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ourautumn86 · 6 months

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i want to hear you scream

tsunderes abby and ellie! x fem! reader

synopsis; strange and gory murders have been going on in your town. it’s one night alone at your home that you discover the reason behind this slashers, and the identity of those behind the mask.

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, murders of characters, description of stabbing and gore, slashers, knives, blood, death of fictional characters, chasing, fear, kissing, making out sessions, dirty talking, teasing, pleading and begging, prey kink (?), use of y/n (i’m sorry but it was needed) but mostly of nicknames like doll, princess and baby, threats, knife kink (?), dom! abby and ellie x sub! reader, nipple and boob play, fingering, face riding, oral sex (r and abby receiving), strap on use (r! receiving), multiple orgasms, squirting, spanking, choking, sick obsession, abby and ellie are tsunderes for reader, abby and ellie make out (😍), degradation and praise, praise kink, cum eating, ellie and abby use reader like a toy…

a/n; i’ve spent three days on this. it’s been hard and i hope all of you really like this halloween special. have lots of fun and be safe this halloween! love you! also special thanks to @atomicami and @abbyscherry for cheering me up so much ily!!!🩷

“this is so horrible…” you told your best friend dina as you watched the news. harry, a guy from your high school had been murdered. he was the fourth victim in the hands of this terrible murderer called ghost face. your high school had cancelled its classes in hope to make its students safer, to no avail and luck it seemed, since every morning a new body appeared.

“shit! he gutted him up!” dina yelled, eyes widened as she stared at the screen, now showing harry with his abdomen open, intestines hanging and in full display. you looked away, incapable to look.

“why a he? it could be a girl.” you said, and dina looked at you.

“could you gut a guy up? are you the killer?!” she jumped and you shook your head.

“i slept with you last night!”

“maybe you snuck out and killed harry!” you frowned.

“why would i do that?”

“for how he treated you last year, remember? when you turned him down and then went bragging about having fucked you and saying ‘how much of a slut you were’.” she explained. “it seems reasonable to me.”

“you’re right… and you’re next!” you screamed as you jumped on her, making her laugh as you tickled her.

“okay, okay! i surrender!” she struggled in between chuckles and you pulled away, letting her breath.

that was when your phone pinged with a new notification. you sighed when you saw who it was coming from.

“who’s that?” dina inquired, peeking from your side to get a glimpse of the screen. “ugh. liam? again?! he is fucking obsessed.”

“i know. i don’t know why he keeps trying. i already told him i don’t go for boys but he won’t stop.” you rolled your eyes, leaving your phone aside. “by the way, didn’t you have to go meet up with jesse?” you remembered, to what your friend gasped.

“oh my god i’m so late!!!” she jumped out of the couch, putting on her shoes. “when are your parents getting home?” she asked.

“not for another couple of days.”

“wait. should i stay with you? i’m not sure you should be left alone… do you want me to stay?” you shook your head.

“no! no! i’ll be alright. i promise.” she didn’t move, to why you got up and pushed her slightly so she’d start moving towards the door. “go! jesse is waiting for you.”

she groaned. “okay! but promise me you’ll stay safe!” she said and you nodded, opening the door for her, your fuzzy socks against the hardwood floor.

“i promise. you too please.” she nodded, and gave you a tight hug.

“lock the doors!” she yelled as she made her way back to her car.

“don’t trust the love interest!” you yelled back and she funnily looked at you, rolling her eyes.

you waved at her goodbye and watched her drive away before closing your front door and locking it. you cheeked every door and window of your house, making sure they were closed.

you went back to the salon, getting snacks on the way to scroll through the different options of movies you had to spend your time with. you went ahead and picked one horror one, it was october after all.

you were mid-film when your phone lighted up with another notification from liam.

you rolled your eyes, taking a peek at the later and most recent messages he had sent you.

you frowned.

“what?” you muttered to yourself. was this a joke? was he playing with you?

next thing you knew your phone was ringing, liam’s name on your screen. you picked it up, an unknown voice coming through the phone. it was not liam.

“hello, y/n.”

“who’s this? where’s liam?” you heard a chuckle.

“asking about a man while talking to me? now you might make me jealous…” “liam can’t come to the phone right now. he’s… indisposed.” you looked out your windows, you could feel someone watching you. it was making your skin crawl. “what are you looking for, hm?”

“i’m gonna call the police.” you nervously said, and heard a laughter.

“ending our little play date so soon? we haven’t even played yet. do you want to play a game, y/n?” you were growing paler by the minute, your skin shining in a cold sweat.

you quickly hung up the phone, calling dina instead.

“come on, come on…” you muttered as it rang. “pick up, pick up!” you sighed when she finally did. “oh thank god, dina! there’s something wrong! i think there’s someone…” but all your words died on your throat when that same voice came though the line.

“did i tell you you could hang up on me?” this time it was rougher. your phone received a video, in which you could see dina and jesse laughing and eating popcorn. “dina seems pretty happy tonight, hanging with her little boyfriend. she really shouldn’t leave her phone lying around for anyone to clone…”

“what do you want?” you sacredly asked, throat dry.

“i told you, i want to play a game. horror movie trivia, three rounds. you call the cops, she and her boyfriend die. you get a question wrong, they die. i can be in that room in 15 seconds. you want a warm up question?” you were sobbing by the time.

“i don’t know much about horror movies!” you pleaded, hearing a chuckle.

“poor thing…” “in the fist stab movies, what woodsboro native was introduced as the franchise’s main character?” the killer completely ignored you, starting the game.

you though for a moment before the answer came up to your mind. “it’s sidney prescott!” you sniffled, quickly talking. “it’s sidney prescott and she lived on elm.”

“correct!” the voice cheered. “you see? you’re gonna do great at this! okay, question one—“

you frowned, quickly cutting them up.

“no, no, no, no… i got that one right. it should count.”

“that was your warm up question, sweet thing, anyone could have gotten that one right, it’s easy. sidney’s in every movie but the last one.” “question one. who wrote the book the shining?” the killer inquired and you quickly answered. you knew that one.

“stephen king!”

“correct. dina and jesse might live to see the sunrise.” “question two. how many people died at the hand of jason in the first friday the 13th movie?” your eyes widened.

“um… um…” shitshitshit.

“times ticking…”

you quickly left the call and entered google, searching the answer. once you came up with it with shaky hands, you answered.

“none.”

“correct! you seemed to pull that one off. let’s move to the last question…” “what is the number one rule on randy’s list for surviving a horror movie in scream?”

your face fell. “i…”

you didn’t know.

you were trying to find the answer but nothing was coming up. why was there nothing coming up?!

“no answer?” you swallowed your tears as you walked to the kitchen, taking a knife. you were getting ready for what’s coming.

“fuck you.” you spat, and heard a chuckle once again.

“close… but wrong. now, you might be able to answer to this one… am i inside the house or out?” your blood ran cold. suddenly, you heard a creek of the floor wood, and when you turned around, there it was, black eyes and white face staring at you in a scream.

you shrieked, and ran, hearing quick footsteps behind you. you ran was quickly as you could towards the entry door, which stood open, handle jammed, but before you could reach a couple of arms were engulfing you in a tight grip, and your knife was clattering on the floor.

you screamed, trying to fight off the masked killer, punching and kicking them as hard as you could, to no avail. they were too strong.

“shh, shh, that’s harsh baby. treating me so badly when the only thing i’ve done is treat you so right…” the modulated voice whispered on your ear, pulling you with them to your living room. “i even brought you a present!” the killer said, and in a blink the lights to your garden were on, showing who seemed to be liam tied to a chair, eyes widening in terror when he saw you, trying to free himself from the restraints, and scream thought the tape shutting his mouth.

but what really made your heart jump was the other ghost face standing beside him, who crooked their head to the side. “what’s the matter, y/n? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“there are…, two?” you inquired to yourself in disbelief, in fear. this made a lot of sense to why they couldn’t find the culprit to all these murders.

“oh, sweetheart, there’re always two.” the ghostface holding you muttered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “what do you have to say about your present, hm? isn’t it pretty?” your eyes drifted back to liam, who was already staring at you with a terrified look in his eyes. he looked beat up, nose broken and one of his eyes puffy and turning purple.

you felt your eyes pricking with tears at the thought that you could be next. “what do you want?” you wobbly inquired.

“you don’t like it? we did it just for you. we know how much he’s been nagging you. poor brain dead boy can’t take a hint.” liam grunted when the ghostface beside him gave him a smack in the head.

“we also found out something you’d like to see…” the ghostface behind you said, pressing the knife against your throat just a little tighter so you wouldn’t move as they freed you from one of their arms, their gloved hand dipping inside the pockets of their dark cloak and pulling out a hand of pictures. “why don’t you take a look?” your eyes drifted to the pictures they were handing you. they were all of you. in high school, at your home, sleeping, with your friends…

“what… what is this?” your fear coated voice asked, and the other ghost face chuckled.

“why don’t you ask, liam? caught him rubbing one out to them. seems like he likes you a little bit too much.” your eyes widened in horror. he had been stalking you?

“that’s a little bit serial killer of you, liam…” the ghostface behind you sarcastically said, clicking their tongue.

“liam…?” you called for him, and the other ghostface pulled the tape off of his mouth.

“i… i’m sorry! i couldn’t help it!” you felt sick to your stomach, the urge to puke deep in your throat. he stopped talking as the ghostface punched him in the face.

“fucking disgusting…” liam grunted when they took him by the hair, a knife on his throat. “you make me want to gut you up, like all those other pigs and bitches before you. they had it fucking coming by trying to hurt her, fuck her.” your heart seemed to stop, your eyes widened.

“wait…” you looked as pale as a ghost, blood frozen in your veins. “you did all of this… killed all of them… for me?” you suddenly stopped feeling those warm arms around you, letting you free. you were in shock, stuck in place.

“you seem surprised.” the ghostface beside you cocked their head, waving their knife. “what? couldn’t expect someone would kill for you? oh baby, we would do anything for you.” they walked away from you and towards the other ghostface. “sarah martins. bullied you all the way through your first years of high school. she made you so unhappy… we couldn’t let her get away with it.” they said. “bitch died like a fucking pussy, calling for her mommy.” they snickered.

“cole brown.” the other ghostface, who now you could see was much broader and taller than the one that had been holding you spoke. “really thought making fun of you at prom was ‘cool’. cool was the way his face caved in when i dug my fucking axe into his brains.”

“sarah smith. that bitch couldn’t keep her mouth shut, speaking badly of you to everyone. i made her eat shit, and then, her own puke before i turned her into a fucking strainer.”

“harry davis. sour motherfucker. couldn’t fuck you so he had to lie about it. gutted him like a fish.”

“and lastly, you…” the taller ghostface took liam’s face with one of their big hands. “what should we do with you?”

“let’s just finish him off already, i’m getting bored.” the other said, lifting their knife.

they had killed them all… for you. because they… loved you?

“who are you?” you inquired, the masks both looking back at you. you could almost feel their smirks.

“look at her. isn’t she cute? we killed 4 people for her and she’s already in deep.” the ghostface laughed. “is that it sweet thing? that’s why you ain’t running? you liked that we hurt these people for you?” you shook your head.

“no, i-“

“i think you do. i think you’re getting off on this. having someone so obsessed with you that they’d kill those that had hurt you.“

“that’s not true!”

“what makes you think you couldn’t be next?” the other asked, stepping closer to you, and you took a step back, their big figure intimidating.

“you love me.” you said, and they sighed.

“that i do. but that doesn’t mean that i couldn’t hurt you.” you took a glimpse at the knife in their hands. “do you want me to hurt you?” your legs shook. you could feel the eyes behind the mask trailing down your body, covered by your skimpy little pijama. “answer me.” the killer ordered, but you could only focus on the dragging of their knife up your stomach, slowly.

“no.”

“liar.” you shivered, gasping when a hand circled your neck.

“what do you want from me…?”

“you know what we want.” you gulped, thighs squeezing against the other. “and you seem to want it too.” you unconsciously bit down on your lip. why was this strangely turning you on? they were killers for god sakes, you should be calling the cops, running as far as you could. but suddenly they were pushing away. “but first… we need to take care of our little friend here.” they went back to liam, who looked terrified.

“please, please let me go, i won’t do it again!” he begged, and the other ghostface groaned.

“ugh. hate it when they start begging.” they said before stabbing him in the stomach, making him yelp in pain. you gasped, hands going up to your mouth as you watched the blood starting to pour down onto the floor of your patio. “don’t you get it?” they inquired, pressing the knife to his temple. “you’re not getting out of here alive.”

“no, please!” another stab, this time coming from the ghostface that had come up to you moments ago.

“should’ve thought it twice before messing with our girl.”

our girl. our girl. our girl. our girl. our girl. our girl.

you were their girl.

another stab.

and another.

you could just stand there and watch as blood sputtered from liam’s lip, as the life slowly left his eyes and he bled to death. one final slice to the throat was what finally ended his suffering, cascades of blood trailing down his neck and chest as he tried to breath in gurgles. with one last shaky breath, he was gone.

“one more, one less.” one of them said, before the two of them turned towards you, white masks splattered in blood. “now… what should we do with you?” you shivered as they stepped closer, you could feel their intense gaze on you.

“such a pretty little thing… look at her. i’ve waited for this moment for so long…”

they were caging you in between them and the exterior wall of your home like predators would with their prey. they thrived on this, on your terror, on this little sick game of theirs.

you gasped when your back hit the wall, cold surface against your burning skin. then, their hands were on you, and you were in flames. your skin grew in goosebumps.

“so beautiful…” you watched as the taller one took off their bloody gloves, one of their warm strong hands cupping your cheek. “can’t stain such a pretty thing with their filthy blood, right?” “now. why don’t you tell us what you want, hm?”

“your faces. i want to see your faces.” you begged, hands shaking.

“whatever my girl wants.” the other said, before raising their still gloved hands towards their mask, the one touching you did the same, and at the same time they let them fall onto the floor.

all breath left your lungs. they were beautiful. like angels of death that had come knocking down on your door. you were mesmerized. blonde strands with the bluest eyes staring into your soul, along with green ones with auburn hair that would shine like fire under the sun. you were mesmerized.

the freckled girl chuckled, her now naked hands taking your chin. “look at her, like a deer in dead lights. like what you see, baby?” your cheeks flushed. you did. you tried to look away, but there was the tall blonde to stop you, her hand back against your cheek.

“aw, don’t go and get shy on us now. you better answer ellie, princess.”

ellie. the green eyed was called ellie.

“i do.” you said, and their smirks only grew more.

“i bet you do, hm?” ellie hummed, her thumb pressing against your bottom lip, caressing it. “you know. i’m so tired due to all the killing and all… treated you so good… i think we deserve a thank you, don’t you think doll?” you nodded. god. her voice was doing things to you.

“thank you.” you breathed out, but she clicked her tongue.

“come on, i think you can do better than that, hm?” she stared at your lips, thumb pulling from your bottom one, and you gulped. you knew what she wanted. you nodded, and she smiled, wetting her own with her tongue as she leant in. you couldn’t help but stare at her lips due to that gesture, slowly closing the distance in between the two of you until her lips were on yours. she groaned, and your whole body shivered. it didn’t take long until her tongue was pushing inside your mouth, and you whimpered, your eyes closed shut as you kissed her back. once she pulled away, there was a string of spit connecting both of your lips. she licked at your bottom lip to get rid of it, making you slightly moan. “good girl.” she praised, and your cunt throbbed. “now, why don’t you thank abby, hm? don’t want her to get jealous.”

abby. ellie and abby. why did their names have to be as pretty as them?

abby bit down on her bottom lip, cunt throbbing at your half lidded eyes, dazed face and swollen reddish lips. she wanted to eat you whole. she didn’t waste time in pulling you by your waist, warm tongue inside your mouth as your hands clasped on her strong broad shoulders. they kissed so good… the kiss quickly escalated. she was hungry. you moaned against her lips as her hands took your ass, squeezing, pulling impossibly closer. “abby…” you sighed when you felt her lips on her neck.

“fuck. sounds even better than i expected.” she muttered, her name sounded heavenly if it came from your lips.

“now i’m the one getting jealous.” ellie said with a a smirk on her lips, obviously enjoying the little show you two where giving her. you pulled from her cloak closer, and her eyes fell as she leant in when you did, searching her lips once again. “oh, yeah?” her eyebrows arched and you nodded, kissing her. this time she wasn’t as soft as the first time, biting down on your bottom lip as your hands dipped in her auburn hair. she hummed. this was heaven. ellie’s lips on your own and abby’s on your neck, sucking bruises that you won’t even bother to cover —it’s not as if they’d let you—. suddenly ellie’s hands were on your boobs, and your back arched, her fingers pinching your nipples. “let’s go to your room, hm?” you nodded, fucked out look on your face, and took one of their hands in between your own to drag them upstairs.

you were on the bed as soon as you were stepping into your room, abby and ellie taking their cloaks of to show their jeans and wife beaters, along with the bulges resting in between their thighs. your mouth watered, and ellie chuckled.

“my eyes are up here, doll.” you blushed.

“needy little thing, you just need a good fuck, don’t you?” abby’s sultry voice went straight to your cunt, and you moaned, nodding. “of course you do, look at you. i bet that little pussy of yours is soaked, isn’t it?” you bit down on your lip, and nodded again. “why don’t you show us, baby?” suddenly, you felt exposed, their gazes on you making you shiver. you slowly took of your shorts, along with your cotton panties, which were now drenched in your slick. your whole body was burning by the time your thighs parted, your cunt on full display for the pair, who groaned at the same time. “open up for me, princess.” she muttered, eyes unable to move away from your soaked folds. you complied, two of your fingers dipping in between them to pull them apart, slick keeping them connected, and show your twitching entrance and puffy little clit.

“fuuuuck.” ellie moaned, one of her hands coming down to her crotch to palm herself, the back of her strap rubbing her own throbbing clit. “good girl.” she praised, and you whimpered, your hole twitching in need.

“please…” you begged.

“what do you want, princess? tell us and we’ll give it to you.” abby said.

