.

manipulative!caleb who’s life orbits around you, everything is about you, you, you.

manipulative!caleb who made up his mind and convinced himself that, when you two move out, will lock you in a room and never let you go.

you don’t need anyone but your gege ໒꒰ྀི ܸ. .ܸ ꒱ྀི১

a/n: in my mind this and the other two caleb writings i have happen in the same universe, so we’ve got possessive and manipulative big brother caleb ૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა

— masterlist.

#lads headcanons #lads smut #love and deepspace smut #caleb headcanons #lads caleb smut #love and deepspace fic #caleb smut #lads x reader #caleb x reader

2K notes · View notes

rafey-baby · 9 months ago

Text

hidden

outlaw!rafe holding pogue!reader hostage in her own house after banging his fist on her door in the middle of a stormy night, demanding to be let in with a gun in hand and wild waves in the sea of his eyes…

c/w: rafe being manipulative, mentions of murder & violence, he’s also weirdly soft in the end? 18+ mdni!

wc: 2k

he’s been stuck in my head for a while so hope u enjoy xx

series masterlist

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

There’s still sleep dust lingering in her lashes when she hesitantly cracks open the door at 3 am—revealing a tall, scary man with scarlet stains on his hands, white button up saturated in maroon and a scowl painted over his unsettling countenance.

She stands there like a deer in headlights, unmoving while he looks down at her with arctic eyes as chilling as the frigid waters surrounding an iceberg. And at first, she thinks she’s still asleep, tired brain conjuring up some creepy murderer scenario where she’s the idiot who does everything the audience in the movie theater is screaming at her not to.

But as she properly blinks her sleepy eyes open, she comes to the realization that this is not a horror film and this intimidating stranger (with oddly appealing features) who’s definitely just killed someone is very much real.

She’s about to open her mouth— unsure whether to scream for help or simply stare with her mouth hung open in shock, but she doesn’t get the chance to find out before he’s pasting his massive palm over her lips.

“Don’t make a sound,” his low mutter makes a shiver run down her spine. And she doesn’t, instead she just blinks, too out of it to move a muscle— the reek of the dried blood on his hand hitting her nose and making her face scrunch up.

She doesn’t know why she’s not putting up any sort of a fight, blames it on the fact that half her brain is still swimming in the lake of her dreamland— soaking up the glittering sunbeams that never dull and dipping its toes in the grass that consists of misty nebula and twinkling stars.

And he’s just so mean, manhandling her to his liking and ordering her around with a gun to her head; grumbling about needing a hiding place from the cops after dumping a body somewhere in the ocean and getting caught since apparently, his temper really just got the best of him at times.

“Didn’t mean to kill the guy, alright? He jus’ kept bein’ a bitch ‘n pissin’ me off— I mean, I was, uh, I was provoked, what was I supposed to do?”

However, his explanation seems to do very little to soothe her overstrung heart that’s thudding in her ribcage; loud enough for him to hear and earning her an exasperated roll of his eyes.

“M’takin’ a shower now ‘n you’re not gonna move an inch, you understand? Cause if you do…m’gonna have to— m’gonna hurt you ‘n I don’t wanna do that, okay?”

She merely nods her head, unable to string together a coherent sentence, and he takes note of the way her inhale gets caught in her throat when he takes a step closer. “You, uh, you live alone?”

She offers another nod of her head.

“Dumb girl”, he tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “When someone’s knockin’ on your door in the middle of the night you don’t— you don’t fuckin’ open, alright?”

She’s making it entirely too easy for him.

However, the second he’s in the bathroom, she forces her exhausted brain to think— hurriedly coming up with a rickety plan while she listens to the water streaming behind the door. She waits for only a a few seconds to make sure the coast is clear before she’s bolting towards her bedroom; trembling fingers grabbing her phone from her nightstand and trying to dial 911.

Unfortunately, her shaky hands aren’t of any help when they clumsily drop the phone— the clattering sound of it hitting the floor echoing in the quietness of the room. And suddenly she can’t breathe.

Her brain short-circuits as she bends down in an attempt to reach for the wretched device that has somehow tumbled under her bed. However, when she finally catches it in an unsteady grip, she hears the shower turn off— an eerie stillness following. In her state of panic, she attempts to turn the phone back on and call for help, but it’s proving to be rather difficult since her lungs aren’t working and her heartbeat is ringing in her ears.

“Boo,” a low whisper right behind her makes her flinch; a faint gasp leaving her while a shiver travels down her spine.

“Why’d you jus’ do that, huh? Told you I didn’t wanna— didn’t wanna fuckin’ hurt you ‘n then you go ‘n pull this shit,” a strong hand grips her by her throat when he turns her around to face him.

“M’sorry, I— I don’t—” she’s paralyzed, respiration shallow while her blood runs cold.

“You don’t what, hm?” he stares into her horror-stricken eyes with an almost bored look, seeming to be entirely indifferent to her torment.

“Can’t…can’t breathe,” her voice is nearly inaudible.

A grim chuckle bubbles from his chest in response. “Can’t breathe? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before, yeah?” he scoffs, cruel words mocking her.

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid— want me to kill you? That what you want?” he grits out, squeezing her neck harder; making her feel dizzy.

“No! No, please. M’sorry…m’sorry, won’t— won’t do it again, promise, I’ll do anything—” she manages out, desperately gasping for air because he’s nearly crushing her windpipe in his unrelenting grip.

“Anythin’ huh? That’s, uh, tha’s real temptin’ ‘n all but what I need you to do is not pull stupid shit like this, you get that?”

“I won’t, I promise. You can, um, stay here for as long as you want and I’ll help, okay?” she thinks she’s going to pass out soon— little stars already peppering behind her fluttering lids and her weakened limbs beginning to feel heavy.

His coarse panting fills the room while he seems to contemplate her offer. “If you even think about runnin’ to the cops tonight, m’gonna fuckin’ find you, you understand?”

She frantically nods and at last, his hold begins to loosen around her trachea, allowing for her greedy lungs to finally suck in air as she takes a step back in an attempt to even out her respiration.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment— silently observing her while she clears her throat and swallows a few times, trying to pacify her racing heart and the thoughts running around her brain.

Then, she blinks up at him, noticing how he smells like her honey-scented body wash and orange blossom shampoo— nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, leaving very little to her imagination as the room grows quiet.

Once she feels the flat floorboards under her wobbly feet again, she tries a different approach; a nervous hesitation overlaying her creaky question. “What’s, um…what’s your name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses her. However, when a small pout begins to mold her mouth the longer she stares at him, he lets out a discontented huff.

“Rafe,” he finally responds, not bothering to ask for hers, seemingly not caring enough for it. She tells him, nonetheless, and he can’t help but laugh at her priorities— a literal criminal has broken into her home and she cares about fucking introductions.

“So…have you— have you killed anyone else?”

She doesn’t know why she’s trying to make small talk with him but she figures that if she gets him to talk about something else, choking her to death won’t be at the forefront of his mind anymore.

“You seriously wanna know?” he raises his brows.

She thinks about it for a moment and then settles on a shake of her head, followed by a harsh chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“So, uh— what do you do? Like besides…killing people and stuff?” she tries once more.

“Listen, the less you know, the better, alright?” he states, causing her to let out a soft sigh in defeat when all of a sudden, thunder crackles behind her windows, an ablaze lightning illuminating her dimly lit bedroom soon after.

She flinches at the sound and the nearly sinister way it momentarily lights up his face.

“You scared of a little storm?” he feigns concern as he peers down at her. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe, yeah?” the mocking grin plastered on his face causes a shudder to travel through her as she swallows—wishing this was all just a really bad nightmare.