“i want you. i want you to fuck me.” that was their breaking point. ‘cause who were they to say no to something they’ve been dreaming about for years. they were on you in a blink. hands all over your body. abby’s fingers dipped in between your folds, ellie’s hands got rid of your shirt, leaving you completely exposed and naked for them, and took a hold of your tits. your back arched, maybe at the tight circles abby was drawing on your clit, maybe at the feeling of ellie’s lips and tongue on your sensitive nipples. a pornographic drawn out moan left your lips, your eyes squeezing shut. “fuck.” you cried out. you’ve never felt like this. you’ve never been this wet.

“so fucking soaked, you’re desperate for it, huh?” abby groaned, and ellie bit down on your nipple. “gonna stuff this pretty pussy up.” you moaned.

“you want abby to fuck you baby? want her to stretch you open on her cock?” ellie taunted you. you nodded, and she smirked. “of course you do… why don’t you get on your hands and knees for us, hm?” your legs were quivering, arms wobbly as you pushed yourself to the position she had asked for, exposing your ass and wet cunt to the hungry eyes of abby, whose hands came down to squeeze your ass cheeks, making you whine. ellie’s thumb caressed your bottom lip, slightly pushing inside your mouth. “open.” she ordered, and your mouth fell ajar for her. “more.” you gagged as she pushed down on your tongue. “thaaat’s it.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a moan ripped your throat when you felt abby’s tongue licking a fat strip up in between your slick folds.

“fuck. tastes so good.” abby groaned, her fingers digging in your ass to push you back against her face.

you were in a daze, spit dribbling down your chin as abby ate you out.

“now. you’re gonna take whatever abby’s gonna give you while i fuck this pretty little mouth of yours, understood?” you nodded, and her thumb left your mouth so her hands would reach her crotch and unzip her jeans. she wasn’t wearing any underwear, just her black strap, which hung low on her hips once she got rid of her pants. you gulped. it was fucking huge. “open up for me, doll.” you complied, moans leaving your throat due to abby’s administrations. she was eating you out like a starved woman, tongue buried in your hole, slurping to every tiny drop you’d give her.

soon enough ellie was sliding down your throat, slowly. “atta girl. nice and deep.” and you tried your best to take it, to not choke and gag. but a harsh deep thrust made you, and ellie couldn’t love it more. “fuck that’s it. choke on my cock, baby.” she groaned. the sight was heavenly.

but you were the one in heaven. abby’s lips were around your clit, sucking, as one of her fingers probed inside your cunt, making you whimper. ellie continued her thrusts down your throat, making spit dribble down your chin towards your breasts. your back was arched in pleasure, your eyes watery. you were so turned on that you knew you wouldn’t last.

abby pushed another finger in, fucking them in and out of you, her thick fingers perfectly hitting your g spot. you were a moaning mess, doe eyes heavy as you stared up at ellie. “fuck. i want to fucking ruin you.” she muttered through gritted teeth, her hips snapping harder. you whimpered, your cunt clenching around abby’s fingers. you were gonna cum.

“you’re gonna cum baby? gonna soak my face?” you nodded around ellie’s cock, moaning. “go ahead, let me see this pretty pussy drip for me.” when her lips went back to your clit sucking, you felt it hit you. your walls squeezed around her fingers as you moaned, tears falling down your cheeks as abby fucked you through it, walls pulsing and soaking her digits in a creamy white that dripped down your seam. she sucked you clean, licking her fingers as she pushed them inside her mouth once you were done.

your ears picked up on the sound of a flyer opening, and your cunt throbbed. your back arched when you felt the tip of her strap gliding through your puffy folds. you whined.

“can’t wait to fuck this pretty pussy, fuck.” she groaned. “gonna fill you up so good baby, gonna stretch you and mold you to my cock.” you nodded around ellie’s dick, whimpering.

“look at her, she’s begging for it.” she chuckled. “you better give it to her, abby.” she didn’t have to say it twice before she was pushing inside of you, all breath leaving your lungs. she was so fucking big.

“that’s it princess, open up for me. taking my cock so good. pussy so hungry for it…” you moaned, trying to relax so you could fit it all inside. you moaned when she finally thrusted herself inside your warm walls, a squelch filling the room along with abby’s grunt. the strap rubbed perfectly her puffy clit.

she pulled out just to thrust inside once again, and your back arched.

“good girl. you’re being such a good girl letting us use you like this…” one of ellie’s hands came down onto your head, slim fingers lacing on your hair.

“pussy so good is swallowing me all up. you like my cock baby? like it?” she groaned, snapping harshly her hips against your ass. you screamed, gagging around ellie’s dick.

they were harshly fucking you now, taking everything they could from you. you were gagging and moaning non stop, your mind feeling dizzy due to the lack of air.

every thrust hit your g spot, one of abby’s hands, that had been gripping your hips hardly enough to leave bruises, coming down in between your thighs to rub at your oversensitive clit. you tried to wiggle your way away from her touch, but her other hand came down onto your ass in a slap. “don’t run away from me.” she ordered and you whimpered. ellie pulled out of your mouth, and since she no longer was grabbing you by your hair, your arms wobbled, letting you fall against the duvet.

“look at you…” she cooed. “used like a fucking toy, hm?” she chuckled. moans spilled from your lips with every one of abby’s thrusts your sore nipples rubbing against the sheets at the strength of the snaps of her hips. “get up. we’re not done with you yet.” she pulled you up by your hair again, abby’s free hand and arm holding you form your stomach to pull you closer against her chest, making her cock slip deeper inside of you. you cried out.

“too much. ‘s too much!” you slurred.

“fuck abby, i can see your cock in her.” ellie moaned, biting down on her lip at the sight of abby’s strap poking through the skin of your stomach in a bulge. ellie’s hand took the place of abby’s against your clit so the blonde could drag you down harder on her dick. she was kissing your fucking cervix.

“i’m so deep in her she can’t even speak.” the other chuckled, groaning and grunting with each snap of her hips against you.

“i’m gonna… i’m gonna cum. i’m cumming.” you cried, fat tears spilling from your watery doe eyes.

“yeah? gonna give us another one, baby?” you nodded, moaning non stop. “of course you are. go ahead, baby. i wanna hear you scream.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your second orgasm of the night hit you. you were drowning on it, screaming, gasping on ellie’s mouth as she hungrily and wetly kissed you. you tried to kiss her back in between cries and moans to no avail, your tongue messily sliding against her own.

“good girl. good. fucking. girl.” abby groaned with each thrust, fucking all your cum out of your cunt.

once you came down from it, you were panting heavily, body completely limp in between abby’s arms.

ellie’s hand surrounded your neck, biting on your bottom lip. “you think you can give me one more, baby? gonna let me fuck you, hm?”

“i can’t cum anymore…” you cried, and she cooed.

“aw… aren’t you cute.” she falsely pouted. “that’s something for me to decide.” you whimpered. oh fuck, why was your clit throbbing again? “here’s what we’re gonna do.” she squeezed your neck, making you gasp. “you’re gonna open your fucking legs for me and take my cock while you eat abby out, hm? i think she deserves a little thank you for fucking you up so good, don’t you think?” you nodded and she smiled. “that’s my girl.” you whined as abby pulled out of you, the emptiness in between your thighs making you shudder and whimper.

“shhhh, don’t worry baby. ellie’s gonna fuck you real good.” she whispered, slightly pushing you so you would lay on your back on the sheets. you watched as she unclasped her strap, showing her blonde mound and shiny lips. your mouth watered. “gonna be good for me and make me cum?” you nodded, and she crept her way up your body until your face stood below and between her thighs. you moaned, shiny eyes glued to her perfect pussy. your hands gripped her strong thighs as you felt ellie’s hands part your own to get in between them.

abby lowered herself on your face, moaning when your tongue came out of your mouth to lick a strip up her clit from her leaking hole. you cried out. fuck. she tasted so good. abby groaned at the way you lapped at her slick, starved. “so fucking needy. you like my pussy baby?” you nodded, humming and moaning against her as you suckled on her clit. one of her hands came down on your hair, gripping it. you pulled away from her when you felt ellie entering you in a harsh and quick thrust, making you scream.

“fuck. she’s so tight…” she grunted. “she’s milking my fucking cock.” she thrusted inside, and you moaned, but abby pulled you back to her cunt.

“come on baby. use that pretty mouth of yours.” she grunted, her hips bucking against your tongue. you flattened it so she could ride your face. “that’s it. stick your tongue out for me. oh fuck.” she moaned.

your mind was fuzzy, your pussy drooling around ellie‘s cock.

your back arched. you were feeling so good. they were fucking you so good.

“my pretty little doll, hm? aren’t you baby?” abby groaned, watching as you sucked on her clit, your moans and whimpers driving her closer to her orgasm. “eating my pussy so good. you love it don’t you? love it that ellie and me are using you to cum like a little toy, huh? of course you do. fuck.” she moaned. your eyes opened, and you almost came at the sight of abby and ellie making out on top of you. the blonde’s head was turned to the side as ellie leaned forwards, hungrily kissing her in between groans and moans. you cried out.

“look at her, she likes it.” ellie chuckled, and abby looked at you, a smirk on her lips.

you moaned, watching as ellie kissed at abby’s neck.

“oh, she loves it.” abby teased you, ellie giving you a specially harsh thrust as her hands grasped at abby’s breasts, her hips slamming against yours, making the wet squelches of your pussy fill the room. “she’s fucking soaked.” she chuckled.

“then let’s give her a good show, hm?” ellie muttered against her lips, and abby harshly kissed her, making ellie moan.

you whimpered, watching as they made out on top of you, abby fucking your face. the kiss was hungry and angry, all tongue and teeth as abby pulled at ellie’s hair, making her fuck you harsher and faster. she was approaching her orgasm.

“i’m close.” abby groaned, snapping her hips harder against your mouth.

“me too, fuck. gonna cum so hard.” she gasped, and you moaned. “seems like she’s gonna cum too.” she smirked.

“you gonna cum, doll? gonna cream ellie’s cock?” you nodded, and abby moaned at the feeling of your nose bumping against your clit, pulling at your hair. “shit. go ahead baby, cum for us.” you moaned, your nails digging on her thighs as your own shook, your cunt pulsing as you came. you felt short of air, falling apart. you were fucking squirting. making a mess of the sheets and her cock.

“gonna fill you up. gonna fill this pussy up, fuck!” ellie groaned in between sloppy thrusts, finally cumming against her strap. abby didn’t take long to cream all over your tongue in a moan, thrusting her hips against your mouth to ride it out.

you were crying of overstimulation as they used you to fuck themselves through it.

when they finally stopped you felt boneless, completely spent. abby pulled away from your mouth, hearing a cry at the loss of ellie’s cock as she too pulled out of your drooling cunt. your cum had stained the bed sheets.

“poor thing. she’s completely fucked out.” ellie cooed, caressing your cheek.

“don’t worry baby. we’ll take care of you.” abby said. your vision was starting to blur, the exhaustion taking over your body. “we’ll always take care of you.” she promised. and with that, you passed out, feeling safe in between the arms of death.

a/n; 👻

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darlingshane · 10 months

Text

Something Crazy

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: On Natalie's wedding day, life takes an unexpected turn when you learn that your former crush, Michael, might be interested in you.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, P in V, Vanilla, Alcohol, Eating, Fluff, Crack, Pet Names, Kissing, Dancing.

Word Count: 4,6k

— You can read below or at AO3.

Today is the big day for your best friend Natalie. She's marrying her long-time boyfriend, Pete, and you've come back to Chicago for only two days to celebrate this lifetime milestone with them.

They've picked a perfect Saturday in the middle of spring to celebrate their union. Flowers are in full bloom, gardens are lush green, wind has calmed, welcoming a balmy weather to allow having a wedding ceremony outdoors.

Bright Sun rays slip like gold ribbons through the sheer fabric of the curtains as you carefully hang Natalie's gown and remove the garment bag. It's a simple but stunning empire dress, strapless, with lace and pearls adorning the corset. Though you've never fantasized about your own wedding before, as your hand slides softly along the skirt, you can't help but imagine yourself as a giddy bride, wearing that same dress.

Tying the knot is not on top of your list right now. Settling with someone? That's more likely to happen. But there's nothing like being chosen as the maid of honor, especially if you're single, to find yourself trapped in that Disney daydream of getting to meet your prince charming and live happily ever after. Hopefully, that unwelcome, sudden longing will vanish after a few drinks at the reception. Until then, your top priority is making sure your best friend's special day is as magical as she planned.

You're in the designated dressing room of the hotel with the rest of the bride's party laughing, sipping rosé, telling stories while the beautician works against the clock, getting all four of you primped and ready.

While you help Natalie get into her dress, Gigi comes back with a tray of pastries to soak the alcohol before anyone gets too drunk.

“You guys gotta see Mikey. He's so fucking hot I could die. I've never seen him all dressed up and clean like that,” she announces loudly, going around the room like a whirling handing croissants and muffins. “I swear to god his pants are so tight, it’s like looking into an x-ray photograph… you can see everything. And I mean everything,” Gigi stares at you, raising an eyebrow, while you stuff part of a croissant into your mouth.

“Ew, that's my brother,” Natalie frowns in disgust.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you say after swallowing part of your pastry.

“She's looking at you like that because, as we all recall, it was you who had a crush on him for the longest time,” the bride sharply indicates.

“She's got a point, babe.”

“I was like fifteen,” your tone pitches a little higher, as if you were still that age. “Why do you always have to bring that up?”

“Cause let's be honest, you were hung up on him for way longer than you said, and your face still lights up every time you see him. Why can't you just admit you're still love-struck?”

You open your mouth to counter her accusation, but words refuse to come out. You can't even lie for dear life cause admittedly, as fucking annoying as they are, they're also right. Michael was one of those crushes that was hard to shake off. Your friends quickly jumped from one infatuation to another, but you pinned for Sugar's cooler, slightly older brother for longer than you should have. And that's probably the reason every time all your friends get together, they use that embarrassing piece of information to tease you. Even if you ever wanted to forget, they'll never let you.

The last time you saw Michael in person was a few weeks ago for only a few minutes when you came to help Natalie with the last details of the wedding and barely exchanged a couple of words. You moved to Detroit for work three years ago, and the few times you've come back here, you haven't crossed paths with him that often. The soon-to-be married couple also forgo the rehearsal dinner altogether to save money, so you didn't get a chance to see him before the ceremony.

“All I'm saying is if you wanna take a stab at that, this is the perfect time. He's single, he has great hair, he's wearing a dope suit, and did I mention hot?” Gigi keeps cajoling. “Hell, I'll hit that, If you don't. So better act fast.”

“He always had great hair,” Samira agrees, downing the rest of her wine.

“And he asked about you the other day when I showed him the pics of our trip,” Sugar adds.

“Oh,” you try not to sound too pleased, cause you doubt he ever paid any attention to you. Why would he start now?

“Yeah, he was definitely checking you out, and loved that video of you at the karaoke bar,” Samira chimes in as she pours another glass.

“Okay, you're making that up. No more wine for you, missy,” you promptly snatch the bottle from your friend and put it away while they all laugh. “Wait… he saw the video of me singing?”

“Uh-hm.”

You file that information for later and once you are all dressed up, you hand Natalie a stunning bouquet of roses before leaving the room.

“Thanks,” she grabs your arm for a second as Gigi and Samira head out. “Sorry for making fun of you… again. You know we love you and that we just want the best for you.”

“I know,” you mumble timidly.

“Sweetie, you don't need my permission, but if you wanted to ask Michael out, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He'd be lucky to have someone like you.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because… You've always been like a sister to me, and part of me wanted him to see how amazing you are, so I kept telling him about you. I showed him photos and videos, hoping that he would. And he did! He really loved that one of you vibing to TLC. Thought you were funny.”

“You told him, didn't you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“I'd stab you if you weren't about to get married,” your serious tone makes her snort.

“Look, you’re not dating anyone. He’s not dating anyone… I could ask him if he's interested before Gigi swipes him up.”

“Nat,” you sigh into a heavy pause, looking into her clear blue eyes. “We’re not in school anymore, you don’t have to play matchmaker. And it's your day! The last thing on my mind is hooking up with someone. Let alone your brother. So drop it.”

“Just saying. It could really be a wedding present for me if you two were to…” you scowl at her, which makes her leave that thought unfinished.

“Okay, that's gross, let’s get you married, so I can kill you right after.”

“Alright, alright. I promise I won’t mention it again.”

In your lavender dress and matching heels, you wait for your cue as the wedding starts. The quartet starts playing. Once the officiant and the groom are in position, groomsmen, and bridesmaids walk down the aisle in pairs. You line up with the bridesmaids by the floral arch on the side of the bride in the lush garden and watch as Natalie walks down the aisle, escorted by both brothers, Carmen and Michael.

She looks radiant, but your stare darts slightly to your former crush. He’s dressed in a dark suit and royal blue shirt, no tie. His fluffy hair pushed back, shining under the sun like black licorice. His features are sharply defined as usual, but there's definitely a certain glow around him that makes him look more handsome than you remember.

Credit where credit's due, Gigi was right. They all were. He still manages to stir those intense feelings and butterflies in your stomach that you thought gone when your eyes meet for a split second as they get closer to the altar. There's also a glimpse of a smile in his lips, directed at you. Or so it looks like. Maybe you're making it up in the chaotic mess that is your mind.

Carmy and Michael kiss either side of Natalie's face when they reach the altar, and then they take their seats on the first row as she stands face to face with Pete.

The quartet stops playing, the officiant starts speaking, and you aim your focus to the ceremony.

Once Natalie and Pete are pronounced husband and wife, there's a time dedicated to take a few pictures of the wedding party in that very same garden before losing the natural light.

Despite promising she was going to let it go, your now-married friend insists on making sure you and Michael end up in several pictures together.

“Mmm… Marcus, is it?” you shake hands with him, pretending to have forgotten his name.

“Michael,” his grip is firm around your hand.

“Oh, sorry, Mario. I have a terrible memory.”

“Don't be cute. I know you remember,” he scoffs, amused, linking one arm around your waist per the photographer's instructions.

You swallow, nervously placing your hand on his firm back, trying to keep your cool. As the photographer takes a series of snapshots, Michael starts humming a familiar song. No scrubs. The one you sang in that famous video your friends filmed.

You press your lips together, and pretend you're not hearing it. It seems like they've all been scheming together against you, or in your favor. You're not sure. You know Sugar wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, but this is getting ridiculous.

“Save me a dance later, would you?” he requests with a wink once the photoshoot session is over.

“I can't, Mitchell. I've already promised that to one of the groomsmen,” lie.

“You're gonna keep that bit the rest of the day?”

You shrug your shoulders, “it's not up to me, Marley.”

“Alright, come find me when you grow up.”

He presses his lips in a tight smile and walks away, leaving you dwelling in that awkwardness that washes over you, and wondering if he's messing with you or if he's suddenly into you. Those are good questions that you can't leave unanswered. If there's a chance that Michael Berzatto likes you, and that's a big IF, you really need to find out. The ball is in your court now. The question is… Do you want to throw it back?

The party moves to the banquet room in the hotel. There's plenty of food, drinks, music, and people in the room, but none of it can't distract you from the presence of Michael. This isn't how you expected to spend the day of your friend's wedding. And it's really going to bother you if you don't at least try to have a nice conversation with him. This is probably your last chance, so right after your heartfelt toast, you wipe your tears, throw back some liquid courage to walk up to his table.

He's nursing a glass of scotch, watching people on the dance floor, when you quietly take the empty chair besides him.

“No Richie today?” you break the ice.

“Oh, you remember his name but not mine?”

“Get over yourself, Michael. You know, I always got a little awkward when I was nervous. And unfortunately, it still happens.”

“Think you're doing pretty good right now.”

“Had a little help,” you tilt your glass in his direction.

“Well, I'm glad you decided to join me,” he nods and points at the bar where Richie is conversing animatedly with your friend Gigi. “I had to convince Sugar to invite him. Hope he behaves for my sake.”

“Oh no, you're a dead man. Nothing good is gonna come out of that.”

“How so?”

“They're both insane, divorced and desperate. That's a dangerous cocktail nobody wants to drink,” you point out.

“Yeah, you're right. I guess I didn't really think it through.”

“You're screwed, Berzatto,” you take a sip of your glass and turn your eyes from the bar to Michael. “You know I was just joshing earlier, right? It surprised me that you were so… Direct.”

“Men aren't usually direct with you?”

“No, I guess I haven’t been very lucky in that department… Or maybe I’m just a bitch with unreachable standards that scares away any potential suitors.”

“That would explain a lot.”

“Gee, thanks!”

“I’m kidding. I’m sure your standards are reasonable. And I don’t think you’re a bitch if that helps.”

“Yet you’re wondering why I came here alone?”

“Not really. I didn't bring a date, either.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“I dunno. Maybe I have really high standards, too,” he winks casually at you, knocking you out of your game.

You should have come prepared for this, but you never thought in a million years that Michael Berzatto would ever show any interest in you.

Still trying to figure out if you're picking up the right signals from him, you prop your elbows on the table and let out a sigh as he presses the rim of his glass to his mouth to take a swig.

You bite your lip and watch the guests swaying animatedly on the dance floor.

“So. Do you wanna dance?” he softly taps one of your arms.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Did your sister put you up to this?”

“Why would she?”

“Don't play dumb. I used to have the biggest crush on you, and if you didn't notice, I'm sure your Sugar has told you.”

His lips draw a lopsided smile. “She might have mentioned something a while ago, but she didn't put me up to this, I swear. This is all me. I only asked you for a dance. I didn't ask you to marry me.”

“I suppose a dance wouldn’t be that bad.”

“I'll take that,” he throws back the rest of his drink in one gulp, stands up, offering his hand up to you, “shall we?”

You were hoping to have some more time to prepare, but his sharp conviction is something you can’t reject. That’s part of Michael Berzatto’s appeal. He’s always been such a bold and outgoing guy, it's daunting. It’s good to see that hasn’t changed at all. The only thing that’s different is that now he’s wasting his charms on you.

With some apprehension, you follow his steps into the dance floor. There’s a mid-tempo song playing that you don’t recognize that makes you forget altogether how to move your body. So you just stand there, three feet away from him, like a deer caught in headlights, bobbing your head, avoiding his eyes.

Michael stares at you, slightly entertained by how uncomfortable you look right now, and throws you a lifeline by stepping closer, picking up your hands and placing them on his shoulders.

“What are you so afraid of, sweetheart?” he asks, planting his palms on your waist, guiding you slowly to move with him.

“I'm afraid that I'm not a very good dancer.”

“I doubt that.”

“Wait till I step on you,” you subconsciously look down at your feet.

“Follow my lead. You'll be fine.”

“Okay, Johnny Castle, but don't make me mambo, salsa, waltz… Or anything that requires taking my feet off the ground.”

“Who the hell is Johnny Castle?”

“Patrick Swayze? Dirty Dancing?” you question, as if it was the most outrageous thing that he hadn’t heard about that film.

“I’m more of a Road House kinda guy.” Of course, he is. “Was that another crush of yours?”

“Oh, big time!”

“Ok, got it, nothing fancy, we're just swaying. See?” His hands guide your body to move side to side, but it's impossible not to feel a little clumsy in your steps.

“Hey, what do you think of Pete?” He asks, using his head to point at the newly-weds.

“Uhh,” you glance to the side to see Pete wrapping an arm around Natalie, “he can be a total douche sometimes, but he's always sweet to her. I guess that's what matters. Why? What do you think about him?”

“Words out of my mouth.”

“Michael?” You glance up to his deep dark eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Be honest, why did you want to dance with me?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Your lips pull up on the sides as your head nods.

“Cause I wanted to dance with the prettiest girl I've ever met.”

If this is a dream, you don't wanna wake up to find out that this was just a concoction of your mind. It's not. It feels real. If you weren't holding onto him, you'd fall to your knees after hearing his words roll past his beautiful lips.

There are so many questions you wanna ask, but you can only sigh, and smile wider under the sweet glow of his brown eyes fixed on you.

“You really think that I’m that pretty or interesting?” your mouth opens after a pregnant pause, at the same time the song switches to something incredibly romantic.

“I've always thought that. It just took me a while to realize it.”

“God, you have the perfect answer to everything. That's really annoying.”

“I don't. I swear. You just caught me in a good mood.”

“I don't remember you ever being in a bad mood.”

“I have my moments. Trust me.”

He unexpectedly picks one of your hands from his shoulder, lifts it in the air to have you spinning ungracefully under his elbow before quickly wrapping his opposite arm around your waist to dip you. He grins at the shocked expression on your face for a second before bringing your body upright.

“Please, don't do that again,” you brace your hands to his chest right after.

“Why? That was perfect, sweetheart,” he laughs, “Johnny Castle would be proud.”

Your lips curl softly, letting your palms tentatively slide on his blazer until they're caught on the warm surface of his neck.

“Am I making you nervous?” he dares to ask, knowing pretty much that he's driving you crazy.

“A little,” a lot, actually.

He whispers, – sorry – as you run your fingers at the hair at his nape. You observe up close how he licks his lips, noticing his hands clutching harder to your waist. His head leans closer, and you draw a breath, preparing yourself for having his lips colliding against yours. It feels like the world stops spinning for a second and just about when he's about to kiss you something, someone in this case, crashes against your back making you lose your balance. Michael anchors you to the floor quickly before you can fall, as a slurred-drunk voice apologizes at your back.

“Fucking idiot,” Michael mutters and checks on you, “you okay, sweetheart?”

You're not. The spell is broken, and your dress suddenly feels cold and wet from the drink that was spilled along your hip.

You excuse yourself, and rush out of the dance floor, so you can clean yourself up.

There’s a big surprise in the nearest bathroom you find, and that is your friend Gigi making out with Richie with such passion, they don't even notice you opening and quickly closing the door.

The tiny glimpse that you caught of Richie propping your friend on the sink and sliding his hands under her skirt makes your jaw almost fall to the floor. You wish you could erase that from your memory immediately, but at least it has made you forget momentarily about your dress.

When you turn around, you’re faced with Michael again. You ran out so fast you didn’t notice him following behind.

“What’s wrong?”

“Richie and Gigi,” smacking your lips, you point with your thumb to the door with no further explanation.

“Wow, they didn’t waste any time.”

“That's the thing about weddings. They make people do crazy things.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael looks down for a beat, licks his lips, and steps closer.

He holds your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up. As he leans to capture your mouth, you flinch, “what are you doing?”

“Something crazy,” the corners of his mouth quirk up, making another move, and you jerk your face a second time in reflex. It’s not that you don't wanna kiss him, you absolutely do. You just need another moment to process it.

“Damn, girl. Can you just stay still, so I can kiss you already?” He demands without an ounce of entitlement. Just driven by the desire to taste your lips.

“Alright, okay… just give me a second,” you yield to his craving, letting him slowly guide you, so your back is pressed against the wall.

There’s no escape now, this is the moment you’ve dreamed with many moons ago that seemed like a pipe dream back then. All those thoughts vanish the moment his lips are pressed against yours firmly, before letting them bounce a couple of times together. His alcohol-tainted breath mixes with yours as his lips part wider. He captures your lower lip with a light suck, followed by the tip of his tongue shamelessly drawing the curve of your mouth. It's deliciously sexy and sweet and everything in between. You close your eyes and follow his lead, opening your mouth and letting him slot his lips against yours. His tongue invades past your teeth without resistance. It challenges you to kiss him back. It takes you a moment to respond, but soon enough, you're fully immersed in the depth of his mouth, taking the reins of the kiss.

You haven't been kissed like this in a while. Maybe ever.

When your mouths separate, you realize your hands are anchored to his back, and he's fully pressed against you. His lips are covered in your saliva and vice versa.

“I'm going to change my dress,” you sigh, giving him a little push, so you can put yourself together.

“Oh… Okay,” there's a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You clear your throat and harness an ounce of confidence to ask, “do you wanna come? I might need some help. The zipper is a little tricky in this thing.”

Right.

His expression turns on a dime, eyes wide open, white edge teeth showing behind his slightly parted lips. Speechless by the implication of your proposal, he cleans his lips on his palm before responding, “I… sure.”

Proud of yourself for taking a gamble and hitting the jackpot, you go back inside the banquet hall first to collect your purse from the table and then head up to the elevators with him following closely behind.

A palm lands at the small of your back while you press the button. The anticipation makes your stomach flutter wilder than ever. Who would have thought you'd be taking Michael to your room on this day? It feels surreal. Absolutely bananas.

You don't say a word during the elevator ride up to the fourth floor.

When you reach your door, you notice his palms framing your hips from behind. His touch makes your pulse tremble while using the key card. It takes you a couple of tries to open the door.

There's a strange force, an electricity buzzing, that grows more powerful the second you're inside.

You hit the light switch, drop your purse on the chair and turn to face him.

Following that unstoppable whim, you place your palms on his chest and push back his blazer. He shrugs it off as you move to undo the few buttons he's fastened. Your fingers tremor anxiously as you uncover his defined torso. You want to stick out your tongue and trace those two lines forming a V oh his abdomen that leads to the outline of his cock behind the tight fabric of his dress slacks. It’s too bold of a move for you right now, so you let your fingers do your bidding.

When your hands reach his belt, they proceed to unbuckle it under the lust-filled shadow of that flame of his gaze that could scorch the surface of the earth if he wanted to in a second.

He’s already half hard when you unzip his fly, and that's as far as he allows you to go. Michael's dying to touch you, to undress you and fuck you. He quickly turns you around, making you gasp, and finds the zipper of your dress. Your skin rises into goosebumps when he pulls the tab down. He nibbles at the crook of your neck, pushing the top of your dress down to your waist. You shimmy your legs out of it as his hands invite themselves to your skin.

His all hands and mouth around you as he removes your strapless bra and guides you to lay down on the bed.

The fire that lights up his eyes sears through yours as he slips out of his unbuttoned shirt. He then props a knee on the bed, hovering over you, and lowers his head to kiss your stomach. His tongue darts out and draws a circle around your navel. Your head falls back on the mattress, as he leaves a trail of wet kisses up your torso. He nibbles once more at your neck, increasing your arousal up to eleven.

“Michael, please,” you groan as he presses himself between your legs, grinding slowly behind layers of fabric, coaxing your juices to stain your underwear and growing himself a hard-rock erection that can barely be held by his boxers.

Lifting lifts his head, he props himself on his elbows, and surveys the tortured expression on your face as his hips keep relentlessly moving.

“Fuck, you're goddamn gorgeous, baby,” he exhales, proceeding to swiftly rid you off your panties, and pushing his pants and underwear down.

He drives his hardness inside you with great care, pushing inch after inch of that monumental erection that stretches your slicked walls. You close your eyes as he experiments with his thrusting, molding your opening to its generous size.

“Is this how you imagined this?” he pants against the corner of your mouth.

“No. This is better… Much, much better,” you purr, palming his ass, encouraging him to move faster.

If you had a free hand, you'd pinch yourself to check if this is really happening right now. It still blows your mind thinking that Michael Berzatto is deeply buried inside you, wanting you, claiming every cell of your body for his enjoyment. You gladly surrender to his desires as the cadence of his hips drive you into madness. As much as you try to contain your moans, he does everything in his hand to force every moan, curse, and breath to fly out past your teeth.

He slams into you with passion, bites your skin, grips your tits, devours your mouth, setting every inch ablaze. It’s as mind-blowing as it is fast, but he earns himself a good squeeze of your walls when he brings you to orgasm. He comes undone just merely a second after, releasing a wild grunt that ripples all over your skin, and pouring all his warm seed into the depths of your pussy, having his hips jerking erratically until he’s spilled every drop.

His cum sticks to your walls as he rolls to the side of the mattress with a grunt. Your head is spinning out of its usual axis, overtaken by that powerful boost of endorphins, and your lungs struggle for a deep breath.

For a long minute, you both stare at the ceiling while you regain your breath.

When he composes himself, he turns to the side to look at you, sweetly letting one of his fingers brush your cheek, “do you wanna do this again tomorrow?”

“Can't. I'm leaving, remember?”

“Right.”

“But you can stay the night if you want. And repeat later. And maybe one more time even later. Would you like that?”

“I'd love to, sweetheart.”

#michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #darlingwrites #smut #fluff

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heyiwrotesomethings · 1 year

Note

Hi!, I saw your requests were open, If it’s okay maybe kirari’s secret girlfriend/wife coming to the school and everyone reacting to how similar or different they are?

Not So Different

Kirari Momobami x She/Her Reader

A/N: There is something special about a character who seems nice but can actually be pretty scary. I like it. Anyway, here you go, I hope you like it! Word Count: 2,513

The student population was abuzz after the student council president, Momobami Kirari, gracefully slid out of the glossy black car she arrived in every morning, but this time, with a catch. She held her hand back out to the open car door, and to the surprise of those who cared enough to pay attention, a hand emerged to grasp it.

Another girl slid out of the leather car seat behind Kirari and even after the chauffeur closed the door and returned to his seat to drive away, the girl’s hand remained with Kirari’s as they walked towards the school gates. Though she was wearing the school’s uniform, no one recognized the girl at all. A new student perhaps? And already in the claws of the president, poor thing.

“Good morning, President!” Sayaka greeted her at the front gate as she did every morning, then with less enthusiasm and a smidge of bitterness, she greeted the other girl as well, “Good morning, (Y/n). Welcome to Hyakkaou.”

“Thank you, Sayaka. Good to see you again.” (Y/n) smiled earnestly.

Of course Sayaka seemed to know what was going on. Though Kirari had a vexing mysteriousness about her, no one was more suited, nor dedicated enough to chip her way through than Sayaka. Though even she would say she only knew the tip of the iceberg when it came to Kirari. Although she did know a lot more than the average person, including the fact that Kirari had been betrothed to (Y/n) before either of them had even been born, something about dangerous business deals and complicated Bami Clan traditions for the family head.

Until recently, it was forbidden for the arranged couple to even be seen together in public until the Honebami family had disposed of all the threats. This would be the joining of two very important and influential families after all. Many contracts and a stupid amount of money was hedging on this union.

Now with all possible usurpers and hired guns sinking to the bottom of the Mariana Trench, the couple was given more freedom to do as they pleased which Kirari promptly took advantage of by helping (Y/n) transfer to Hyakkaou.

“President, I have tea warming in the student council room should you like a cup before the morning meeting begins.”

Kirari hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head towards (Y/n), “Would you care to come for tea, my dear? At the very least it would be a good way to meet the rest of the council.”

“Sounds good to me!” Came the chipper response.

Most of the student council was already loitering about the room doing their own thing, but seeing a new face joining the President had piqued the interest of a few members.

“Ooo, who’s this, Kirari?” Runa asked around a mouthful of cherry hard candies. She had only barely glanced up before returning her eyes to the colorful screen in front of her.

“This is my fiancée, (Y/n). She will be joining us for the remainder of our last year. It would have been preferable if we could have shared more of our school days together, but such is life.”

“Better than nothing.” (Y/n) smiled, giving Kirari’s hand a quick squeeze.

“No way, fiancée?” Yumemi gasped. “When did this happen? I’ve been so out of the loop!”

“This union was predetermined by fate and the stars before we even existed.” Kirari colorfully explained, taking her seat at the front of the table, almost dragging (Y/n) down with her, but she declined to sit in Kirari’s lap. Kirari gave a low hum of disappointment.

“It was a high stakes arranged marriage.” (Y/n) corrected. “It wasn’t safe for us to be in public together until recently. For a time, the less people who knew about it, the better.”

“Oh, okay. I know a thing or two about paparazzi myself,” Yumemi flipped her hair over her shoulder, “They just gobble relationship gossip up.”

It was a little more involved than paparazzi, but neither Kirari nor (Y/n) cared enough to get into it.

“Well, it’s good to be meeting you now.” Yuriko chimed in, fidgeting a bit nervously in her seat, “Will you be joining the council?”

“Wouldn’t that be interesting.” Kirari spoke first, “Although… there aren’t any seats open, are there? Not now that I let Sumeragi in due to her father’s generous contributions. Would you give up your spot, Yuriko?”