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

After the little incident, Rafe thinks she’s just as sweet as sugar, offering to make him tea and asking if he wants a blanket or an extra pillow so he’d be more comfortable sleeping on the couch.

And he can tell that she’s merely doing it because she’s terrified of him, which she should be. Nonetheless, he thinks it feels nice to be pampered and doted on— to have a pretty girl following his orders like a trained puppy. It makes him figure he’s gonna enjoy his stay just fine.

The following morning though, he’s woken up by her shaky figure standing next to him— pointing his gun at him.

He lets out a sigh, softened bones mellow from sleep while he rubs at his eyes and shifts to a seated position on the couch— teasingly lifting his hands up in surrender. “Puppy’s got a gun, huh? Tryin’ to be all tough now, are we?”

“I— I want you to leave,” she says, voice rickety and words unsure.

And he’s trying to take her seriously, he really is, but it’s proving to be rather difficult when she resembles a scared little kitten more than someone who knows what they’re doing.

“You want me to leave? Maybe you should, uh, work on your pitch a little more? M’not very convinced,” the lazy smile tugging at his mouth makes her brows crease.

“Rafe, this is not a joke,” a scowl shades her face.

He thinks she looks rather adorable. “Come on, pup, you’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t even know how to use that thing, do you?” his voice is even, and it makes her hesitate.

“Well��it can’t be that complicated?” it’s more of a question than a statement and he lets out a humored chuckle in response. Her frown deepens.

“Why don’t you give that to me, yeah? You don’t want death on your conscience, would break ya, you’re too soft for that shit.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Know you enough,” he says, finally standing on his feet, taking a slow step towards her, making her squeeze the weapon tighter in her trembling fingers.

“If— if I give it to you…you’re gonna— you’re gonna kill me and I don’t wanna die,” her words are rushed, hysterical.

His brows furrow. “Who said anythin’ about killin’ you? Listen, if you give me the gun right now, m’not gonna do anythin’. You have my word, okay?” he towers over her, solid chest grazing the barrel.

“I don’t trust you,” her voice is a whisper.

“I know, pup…but I also know that you’re not gonna use that,” his steady hands are a stark contrast to her own when he grabs for the firearm, slipping it from her weak fingers with ease.

“There we go, no need to be so, uh, so fuckin’ theatrical, yeah?” he lowers his face in order to lock eyes with her. “See? Not hurtin’ you, am I?”

She manages out a hum of agreement, and then her waterline is brimming with salty droplets as she chokes out a sob. “M’sorry. I don’t—”

“Hey, hey s’all good. Mistakes happen, yeah?” he says before his strong arms are wrapping around her trembling form because he’s not a complete monster, and for some reason it only makes her weep harder.

Her crocodile tears wet his shirt while his big paws rub against her back, but he doesn’t seem to mind. And she thinks it’s almost…comforting when he starts to sway her from side to side, like he’s trying to calm down a crying child.

“There you go, just, uh, let it all out ‘n maybe you can chill out a bit, yeah? You pogues can be so fuckin’ dramatic sometimes,” he pats at her back, rolling his eyes as she takes in shaky inhale after shaky inhale until she’s feeling slightly more placid.

“Shit, if I’d known you were such a fuckin’ crybaby I would’ve picked another house,” he grumbles, pulling away from her weakened form before pushing her back to stumble on her feet— setting the gun back onto the coffee table with a clank.

2K notes · View notes

on-leatheredwings · 1 year ago

Text

Remedial Lesson (18+)

Yandere ! Dick Grayson x (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, 18+ > request: non-con for dick grayson? maybe him abusing his power as the titans leader to be a little flirty/touchy with reader before tricking them into letting him inside of their bedroom under false pretenses? > tw/cw: explicit non-con, baby trapping, yandere behaviors, abusive power dynamic > a/n: i just love writing a manipulative dick! And i love writing a manipulative Dick! (ba dum tss) emphasis on non-con in tw's, its not dubcon! > word count: 2545

Stupid, stupid.

At that thought, the logical, respectable half of your brain admonishes you.

You aren’t stupid. You just were unlucky, you correct softly. You’re plenty capable, and an asset to the team. It could’ve happened to anybody.

Recently, you’ve been trying to stop your self-deprecation, in an attempt to bolster your self-esteem, solidify your confidence, and quell negative self-talk.

… Therapist’s orders.

Being the ever-so-capable superhero you are, today you got blasted by some hypnotizing ray. And then promptly went on a murderous rampage on your teammates.

You don’t recall anything that happened, only waking up from what felt like a deep sleep to the outstretched hand of Nightwing. Koriand’r told you on the way back to the Tower that you almost killed him – making you stiffen in horror. You almost killed him, and apparently the only thing he had been worried about was you. At the thought, you feel heat swarm in your cheeks.

Despite not having any powers, Nightwing is plenty formidable. You were in complete awe of him today; the way he moves is so effortless, and he’s not even a metahuman.

You clench your fist with determination. You aren’t a metahuman either, but you pale in comparison to him. You want to be just as formidable as he is. Be just as deserving of the title “Titan.”

On the subject of Nightwing, your mind wanders… He had been quite… hands-on with you today. Shaking you by the shoulders, hand on your cheeks lightly slapping you awake. Encouraging you back to your feet, hand brushing your waist. When the battle was over, you nearly collapsed to your knees, spent. But he caught you, appearing from out of nowhere.

“Easy,” he had said into your ear, which made you shiver.

You sigh.

Okay. So maybe you had a crush. It wasn’t like you were going to do anything about it. He’s your boss – the Titans’ illustrious captain. He was simply helping you along, watching out for a teammate. Mentoring a new hero. After all, you are the Titans’ newest recruit, a post that months later still feels unreal.

You walk amongst them through the doors of the Tower, conversation and chatter flowing around you. You don’t join in, still ashamed from today’s blunder. How many of them had you tried to hurt? The team has just finished a mission, and it seems a pizza party is in order for tonight. You smile gingerly as Garfield announces vibrantly that you’re invited. (A no-brainer to anyone else since you literally live here, but to you, it means a lot.)

Your secret identity known to the team, you dismiss yourself to change out of your suit and into your civvies. “Hurry back soon,” they say, and the sentiment warms you. You indeed jog to your bedroom, eager to return to the festivities. You’re one of them. You’re really one of them.

You slip into your room, tossing the door back without a second glance. Your fingers pull on the bottom of your shirt. You’re about to peel off your suit, when you hear a shallow thud. That was not the sound your door makes once it's been closed.

You whip around, and see–

“Nightwing?”

Your leader stands in the doorway, foot acting as an impromptu door stopper. You take him in. His hair cascades in gentle dark waves, curling by the ears. If you didn’t know better, you’d think his suit was painted on. Despite being lightly armored and fortified, it stretches across his body like plastic wrap. You could trace every muscle under his skin– okay, relax. Christ.

Hey, you think back, mentally wagging a finger. No thought policing.

At the sound of your name being called, you realize you’ve been gawking like an idiot while he stands in your doorframe. You straighten.

“Oh! Y-yes!?”

“Can I come in?” he asks. You nod so fervently that your head is a blur of color.

Nightwing does so, the slightest amicable smile on his lips. Around friends and allies, it seems to be a default expression of his. Still, you’ve spent enough time around him to note that he looks quite… serious. Concerned.

“... Is there anything I can do for you?” you ask, eager to rectify whatever was upsetting him. You so want to impress him. Badly.

He holds up his hands, as if saying, At ease. “All you can do for me is let me know that you’re alright.”