Yuriko flinched. Why had she opened her mouth at all?! She couldn’t lose her place on the council! Her lip wobbled and she tried to speak, but fortunately, (Y/n) saved her.

“Don’t be mean, Kirari,” she gave Yuriko a reassuring look, “Don’t worry, student government isn’t my thing.”

“Oh…” Yuriko visibly relaxed in her seat, making Runa and Midari laughed.

“I’ll just come by to hang out. You guys can just pretend I’m not even here.”

“Already on it.” Kaede grumbled, clacking away at his laptop.

“Then perhaps keep your mouth closed, Manyuda. If that is truly your intent.” Kirari warned, eyeing the treasurer over the rim of her tea cup.

“Spooky, Prez!” Midari grinned, “I’ve never seen your puffy sleeves get ruffled so easily before.”

“Let’s all just simmer down.” (Y/n) took the seat between Kirari and Ririka, resting a hand on Kirari’s thigh. Kirari’s demeanor returned to normal with a single lazy blink. (Y/n) turned her attention to Ririka next.

Though Kirari had explained to her that Ririka was supposed to be the mysterious vice president until the proper time, whatever that meant, she still wanted acknowledge her soon to be sister-in-law anyway.

“Good morning.” She greeted with a quick wink.

Ririka smiled beneath her mask and gave a nod in return. Shortly after, Itsuki came running in just before the meeting was set to start. Frazzled, the girl looked for an extra chair. (Y/n) offered hers up.

“I should look around the school and find my classroom anyway.” She told Kirari, “Good luck with your schemes!”

“Schemes,” Kirari smiled, amused, “Really now?”

“Yes, schemes.” (Y/n) affirmed. She wasn’t blind to this whole house pet racket Kirari had going on, but growing up in the families that they did, she hardly batted an eye. “See you in class.”

Because of course Kirari made sure they would be in the same third year Hana class. Though Kirari would have rather her stay to help ease the boredom the meeting would surely bring, she let (Y/n) go explore.

“Are you sure you should let her just wander around? She is new…” Yuriko tentatively spoke up against her better judgment.

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be something if your girlfriend became a house pet while your back was turned?” Midari cackled and leaned back in her chair. “A nice girl like that will be sniffed out and ripped apart in no time.”

Kirari giggled resting her knuckles beneath her chin. Looking at her in just the right light, one would see a wild glint in those arctic ice eyes.

“Do you think so?” She asked.

***

“Yumeko, it was just a stupid rumor. You look like an idiot!” Mary hissed, pulling Yumeko away from the stairwell wall she was bent over, looking down for a sign of the president and her mysterious guest.

“Oh, it’s no rumor, Mary. It is one hundred percent factual that Kirari and her betrothed were recently given the green light to be in public together. It was such a big secret, that many of the family branches didn’t even know about it! Knowing Kirari, I would bet that with the restrictions lifted, she enrolled her fiancée to our school.”

“And what of it? Why do you care?” Mary crossed her arms, back stiff, annoyed that she had to follow Yumeko around all morning.

“It’s simple,” Mary swore she saw a glint of red in Yumeko’s eyes, “I want to gamble with her!”

“That’s so dumb,” Mary scoffed, but then, she reconsidered.

Actually, this could be good… If they could win a high stakes gamble against Kirari’s fiancée and make a house pet of her… that would surely get a rise out of the aloof tyrant masquerading as a student council president, right?

“You know what, count me in.”

“Yay, Mary!”

“Don’t touch me!”

“I could have sworn it was supposed to be on this floor… oh dear.”

Mary and Yumeko paused their little scuffle to stare at the girl who just passed them by. The way she checked every room placard as she walked cemented the fact that she just had to be new.

“Excuse me,” Yumeko wasted no time slipping in beside the girl, “are you lost?”

“Yes,” the girl sighed, relieved at the prospect of a helping hand, “I’m looking for the third year Hana classroom. Could you help me?”

“That’ll be easy enough,” Mary chimed in, “We’ll take you there.”

“Thank you guys so much. I’m (Y/n) by the way.”

“I’m Yumeko and this is Mary, nice to meet you!”

They shared a bit of small talk as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. When they reached the correct classroom, (Y/n) thanked them both.

“Thank you both for the escort. I’d love to give you a favor in return sometime.”

“You may be able to fill that favor in right now, actually,” Yumeko circled, finally stopping behind (Y/n) to drape her arms over her shoulders in a loose hug, “You are Kirari’s fiancée, right?”

“Yup, that’s me,” she chuckled, slipping out of Yumeko’s arms, “feels weird to get to tell people that now. Anyway, what’s the favor?”

“Mary and I want to gamble with you!”

“A gamble, with me?”

“Yes,” Mary came to stand beside Yumeko, trapping (Y/n) between them and the wall, “gambling is a big part of how this school functions. But you probably know that given whose circles you run in.” Mary tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. Though (Y/n) seemed nice on the surface, she was still betrothed to Kirari who was by far the worst person Mary knew. (Y/n) could be just as deranged.

“Wow,” (Y/n) audibly exhaled, “an invitation already. Well, when in Rome, as the saying goes. Game of choice and stakes?”

“You’ll really do it?” Yumeko was practically foaming at the mouth, but (Y/n) didn’t bat an eye.

“Well, I have a favor to repay, don’t I?”

“Why don’t we take this to the library then.” Mary suggested.

(Y/n) soon found herself being ushered away from the classroom she had been searching for and into a library study room turned gambling den. Yumeko gave her an excited smile.

“Why don’t you pick the game, (Y/n). Then we may discuss the stakes…”

***

Sayaka had only left the student council room for a moment and already she had heard the most disturbing rumor. Jabami Yumeko, demon, Antichrist, what have you, had slithered up to (Y/n) like the snake she was and proposed a gamble!

Now, Sayaka’s feelings on (Y/n) had been… not so good in the past when she had first discovered the arrangement, but the girl had wormed her way into her heart, giving her the more direct praise and validation that Kirari was so stingy with. It also probably helped that she introduced Sayaka to her current therapist who in turn hooked Sayaka up with some really top tier medication.

Needless to say, the moment she heard (Y/n) and Yumeko’s name in the same sentence, she was bursting back into the student council room and falling over herself to tell Kirari.

“Really now?” Kirari rose from her chair, an easy smile spread across her blue stained lips. “This meeting can be picked up at a later date. I hope they haven’t started yet.”

“Are you going to stop them, President?” Sayaka asked hopefully.

“Oh Sayaka, of course not. I wish to observe.”

“Nyahahaha!” Runa laughed, “Alright, my interest is piqued too. Let’s see how the new girl holds against Yumeko.”

“Yumekooo!” Midari wailed, “I gotta see too!”

A majority of the council was curious and chose to follow Kirari and Sayaka through the halls, students parting like the Red Sea when they saw them coming. A frightening sight to behold. They sauntered into the library, found the correct study room, and crowded inside. Seating around the table, Yumeko had a crazed excitement about her, Mary was looking pale, and (Y/n) had her back to the new arrivals.

“Saotome is involved too? Oh, what a treat.” Kirari observed, “You couldn’t have found a better pair to test your gambling mettle against. Having fun, darling?”

(Y/n) slowly turned in her seat to look back at the invading council members and all but Kirari shuddered under her gaze and chilling smile. Apparently, (Y/n) was a pretty good match for Kirari after all. Though she seemed like a normal, easy-going girl on the surface, she could actually be quite vicious.

“Oh yeah, I’m having a great time. Yumeko and Mary put up quite a fight, but I think they are at the end of their rope.”

And sure enough, when the cards were cast to the table, (Y/n)’s were the highest possible combination, knocking both Mary and Yumeko’s out of the game.

“No…” Mary whispered, clenching her fists.

“We lost!” Yumeko’s heart was pounding, excited to hear exactly what it was she would be losing.

Before the game began, each girl had written down what they would make the others wager. Now was the moment of truth, what had (Y/n) forced Mary and Yumeko to wager.

“What have we lost, (Y/n), show us! I can’t wait another second!” Yumeko begged.

“Okayyyy,” (Y/n) peeled up a corner of the paper agonizingly slow and flipped it over. Mary and Yumeko leaned in to read, finding that they both owed… absolutely nothing. “There it is. You’re welcome. Try to mess with me like that again however, and I may not be so forgiving.”

Mary fell back against her chair, to emotionally exhausted to even feel relieved, while Yumeko slumped into her chair in disappointment.

“Well, it’s been nice meeting you, but I should to get ready for class. Kirari,” (Y/n) turned to face her, looking much more unassuming than she had a few moments ago, “walk with me?”

“Always, but let’s go somewhere more exciting.”

The couple exited the study room together, leaving everyone behind in various states of shock.

“This is where we differ most. You could have taken them for all they had and more. I don’t know exactly what Yumeko was hoping for beyond a gamble, but Mary surely wanted to take everything from you.” Kirari pondered as they walked.

“I just don’t see the appeal. I’d feel bad taking from people who didn’t know what they were getting themselves into.”

“Ah, but they should have known. You are my fiancée after all.”

“I guess you have a point.“ (Y/n) shrugged.

The couple made their way to the roof of the school and took off in Kirari’s private helicopter while rumors that the student council president and her fiancée were not as different as they initially seemed, spread. Not when it came to their gambling prowess anyway.

#kakegurui oneshots #kakegurui x reader #kirari momobami x reader #kirari x reader #kirari momobami #requests #anonymous

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lost-in-tokyo · 1 year

Text

The Elevator

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Word count: 2,1k

Synopsis: what can happen if you and Nanami end up stuck in an elevator during a mission? (smut/nsfw)

Warnings: curse words, unprotected sex, fingering, biting, elevator sex, hard dom!Nanami. MDNI.

Authors note: this is pure smut with very little plot. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Entering the abandoned building you felt shivers down your spine, either because of the low temperature inside, or because of the special grade curse that awaited you and Nanami on the last floor.

You could tell he wasn't the happiest about your company, Nanami had always preferred to work alone, but this was a special grade and he couldn't deal with it by himself.

Having been transferred to Japan a couple of months ago, you always found your attention focused on the blonde. The coldness of his eyes, the sharpness of his jawline and how direct and serious he always seemed to be.

Your interest in the Japanese - Danish man didn't go unnoticed, not that you wanted that anyway. You could still recall your first encounter with him....

"Yn, this is Nanami Kento, one of our sorcerers" Yaga had told you.

Looking the blonde up and down you were quick to respond. "If I knew Japan had such fine men, I'd have come earlier."

You were never one to shy away, always being known for your confidence and upfront personality, perhaps that was the reason why you and Gojo quickly became friends.

Throughout the two months you've been here, you always tried to find a way to be around Nanami. You'd offer to help him on simple missions, which he always declined. You'd bring him coffee, black, no sugar, no cream. He'd thank you, but that was it. And almost every day you'd find a way to flirt with him.

Nanami never looked annoyed at you, but you knew he didn't like the attention you gave him. He'd avoid being around you, and whenever you started conversation, his replies would be short, even cold you could say. So when the two of you were assigned for this mission, you couldn't help but notice the way he sighed. It was clear he didn't want you here.

His frustration only increased after some good minutes of fighting, the curse managed to escape, jumping towards a building in the opposite direction. The two of you wouldn't be able to jump, using the elevator became the only possibility, since the stairs were broken in some parts of the way, making them inaccessible.

The blonde sighed again, pressing the button to the elevator as he shifted his weight from one leg to another. Once inside, he was quick to press the first floor button, waiting impatiently for the machine to go down.

That's when you heard it, a weird creaking noise and the elevator stoped. Your heart started to race, what if it fell with the two of you inside?

Nanami's fingers pressed against the button countless times as another sigh left his lips. "We're already out of time, and now this." His voice was annoyed, his back facing you as he insisted on pressing the same button.

"Try pressing the alert one, someone will come and help."

"No one's coming, yn, this building has been out of use for years now, don't be so innocent."

Ouch. He had never been this rude to you before.

Deciding to remain silent, you took one step back, leaning your head against the elevator's wall. Whatever it was that Nanami was doing, it was obvious that it wasn't working, but you decided to simply not involve yourself.

After a couple of more tries, the man cursed under his breath, before leaning against the opposite wall of yours.

"It's gonna be okay. We just need to find a solution." You tried to cheer him up by being positive, even if you had no clue on what you could possibly do to get out of this situation.

"You really think so?" His tone was sarcastic as his posture became upright. "We wouldn't even be in this situation if it wasn't for you."

"Excuse me!?"

"You let it run away."

A sarcastic laugh left your throat. "You say as if I had much of a choice.... My spell only works in long distances, if I had used it, the whole building would have gone down."

"You shouldn't even have come."

You rolled your eyes, checking your phone for signal, only to confirm your assumptions and see that you had none.

"If I hadn't come you'd be dead now, and you know it." You referred to one of the curses attacks, which you quickly, almost by instinct, had taken Nanami away from.

You looked down and only realized he was walking towards you when you lifted your gaze, finding him only a foot away from you.

"I didn't ask you to do that." His voice was so serious that you tried taking a step back, only to realize you were already against the wall.

You tried to think of a response, but nothing came to your mind. You opened your mouth, but no words left. His close presence was making you disturbed, making your brain short circuit. Your breathing became quick, irregular as you stared into his brown eyes, who looked much darker now. If it was because of the red lights covering the elevator or because of his anger, you couldn't tell.

"What's wrong, huh?" He put both hands on the sides of your head, making it impossible for you to run away. "Always so bitchy when there's people around... But when I get you alone you act like a scared rabbit."

"Nanami...."

"I bet you like this, I bet you like losing control. I even bet you'd be wet if you dared to touch you, huh?" His voice was low, he talked to you almost like he was a wolf and you were his hopeless prey.

You shook your head, unable to pronounce a believable lie. He was right though. You've always been bossy, a bitch some may say, and this sudden dominance coming from Nanami was making you more wet than you'd like to admit.

Suddenly one of his hands moved, inserting itself past your pants and panties, spreading your lips only to smirk as he felt your wetness.

He hummed, nice and slow, the smirk never leaving his lips. "So I am correct." The blonde took a quick pause, staring at your face as your eyes closed at the feeling of his fingers playing with clit in a slow and teasing way. "Does the idea of me fucking you inside this elevator turn you on this much?"

"N-no" your voice broke as his fingers entered your hole, his thumb taking their previous position, this time applying more pressure to your bud.

"Tell me to stop then." His mouth was so close to your ear, whispering in such a low voice that gosegumps erupted from your skin.

Your voice was barely a whisper as you said his name again, one of your hands moving to the back of his neck, bringing his lips towards yours for a fervent kiss. It was quick, your teeth clashed against each other, his body pressing against you so deliciously that you let a little moan leave your mouth, allowing his tongue to invade you, fighting for dominance against your own.

His fingers scissored you, spreading your tight walls to prepare yourself for him. His thumb was relentless, applying just the right amount of pressure with its circular motions against your clit. Both actions making you squeeze your eyes shut as you felt a knot start forming in your lower belly.

Another moan left your lips and your fingers found their way among Nanami's strands, pulling his hair, making a low groan leave his throat. He pressed himself more against you, allowing you to feel his big tent against your thigh. The anticipation of what was going to come making the feeling in your belly even stronger than before.

"Na-nami... I- I..." You couldn't finish, your pleasure was too high for any comprehensive sentence to leave your mouth.

His left your mouth, kissing the spot right below your ear, whispering against it, before biting harshly your skin, sure to leave a mark on. "That's not my name, princess."

"Kento!" It all became too much and you reached your high, your moans became high pitched as your walls spasmed against his fingers, leaving Nanami thinking of how good that will feel against his cock.

Once you came down from your high he removed his hand from you. "Take of your clothes." You quickly romoved all your garments as you watched him take his pants and blazer off, opening the buttons of his navy blue shirt.

His cock was hard against his white boxers, allowing you to see the perfect outline of it. It was hard, an average thickness, but he was long, so long. You could clearly see how fat his tip was as he finally removed the last piece and you felt your mouth salivating at the sight.

Soon the blonde's lips were on yours again. His hands squeezing your breasts before his mouth started to pay attention to one of them, sucking and biting on your nipple as your hand started to pump his shaft.

Little whimpers left your lips as your breathing became more irregular than before. "Kento, oh, please"

"What do you want, sweetheart?" His eyes looked up at you, admiring the way your face looked, contorted with pleasure.

"Want you inside."

He smirked again, pressing himself against you harder, his hands moving down to squeeze your ass tightly before he lightly tapped the back of your thighs, silently telling you to jump.

You circled your legs around his waist as one of his hands held you up, your back pressed against the cold wall of the elevator. His other guided his cock inside your folds, mixing your juices with his precum, before he slowly inserted his fat tip against your entrance.

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head back, moaning as little by little his dick entered your warm hole.

He cursed under his breath, using his free hand to grasp on your waist. "You gotta relax baby, I can barely move inside of you." His lips left a trail of wet kisses down your neck, nipping at your collarbone before he kissed your lips again, successfuly calming you, allowing his cock to slip in fully.

A silent moan left your mouth when he started thrusting. His initial pace was slow and cautious, almost as if he was afraid of breaking you. Nevertheless, he soon found that spongy spot inside of you that had your toes curling and a loud moan leave you.

"Right here, huh?" His thrusts quickened their pace, hitting that specific spot over and over again, making you a mess of moans and sobs as your eyes teared up with the overstimulation.

"Fuck." His mouth sucked on your neck, leaving another mark on your flesh. "You always make me wanna do things that I don't do."

"Like what?" Your voice was broken, being interrupted by the pleasurable sounds you were creating.

"Like fucking you in an elevator without having a date first."

His thrusts became stronger, harsher, removing all the air from your lungs every time his cock hit your cervix.

"I hate all the attention you give me." Another hard thrust. "Always teasing me in front of everyone. Makes me wanna fuck you right there. Take this cockiness out of you."

"Kento!" Another moan and your eyes screw shut, your legs trembling around his waist.

The blonde's hands gripped on your hips, making you meet up with his thrusts as he increased his speed. "That's it baby, cum for me."

His praise was enough to make your second orgasm hit you, much harder than the first one.

Soon, the overstimulation became too much, Nanami kept using your abused hole to reach his own climax. His thrusts became sloppy and with one final thrust he removed himself from your warmness, cumming on your pussy, his cock twitching as he watched his seed drip down your folds.

Slowly, he let your feet hit the floor. "Are you feeling okay?" Concern lacing his voice.

"Yes, just tired." You gave him a small smile, while still panting.

He nodded, handing you your clothes while putting his own. The blond helped you fix your hair before fixing his, looking at himself in the elevator's mirror, which was foggy by now.

Once the two of you managed to climb through the cords and get out of the elevator, he stopped right before stepping on the stairs.

"How about we go out for dinner after we get this curse?"

"I'd love that!" You smiled, grabbing his hand before leading him through the broken stairs.

Likes, reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

#jujustu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x fem!reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #nanami kento fanfic #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami

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slytherheign · 1 year

Text

CONNECTING ARTS | tasm!peter parker

PAIRING: photographer!tasm!peter parker x painter!fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 8.4k

SUMMARY: peter is slowly losing hope for his love of photography when he finds himself at a loss of inspiration. to give his passion a last chance to prove it’s worth holding on, he decides to do one last project: to capture a stranger’s life for 1 week. unbeknownst to him, with every click of his camera, he’ll slowly fall in love. unbeknownst to you, with every stroke of your paintbrush, you’ll realize your lives are more connected than you both initially thought.

WARNINGS: mentions of death, cursing/swearing, parent's negligence, reader being an orphan, anxiety, depression, inaccuracies (?) there may be some because i’m not a photographer nor a painter. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is angsty towards the end but it’s hurt/comfort and there are more fluff moments so the destination is sweet street instead of angst avenue. this took so long to write but it’s only bc i added a little bit of mystery here about the person in the reader’s painting and their pasts. i hope y’all forgive me. enjoy reading!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS CONNECTING ARTS (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

It’s truly terrifying how a person could suddenly lose interest in something they have spent their whole life yearning for.

This was Peter’s greatest fear—to watch the once-ignited flame of passion within him get slowly extinguished. Photography was supposed to be his lifeline. How could he let himself get drained of something that was his escapism?

Was it his surroundings, his personal life, or just life in general that made him uninterested in his hobby? He had no answer. He truly, certainly, absolutely did not know.

He stared at the camera that was atop the center table, and as he did so, flashbacks of the joyous moments he spent capturing people and places struck him. He had held that camera for years—garnering both little and grand memories that were far too special and memorable to forget. He couldn’t just let it go.

One more chance, he thought.

“Okay, let’s try again,” he said to himself. “One last time.”

So he grabbed his camera and went to the nearest place he thought would spark even just a pinch of inspiration—the park.

The busy yet calm buzz of people's chatter met him as the wind blew softly against his skin. He walked a few yards until he saw a bench which he sat on almost immediately. He raised the camera close to his eyes, adjusting the lens as he took pictures every now and then while scanning the surroundings.

A couple on a bench that was turned back from him and facing the city bay. The guy had his arm around the girl’s shoulders while her head rested on his.

Click.

A mother gently pushing her child that was giggling so hard at the swing.

Click.

A lovely couple walking the grounds, holding each other’s hands without an ounce of care in a world that judged them because they were both women.

Click.

A large oak tree from which the outline beautifully clashed with the slow setting of the sun.

Click.

Suddenly, his hands seemingly moved on their own as the camera panned over downwards without him even noticing.

A girl underneath an oak tree, gracefully sitting on a paint-covered cream blanket. Art supplies were messily scattered over the soft blanket while the girl was drawing something on a canvas in front of her.

Click.

He zoomed in, focusing on her face. He couldn’t help it, she was mesmerizing. The girl must’ve felt it because she looked straight at the camera, piercing his eye that was behind the lens.

He put down the camera instantly, mouthing an apology towards you as he realized he probably distracted you from your drawing. You shook your head, letting a small smile form on your lips. You gestured for him to come over, and without hesitation, he did.

You quickly but carefully moved some of your things to give him space on the blanket to sit on. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “What are you drawing?” he asked.

“Someone,” you replied, showing him the canvas. There wasn’t much on it at the moment, just the initial sketch of a person’s body and a white fence in the background. The person did not have a face yet.

Click.

Peter captured the canvas with his camera. As he looked up, he saw your puzzled face staring at him. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I haven’t asked for your permission to take pictures of you and your work. I can delete it if you want to.”

“No, it’s fine,” you reassured him. “I’m just curious, do you take pictures of everything?”

“No, usually just the interesting stuff,” he chuckled at your question.

“So you think I’m interesting?” you winked playfully.

“I…” he started to say, but then stopped before smiling. “Yeah, I do. The most interesting, actually.”

He noticed your cheeks redden, but before you could think of a reply, Peter’s eyes slightly widened as an idea dawned upon him.

“Can I ask something crazy?” he asked.

“I love crazy,” you beamed with excitement, putting down your canvas to face him. “Go ahead.”

“I was thinking… if maybe I could capture the process of you completing your artwork? Like… capture your life for a week?”

He noticed the slight skepticism in your eyes. “I know this is kinda weird considering we just met but I–I just think you’re really cool a-and awesome and I’m really fascinated by you.”

“You know, usually I don’t entertain strangers much more let them stay in my apartment… but I have a good feeling about you,” you admitted. “So…” you nodded.

“Okay, just so we’re clear, you are agreeing for me to capture and document your life for a week?”

“Yes.”

Perfect. This was the exact thing he needed. A good and worthy ending for his slowly dying passion.

“I feel like shit,” he said suddenly. “I haven’t even asked your name. I’m Peter,” he offered his hand.

You chuckled as you shook his hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. How do you want this to work?” he didn’t want to decide by himself since it’s your life he would be documenting in the first place.

“Uhh–here,” you ripped a piece from a sketchbook you weren’t using. With a pencil you pulled from the back of your ear, you wrote your address on the piece of paper. “That’s um–where I live. Come by tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.”

Peter smiled on his way home.

He was ready for his very last project.

DAY 1.

You awoke from the same ray of sunshine that visited you every morning through your large window. You wasted no time as you made your bed and took a shower quickly. Normally, you wouldn’t even bother to leave your bed for at least half an hour after waking up but today was different. You had a visitor and for some reason, you wanted to impress him. After all, he was the first person to ever visit your place.

The place that you called home was a studio apartment with a loft bedroom. You had no usual living room because you turned it into a painting studio. The only places where paint—with exception of white—didn’t reach the wall or the floor were the small kitchen area and the loft bedroom where you sleep every night. But above all things, your favorite part of your apartment was the large window that occupied the entire wall facing the first floor and the loft floor.

After dressing yourself in a white shirt and brown overalls, you decided to put your hair up in a ponytail. The moment you started to heat water for your morning coffee, you heard a knock on your door.

“Hi,” Peter greeted.

“Hello,” you smiled in return, opening the door wider for him to enter your humble abode.

Peter’s mouth slightly parted from the aesthetic of your apartment. His eyes scanned the place like a child in a candy store. He saw the canvases on the floor that were both empty and painted on, and the large wooden table in the middle of the room that had art supplies and an unreal amount of colorful paints scattered on top of it.

Click.

And from that moment on, he knew your place was something else.

“This place is amazing,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” you said, a proud grin presenting on your lips. “Coffee?”

“Thanks,” he smiled, accepting your offer. “How long have you had this place?”

“Since I was 19. A year after I moved out from the orph–uh from my old home.” Thankfully, Peter was too busy admiring the place to even notice you almost slipping out.

No one gets to know your past. That was your life rule. The present and the future were what mattered.

“Here,” you placed the mug atop the side table near the entrance. There was a small couch—noticeably thrifted—beside it where Peter sat. “Careful, it’s hot,” you warned him as he tried to hold the mug and drink while still being distracted by your paintings.

You sat beside him, sipping your coffee as well. “How did you get into photography?” you asked.

“I think I’ve always been interested in the art of photography since I was a kid. I’ve always loved taking photos back then and I think it’s really cool that memories can be captured in the form of pictures forever.”

You agreed, nodding your head. “Same goes with painting. Sometimes, I paint my surroundings, mostly people that I see around me; sometimes, I have pictures as my reference; sometimes, I like storing memories in my head and then painting them when I get my hands on a canvas. But the best thing about it though is that I can paint not what I see but what I want to see.”

The last line you said seemed to get his full attention. “What do you mean by that?” his face showed an intrigued expression.

“It means that I can paint whatever I want. I can paint the past, the present, and the future. And sometimes, you hate the past and the present, so you just change them in your paintings. And then when you start hating the future too, you just paint what you want the future to be. Basically, what I’m saying is, you can manipulate life through a painting. Reality and imagination share a room, and there’s really no limit.”

There was something about the words you said that made Peter realize just how deep of a person you are. It wasn’t just your paintings he was mesmerized by anymore, but also you. He would love to get to know you more.

DAY 2.

Same time, same place, different day.

“Good morning,” he greeted you once you opened the door. You let him in, excited for the day because you planned on teaching him how to paint. It wasn’t your idea, he asked you yesterday if he could be the first person you teach how to paint and you accepted the challenge. You didn’t consider yourself a good teacher, but oh well, you weren’t going to back down from a challenge.

“Coffee?” you offered.

“Oh no. You promised to teach me how to paint and I would very much like to start learning now,” he had a huge excited grin plastered on his face.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” you smirked proudly.

“How do you know which canvas to use? There are so many sizes,” he asked, standing over the piles of empty canvases on the floor.

“It depends on what you’re going to paint. Do you have something on your mind?”

“I-uh… no? I thought the idea would come naturally honestly.”

“That’s fine! Sometimes, it comes naturally. Sometimes, it doesn’t and you have to push yourself until it eventually comes.”

“Why would you push yourself if it doesn't come naturally? Wouldn’t you just take a break and wait?”

“I could wait, But I prefer not to. I push myself because I want to paint and the lack of ideas won’t hinder me from painting. This is my passion, I want to do this forever. If I took a pause every time I had no idea what to paint, most of my paintings wouldn’t exist and I would’ve given up this passion years ago.”

“What about rest? Do you even take a rest?” he asked as you handed him a small-sized canvas. You thought it was the best for beginners.

You chuckled lightly. “I’m human, Peter. Of course, I rest. But not when I know I’m getting uninterested in painting. When I get over that phase and I’m inspired again, that’s when I rest. I don’t go to bed until I have that fire in me again that dances with the art of painting.”

Now, that was something that hit Peter all the way to his core. How could you even manage to do it? To answer the question he didn’t even know he had in his heart so effortlessly and precisely?

He now knew his mistake—he let the lack of inspiration slowly extinguish the fire in him whenever he was feeling uninspired. He realized now that he didn’t push hard enough. But that would change, starting now.

“I think I know what to paint now. And this size is just perfect, thank you.”

You watched him put his canvas on an easel. He looked at you, his eyes asking a question about what to do next.

“You can draw first, sketch what would be the outline of your painting, and then let it guide you when you start painting. Or you could proceed to paint immediately. But if you ask me, I would recommend sketching first so you won’t make a lot of mistakes later when you actually start painting.”

“Okay. I’ll sketch first. Thank you,” he said as you handed him a pencil. He started drawing lines, and then curves, and then came the shapes.

“That’s really good. Damn, didn’t know you were good at drawing,” you complimented. He laughed lightly. “Thanks, I think I got the genes from my mother. My aunt always told me she was a really good artist.”

Once he was close to finishing his drawing, it dawned on you that he was drawing a sunrise. You wouldn’t tell him, but it reminded you of one of your paintings. It wasn’t a sunrise, but it was similar. Maybe you’d show it to him when he finishes his painting.

“I’m done!” he announced proudly. “Nice!” you replied. “Are you ready to paint?”

“Oh no no no… please, I think that’s enough for me today,” he laughed. “Don’t get me wrong, but that little drawing took a lot of work. I’d like to go back to my camera now.”

DAY 3.

Same time, same place, different day.

“Good mo–”

“Morning!” you cut him off as you opened the door. He laughed seeing your proud face. “Come in.”

“Coffee?”

“Actually–yeah. I’d like a coffee,” he answered, yawning.

“Had trouble sleeping?” you asked.

He nodded. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He felt how the silence almost swallowed the room and how your eyes never left his. Only then did he realize what he said.

“I–uh-I m-mean ab-about the things… y-yeah about the things you said yesterday w-when you talked about painting an-and your passion and your–uh… like making sure the fire that dances within you stays lit,” he was rambling.

You let out a giggle. Deep inside, you were struggling not to blush. “I understand. You know, if you want me to stop saying deep things about life and other stuff, just tell me.”

He was quick to raise his hand, as if stopping you from doing something idiotic. “Oh no. Please, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop saying things that are so deep that it makes other people unable to sleep just thinking about them.”

“You make it sound like you don’t like it,” you chuckled as you turned your back on him to prepare his morning drink.

He shook his head. “Oh, I like it. I like it when you say things like that. It makes me double-think my life or just life in general. For the better.”

“Thanks. I don’t really have a lot of people to talk to so I can understand if you think I’m being too much.”

“You’re not being too much, I assure you that. You’re just wise… and I love that about you.”

You almost dropped the mug by turning almost instantly to face him. No one has appreciated you like that before, and it certainly felt good. You couldn’t stop—and didn’t want to stop—the smile that formed on your lips.

Click.

You were out of words if you were being honest so you instead chose to ask why he took a picture of you just then. “What was that for? The picture? I wasn’t even painting.”

“It’s for memories… beautiful ones,” he winked and you swore you felt something in your stomach that you never felt before. Oh, this can’t be happening.

“Um–anyway, here’s your coffee,” you said as you handed him the drink. You quickly changed the topic. “I was thinking maybe we should continue doing our paintings? You continue yours and I continue mine. If you need my help or you have any questions, just tell me.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

This was harder than Peter expected it to be. There were so many colors to choose from. How could he know what were the right colors to use? This was his first painting and he was being mentored by an incredible painter. He wanted this to be good. He wanted to impress you.

“You could always start with orange or yellow,” you said as you noticed him struggling.

“I feel like I need a reference just to know where the orange starts to blend with yellow.”

“Okay,” you agreed with him. “The internet has a lot of pictures of the sunrise.”

“I know, but I kinda want my own?” he shrugged. “Those pictures are the sunrise from other people’s eyes that they took from their cameras. I want to know the color of the sunrise from my perspective, you know? It’s just that I just realized I’m doing a sunrise painting and I haven’t even seen the sun actually rise… I want to see it for myself and then take my own pictures of it while it happens. Maybe then I could connect more with my painting.”

You stopped painting as you stared at him, feeling extremely proud that you couldn’t help but grin. “You want to connect more with your painting?” you repeated.

“Yes.”

“Then let’s do it. Tomorrow, let’s meet up at the park early in the morning just before the sun rises. I’ll take you to my secret spot.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’m excited,” he smiled and you reciprocated it. He then picked up his camera again to take pictures of you.

By now, the background of your painting was finished. A white picket fence, on the back of it was a brick-walled house. A figure was in front, but it was yet to be painted on. The outline of the man was the only blank surface left on your canvas.

Click.

You were glad Peter still hadn't asked any questions about your painting.

DAY 4.

Different time, different place, different day.

You immediately saw Peter the moment you were close to the park. It wasn’t hard to spot him since it was early and not a lot of people roamed the place just yet—only the ones who jog there every day.

You didn’t notice him click his camera when you rushed towards him.

“Good morning!” Of course, he couldn’t forget about his daily greeting. In response, you greeted him back.

“And before you offer me coffee, I’d like to take you to my favorite coffee shop later. My treat. That is, of course, if you only want to.”

“I’d love to,” you smiled. “Let’s go.”

You held his hand and Peter swore he felt some kind of electric shock. A shock that was so addicting he was willing to get electrocuted if it meant getting to hold you much longer.

“We’re here,” you announced and Peter was suddenly brought back to earth. The ‘secret spot’ you mentioned was a little hill that was just a mile hike away from the park. The pathway entrance was covered with trees so it was concealed from most people. The view from up there was insanely breathtaking. He could clearly see the city bay and he was sure the sun would rise from where the city bay ended. You still held his hand and he assumed you just forgot you were holding it in the first place. There was no way you would hold his hand for this long.

You absolutely did not forget. But you didn’t do it on purpose either. See, the thing in your stomach that you felt yesterday always visited you whenever he was in your presence. For some reason, there was a need for your body to touch his, and as much as you tried to control it, there was no containing it. That was what happened. Your hand acted on its own and it didn’t want to let his hand go. It was kind of embarrassing and you just wished he didn’t mind it.

Oh, he didn’t mind it, that’s for sure. In fact, he was enjoying it. Although it was taking everything in him not to wrap his arm around your shoulders and keep you close.

“Look,” you pointed at the sun that was starting to peek from where the bay ended in your perspective. And there it was, the sun slowly and magnificently rising above the waters. As much as Peter didn’t want to let go of your hand, he needed both of his hands to capture the moment. You glanced at him as you wanted to watch his reaction to his first time witnessing the sunrise. And while his face was covered by his camera as he took a picture of the scene, you saw his lips form a peaceful smile. You found yourself looking back at the sun with the same peaceful smile on your lips.

You knew he was done taking pictures when the once-darkened place was brightened up by the star that was the sun. It was evident since he lowered the camera from his face and adjusted the strap to let it hang by his neck comfortably. What you didn’t know, though, was that before he put his camera down, he sneakily took a photo of your face joined by the hues of the sun.

“This is our secret spot now,” said Peter.

“Yup,” you laughed. “So, coffee?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, offering his hand for you to take.

Peter brought you to a little cafe not far from the park, it was located near a library which you reminded yourself you would visit some other time in the future.

You were taking your last sip of coffee when you heard the familiar click of his camera. This time you actually posed a peace sign for the picture. Peter chuckled at this, and in return, it made you laugh as well. He seized the opportunity to take another picture.

Click.

“It's nice here… the staff, the view, the ambiance, the food, and of course, the coffee,” you commented.

“So, now you get why this is my favorite coffee shop?”

“Correction. This is our favorite coffee shop now.”

DAY 5.