You offer a pitiable smile, warmth swirling in your chest. “I am. Thanks for asking– and I’m so, so sorry about today–”

Nightwing waves you off, approaching you. He places a hand on your shoulder in consolation. “Hey, it could’ve–”

“--Happened to anyone,” you finish, nodding. You look down.

“... Although I admit…”

Your head snaps to attention. “Yes?”

Nightwing then sighs. His gaze falls to the floor. He tuts and shakes his head as if troubled. You swallow drily. So focused on him, you don’t even notice the circles his thumb kneads into your shoulder.

“Your performance today.” Your throat clenches. Nightwing’s gaze returns to you, hard and critical behind his mask. “Well, frankly, it left much to be desired.”

Your heart plummets, hitting the pit of your stomach. You’re mortified. You haven’t been meeting his standards? Did everyone else think that? Were their hopes misplaced? You feel the thrum of anxiety jitter underneath your skin as you bow your head. Your gaze now captures the two feet keeping you upright.

There’s a stroke to your cheek, to which you flinch.

“Hey.” Your head whips up. You look up at him, into white lenses that have the ghost of his eyes behind them. “It’s okay. I’m here to help.”

His face is gentle and consoling. You exhale. He’s just being honest, you think. He’s just being honest. Nothing wrong with some constructive criticism. You let him sit you down on the edge of your bed.

“H-how can I improve?” you ask, voice croaking. “I know I fucked up today. I should’ve seen it coming. I’m so, so sorry if I hurt you or anybody else–”

“Hey,” he says again, soft and delicately. “Listen, it’s alright. I’m going to teach you some things. How to resist better.”

You nod, slowly, anticipating some verbal advice.

You watch him with anticipation, giving him your full attention– and then, he kneels before you. You instinctively feel alarm at the increased proximity, before you swat it down. His head is level with your lower abdomen, uncomfortably close to your lap. You don’t have to make it weird, you scoff at yourself.

“... Y-yes?” you say.

“I’m going to take off your pants.”

You stare.

Did you hear him right? Was he… joking?

Clearly not. His hands land on your thighs, effectively drawing a sharp inhale from you. You both lock eyes. His face still holds the same vaguely amicable grin, but it’s now a leer. Your heart quickens. You don’t feel right.

“... Nightwing?” you ask, feeling suddenly quite small. You don’t know what’s happening. What’s going on?

“You need to be able to withstand a lot more than you currently can,” he continues, talking as casually as if you’re speaking about the weather. You are shell shocked, frozen into submission at the touch of his hands pulling your pants off. His nails scrape along your skin when he has to use more force to jerk it free from under your ass, to which you still don’t react.

What’s going on? your mind cycles on loop.

It’s when he pulls down your underwear you finally jolt, clumsily kicking at him. Which he catches of course. What a poor move, because your kick only enables him to spread your legs at his leisure. Heat rages to your cheeks. Though not entirely off, your panties do a pitiful job of concealing the tangle of hair nestled between your thighs. The mortification racing through your bloodstream makes you croak. It makes you keep throwing kicks and swats and punches until Nightwing is forced to sandwich your body against your bed. He pins your hands down to the bed, and you know by now it’s a lost cause.

“Help–” you begin, but Nightwing adeptly slips your wrists into one hand, and uses the other to silence you. He smiles bashfully, as if he hadn’t just stripped you without consent or fanfare.

“This is all for you–” At the furrow of your brow, he says, indignantly, “I’m serious! How easy was it for that guy to hypnotize you today?” The question throws a knife into your heart. “Or when last week you were apprehended? Or the week before that?” Each instance makes the burning building in your eyes more and more unbearable. He isn't wrong. Your tears build. He’s not wrong.

Nightwing slowly removes his hand off your mouth, anticipating another yell. You squirm, but don’t make a sound aside from shuddering breaths.

His grin loses all its flirty qualities. It widens, self-satisfied and predatory. With his teeth he peels off his free hand’s glove, slides it down your torso to the apex between your thighs.

“No,” you whimper, to which he hushes you, lips by the shell of your ear for the second time today. His fingers explore without warning, tracing your labia and brushing against your clit. You gasp, but you don’t scream.

Nightwing tuts, shaking his head. “You’re already wet, I see.”

You tremble, filled with humiliation. “No, I’m not.” One digit delves deeper, experimentally. You grit your teeth.

“You want this,” he says, and you fill with dread at the condescension of his tone. Like this was expected. Like you had so much to learn.

“No, I don’t.”

“But you do. You’re telling me you do.” His fingers – the pair that when gloved, there would’ve been two cobalt blue stripes – scissor inside you, and your breath hitches. “Your body’s telling me you do.”

“I-it’s a biological response.” At the feeling of his fingers swimming inside you, you whimper. This is insane. It can’t be happening. Yet you jerk and twitch with each of his motions. “P-please, I would… Please stop, now…” He doesn’t, pumping his sinful fingers into you. Teases you by dragging them out.

You throw your head back, biting your lip. He’s panting into your ear – you’d think you were doing something to him, the way he sounds. Your overhead light beams into your gaze, dizzying. It burns, so you close your eyes, hoping this is some humiliating dream. This can’t be real. This can’t be real.

“So you say– Hey.” He nips at your ear and you stir. “Look at me. Look at me.” You do so, and find him staring up at you. His mask is not enough of a barrier. Even if you can’t see them, you know his eyes are scraping over you, peeling your skin back, seeing you whole. Your embarrassment, your weakness, your shame.

“Please stop,” you whisper, eyes stinging. Your thighs tremble, to which he places his free hand on them to steady them. This is wrong. He shouldn’t be doing this. You’re teammates. He’s your captain.

Nightwing sighs, looking disappointed. Oh no, your mind spirals. He’s disappointed in you. Despite you being desperately uncomfortable– violated– he’s at fault– he’s the one doing something wrong–

Despite your logical brain asserting itself, you are flooded with a tidal wave of anxiety.

“That’s not good, you know,” he says, and he looks mournful. “Whining is just what they want to hear.” His fingers disappear from your body, and their absence leaves you in shock. Wanting.

Wanting? Do I want this? you think.

Nightwing is reaching behind his neck, tugging and pulling. Before you know it, he’s bare-chested. You don’t marvel at his body, like you would have just an hour before.

“Bad guys aren’t going to listen to you just because you beg.” A tear slips down your face. You swipe at it, but not quick enough for him to miss it. “And they won’t care if you cry… Maybe you don’t need to learn how to resist. You’re not cut out for it, I think,” he tsks. “Maybe, you need to learn how to endure.”

You feel something blunt and wet prod at your entrance, and that’s when the last remains of your primal fight-or-flight instincts kick in. You start to squirm, back arching off the bed. “Please, please, please– no– stop– I don’t want this–” His hand clamps down on your mouth once more, and hard. You push him with all your might, but it’s not enough. You aren’t strong enough.

“Just the tip,” he whispers in the shell of your ear. Just the tip. You can handle at least that. Just the tip.

He repeats it for himself, not you. This you realize as he enters anyway, despite your teary complaints. It is not just the tip; he bottoms out. “You can handle this. I know you can.”

You’re so confused. You’re so, so confused. You merely clench your eyes shut, nodding at his encouragement. You don’t know what else to do.

“I know, I know,” he comforts. “Don’t worry, you’re taking it really well. You take it perfect.” You cling onto his words of reassurance, no matter how twisted it feels. It’s the only anchor you’ve got. Each thrust makes you see stars behind your eyelids, bed rocking. The ding of your bed frame hitting the wall is enough to make you finally quiet. The last thing you want is for the others to hear. To walk in and see you utterly helpless. Powerless. Incapable.