The next day, you met up back at your studio apartment. After your usual morning greetings and coffees, both of you were busy doing your own paintings. You looked over at Peter, seeing him so focused on his painting. You suddenly had an idea.

After one last stroke to complete the body of the faceless person you were painting, you stopped. You stood up and went to the table where Peter put his camera on. He didn’t notice you, he was too busy to even notice you standing. You carefully and quietly put the strap over your head and adjusted it to your comfort. You walked little steps towards him, positioning yourself just behind him where you could see his back as he worked on his painting on one of your easels. You adjusted your eye to the viewfinder and just when you found the perfect view, you clicked its shutter.

Click.

The familiar click of his camera forced his eyes to look away from his painting. He looked quizzically at you. When he realized what you were doing, he smiled widely as he carefully put his paintbrush in a brush holder.

“What are you doing?” he laughed. God, you loved his face when he laughed. You couldn’t resist clicking the shutter for the second time.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just continue what you’re doing. You’ll be the painter and I’ll be the photographer for today.”

Moments later, you probably had circled around Peter just to make sure you could capture every angle of him painting. He was smiling for most of them.

“Am I even doing this right?” he asked, gesturing for you to look at his painting.

You stood beside the stool he was sitting on. “You’re doing great. But I think you should blend this area a little bit more,” you said, moving closer as you pointed out the area you were talking about. “And you might want to go softer on your brush.”

“Have I told you how attractive you are when you teach me these things?” he said suddenly.

That caught you off guard, and you weren’t sure what to do so you just looked at him with an awkward smile. Peter didn’t know where his confidence came from, but all of a sudden, he dipped his pointer finger into the orange paint on his palette and smeared it on your cheek. Your mouth widened with shock but you immediately did the same thing to him. And so, you two had a full-on fight which ended up with both your clothes and faces covered with colorful paints.

“Oh, I have to take pictures of this,” he stated before running to the sink and washing his hands so he could hold his camera and not worry about smearing paint on it.

He got back quickly, asking you to do silly poses as he took your pictures. You did the same to him, instructing him to do ridiculously funny poses when you took his pictures. After a while, he set the camera down on a table facing the two of you and set it on a timer so he could take photos of both of you together. You two were having so much fun that none of you even cared or noticed that some of the poses you did were both of you being too close to each other’s bodies.

That was how the day went for the two of you. Covered with paint and indelible memories with each other.

And maybe even growing feelings towards one another.

DAY 6.

Same time, same place, different day.

“Your painting fully dried overnight,” you said excitedly as you opened the door for him. “Would you like to see it?”

“Well–good morning to you too,” he giggled. “Actually, can I go to the bathroom first? I really need to pee.”

“Oh-yes, of course,” you smiled, letting him inside. “It’s up there in the loft beside the bed. It’s the only bathroom so it’s not hard to find.”

As Peter went to pee, you decided to find a painting of yours similar to his sunrise. You were thrilled to show it to him.

You held your painting behind your back as Peter exited the bathroom and went to see his finished painting. “You can touch it,” you reminded him when you saw how his fingers hesitated to touch the canvas in fear of ruining what he’d done. He finally touched it, picking it up with his hand and stroking the piece of art with the other as he admired it. He did this. With his hands.

“It’s beautiful,” you commented. “You seem to be a natural. It doesn’t look like it was your first time. I’m proud of you.”

“Well, I had the best mentor, so…” he smirked. “But in all honesty, thank you so much. For introducing me to painting, for teaching me how to paint, for your wise words—everything. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you said before remembering the piece of art behind your back. “I have something I want to show you. But I’m getting tired just standing, so let’s sit on the couch.”

Once you both settled on the couch, you showed him your painting of the sunset. You put it side by side with his sunrise and it created a perfect contrast together. The same sun, taken from the same secret spot on top of that little hill, but at different times of the day.

“Unbelievable. They’re almost the same,” he whispered, wonder-struck. “May I ask why you painted a sunset?”

“I painted this during one of the hardest days in my life. Why a sunset? A sunset because it reminds me that even though the day is hard, there is an end to the day. A sunset… because it represents the opportunity to rest. It reminds me that if the sun can rest after a tiring day, then there is nothing wrong with closing your eyes for even just a moment.”

He looked at you with deep understanding. “Why did you paint a sunrise?” you asked.

“I’ve always known that a sunrise meant the start of another day. But only when I started to paint it and connect with it did I realize that there is more to that. Why a sunrise? A sunrise because it reminds me that another day isn’t only another ‘day’. It’s also another chance to live and take risks. A sunrise… because it represents the opportunity to start again. It reminds me that if the sun could come back up after a long dark night, then I can too.”

Your eyes glistened with tears as he said those words but you didn’t let him see it. Art really was a voice that spoke beyond thoughts and words. Those paintings weren’t just paintings, they were experiences. Your sunset was a symbol of rest—what you have always wanted to have after all those years. His sunrise was a symbol of hope—what he was searching for for the longest time.

You ended up framing the paintings and hanging them on your wall beside each other. Together, they created the most beautiful contrasting artwork. The two paintings became one—it was like they were always meant to be beside each other.

Click.

“You know, I went through the photos you took while I was painting. They’re really good. The angles? they’re perfect. If you ever want to change careers, just tell me,” he joked.

“I think I’ll stick to painting,” you chuckled. “But thank you, I mean, I had a great mentor so that’s probably why the photos turned out good.”

“You mean me? I didn’t even teach you as far as I can remember.”

“Well, not literally. But when you take pictures, I observe you and the ways you hold the camera. So, I definitely got my ‘skill’ from you,” you admitted.

“You observe me?”

You noticed his lips slowly form a smirk and only then did you realize what you just revealed. “Uhh-let’s not m-make it a big d-deal,” you nervously laughed, feeling the anxiety creep up on you. You never knew how to deal with social situations like this. When things went awkward or you didn’t know what to say, you ran. Hence why you never had a long-time friend. Peter was the only one you lasted this long with.

“I was just teasing you,” he smiled, stroking your arms with his hands to calm you down. You didn’t know how he knew you were slightly panicking on the inside. But somehow, he did. And then he smiled at you with the softest and most caring smile you’d ever seen and suddenly the anxiety and the panic shifted into a feeling of comfort.

You had never felt like this before.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, and almost in an instant, the once bright day outside your windows turned into a dark night.

Time really did fly when you were with someone you loved.

Loved.

None of you would admit it yet, but it was definitely there.

“It’s time for me to go…” he announced.

Before he could fully stand up and start to make his way to the door, you held his wrist to stop him. He looked at you with confusion, but the glint in his eyes said a lot more—he hoped you would ask him to stay.

And that you did.

“You can stay here tonight…” you whispered. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Do you want me to stay?” he softly asked, glancing at your hand that held his wrist before looking at you again.

“Yes.”

DAY 7.

Different time, same place, different day.

Peter woke up earlier than usual and yet he felt that the sleep he had taken was the most satisfying he ever had. Why? Well, it was because he slept next to you.

Let’s take a few steps back…

Yesterday night when Peter was about to leave, you insisted on letting him stay. He offered to take the couch but you felt guilty that you were about to sleep on a soft mattress while he would sleep on an old couch downstairs so you told him that it was fine if he slept next to you on your bed. He was hesitant because he respected your boundaries but eventually you were able to come to an agreement to put a pillow in between both of you to not make things awkward. None of you knew how it happened, but when you woke up, the pillow was moved to the floor and your hand and his were almost touching. It seemed like your bodies naturally gravitated towards each other—but of course, none of you would admit that. At least not yet.

He quietly made his way down to where you were painting, careful not to disturb you. He grabbed the camera along the way. He would never get tired of capturing photos of you while painting—you were a master of arts in one of their truest forms. You were sitting on a stool with an easel in front.

He pulled the camera close to his face, aligning his good eye with the viewfinder. He adjusted the lens, zooming it in your hand that held a really old—it seemed to be your favorite—paintbrush. But before he could click the shutter, he noticed how your hands were shaking as you stared at the painting. He immediately put down his camera and stared at it as well and only then did he realize that you haven’t made any progress on your painting today. The painting was almost complete, the only thing missing was the face of the man in the middle. Up until now, he was still faceless.

“You know, this is the longest it’s taken me to paint a person,” you said, feeling his presence behind you. “It’s just a face. Why is it so hard?” you sighed with shaking lips. You were battling the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes.

For the first time ever, he didn’t know how to reply.

“No–don’t answer that,” you let out a breathy laugh, but there was pain underneath. “That was a rhetorical question. Of course, I know why it’s so hard.”

With shaking hands that you tried so hard to steady, you started coloring the face with a skin tone color that matched the rest of the man’s body.

One stroke.

He didn’t know what to say, but hopefully, he knew what to do. Peter moved beside you, intertwining his right hand with your left as you painted with your right.

Two strokes.

You felt him squeeze your hand, doing his best to comfort you.

Three strokes.

Painting the structure of the face was done. Now onto the details of the face.

You closed your eyes, trying to dig up the memories you had with this man. But it was hard since the man you were painting only stayed for a little while in your life.

You opened your eyes, picking out a thin paintbrush that was perfect for little details. You started with the lips.

One stroke.

Peter’s presence was giving you not only comfort but courage as well.

Two strokes.

And then another.

The pinkish-red lips stared at you from the painting. You let out a breath. Next was the nose.

You picked up your pencil to draw some lines for a little bit. You only did some to serve as your guide. Next, you cleaned the thin paintbrush before dipping it in another color—black.

One stroke.

You followed the lines you drew. But they were just lines, you have to paint the details to actually make the nose specific from the rest.

Two strokes.

And then you did some shadows with the outlines to blend them with the skin. It was done.

“I think I’ll continue later,” you sighed sadly, squeezing his hand. “I need to take a breather. S-sorry this is hard for me.”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, squeezing your hand back. “Do you want me to join you?” he softly asked.

“No-I want to be alone for a moment,” you smiled to show him you appreciated his concern.

He watched you leave and was alone for a moment. He glared at the painting, wondering what this person could have done to hurt you this much. How could someone even hurt the most precious person to ever walk on earth?

He heard the door open loudly, making him turn immediately. You were at the other side of the door, looking up at him with your eyes red evidently from crying. He walked past everything—the table and the clutter on the floor—hastily just so he could hug you.

He carefully closed the door as you leaned into him. Your body was weak due to repressed emotions now releasing all at once. He noticed your knees slowly giving up and he guided both of you to sit on the floor.

The camera, the photos, the paintbrush, the painting—all were forgotten the moment he wrapped his arms around you. He cradled your face with his hands, brushing your cheek and wiping your tears.

“I’m a mess,” you said, sniffing.

“You’re beautiful,” he responded, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Do you want to talk about it?” he cooed.

“Will it help?”

“I think so. But it’s still up to you,” he replied honestly.

You nodded. “I know you have questions, ask them.”

“Who’s the man in the painting?”

“My father. Or at least what I remember of him.”

His back was resting on the wall as you leaned into his side, his arm was still wrapped around you.

“And the house in the background, is that your family’s house?”

“It’s the orphanage. I spent my whole childhood there. That’s where I grew up.”

“Did he visit you there?”

“No,” you laughed painfully. “Remember what I told you before? That the best thing about painting is that I can paint whatever I want to see or happen? That painting is one of them.”

He was listening intently. He didn’t want to say anything because he knew that you didn’t want any advice at the moment, you just wanted a listener.

“I never met my mother. The caregivers at the orphanage told me she died when she birthed me. When I asked them how I got there they told me about my father. He took care of me for 4 months, and then I think his heart broke whenever he saw my face because I looked a lot like my mother. It came to a point where he couldn’t look at me or care for me anymore so he put me in that orphanage. I guess the heartbreak was bigger than the joy that I brought.

“I always imagined him visiting me, getting me out of that place, and bringing me home. But that didn’t happen. So I coped with drawing and painting. Until now, I still wonder what could’ve happened if he came back for me… hence why I’m doing the painting.”

“Do you have any pictures of him?” he asked.

“I only had one. It was a picture of my parents at their wedding. I used to stare at it every day until I lost it and I would never forgive myself for being so careless back then. The last time I held that picture and stared at it was when I was 7. It’s been too long and I can’t seem to remember his face that much.”

“Is that why it’s so hard for you to paint his face?”

“Yes. But also because of the realization that my wishes only come true in my paintings. I wanted him to come back for me or at least visit me. I didn’t get that visit, so I’m getting it in the painting.”

“Have you tried looking for him?”

You nodded. “Of course. But you can’t find who doesn’t want to be found.”

“Did you at least have any people who cared for you like a parent?” he asked, sympathy evident in his expression.

“I had this one particular caregiver who made me experience what it was like to have a mother. She was the one who gave me my first paintbrush and painting set. She was the one who made me discover that I had a talent for drawing and painting.

“But she didn’t stay for long because she had to leave the orphanage permanently to take care of her own family. She told me something happened and she had to take care of a little boy.”

Peter’s face furrowed from the familiarity of that exact situation, but he let it slide eventually. This was your story, this wasn’t about him.

“I have some questions for you too,” you chuckled. Tears were no longer falling on your face. Peter was right again. Indeed, talking about your past helped.

“Shit. Do I have to get nervous?” he joked.

“It depends on what your answers are gonna be,” you joked back. “How did you get your camera? Did you buy it or is it from someone you look up to?”

“The answer is the latter. I had a teacher once in high school, he wasn’t a professional photographer but we shared the same interests. I remember the first time he stepped into the room to teach English but instead of focusing on him the first thing I noticed was his DSLR camera. It was kept and hidden in a bag but I know a camera bag when I see one. I think, over time, he noticed I was always glancing at his camera that one day he called me to stay after his class and gave it to me. He told me that I needed it more.”

“Were you two close?” you asked.

“We were, yeah.”

“Where is he now?”

“He died a year ago. He’s gone now but I still treasure every lesson he’s taught me.”

“And your parents?”

“They died when I was 4 from a plane crash. Since then, I stayed with my aunt before she was gone too.”

“I’m sorry, Pete. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine. I feel comfortable around you—the heavy things don’t feel as heavy anymore.”

Silence surrounded the apartment, calming the two of you as you held each other. No one needed to speak at the moment, just you in his arms were enough.

Day almost turned into night and you finally stood up.

“You don’t have to finish it today,” he said as he noticed you staring at the painting anxiously.

“I know. But I want to.”

“Okay,” he smiled. “Then I’ll be there with you.”

He walked towards you and intertwined his hand with yours.

“Thank you.”

Together, you walked until you were in front of the easel again. He picked up the paintbrush and held it in front of you. He gave you an encouraging look and you smiled as you took the brush with courage.

“Here we go.”

You did the eyebrows first, it didn’t take you as long as you did when you did the nose and lips.

The eyes.

The hardest part because the eyes were what looked into the soul.

One stroke.

Two strokes.

Three strokes.

You weren’t shaking anymore.

Four strokes.

Five strokes.

“You can do it,” Peter encouraged.

Six strokes.

Seven Strokes.

“You’re doing great,” his hand held yours tighter.

The last stroke.

You did it. You painted your father. You remembered his face. And above all, you painted him in front of the orphanage, coming back to get you.

You smiled.

Peter stiffened beside you. His eyes widened as he looked at your father in the painting.

“Peter?” you called his name.

He stayed unmoving.

“Pete? Are you okay?”

“That’s him…” he pointed at your father.

You were confused. “Who?”

“My teacher in high school. The one I told you about. The one who gave me my camera,” he collected his camera from the table. “The one who gave me this.”

You were speechless and shocked to the core. “Are you sure?”

“It makes sense now,” he continued. “He once told me in our conversations that the greatest mistake he’d ever made was leaving something he loved because he was so scared he would never be deserving of it.”

You didn’t know what to feel.

“But now I realize, he wasn’t talking about a ‘thing’, he was talking about someone. You.”

“Did he try to come back for me?” you asked, curious but you weren’t hopeful.

“I-I don’t know… I’m sorry.”

“I-It’s okay,” you sniffed, wiping your cheeks. Funny, you weren’t even sure when the tears started to cascade down on them.

“You mentioned your teacher died last year, right? That means he’s…”

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he softly spoke, even his eyes couldn’t help but tear up slightly.

“It’s not your fault. Besides, he wasn’t even there for me for most of my life. It’s fine,” you reasoned, telling him it was all good but another tear still slipped from your eye.

He hugged your side and stayed like that for a good while as he tried to think of another subject to talk about to keep you from hurting any longer. His eyes caught the brush holder and focused on an old paintbrush that you use almost every time. It seemed to be your favorite. The marks on the wooden handle told him the age of the brush; the bristles that were still intact and usable told him just how much you take care of your art supplies.

“That paintbrush… you use it every time, is that your favorite?” he already knew the answer but he still asked just to distract you.

You didn’t need to follow where his eyes were looking or ask him anything, you already knew the brush he was talking about. “Yes, it is my favorite. Remember when I told you I had this caregiver in the orphanage that gave me my first painting set and paintbrush?” you said before picking up the brush. “This is the paintbrush.”

“You must’ve taken good care of it all these years,” he commented.

“I did. It’s special and it holds a lot of good memories.”

“What’s your favorite memory?” he asked, interested.

“Me as a little kid doing my first painting with my caregiver. She was encouraging me every step of the way.”

“What’s her name?”

“May.”

His eyes widened with realization. He remembered asking his aunt what her job was before she took him in after the incident that killed his parents. She had told him she was a caregiver at an orphanage. But the city is wide and big, it never occurred to him that that orphanage was the same one you were from.

“May Parker,” he breathed out.

You looked at him. “Yes! That’s her–I forgot her last name but that’s her. Do you know her?”

“She’s my aunt.”

Now everything made sense and all the why’s were answered. No wonder why you felt a sense of familiarity the first time he put his camera down and you saw his face. No wonder why your heart jumped when you learned his name. May Parker… Peter Parker… holy shit. How come you didn’t notice that before?

“You’re the little boy she always talked about. Her little nephew who loved taking pictures so much,” you said, eyes once again starting to tear up.

“And you’re the little painter girl she always mentioned,” he smiled. “She promised me she would introduce me to you but life got busy and that never happened.”

“But look at us now. I guess fate still found its way to introduce us to each other,” you stated softly.