You swallow your sobs, but let the tears stream freely.

“It’d be better if I just got you pregnant right now.”

You feel a cold knife of fear pierce your chest. He can’t. He can’t. You wouldn’t be able to be a hero anymore.

“You’d be better suited for it,” he hums. You can tell he’s near, his hips snapping more frenetically, his words cut off with his own moans. You’re ashamed to admit moans of your own may have slipped out. You don’t even bother resisting at this point, hoping that if not your strength, then your body can satisfy him. Hoping at least that your body will meet his standards.

“Fuck,” you hear, and not a moment later you feel him shoot ropes of cum into your cunt. You can feel both his cock that throbs with each spray and the warmth spreading into you. You don’t know why you’re shocked at the sensation – it wasn’t as if he seemed keen on using a condom. Nightwing’s hands release you, having gripped you so hard you’re sure you’ve bruised.

He dots sweet kisses along your neck, your collarbone, your cheek. It should be all very sweet, but you can't ignore the poison of the circumstance. “You did so good, you did perfect,” are amongst the accolades he whispers into your clammy skin. You nod weakly, letting him kiss your tears away.

Nightwing dives in for a kiss, desperate to take even more than you’ve already given him. You return it, heart palpitating. You bat away the negative thoughts that threaten to swarm your mind whole. No more negative self-talk, after all. No self-deprecation. It’s okay. You took it well. You endured, like he said.

You did perfect.

#yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #mine #tw baby trapping #tw noncon

3K notes · View notes

ridingthatd · 1 year ago

Text

❝𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎❞

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

manipulative!geto ✘ fem!reader

summary: geto is one of your innocent friends, what happens when you get stuck in a cabin with him alone since your boyfriend gojo can't make it?, will he stay so innocent?

warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, cabin sex, perv!geto, fingering, squirting, nastiness, geto gets what he wants, gojo is your boyfriend, manipulation, obsession.

today is the day. today is the day geto will get what he wants. today is the day geto will get what he dreamed of. today is the day geto gets to live his little nasty fantasy. today is the day geto will finally get to feel your soft, plump body against his- that's if, if only if everything goes according to his plan, and be demanded getos plans will always work.

"ah here you are suguru!" you slowly wave your hand at geto as he makes his way toward your cabin, the cabin where you and gojo have been living for the past few months, he would be lying if he said he isn't jealous of his dear childhood friend. keeping you all to himself. gojo and geto have always shared everything, even the stupid childish dream about living without curses- they both shared it, so what about you? why is saturo so selfish that he can't share you with him?.

part of geto doesn't blame his friend because if he had you. he would split the ocean in half before giving you to anyone.

geto smiles softly at you. waving back, he smiles even wider once he sees the way you're hopping from leg to leg- clearly just as excited as he is to meet you.

"careful y/n don't want you hurting yourself on my watch." he speaks out once he's in a close distance to get a good look at the gorgeous goddess in front of him, cheeks flushed from hopping around, grinning from ear to ear, hair slightly messy because of the cold breeze that's hitting both of you.

you playfully role your eyes "don't worry suguru I'm a grown woman, of course i wouldn't hurt myself in such a silly way like you do." getos cheeks flush remembering the embarrassing moments of him being clumsy around you.

"aw your ears are getting red no need to be embarrassed geto" you say while gently rubbing his ear between your finger tips- trying to rub his redness away. getos breath hitch this little act of yours, you have no idea- no idea what you do to your so called "sweet" suguru.

"im not embarrassed, it's just because it's cold outside" geto mumbles, you let out a little mhm while you move your hand away folding them close to your body, making your breast slightly peark up."if you so say, now get inside don't want you catching a cold on my watch" you say teasingly micking him- now it's his turn to roll his eyes at you.

both of you make it inside the warm cabin, it wasn't to small or to big, it was just enough the perfect size for two new happy couple. it was the perfect size to cuddle and fuck in, if geto was the one with you here- he would have fucked you in every inch of this cabin, print his cock in you everywhere, claim you in every inch so everytime he isn't here, you would remember the way he fucked you in every corner- but today there isn't ifs because he's gonna make it happen, after all he's geto.

you happily sip the last bit of the soup geto has made for both you.

"I didn't know you were a chef suguru- I guess every day the huge brain of yours learn something new". geto blushes a little before snorting at your little comment about his brain "it's nothing special, it's just a soup recipe I learned from my grandpa, that he used to make when I was sick" he says while staring at the way you happily rub at your cute little tummy, that he has noticed grew a little since the last time he saw you- it's not that he minds oh no it makes him more eager to touch you- to squeeze your little stomach while he eats you out, holding you in place by your tummy.

"still it made both of me and my baby happy" you say cheekly not realizing what you just said till geto drops his spoon.

"y... your baby?" geto repeats making sure he heard you right, making you realize what you just said- your eyes widen and you stand up quickly making the chair you were sat on fall with a thud.

"NO- oh god no im not pregnant or anything!" you hurriedly say as if geto thinking your pregnant is your hugest fear, he stare at you confused.

"then why did you-" he was cut off by you "it's just me and gojo been acting as if im pregnant and saying cheesy stuff-" you say as if that makes any sense "I don't know why but it's been gojos new thing to act as if im pregnant so it just rubbed off on me I guess" you mumble hoping the big guy would understand what you mean- you finally got the courage to look up at him, and it catches you off surprise what you see- you have never seen geto with such a dark expression on his face, he was clenching his hand into a fist under the table. you were not sure what to say.

so that's what gojo been up to huh. breeding his lovely y/n. trapping you so he won't be able to have you. the thought of that made geto fume in rage, how many times have gojo fucked you and breed you full with his cum? how many times have gojo planted his seed inside of you pretending to impregnate you? geto won't let this happen, and tonight he will make sure of it. by marking his seed inside of you before gojo gets to steal that from him.

"it's.. it's fine it just got me off guard that you guys would have kept something as big as you being pregnant from me" geto stares at you with sad eyes- he has to keep the innocent act till he gets what he wants, he wasn't entirely lying. it would make him really upset if you guys kept such thing hidden from him.

"no no no no suguru- you know you would be the first person we would tell if that ever happens right?" you say panickly "yea I know".

soon after the sun has disappeared and a gloomy dark weather has appeared- you had always since childhood hated rain and thunder, of course geto knew that- this is why he's here today. this is why he made a specific plan to be here at this time, at this weather, and mostly at a time where gojo wouldn't be around.

you stare at the window as your hear the soft drops of rain starting to fall- you frown "saturo won't make it today with such weather" you worriedly say and of course geto knew that I mean after all it was part of his plan-"yea looks like it".

loud thunder and heavy rain sounds fill the room. under the darkness of this room it lights up each time. after every thunder to, show a glimpse of you and geto laying together with only 1 blanket. 1 pillow. 1 bed.

"im sorry geto-its just... you know i can't handle the thunder" you softly whipser, shuffling next to him. of course again geto knew that, he knew that you would get scared to be alone in your room, he knew that you'd come to him seeking for comfort, and he knew he would give you that with no hesitation.

"it's alright. it's just like back when we were kids right?" geto mumbles shifting to turn around and look at your curled up back shivering from discomfort of the loud thunder. he slowly stretch his arms towards you. fingers itching to feel the warmth of you, once he reachs you- you stiff unsure how to feel about that "geto-" you were cut off by him shushing you gently while hooking his arms around your waist and pulling you to his chest.

"shhhh it's okay. im here everything is going to be okay" he softly rock you against his chest-pressing your whole body warmth against his and god it felt so good to have you this close. finally he thought while pressing his nose against your hair- taking a deep breath of the cherry smell of your hair. finally he thought again. finally he can have you while slowly trailing his nose against your ear going lower and lower. finally he thought once more. finally he can get to mark his sweet little y/n.

"geto-" you breath out once more, feeling your childhood friend press his front against you- gently sucking your earlobe in his mouth, coating it with his warm spit.

"what are you doing-" you gently tug, trying to escape his grasp- not realizing you accidentally rubbed your ass on his already ragging hard on. geto hiss, realising your now spit-covered earlobe from his mouth "careful- don't want me cumming in my pants just yet". you gasp you have never thought such a dirty words would come out of your dark haired innocent friend.

a loud thunder seems to snap you out to reality, you flinch at how loud it was- you couldn't even fully react because geto was already shushing you and gently rubbing your belly. "shhh it's okay baby I know, I know just let me take care of this okay hm? let me make you forget about this- you don't have to do anything just lay close to me while I make you feel so so so good, that you won't have to worry about the silly little thunder hm?"

you were confused, scared, shakey about what's happening this is why you hated rainy days because they always make you go blank- weak can't do anything, you didn't even realize that you were crying until you felt geto licking away a tear that dropped from your eye. his tongue felt warm and wet against your cold cheek.

"aw my little baby- don't cry I will take care of you, don't worry" he gently whispered still soothing your belly the only difference is that his hands are now under your shirt- making skin to skin contact with it. his hand felt so warm and comforting that you simply just sniffle and node to scared and confused to do anything else.

"such a good girl for me" geto mumbles against your neck while slowly lowering his hand from your belly- to your underwear trailing soft circles on top of your underwear.

he can feel your sweet little pussy throbbing under his hand- such a sweet pussy even through confusion your pussy is still so eager for him. he flickes your underwear up and slide his hand under- his groan is muffled by your neck, as he suck on it leaving a redish purple mark covered with his drool behind. he can feel how sticky and warm you were plusing under his touch- clenching around nothing so ready for one of his long fingers to slide right into your warmth.

he starts sucking on your delicate neck drung off the smell of you, as he rubes gentle circles on your clit- you let a whimper, you let out the sweetest whimper he ever heard. it made him go crazy because it finally hits him. he's making you his. he's making you feel good. he's touching your pussy. so warm so sticky so wet, he couldn't help himself from rocking his hips against your ass basically humping your ass while fingering you.

he goes faster. more aggressive- you couldn't help the loud whine that left you. clear warm liquid gushing out of you, coating his finger, he starts to hump you faster he can practically feel his percum soaking through his boxer.

he suddenly flips you into your back- him on top of you, earning a gasp out of you- you finally caught a look at him. he didn't look like the sweet geto you knew, he looked like an animal waiting to rut, his hair is messy, cheeks flushed, drool leaving his mouth and coating his puffy red lips. you couldn't help your gaze going down- he was huge who knew geto could hold such a weapon between his legs.

Impatiencly he slides your shorts and underwear off- he couldn't wait more to take a look at the sweet puffy pussy of yours. once it was free he left out a long groan- head dropping to take a closer look while hooking your legs around his shoulder.

"fuck y/n- look what the sight of your wet pussy do to me" he shakily says palming his dick out of his boxers. he was indeed huge, the long distance between the darkish hair around his base and the top but what caught your attention is the hot pink head and the white percum leaking out of it. it was a breathtaking sight you couldn't deny.

geto is shaking- he doesn't know why. is he shaking from excitement. is he shaking from how nasty he is. is he shaking because he knows it's fucked up or is he shaking because he can't wait to eat the wet creamy pussy in front of him- he doesn't waste any more time and dig right into his meal.

the thunder is long gone. it stopped and the only sound left in this room was the wet, sucking and licking sounds your pussy is geto slowly raise his head, you thought he was finished but the way he holds your eyes tells you something different- he maintain eye contact while slowly spitting, letting the drool leave his mouth and land directly on your clit. this time it was you who couldn't hold out your moan. once he started to suck on your clit again it's over for you.

you squirt all over his face, clear liquid gushing out of your pretty pussy- geto couldn't believe it, but that didn't stop him from opening his mouth and letting all the squirt go directly into his mouth. it's like he's drinking out of a holy fountain of a goddess, and this sent him over the edge- white hot cum spurts out of his angry dick and lend on your thighs.

your body was shaking, you could barely keep your eyes open after this. the only thing you heard before falling into deep sleep was "rest y/n because we're not done yet".

3K notes · View notes

rafesangelita · 2 months ago

Text

♡ jj gets sheep!reader high for the first time..

warnings: perv!jj, smoking, teasing, dirty talk, slight manipulation, corruption kink, implications of reader being a virgin, dubcon (?), making out, dry humping, thigh riding, tit play, nipple sucking, squirting

wc: 1.0k

“you gotta stop being scared of this stuff,” jj looked up at you from his spot on the floor, his choppy bangs falling in his face as he rolled up a joint on an old dingy magazine, “a little bit of weed doesn’t hurt nobody.” you sighed, allowing your chin to rest in your hands. “does john b let you smoke in here?” jj waved off your question before pulling your arm so you could sit down next to him. scrambling off of the old mattress, you yelped when his hand traveled underneath your skirt.

“john b isn’t here, so whatever he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” you watched as jj licked a line across the rolling paper, your cheeks heating once he caught you staring at his tongue. you looked away quickly as jj’s laugh echoed in your ears. “y/n, if you’re curious all you gotta do is let me know. i’d be more than happy to show you some tongue work.” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, the action only making you more embarrassed than you already were.

you were so easy to tease, jj leaned his back against the bed before handing you his lighter. “you light me up, sheep?” nodding pensively, jj watched as you lit the other end of his joint, the small flame flickering against your features. jj kept his eyes on you while he took the first drag, a laugh escaping him once he blew all the smoke in your face. you instantly sent yourself back, a string of coughs escaping your lips as you waved your hand in front of your face.

“why would you do that?!” you cried, softly shoving him away once he got you tucked into his side once again. “don’t get your panties in a twist, everyone does it, baby.” shaking your head, you crossed your arms over your chest as jj continued blowing puffs of smoke in your direction. with the windows shut and the door closed, it wasn’t long before the air in the room grew thick and hazy.

jj kept lighting up joint after joint, both of your brains becoming foggy as he pulled you on top of his lap. the cargo material of his shorts felt rough and scratchy against your skin, a lazy smile gracing his lips as he trailed his fingertips up and down your thighs. “when are you gonna let me get in these, hm?” you gasped softly when jj slipped his hand underneath the waistband of your underwear, the elastic snapping back against your flesh as he pulled and let go of the lace trim.

you giggled when you felt his lips on your neck, the sensation making you squirm in his lap. “fuck, keep moving like that..” he groaned, planting his hands on your hips so he could drag you up and down his clothed cock. you blinked slowly, a small whimper sounding from you when you felt his hard-on sit snuggly between your wet folds. “i don’t think we should be doing this, jayj. i feel a little funny—” jj cut you off with a searing kiss, his teeth nipping your bottom lip in the process.

“shhh— you’re just a little high, don’t worry. you’re in some really good hands.” he whispered, his eyes growing dark at the sight of you in your slightly confused state. “don’t you feel good?” he watched as your gaze flickered across his face, your hands finding his shoulders as he continued his ministrations. all it took was one stroke against your sensitive bundle of nerves before you grew desperate for more friction, the scruffy blonde in front of you wasting no time in scooting you down so you were seated on top of his thigh.