Peter once again cradled your face with his hands, slowly stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can I tell you something?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“That day I met you at the park, I was at my ending point with photography. That day, I was determined to find the last project worthy of my dying passion. Then I met you. And in just a matter of days, I knew you, and it changed my life,” he started.

“You taught me lessons about art and life. You gave me something I’ve been trying to get back for a long time—hope.

“Above all, you made me remember why I even started taking pictures. You made me realize my purpose. I know now that I never lost the flame, the candle just stopped burning. But you… you rekindled it and suddenly it was back again… and it’s stronger and hotter than ever.

“Now, I can admit, to anyone and myself, I love photography. This is my passion. It’s not just the flame… but the fire within me that sways with the wind.”

He felt your hands gently wrap around his wrists as he continued caressing your face. “Oh, Peter…” you whispered.

“T-there is something beyond words that I feel for you. I-I don't know how to properly say it but I’m still gonna try,” he whispered back. “You’re not just the muse of my favorite pictures, you are my camera. Without you, I’m unable to reach my full potential. You’re the perfect angle I’ve always wanted to find. And now that I’ve found you… everything makes sense. The blank spaces in my heart and in my life aren’t blank anymore because your name is now written all over them.”

You moved closer so your forehead could touch his. “And you, Peter… are the colors that I paint on my canvases. The sunrise to my sunset. Ever since you came, the meaningless life I had before became meaningful.”

Silence surrounded you for a moment. Your foreheads were still touching while both your eyes were closed. Tears stained both your cheeks as the two of you couldn’t stop crying out of adoration and love for each other.

“All the ones who guided us are gone now,” you breathed out.

He placed a long kiss on your forehead before speaking.

“From now on, it’s only you and I.”

After uncovering the past and embracing the present, you were looking forward to the future.

It truly was amazing how art could connect people together.

The hopeless photographer was once again hopeful;

The restless painter wasn’t exhausted anymore.

And soon the two of you would realize that the love you shared was a testament of…

Interlacing fates,

Intertwining lines,

and

Connecting arts.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan @willowhaired @sflame15-blog

me, as the author, connecting with the story through writing is further proof of how art connects us all together. i can only hope that i wrote this well so that you can connect with it too through reading. thank you all for being patient, this is for all of you.

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ystrike1 · 2 months

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Third Ending - By Cho Bom (9/10)

A good and realistic modern yandere. Now that's a dangerous combination. The only weak point in this story was how pointless the "conflicts" at the end felt. This couple is well established and mutually in love. The yandere part stems from being repressed, which is a realistic source for abnormal behavior. Being openly gay can be hard, but of course true love is worth it!

Suh Yoonseul doesn't think anything is wrong. He's hot. He's got a great job. He's got money. People admire him. He's dated around five women seriously. He's no cheater. The relationships just fizzled out after a couple years, because he's not passionate enough. Suh Yoonseul is a kind, chill guy. The kind of guy that lets the girl go when her eyes start drifting. The kind of guy that goes with the flow, because life is good. He's got lots of friends. He's a green flag.

Life is...

Sometimes he has bad dreams about a guy who confessed to him back in high school. These dreams ruin his day. When he has them his perfect life is marred by tripping, bumbling, stumbling and no sleep.

His occasional nightmares about Kang Jun don't let him sleep a wink.

Kang Jun was an aspiring young baker who just so happened to be gay. Kang Jun was quiet. Suh Yoonseul did not know him. They weren't friends. Kang Jun decided to confess because high school was about to end. He had to tell Suh Yoonseul. Why?

Well.

His crush on Suh Yoonseul lasted from middle school ALL THE WAY THROUGH HIGH SCHOOL.

Kang Jun recognized that his pining was unhealthy, and he decided to confess so he could let Suh Yoonseul go.

He chose the wrong day. His confession happened right when Suh Yoonseul was having a bad day, so he ruined Kang Jun's sweet crush.

I'm going to paraphrase, because it's crushing:

"I don't know you. This is weird. You made me special lemon cookies but whatever. I'm not eating them because they could be laced with something. You’re a creep."

His harsh rejection almost destroyed Kang Jun. He almost gave up on his pastry chef dream because of it.

They meet. Kang Jun works at his sisters bakery. Suh Yoonseul feels sorry and he feels....funny? He wants Kang Jun to forgive him. His feelings are oddly complicated. He's such a chill guy.....until he remembers Kang Jun.

Kang Jun was never, ever a creep. He's a very pure guy who isn't very sexual. His crush on Suh Yoonseul often feels very Demisexual. Sure, he likes Suh Yoonseul's face BUT he never tried to date afterwards. He seems to have little interest in sex and relationships. Suh Yoonseul was the exception.

Suh Yoonseul is most likely closet bi with a preference for women. Kang Jun just wins out because well...he's a great guy!

Suh Yoonseul gets jealous for the first time because of Kang Jun. He doesn't even notice that he's turning into a bit of a monster. He thinks he wants to be friends with Kang Jun. He starts going to the bakery literally every day. Even if it's a waste of money or he doesn't want bread. When he remembers Kang Jun he can't focus.

It grows slowly.

He starts using his looks.

He goes to a fancy hairdresser to impress the baker he rejected before.

At this point he still thinks he just wants friendship....but his friends begin to suspect he's gay.

It grows a little more.

Suh Yoonseul starts being more selfish.

Kang Jun starts to hope for love...because Suh Yoonseul is being so persistent....so weirdly persistent its almost crazy.

Kang Jun thinks it's normal love.

The question comes up, and Suh Yoonseul REJECTS HIM AGAIN BECAUSE HE DOESN'T WANT TO LOSE KANG JUN.

They quickly became best friends and Kang Jun makes him super happy. He's not sure if he wants to give love a chance.

Kang Jun decides to cut him off.

Suh Yoonseul is too weird. Too affectionate. Too cold. Unwilling to commit and yet always stalking him at the same time. Kang Jun attempts to cut him off for the sake of his own mental health.

There's a drunken kiss. Kang Jun realizes he just can't be friends with his crush. It's too painful.

Kang Jun is a really soft guy, but at this point Suh Yoonseul has rejected him painfully twice.

The bakery is moving. His sister bought a bigger building.

Kang Jun doesn't tell Suh Yoonseul about the move.

Kang Jun also lies and says he will hang out with Suh Yoonseul on his birthday. Suh Yoonseul cancels all of his other plans, and he plans a big date. A big expensive one. He even gets his car washed, and Kang Jun stands him up.

He stands in front of the abandoned bakery for hours, until he hears someone screaming his name.

Kang Jun is just too nice.

They start dating right when Suh Yoonseul becomes noticeably obsessed.

....

Season two is mostly pointless fluff. Kind of a boring read. Season 1 is an absolute banger though, and you have to read part two if you want to see them happy.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #yaoi #Third Ending

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solar-wing · 9 months

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⚣ BatBro with his BatBros 🦇

⚣ 🦇 A/N → Ah, my first full installment of BatBro headcanons. Where does the time go? Anyway, as we progress throughout these headcanons, you can imagine the characters slowly getting older too. By, the time we get to the end, the reader is at least 18 years old making Damian anywhere between 18-19 years old, since he's a few months older.

⚣ 🦇 Summary → Going from the life of an only child, to having 4+ siblings, can't be easy. Especially when most of those siblings brothers, and those brothers come from a family a crime-stopping vigilantes. What was your mother thinking in leaving you with your dad?

REBLOGS are very appreciated! REPLIES to, I love hearing your thoughts 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🦇

I find it funny that no one has ever thought to take advantage of the fact that Bruce Wayne has created a habit of popping up with a new kid like every couple of years. They could try to offer up their kids to him in hopes of cashing in on the Wayne family's wealth.

And he actively turns away all of them, even if he is tempted a couple of times. At least until he gets to you. Everything was normal until your mom decided one day she was done being a parent and just dropped you off at the front gate and left when you were 9 years old. This is also around the same time Damian ended up in Bruce's care, so you both were now dealing with the fact that you've suddenly got a father you never knew, as well as a brother. Well, brothers, since Bruce did somewhat actually have children before he had you guys.

She left a note along with your other belongings that said “Trust me. He yours,” with nothing else. Bruce could only stare down at you with that usual grim, but pondering look he had while you just stared back at him.

“I’d thought you be taller,” was your first sentence towards your dad. One that was vaguely familiar to the billionaire as he rolled his eyes and led you inside the manor.

Obviously, Bruce ran a DNA test and confirmed everything to be true. You were indeed his son, snarky remarks and all. You and Damian must share that quality.

Speaking of, since you and Damian were blood-related, you have a more special bond with each other. Even if he bullies the shit out of you.

Hiding your toys and games all around the manor, stabbing your favorite teddy bears and various stuffed items with his knives and daggers, and I'm just going to throw in that you have a love-hate relationship with Scooby-Doo now.

You love the cartoon, but Damian took advantage of the fact that you may not do well with scary stuff and would make his own costume versions of the villains from the show and chased you around the house with them. They were horrifying and disturbing enough to even unsettle Bruce a little, so you could imagine the early childhood trauma you endured.

People think your fear of clowns stems from the Joker. No, it's from Damian.

It’s always from Damian.

Plus, since you and Damian are around the same age, you both end up in the same grade at the same school. So he always keeps a look out for you and protects you from any bullies, while you teach him how to be more sociable and friendly towards others.

Now, if Damian's closest relationship with another brother outside of you is Dick (who you along with everyone else agree that he is basically Damian's second father), I imagine you have a close relationship with both Jason and Tim for various reasons.

You and Tim connect because you both have very intellectual and detail-oriented minds. You watch Scooby-Doo, so you obviously have an interest in mysteries as well as the Red Robin personality. Whenever he is having a hard time connecting dots to a case or a puzzle, you simply come in, take one look and somehow figure it out. Sometimes, you’ll even just make a random statement that ends up being the key to what Tim is looking for.

Tim and you both have an interest in video games, you a little bit more than him. It was because of you that he even really got into them. Before, when it was just you and your mom, you didn’t have anyone to really play with, besides whatever friends you could find online. So having someone you could play with, especially in person now made you and Tim’s bond that more special.

Also, you’ve made it your responsibility to make sure the guy gets adequate rest and sleep and doesn’t drown himself in caffeine.

“Timothy Drake! It is way past your bedtime. Off the Bat-Computer and upstairs into bed young man.” You yelled, marching downstairs with an amused Alfred towing behind.

Your father and siblings all watched from the sidelines as well, all amused at the sight of your young, tiny body, yelling at a slightly older and taller teenager as if you were his father.

“Um, I’m older than you,” Tim responded while holding on to what had to be his 5th coffee of the evening.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“Master Tim, with all due respect, I’d do what the young lad says. He’s already started unplugging and cutting the cords to every coffee and espresso machine in the manor.” Alfred said from behind.

Tim looked at you in horror while you stared at him the look on your face very much communicating a ‘try me if you want to’ message, and that’s when he noticed the pair of scissors in your hands.

“OKAY! I’M GOING! I’M GOING!” Tim shouted, sprinting out of his seat and up to his room. Your brothers were quietly laughing until you turned your head right to them.

“And, what are you three laughing at?! Get to bed right now.”

Now, it was their turn to question you. Cause Dick and Jason were full adults and even though Damian was only a few months older than you, well that was it. He was older than you so he bossed you around, not the other way,

“Woah, there little man. Jason and I, we’re grown. We don’t have bedtimes.” Dick said.

“Yeah, squirt.” Jason voiced right behind Dick with his arms crossed.

“Watch yourself, little brother,” Damian warned.

You raised a subtle eyebrow at them while your father and Alfred both looked at you with curiosity.

Alfred, however, had a little more amusement to his look since he already knew where this was headed.

“Dick, I will never have another brother movie night with you again, and I’ll start going to Jason for brotherly advice instead of you. Also, I’ll tell Kory you were being mean to me.” You threatened your oldest brother.

Dick was both hurt and fearful because how could you even threaten him with something that awful and quite frankly, plain rude and ridiculous. He gave way better advice than Jason! Also, he knew Kory absolutely adored you ever since Bruce brought you to the tower that one time and would not hesitate to put him on punishment as well if she even thought he was being mean to you.

Jason was holding a smug look at your threat toward Dick, that is until your eyes landed on him. “Jason, I know where you keep all of your limited edition books, especially your prized signed copy of Pride & Prejudice. We certainly don’t want that getting in the wrong hands, now do we,” You said, turning to your second oldest sibling. Jason was surprised, and slightly impressed, though also terrified. How could you know?!

You turned to your blood-related brother, who held a bit of an overconfident look as there wasn’t anything you could have over him that would have him actually following your orders. “And Damian, I’m sure you don’t want dear old Dad to know what happened at school last week, now do you?” You said, playing slightly with your fingernails while ‘innocently’ rocking back on your feet as if you weren’t blackmailing your siblings. For noble reasons, of course. They need their sleep!

Your brother was both shocked and angry at your statement. How did you even know about that? The look on his face, well, let’s just say it wasn’t friendly, not in the slightest.

But, to no one’s surprise except your dad, all your siblings silently trudged upstairs without another word.

Bruce looked at you and Alfred with a raised eyebrow as you turned back to face your brooding father, only now you could see his brooding look had a hint of questionable curiosity and amazement.

“You too, daddio. It’s bedtime, yo.” You rhymed. Apparently, not only was everyone’s sleep tracker, but you had a bit of flow with it too. Someone should get you a record deal.

You gave your dad a slight hug, your head barely reaching above his waist. You still had growing to do! You’d get there eventually.

Walking back toward the entrance, you also made sure to stop and give the butler a fist bump since he was your secret partner-in-crime. How else would you know where to hit to get your brothers to fall in line? with a slight hug to his side before heading back towards the entrance.

“Thanks, Alfred,” You said!

“Anytime, Master Y/N.”

Bruce eyed you both suspiciously before he realized what was going on as he watched your small body bounce up the stairs.

“Really? You’re in cahoots with my son, Alfred?”

“Why, Master Bruce, I’m offended. I’d say it was more of a beneficial partnership. Cahoots is for the reckless.” Alfred responded jokingly.

The age-old ending to every mystery novel plays out again, the butler did it.

Though, Bruce was still impressed by how easily your brothers listened to you without a second thought. It takes him a few tries just to get a sentence through their head, and that’s if they were actually listening to him that time.

“Wow, he got Jason to listen to him? I still can’t get Jason to greet me without looking him looking like he wants to punch my lights out.” Bruce commented.

“He has your commanding tone, sir,” Alfred said before backing up the manor himself, “I wouldn’t let Master Y/N catch you back down here, though. I heard he’s got some especially dirty leverage on you.”

Bruce suddenly decided to look at the clock, “Guess it is a little late,” He muttered before rushing upstairs himself.

Speaking of Jason, your relationship with the second adopted Wayne kid had more of a special touch. The Red Hood persona was the brother you really looked up to. You liked and respected how he branched out and followed his own path. Of course, Dick technically did the same, but considering everything Jason went through, he had to be one determined fucker to return to the very life that killed him. And, even though you don't necessarily agree with his 'strategies', you were always standing in his corner.

Though, Jason didn’t take well to you at first. In fact, because Damian left such a bad taste in his mouth after they met; when you two were introduced, he literally ran upstairs and screamed at Bruce about how he was the biggest hypocrite in the world for all those lectures he gave him and Dick about using protection. Richard silently agreed, also remembering his first meeting with Damian.

Determined to not live with a Damian 2.0, and also thinking he was saving you from a life full of trauma because, in his mind, no one deserved to be raised by someone like Bruce Wayne, Jason attempted to take you down to child protective services.

Your father was very unhappy when he got a call from CPS later that day and he could clearly hear you sobbing on the other side of the phone just as Jason walked through the front door. He was not the least bit ashamed, at least until you came home and he saw how upset you were.

He apologized and decided to give you a chance, thinking since the whole ordeal actually had you crying, you had to somewhat have a soul, unlike Damian. After some time, you got really close with each other.

Jason taught you how to fight and defend yourself. He’d read you stories at night from some of your favorite books as well as your own, and he’d always get Damian to back off if he decided to pull another one of his scare antics on you.

Your second eldest brother was your get-out-of-jail card too, whenever Bruce punished you for something. Though, sometimes, it may have just been better to take the punishment than let Jason pull you into whatever shenanigans he was planning. Considering the fact you and he managed to put an entire city without power for two nights somehow.

"How did you two manage to short-circuit the entire electrical grid in New York?" Bruce asked with you two standing side by side, looking like you just finished sleeping on top of a giant summer barbeque grill.

You both looked at each other before turning back to your stern-looking father, Damian mirroring his expression with his arms crossed and tapping his feet.

"Would you believe us if we said it started over a debate of how to eat fries with ketchup?"

Bruce slapped his forehead to his palm while Damian called you idiots. Tim got that curious look on his face, and Dick couldn't stop laughing for 15 minutes.

Now, your eldest brother, he was definitely someone you could count on no matter what. Being the oldest and having the most Bruce experience out of everyone, he always helped you deal with your Brucie problems or ‘daddy issues’ as you'd like to say.

Truth be told, every kid in this family had daddy issues.

As mentioned before, Dick was your movie-watching buddy, he helped you with your homework and always assisted with any life issues you had going on. No matter how many times you may have threatened the Nightwing persona with such, you always went to him for advice, and there was never really a moment you could think of where you regretted it.

He also helped you learn how to be more agile and light on your feet with your fighting. While your second eldest brother taught you how to use brute force and strength in situations, he gave you the acrobatic style of lessons. Where Bruce and Jason were direct and serious, Dick taught and showed you how to be more of the opposite.

And, whenever Jason wasn't around to get Damian off your back, you'd go to him since he was basically his second dad.

You and Dick together were like two chatty Cathys on drugs. One moment, you could be talking about the movie you were watching, then you’d get into a debate over onion rings vs french fries, somehow landing in politics, somehow ending up in a political debate only to end with the "Are we even real" conversation. And for whatever reason, you swore you could hear Tim itching in his seat whenever that conversation came up.

That boy goes down a lot of YouTube rabbit holes at 2 AM when he’s bored on patrol or not doing anything.