“let’s see how messy you can get..” at his words, jj motioned for you to start moving, your damp panties leaving behind a wet patch as you started grinding down on him. grabbing onto the ruffles of your skirt, jj helped guide you over his thigh while you whimpered pathetically to yourself. “feel this, feel what you do to me?” he grabbed your hand and placed it over his erection, “you have no idea how long i’ve fantasized but taking this virgin pussy.” he tsked, leaning in to kiss you sloppily.

“so fucking sweet and innocent, i’m gonna take all of that away soon i fucking promise you.” you could feel the coil in your tummy grow tighter and tighter with each stroke of your clit against his shorts, your eyes watering at the overwhelming pleasure wracking through your body. jj continued guiding your palm over his cock, his cheeks growing red as your whines turned into full blown cries, your tits spilling out of the sweetheart neckline of your top. “holy shit, these are perfect.” he marveled, rolling your sensitive buds between his fingers.

jj did the unthinkable as you nearly doubled over, your thighs burning with tension. “oh, jayj!” you cradled his head when he took your nipple in his mouth, his rough palm fondling the other as you approached the edge of your high. “mm— come on, give it to me, ‘pretty.” your hips stuttered as soon as you reached your climax, your orgasm making your heart beat in your ears as you let out a half shriek. burying your face in jj’s neck, you licked and nipped the sensitive flesh there before you felt a stream of wetness flow from between your thighs.

you gasped, both you and jj looking down at the mess you made. “oh my god,” your cheeks heated in embarrassment, “i’m so sorry i didn’t know i could i do that—” jj shushed you before you could get through apologizing all the way, “don’t say sorry. that’s the hottest thing i’ve ever seen.” he helped you up, taking a seat at the edge of the bed before pushing you back on your knees. “wait, what are you doing, jay?” you watched as he quickly undid his belt, a smirk playing on his lips as you looked up at him with those clueless eyes of yours.

“i’m gonna teach you how to suck me off.”

900 notes · View notes

angelsforthenight · 2 months ago

Text

screen babe, mean babe, guess who’s gonna cream babe! (pt. 3)

camgirl!vi x reader (pt 1 , pt 2)

summary: things between you and vi warp into some sort of competitive game. who can tease each other the most? who can debase who? a barbecue party is where true feelings are revealed: some trivial, some unfeigned.

content (18+): more angst ofc, cursing, dbf!sevika feature!!!!, drinking, lightweight!reader, jealousy, sub!vi, pathetic!vi, nipple play, use of y/n

it doesn’t take long at all for you to join vi’s trifling little game. if she expected you to lap up her teases like a desperate hound-dog then she’s got another thing coming. she seems to think that you’re just so foolish and easy to manipulate — which is why she stepped on your foot under the table that horrid morning, held your hand through the sea of people and even bought that cd for you. showering you with attention the entire day, just so she could see your reaction. she was messing with you the entire time, waiting for you to keel over at her feet. but hell no. vi wants to play? oh, you’re more than welcome to join her.

day by day, your rivalry with vi nurtures into a big, fat glob of hatred. it sucks, because whilst vi is clearly obtaining fun from a) leaving your bathroom a mess on purpose, b) coming into your room, flexing in front of your mirror and leaving without closing the door, and c) having the nerve! the absolute nerve to fling her dirty top covered in dirt and stinking of sweat on your face. can you believe that shit? she may as well be an annoying little brother.

what’s funny is that whilst she ran away giggling, she forgot about coming back to retrieve said shirt. since you’re not interested in ambling to her room and handing it to her so easily, it’s untouched; lying underneath your bed instead.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

at one point in the night, you’re laying in bed wide awake, watching the streaks of moonlight dappling your ceiling in creases of blue. the clock renders eleven. that damned eleven o’clock, still engraved in your brain even now. you want her back. not vi, but PinkSage. you thought your interest had distinguished like a flame after learning who she really is, but your current increasing arousal clearly seems to defy that. the two are different sides of the same coin anyway, like a crude mockery of dr jekyll and mr hyde.

you find yourself aching to see PinkSage sprawled on her desk chair and fucking herself stupid. with the notable mask covering half of her face, being a constant goad for the viewers. “face reveal is out of the question, at least for now.” hearing that on stream feels like forever ago.

the memory of her orgasming to your username vertebrates through not just your brain but your entire body. that crack in her voice, the way she was convulsing, her desperate keens…

without any delay, your fingers already making its descent down your underwear. just quickly. it’ll hardly be about her anyway…

yet the door conveniently swings open, making you practically jump out of your skin.

“hey.” what a sweet little coincidence. “thank god, you’re not asleep. you’ve got my shirt, right?”

you gawk at vi rigidly, unable to control how fast and hard you seem to be breathing. of course she notices, and her lips quirk up: ready to say something as always.

“oh, i’m sorry, was i supposed to knock?”

your nervousness is quick to simmer into irritation. must this bitch always interrupt you? even when you’re literally about to jerk off in the sanctity of your own bedroom?

an exasperated sigh leaves your lips. “you talking about this old thing?” you reach under your bed, pulling out her tank top and waving it around. just like how PinkSage liked to do with her toys.

vi’s eyebrows knit together. “you had that shit under your bed? now i’m really glad i’m gonna wash it…”

you hold the shirt out to give it to her, but just as she’s about to grab it you quickly yank your hand back. vi frowns.

“my bad.” you try and hide your grin as best as you can, especially when you pull the same move again, and again.

“yeah, real fuckin’ funny.” vi attempts to quicken her speed, proven futile as you still manage to be faster.

“take it! i’m literally giving it to you.” you snicker, pretending to play coy. vi pounces on the bed, trying extra hard to grab it. it’s really funny seeing her try so hard, and almost cute hearing her huff and groan. almost.

“you’re nearly there, it’s okay!” you chirp, even as you extend your arm even farther away. what you hadn’t thought about was the fact that vi could plainly latch her arms around your body and pull herself up to grab it. when she does exactly that, your breath is taken away; chiefly because her chest is in direct contact to yours, so much so you can feel how hard her heart is beating, notorious pierced nipples crammed against yours. you have no idea if you should call yourself lucky or unlucky.

okay, see, in your defence, you’re acting blindly: internally freaking out by how close you two are. so you do what anyone else would do! frantically push her away… only to nudge your fingers against vi’s boob. you swear it’s nothing but a simple accident, until you hear vi suck in a sharp breath and withdraw like she’d been zapped; eyes widened like two saucers. in the sour of the moment you had forgotten that PinkSage is been famed upon for having a sensitive chest.

you both freeze. guess playtime’s over now.

“um, here.” you tentatively fling the shirt to her. vi almost doesn’t catch it, not with the way her eyes are set on you as if you’ve grown another head.

“you can take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you try to sound funny, pulling a little joke in attempt of relieving you two of this dire situation, but it just surfaces as awkward and stupid instead. besides, vi doesn’t laugh.

“right. have a good rest of your night.” vi’s voice is palpably strained and her words are rushed . so is the way she she leaps off the bed: leaving the room as quick as light. you don’t even know how you should feel right now.

a perverse part of you is glad that you caught her so off guard that she’s as red as a tomato, back to being humbled again. essentially, you’re now one point up in this foolish game so you should be happy, right?

yet another part, a bigger part actually, feels embarrassed and irrevocably guilty. vi probably thinks you’re a disgusting pervert that did that shit on purpose. with the way she left, in so much desperation and haste, who knows if she’s even going to look at you again?

you groan and throw yourself on the bed, palms on your eyes as you madly wriggle and toss around from side to side; trying to shake the utter embarrassment off of you.

this is going to be a long, tedious summer.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

over the next couple of days, not so much as an awkward ‘morning’ is shared between the two of you. the slight closeness that had sprouted has now distinguished like a dying flame, and as much as you’d hate to admit, you feel glum, not to mention bored.

it was an accident, but now vi doesn’t want to so much as be near you, as if you’re some infectious creature. it’s agitating, because it’s making you think a lot. too much. maybe you should just apologise? although resurfacing the shameful memory would be humiliating for the both of you. it feels like it’s too late to apologise anyway, considering the days of silent treatment that has stretched out between you two.

in a way, it feels immature. this has all felt immature.

on a particular balmy afternoon, your dad has the notorious idea of throwing a barbecue party. family friends and even neighbours are invited. in all candidness, you’re pretty excited. your dad is a beast at making good food, especially when you’re there to help him. yeah! that’s exactly what you’ll do: focus on grilling chicken and generally helping out instead of brooding over how weird things got with vi.

but things proves to be very difficult when she always seems to be within sight or hearing reach. the sun has mellowed; granting the sky into hues of twilight. you keep your eyes pointed at the chicken, sausages and corn whilst vi soaks up all of the attention from practically everyone in your garden. even the kids love her: running around and tugging at her for attention.

“here.” vi quickly devises a daisy-chain headband that she gives one of the little girls. the girl timidly takes it before running away to press her face against her father’s back out of thorough shyness. you roll your eyes shut as a string of ‘awwws’ follow after vi for that action. she’s loved everywhere! as if wherever she goes, a trail of flowers bloom behind. it’s sickening.

you let yourself get a good look at her. vi’s wearing a pink polo and washed out-jeans. she looks like any other dad out here, yet somehow managing to make it look better. you prolong your gaze, like penetrating daggers. look at me. look at me like you have before.

“jeez, what, someone’s so hungry she’s considering cannibalism now?” an ardent voice whisks you off your yearning stupor. you recognise it immediately, an excited inhale surging up your throat.

“sevika!” you squeal, practically jumping on her. sevika has been a family friend for longer than anyone else here has. she was your dad’s colleague before moving to the other side of the sea. you two were pretty close. she was unbelievably raw, which led you to receiving the best advice you know you wouldn’t get anywhere else. not to mention, she was also one of the key reasons on how you figured out you were a lesbian.

before you found out the wonders of butch cam-girls, sevika had been the root of all your desires and fantasies. it’s slightly taboo and you know it — considering she’s in the same damn age range as your father, but you couldn’t and still can’t help it. not since your blossoming hormones urged you to see to her in a different way. you still remember being too afraid to tell your friends that the reason why you weren’t crushing on any boys in school was because you were fawning over a brawny woman twice your age instead.

you weren’t expecting to see her here at all. you didn’t even know she was back in town! she’s still as hot as ever, if not hotter, as if growing older doesn’t even phase her. you almost forget all about vi.

“hey, sugar, what’s cracking?” sevika kisses the top of your head and you light up like a damn bulb. her manner of speaking has changed since you last saw her. probably because she moved to the south.

“i’m good. better, actually. since when were you back in town?”

“shhh. surprise.” she winks. oh, and could you blame crushing on sevika when she’s so damn flirty? it’s apart of her nature, delivering flirty remarks so casually. you never look too much into it since you’re sure she’s like that with everyone, yet each time it’s directed to you, you have a guilty pleasure of feeling special.

“who’s the pink haired woman? someone you know?” sevika points her chin towards vi, who’s drinking a beer and making some woman giggle a lot. must they flirt so shamelessly in a family barbecue party? it’s inappropriate, and you don’t even realise how much you’re making a face until sevika points it out.

“she-she’s our guest. staying over for the summer. she does volunteering.” you sounded a little too bitter in your last words there, and that makes sevika laugh.

“you don’t like her?” she takes a swig of her beer, eyebrows knitted together in curiosity. you have to look away.

“she’s… she’s alright. fine.” you feel your skin prickle, probably from all the lies scuttling up your back. no, i don’t think of her as just ‘alright”, because she’s actually my favourite camgirl pornstar who turns out to be really mean yet i still like her and i accidentally touched her boob and now we aren’t talking and it fucking sucks and—

“here. old enough now, ain’t we?” sevika smirks, offering her bottle to you. you hesitantly take it.

“thank you.” you take a large swig, basically gulping it down. you need it. two of your past and present crushes are in the same damn place, it’s overwhelming!

“woah! slow down, baby…” sevika chuckles, drawing the bottle away from you. a bit of liquor oozes from the corner of your lips and you wipe it, gazing at her like you don’t know any better. like a fool who was just born yesterday.

the alcohol warms you up better than the now-dying sun could, and you feel slow. sevika’s gaze seizes you up and down and you gush in more ways than one.

“you wanna dance? the music is good. ‘s my playlist actually.” you find yourself mumbling. alas, here’s the confidence you haven’t felt in a while now. funny how you’re offering to dance when you feel so floaty that you’re losing your balance whilst literally standing.

“you sure? you don’t wanna drink some water instead?” sevika gently guides your chin up, assessing how drunk you are. dedicated lightweight, always have been. you’re lagging on registering her words, but what you’re quick to feel instead is a pair of eyes studying you immediately. you sneak a glance and you’re right to find vi watching the two of you with a slight curious expression on her face. a surge of excitement pulsates through you. here’s the fun. you roll your attention back to sevika and smile, making a show of slinking your arms around her neck.

“i’m all good. aaaaall good.” you giggle. sevika finds all of this entertaining, though oblivious to the way you’ve caught vi’s attention. she gives in, and you guys start to sway along to the music. whilst sevika murmurs in your ear about all the places in the south that she thinks you’d like, your eyes are set on vi’s. it’s intense the way your eyes are locked together, and you relish in the way her jaw clenches when she realises what you’re doing. your fingers faintly grip sevika’s back a little tighter, in a way only vi would notice. for her eyes only.

honestly, vi looks laughable standing there; gawking at you as she is. it propels you to laugh in sevika’s shoulder — a move that seems to be the last straw for vi, because she turns around and storms away. you glance back up and she’s gone.

“everything okay? you hungry or somethin’?” sevika asks. your gaze flicks to sevika, before drifting back to the area where vi was standing, now just a patch of grass.

“sorry, i need the bathroom.” you mutter, hardly coherent as you pull away from sevika and start to slowly stumble your way inside.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

you ignore the way your mother calls for you, or the random people trying to start a conversation. once in the kitchen, you survey the area. there’s some people chatting away but no sight of vi. lumbering your way upstairs, you check the closest room which is your own, only to find some random baby asleep in your bed. definitely not vi.

you peek inside vi’s room, but it’s empty. in your drunken muddle, the possibility of vi being in the bathroom doesn’t even occur to you, and you feel so dizzy that you want to rest in the bathroom for a bit, maybe stare at yourself in the mirror for too long and dreadfully think about your life choices.

swinging open the door carelessly, vi almost yells — until actually noticing it’s you.

“vi?” you blink owlishly.

vi breathes in soft disbelief, shaking her head. “should’ve known you would’ve creeped on me in the bathroom.”

“wha— i didn’t even know you were here! this is my bathroom, you know.” you retort, not even choosing to dwell on the fact that you’d been looking for her.

“i don’t remember asking. get out.” vi grumbles lamely. you glare at her incredulously.

“not when you’re talking to me like that. why are you so mean? you’re always so mean to me.”

it could be the alcohol talking, sure, but it’s real thoughts being spoken aloud. you close the door, locking the two of you in there.