Now, one brother on their own was one thing. Two? Someone was calling the police. Three and you may have to check if your life insurance policy is still good. All four? Pray.

Since you now were officially the youngest, a title Damian was actually happy to pass on despite his warnings to Bruce, that meant you got the most of the teasing, even if it mostly came from your blood-related sibling. But his version of teasing tended to leave you with trips to your therapist so you could do without them.

However, one rule all your siblings and family stuck by, no one, and I mean NO ONE, not even in the Justice League or Titans/Young Justice teams, could mess or pick with you except them.

Everyone in the family was very protective over you. You were surprised to see even Alfred was on that list, though you learned quickly the butler was not one to be fucked with.

You distinctly remember that one time the Batcave got invaded and Batman made you hide in one of the saferooms, you saw on one of the video monitor screens Alfred whacking the shit outta them with just a rifle.

For that reason, among others, you took a mental note to be careful with how you complimented his cooking in the future.

But seriously, if anyone messed with you, and your family found out, Hell itself would be scared of what would break loose from your home.

A bully from school started picking on you and calling you names and you didn't tell your brothers about it, wanting to handle it on your own. Besides, you could defend yourself. They taught you well.

Until the fateful day you came out as gay, bi, pan, etc., and he called you names that your father wouldn't even repeat, and that man had the title of a playboy.

Well, word spread around the school and got back to Damian, who went back and told your other brothers.

By the next day, Dick had shredded every thread of that boy's confidence. Tim hacked the school files, got his address, and framed him for changing grades in the school. Jason used said address Tim got to pay a trip to the kid's place and shot bullet holes in all his clothes when no one was home. And well, let's just say Damian almost went to jail.

Of course, Bruce was pissed when he found out and had to intervene, but when Damian admitted the reason he nearly got arrested, your father upped his allowance.

Only God could imagine the terror that would unfold the day you started dating.

Oh, and they all call you babybird which you despise.

Don't even get me started on your sisters.

BONUS:

☀️ | Bat Family | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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alexthefunniest · 2 months

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Funniest mileven arguments to why byler won’t be endgame

I’m sorry if there’s any grammar errors or mistakes, I wrote this angrily at 2 am when I couldn’t sleep.

1. “Its the 80’s”- as if there isn’t any movies that have happy queer endings that were made/set in the 80’s, yall are just lazy and don’t want to actually do any research.

2. “It’s a Netflix original”- ok? And? Like we literally get a new mlm/queer show on Netflix every year, byler is a mlm relationship which Netflix has a lot of, young royals, heartstopper??? Are you guys ok?

3. “Cuz it’s too popular” - we already have over two queer confirmed characters in stranger things, the show that’s about fighting forced conformity ?? The show that focuses on nerds, losers and people that don’t ‘fit in’ ? And y’all find it so hard to see ur two main characters being gay? Read the room respectfully.

4. “It’s one sided” - if it was one sided they would make Mike tell Will he doesn’t like him in s3 and give Will a new love interest in s4 (it has been confirmed that there will be no new characters in s5 and that the producers want every character to have their ‘perfect ending’) Will believed he was a mistake and thought he wouldn’t fall in love, because he is queer so he most definitely will have a queer love interest and it will be Mike.

5. “Mike is in love with el”- is he tho? He never actually said he loved her to her face without the world and her life depending on it, he’s been pressured to say it twice and when she told him she loves him back the man didn’t look happy but conflicted.

6. “Mileven endgame” - it’s really not, the amount of symbolism that points to their downfall (such as everyone calling them the ‘star crossed lovers’ which are basically lovers deemed to fail, and more) is HUGE, they have too many familial parallels it’s insane, why parallel the it couple with family themes and relationships? Another problem I have with this it’s the fact that it’s very rare for the first ‘original’ pairings to stay together till the end of the show (like with Bob and Joyce or Steve and Nancy)

7. “Byler wouldn’t make sense to the plot”- watch the show again, just because somethings more subtle, doesn’t mean it’s not there, y’all will always say that about queer relationships but whenever u guys see a straight relationship in these subtle moments you jump into conclusions that they might end up together, it’s called being a hypocrite.

8. “Mike isn’t gay” - it’s what he’s been telling himself too, the guy was obviously made fun of and called slurs like Will, everyone already thought and knew their relationship was ‘special’ and everyone suspected something, that’s why Mikes own dad was surprised and said “our son, with a girl?” Also your so called straight Mike has a room filled with pictures and posters of buff men, he’s never shown any interest in girls or women (except el who’s been said, looked like a boy in s1) not to mention the first song on his official Spotify playlist being “small town boy” (yk the song about a young gay man running away from his homophobic small town??).

9. Mikes love confession- if u call that a love confession I wouldn’t wanna date u brother, he was pushed to say ily by Will, the same Will that was in the frame of Mike lying when he said that his life “started” when he found El in the woods, which was obviously a lie because Mike called El a weapon and said he’ll “send her back to pennhurst or wherever she comes from” after they found her, also if the love confession was honest why would El be still upset with Mike and not talk to him after??

10. “El wasn’t upset at Mike but was sad about Max” - me when I’m in denial, she wasn’t sad about Max until she found the coke bottle underneath her bed, then we get the flashbacks of her and Max having fun in s3, she wasn’t thinking abt Max before that, its called common sense and logical thinking skills.

11. “There would be no time for byler to develop in s5” - it might seem crazy what I’m about to say, they were literally childhood best friends and it’s been confirmed that Will had a crush on Mike since s1, they literally started to build their romantic relationship MORE in s4, with all the ‘[emotional, tender music playing]’ and parallels between byler and jancy, also even if they haven’t started to build their relationship up in a romantic way in s4, y’all remember how in less than a season Jonathan and Nancy slept together or how Max and Lucas got together in a spawn of a season (mind u they met in the same season). Byler knows each other since little kids and always had potential y’all are just in denial.

12. “Why make Mike queer” - why not? Do y’all actually believe that one of the main characters plot line is just about getting with the girl at the end? Even if it was (which lets be so fr now) why would Mike get with El from the first season (they kissed in s1 and basically u can count that as they’re together wtv) if that was his main goal as a character? Well written shows have something called a “character development” which the producers of st love apparently, so why make Mike just a bland character that just gets with the main girl character, and why have El date the first guy she ever met, I just think it would be very shallow.

That’s all, this was written in a silly way cuz it’s basically me talking to myself, it’s okay if u ship mileven I just really don’t like disrespectful fans that yell at bylers and call the ship disgusting, I don’t care about what who ships as long as we all just have fun and not yell at each other 🫶🏻

#byler #byler endgame #byler nation #byler is real

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berryhobii · 7 months

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I just want say I love your writing! Like I have never related to any work more than yours! You’re doing something special for black army and I just want thank you for that! Hope you’re doing well and I wish you the best and a million dollar lottery ticket girl! 😄😂🫶🏾

(P.S if you feel like it and if you get a chance please write more for Yoongi 💔 us Yoongi Stans starving and having withdrawals 😪)

Wow! Thank you so much for your kind words. They really mean so much. I’m so glad I could bring more representation and I hope you feel good reading my works.

Here’s a special little something for you Yoongi stans🥰🩵

“I don’t think this looks right, Yoongi.” You pouted, twisting your body every which way in the mirror. Your hands tugged at the top of the dress as if trying to magically make it fit the way you wanted it to in your head.

Yoongi, who was sitting outside typing some quick minute work emails, said, “I’m sure it looks fine, lovely. Come out and show me.”

Sighing, you turned around to open the dressing room door, stepping out to show your sugar daddy turned totally exclusive boyfriend one of the dresses you’ve chosen. It’s the 8th one you’ve tried on but you didn’t really like any of them. What you thought would just be a cute little date had transitioned into a full blown shopping spree. Yoongi pulled up to your apartment, your favorite Starbucks drink and snack already waiting, and whisked you away to the luxury district of Seoul. Hand in hand, he led you into stores, wanting you to pick something out in each one.

“You deserve it after being asked to take over the north branch of the company. I want you dressed like you own that place.”

So to Cartier, Gucci, and Zara you went to get you an entirely new wardrobe worthy of your position. To be honest, you stopped shopping for work a little while ago and now you were just choosing dresses for fun nights out.

For someone as accomplished as you, a sugar daddy probably seemed like overkill. You’ve managed to rise in the ranks at your dream job, getting a managerial title in less than 2 years. No doubt you had enough money to support the lifestyle Yoongi was giving you. Truthfully, this relationship didn’t start as a sugar daddy sugar baby thing. Your friends had taken it upon themselves to sign you up for a singles mixer—you know, one of those events where a bunch of single people went to try and find dates. You talked for about a minute before a bell rang and you moved on to a new stranger. Stuff like that really wasn’t your cup of tea.

What your friends had conveniently left out that it was a singles mixer exclusively for sugar daddies and sugar babies to find each other. Imagine your surprise when you and a couple of your friends rolled up to the bar, only to find a gaggle of late middle aged and older men sitting around the tables. You almost broke your ankle trying to run back out but your friends forced you to the bar for a drink.

Before you knew it, you were going through the rounds of meeting a lot of gentlemen that reminded you of your uncles. Gross.

So when you finally came across Yoongi during the last round, you thought maybe this thing wasn’t so bad.

One thing led to another and now you and Yoongi had been together for a little over 2 and a half years.

He had captured your heart with his clever remarks and charming personality. And he was very easy on the eyes. Not to mention, he was only a couple of years older than you with his very own successful law office.

And you had caught his interest with your timeless beauty and charisma. He doesn’t think he’s laughed as much in his life as he does when he’s with you. You were just so lovely and honest and sweet. It was hard not

to fall for you.

Now seeing you in that dress, Yoongi thinks he was falling even deeper.

His mouth dropped at the sight of you in the mid thigh navy blue dress—long sheer sleeves and square cut at your chest to show the gorgeous expanse of your chest.

“Do you like the sleeves? This dress definitely isn’t for the workplace but it’s very nice.”

He wasn’t even listening to what you were saying, eyes going down to your ass. The dress had a deeeepppp incline, the open back stopping just above the curve of your ass. Everytime you shifted from foot to foot, your ass jiggled a little and you both knew you were wearing the tiniest pair of panties.

Fuck.

“Yoongi?” You had asked him a question three times with no answer.

Turning around, you found him standing right behind you, flinching a little at his sudden closeness. “Y-yoongi?”

Suddenly, his lips were on yours, his body crowding all of your space. It took you a moment to respond but you did, kissing him back just as fervently and desperately.

You pulled back to whisper, “what’s gotten into you?”

His dark eyes sent shivers down your spine and right to your pussy which was already wet from him fingering you in the car on your way here.

“You.”

His rough hands pushed you back into the dressing room, barely managing to close the door behind him before he was back on you. Deft and experienced fingers ran up your bare back, goosebumps popping up in his wake, his lips trailing across your jaw and neck.

Your own hands went straight to the waistband of the loose pants he was wearing. He normally wore suits so seeing him casual was secretly a favorite look of his.

“You look divine in this dress. I’m buying you one in every color.”

You giggled at his words but you knew he was probably serious. He’s done the exact same thing with a lingerie set you surprised him in on his birthday. The way the white lace set made your dark skin look even more sinful and delectable than it already was should be considered a crime.

“I’ll wear whatever you want.” You leaned closer to be right next to his ear. “My body is yours, sir.”

His eyes rolled back, both at your tone and the name you called him. God, you were so sexy. And all his.

“Then get on your knees and suck my cock. Show sir that you’re grateful.”

Falling to your knees, you took the elastic off your wrist to tie up your knotless braids, happy you sprung for a style that could easily be put up when you wanted to pleasure your man.

Yoongi helped you get some of the stragglers in the back before holding your hair for leverage. You both knew where this was going.

Eyes locked on his, you pulled his pants and underwear down, his hard cock springing out from its confines. Your warm palm encased him, a sigh falling from his doll like lips.

Gathering spit in your mouth, you opened your lips to take him all the way in to the hilt.

Yoongi’s head dropped back as the heat of your mouth surrounded him. His hand gripped your ponytail tighter, keeping you down and letting your tongue work over him.

“Oh my god…..” he huffed out, pulling your head back so that only the tip was resting against your tongue.

Your nails scratched up his thighs. “Fuck my mouth, baby. Give it to me.”

That was his breaking point. Using both hands to hold either side of your head, he began thrusting his cock in and out of your mouth. You relaxed your throat, patting yourself on the back for training your gag reflex during quarantine. You know………..for when you could go back out and mingle….anyway.

Your eyes remained focused on Yoongi’s face, your pussy clenching at the sight of his tightly shut eyes and dropped mouth. His long hair had fallen out of his manbun, the strands sticking to the building sweat on his forehead. Your fingers itched to hold onto that bun and ride his face until his neck hurt. Maybe once you got home.

Yoongi forced you to take all of him in, holding you there for a few seconds before pulling back and doing the same thing. Eyes watering from the assault on your throat, you let Yoongi use your throat however he liked. You were his and vice versa.

“Fuck….” Yoongi yanked your head back off of him, his orgasm feeling too close already. “Stand up.” He shakily breathed out, holding out his hand to help you to your weak legs. He placed a quick kiss to your lips, wiping away the drool that had slipped past before turning you around and pushing you against the mirror. You took a moment to look at your disheveled appearance in the reflection—your edges had began to curl back up, your pupils dilated and slightly unfocused, and the dress had became slightly skewed from all of your heavy petting. You looked a mess.

Not time to think about that now though. It didn’t take long for Yoongi to have your dress pulled up and your panties around one of your ankles. He also pulled the front of your dress down to allow your breasts to spill out, your already soaked cunt was practically screaming for his cock.

The mirror was fogged up from your breath, the cool glass making your nipples harden. “Fuck me, baby.” A sharp slap came down on your ass, the fat jiggling under the force.

“Don’t rush me.” His gruff voice said. And you’d be lying if you said that little show of dominance didn’t get you wetter than that scene in Step Up.

After moving your hair over your shoulder, Yoongi’s hand grabbed your shoulder, the other holding his cock to line up with your awaiting hole. You spread your legs a little more, arching your back to give him more access.

He didn’t give you any warning before he was diving into your wet cunt. Your mouth dropped as his cock stretched your tight walls, the overwhelming girth knocking all of the air out of your lungs.

“Oooooo…..Yoongi…..fuck. That cock’s so fucking big.” You gritted out, resisting from punching the mirror.

Yoongi inhaled a deep breath, trying not to cum as your silky walls tried to milk him for everything he was worth. The effect you had on him was just too strong. Only you could push him to the brink that fast.

Once he had calmed himself, Yoongi started a pace that could only be described as animalistic. The absolute force of which he was pushing his hips against your ass was causing a clapping noise so loud that you thought there were people giving you two a standing ovation.

An almost shriek like moan flew from your lips but Yoongi slapped his hand over your mouth to muffle it, one of your hands going up to hold onto his and the other squeezing your breast.

“Quiet.” He spit. “You want everyone to know I’m in here fucking you like a slut? Huh? Is that what you want?” His hips never slowed down as he spoke, pushing deeper and deeper until it felt like he was in your guts.

Your eyes crossed as his cock bullied your sweet spot, orgasm building faster than ever. His degradation along with the fact that you two could be caught at any moment was enough to propel you right over the edge.

Your knees buckled, Yoongi’s arm going out to wrap around your waist to keep you up.

“Good girl. Look at yourself while you cum.”

Your bleary eyes, that you didn’t even realize you had closed, slowly opened to look at your reflection and the sight sent you straight there.

Yoongi was staring directly at you, those panther like eyes making you feel so open and vulnerable. Both of your hungry eyes begging. Out of all of your moments with Yoongi, times like this really reminded you of just how much he had broken down your walls. He brought out a sexually adventurous side of you that you didn’t even know you had and you were actually grateful for it.

Or maybe you were just dickmatized…..eh.

Your pulsing walls were squeezing Yoongi’s cock hard enough to almost break it off, his own orgasm feeling incredibly close.

“Get back down.” He pushed you back down to your knees, your body quickly turning despite your orgasm still making you feel weightless. He just commanded your body that way.

Like it was muscle memory, you opened your mouth and held out your tongue, your hand coming up to take hold of his shaft. You pumped his fast, making sure to squeeze him at the tip just how he likes.

Yoongi’s eyes clenched shut, his breath labored as his orgasm got closer and closer. He braced his hands against the mirror behind you, his knees ready to give out much like yours had.

You couldn’t help but focus on the sexiness of your man’s face. It honestly made you want another round but you had something else to focus on.

“Fuck…..fuck….I’m cumming, love. Oh shit.”

“I want it. Give it to me.” You sucked harshly at his tip, still pumping him quickly.

With a moan and a full body shudder, Yoongi’s cum hit your tongue, the saltiness familiar. You continued to suck until he was recoiling from sensitivity.

He reached a hand down to tap against your chin, your head tilting back and eyes staring directly into his.

“Show me.”

You opened your mouth to show his release on your tongue. His hand dipped your chin, thumb pulling at your juicy bottom lip—his own lip pulling between his teeth.

“Swallow.” And who were you to deny?

Swallowing his cum down and then opening your mouth to show him you obeyed, you got a hum of approval from him.

You both took a moment to regain your breaths. Yoongi held out his hand to help you stand, pulling you into a hug. You sighed as his warmth seeped into your skin.

“You okay?” He asked you after a brief moment of silence.

You hummed. “Perfect. I’d have to say, I’m shocked you’re into public displays. What happened to that whole ‘your moans are only for me’ thing?” You teased. You could imagine him rolling his eyes.

Before he could give you a smart mouthed retort, a knock on the door caused both of you to scramble. You practically pushed him away to adjust your dress as Yoongi yanked his pants back up and fixed his hair.

“Um, yes?” You tried to call out in a normal voice, tone a bit hoarse from the recent exercise.

“Is everything fitting well? Should I bring you another size?” The polite voice of the associate asked.

You made eye contact with Yoongi, a cheeky smile spreading across his face and making you laugh.

“Uh, could you actually get me this same dress in all of the available colors? I’ll be purchasing them.”

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #bts x black reader #yoongi smut #bts imagines #askberryhobii

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