“but then you go ahead and buy a cd for me, and you hold my hand. i don’t like it, but it’s also all i’ve wanted.” you step in front of her, pinning your hands down on either side of the sink so she’s confined.

vi gawks at you, clearly surprised by the boldness, however she quickly composes herself.

“what are you even saying? spittin’ slam poetry at me or some shit?” she scoffs, trying to push past you. you stand your ground, gripping the sink tighter so she has no choice but to stay put and listen.

“i’m not going until you tell me what your damn problem is.”

“i don’t have one.” vi snaps, veering her face closer to yours as a result.

“you’re acting like i planned this! like i plotted for you to come and live in my house. i didn’t ask for this!” you raise your voice.

“i didn’t ask for this either!” vi roars. impenetrable silence infuses the room like a merciless wave. nothing can be heard but the frantic breathing expelling from the both of you. synchronised. your heart pounds against your ribs and hers pounds harder in tandem. hate is a word that has been muddled and twisted into something else. something more, but something less all the same.

“say something or leave—“

you don’t know what exactly propels you to do it, but you choose to shut her up by leaning in and crashing your lips against hers like a meteorite. as if the biggest ‘fuck you’ you could give is through a kiss.

and hell, it may as well be, in the light of the way you’re projecting all your anger and frustration into this, lips roughly moving against hers. vi stands still for a moment, before responding to the kiss in her own manner — relenting and matching your intensity.

you two get yourselves in a frenzy of wildness: teeth clinking together, tongues smothered against each other like theres no damn tomorrow. you grip vi’s hips, pushing her into sitting down on the sink. vi moans in your mouth, and you press yourself against her so closely that her head hits the mirror.

“you fucking bitch…” you whisper exasperatedly, before sinking your teeth in her bottom lip and slightly dragging it, almost drawing blood. vi whimpers, her fingers flying to your hair and tugging it tightly. your noises mate with hers at the tempting sensation of vi’s fingers on your hair. everything about this moment between you two is unbelievably passionate and fervid.

your hands grip vi’s wrists, slamming them against the mirror like a bird with clipped wings. vi gazes at you with meek eyes, making you certain that she’d bend over backwards at your beck and call. her brain is muddled and blank, all because of you. all because of you.

“is this what you wanted?” you whisper into her neck, pressing chaste kisses to the sensitive flesh. vi sucks in a breath.

“w-what?” she sputters out.

“you heard me.” you drag a stripe across her neck, compelling vi to whimper: especially when you nip at her skin.

“answer, pretty girl…” you whisper this like it’s a prayer, serving vi at the altar. vi melts, words slipping from her lips before her brain is able to stop her.

“so fucking bad… you don’t even know…” she whines breathily. you smile at her, loosening your grasp from her wrists so you can slip her shirt off. vi welcomes it, willingly raising her arms so it can come off with more ease. once she’s in she’s sports bra, you let your hand trail down her stomach, the pad of your fingers playing with the cluster of hair on her lower stomach, teasing her waistband with your pinky before purposely disengaging. vi watches all of this through hooded eyes, trying to stifle her pathetic noises by biting her lip.

your gaze flicks to vi’s clothed breasts, metal bars prominently standing out. you unconsciously lick your lips.

“they’re so sensitive, huh?” you put your question to the test by grazing a hand over her chest, in which vi faintly jolts. so cute.

“you should be glad i know everything you like.” your hands slip underneath vi’s sports bra, raising it up and shamelessly playing with vi’s nipples. poor thing cannot compose herself for the life of her, a series of quiet moans and whimpers spilling out of her lips whether she can help them or not.

your fingers roll the buds, eyes trained on vi the entire time — gauging all her reactions. vi’s little whimpers grow into full-blown moans, especially when you latch your lips around her right nipple; sucking and flicking your tongue, feeling the tinge of the metal bar. she’s twitching and squirming, unable to sit still and having no idea where to put her hands. she resolves in gripping the sink tightly, sinking her head back and taking what you’re giving her like a good girl.

“y/n…” vi whimpers pathetically, and you feel your cunt flex in return. you nip at her bud, simultaneously flicking the other one. vi cries aloud and you glance up at her.

“you want the whole damn party to hear?”

vi had clearly forgotten about that. she quietly shakes her head. you’ve managed to get her so compliant that you want to proudly pat yourself on the back.

you resume, your gaze fixed on her as your mouth lavishes attention on the left nipple now. vi isn’t able to hold eye contact with you for long, especially with the overbearing stimulation. her back is bowing frontwards, a silent plea for more. who said you wanted to stop anyways?

it’s your teeth pulling at her nipple that drives vi absolutely batshit, possessing her into jerking so strongly that her hips buckle into yours. you grind against her hips, feeling your own sparks of pleasure. vi’s hand flies to her mouth, trying to keep herself quiet as per your request. you smirk, liking the feeling how you could crush the usual mean, stony vi under your thumb with the pliant woman you’ve got in front of you right now.

“i’m gonna cum— i’m gonna cum, y/n… hah, please…” vi muddles through her words, twitching repeatedly. you grin as you flatten your tongue, feeling the coldness of the metal as you slowly drag your tongue upwards, massaging the nipple with the wetness of your muscle. you kill vi.

vi grunts, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she undergoes a remarkably intense climax. you pull away and watch her in awe, as stars explode behind her eyelids and she spasms a little.

she slumps forward onto your shoulder, panting hard down your neck. your skin prickles with heat as a result, fingers hesitantly reaching up to gently stroke the back of her hair. vi likes it, like a puppy being cared for.

“haah, thank you… thank you.” vi blabbers on your shoulder, her words slurring into a heap of incoherent words. you cup vi’s face with two hands, raising it up so you can gauge how fucked up she looks right now.

“all from a little nipple play, huh?” your thumb traces vi’s bottom lip before faintly dragging it downwards.

“you— know they’re um… sensitive. plus i’ve been pent up. ” vi’s train of thought is slowly starting to come to, but not fully. not with the way she’s struggling to speak. you want to ask more and more questions, just so you can enjoy her sputtering and stammering. but you go for an even better ruse instead.

you begin to lean in again as if you’re going in for a kiss. vi’s eyes repeatedly flick to your lips, her breathing fluttering and quickening its pace. yet just as you’re a stone’s throw away…

“have a good rest of your night.” you purr, before casually walking straight out of the door, leaving vi to gather her tangled thoughts. vi blinks repeatedly, running a hand across her face.

“touché.” she murmurs, pulling her sports bra down and picking up her shirt to put it on again.

meanwhile, you’re trying not to fall down the stairs over how giddy you are. vi got her tit for tat: teasing you before acting as if nothing happened surely came back to nip her in the bud. the score is even and you’re satisfied, hoping that you left vi thirsting for more.

and you would give her more and beyond, if only that meant you would lead through irrefutable punishment first.

chapter 4

taglist: @lils-1979 @vxtanne31 @drunkenrosesluv @cuti3ve @princesspeachthefroggy @honeyboo-1 @aprilshireath @elliesbabygirl @h0n3yf0rlif3 @ysaona @elliezlils11utt @savedforlaterr @rishofkf @zaunite-516 @elliesbebegurl @jaydonisnothere @thankynext @moonchildcovenxx @kmhbygss @cotrill09 @godhatesgoodgirls @femme-forward @jajsnjz @avonnimimi @eren-luvr @bambiaches @wlw-please @scissorszex @yearningandstillnotlearning @stmvivs @fizzphat @oidloid @certifiedwomenlover @hellishdevotee @gel6tine @d1psht @v-williams02193

(whoever isn’t tagged but asked to be on the list it’s bc ur mentions are off ;;)