#for those who don’t know what the difference is: I switched the red and black on Makoto’s side
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— rindou/fem!reader (9.3k words)
cw—virginity loss, mentions of getting together, implied sexual assault & kidnapping (not from rindou)
a/n— inspired by anon lino. Thx for the request, I switched sum stuff up tho bc it was already long as shit n I didn’t wanna make it like 15 k words 💀‼️
Your father is a force to be reckoned with.
Listed as one of Japan’s top twenty politicians, he’s already made a public figure in the eyes of the press & population.
Some hate him, others love him. You wouldn’t know though, not being let outside of your house for safety reasons. It’s lonely a lot of the time, being stuck in your big house with your siblings all day, tall men in black suits, glasses, and ear pieces watching your every move.
Though you were one of the richest families in the country, you felt trapped in a jail cell. The only difference was your cell was a huge mansion with security locks that changed every few weeks, the code only being told to trusted security.
‘It’s for your own good’ he defends his behaviour, thinking isolating his children at home instead of giving them a life for themselves outside is for your safety.
If you needed education? You were schooled online. The best mentors in the country are paid by your father to tutor you and your siblings. If you wanted to make friends? Don’t be stupid.
What do you need friends for when you’re surrounded by all this luxury?
It was lonely , isolating , and boring .
That was why when your father was at one of his meetings, late at night, you took the opportunity to sneak out, replacing a body double made from extra pillows hidden under your sheets.
It was thrilling leaving the house alone for what felt like the first time in years. You were allowed outside of course, your father wasn’t cruel, just protective. But with your freedom came at a price, not allowed outside without the presence of a tall man—maybe two if your father felt the need for it— tailing your every move.
Now though? You were able to walk around the streets late at night without the feeling of someone watching you from behind. You had no clue what to do though, looking around, half the stores were closed, save for that late night 7-Eleven at the end of the road. Bright green, yellow, red lights attract you towards it like a moth to a flame.
The inside is packed full with items ranging from snacks, meals, drinks. You walk around like someone who’s never shopped for themselves before. It’s quite embarrassing, you think, the loathing bitter resentment you have for your father isolating you almost your whole life stirs deep, and green inside your stomach.
You pick out a small snack bar from the aisle and head towards the counter. You’re not that hungry, you just felt bad for walking in a store, seeing nothing you like, then leaving. It seems rude.
By the time you get to the counter, the woman pops her gum as she tells you the price, looking at you with a strange look you can’t decipher.
“One sec—” You smile at her.
She ignores it, rolling her eyes.
It was then you realised you’d forgotten your wallet at home, as well as your phone, the excitement from sneaking out made you lose all common sense apparently.
“I—I don’t have any money.”
“Huh?” The cashier’s voice was high in pitch, purely shocked. “Rich girl like you has no money? What, did your daddy cut your allowance or what?”
“I—wait.” You blink at her, bewildered. “You know who I am?”
“Duh.”
“Oh.” You swallow your nerves down, looking bashfully at the ground.
There was a feeling that your father was hated in this town, you don’t really blame the people for thinking so. Even you yourself hate your father. You know nothing about politics because you refuse to listen to your fathers lectures on it. So you can only imagine that the rest of the country, those who are directly affected by his political beliefs, might hate him too.
A hand claps down on your shoulder, startling you. Looking up, a tall guy, slightly shorter than your bodyguards, stands behind you, holding out the right amount of change in his hand, sliding them across the counter.
“It’s on me,” he tells the cashier, who nods her head, then jostles you with his shoulder. “Now you owe me a favour.”
There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, the smile on his face screams he’s up to something, but you don’t look into it, only happy someone was kind enough to save you from embarrassing yourself further.
“What favour?”
“Come with me.” He doesn’t answer your question, just leads you out of the store. His hand rests on your lower back the entire time, and you feel uneasy, but still push it down, berating yourself for being so cautious, on guard, around a man who was willing to help you out and pay for you.
“Where—” Your voice cracks from nerves, so you clear your throat and try again. “Where are we going?”
He ignores you.
When you try to slow your pace, the hand on your back pushes you onwards, practically forcing you to move. It was when he’s leading you to an alleyway, the nerves you forced down come back full force, a thick, heavy lump forming in the confined space of your throat.
“I don’t think this is—” He pushes you into the alleyway; you land on the floor with a yelp.
“Is that her?”
A voice, husky, gruff, speaks up, different from the man from before.
You try to look up, but your vision is blurred, only seeing specs of colour you assume are people. The thick, pungent smell of cigarettes fills your nostrils, then a foot, heavy and dirty, steps on your head, not applying pressure to hurt, just keep you immobilised on the floor.
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“Nah, I don’t believe it. Pull out a pic or somethin’.”
You want to cough, the cigarettes making it hard to breathe. One of the men crouches down in front of you, pushing the guys foot from your face in favour of tugging you upwards by your hair roots.
“You know why you’re here, right?” He wriggles your head in his hand like he’s rolling a dice, probably uncaring to the way your scalp feels like it’s burning on fire right now. “I asked you a question.”
“I don’t—ow, sir, man, please stop…it hurts—”
“Sir?” He spares a glance to the guy behind you, then his grin turns wolfish. “I like the sound of that.”
“Don’t do too much with her. We need her stable if we’re gunna show her daddy.”
“How much money you think she’ll be worth?”
“As long as she got all her limbs, no cuts or bruises a decent price, but if we rough her up a lil’ bit, she might be worth a bit more.”
Your body feels weak, tense, mouth dry, ears full of static as you listen to these men talk about you like you’re a slab of meat getting pawned off at a butchers, talking about you like you’re not even here.
If only you’d just stayed home tonight, stayed in the confinement of your bedroom, warm and cosy, smells like perfume and scented candles that your grandma gifts you every Christmas, instead of being here, face messy from the dirty floor, hair roots on fire, nostrils scarred with the burning scent of tobacco.
The man lets go of your head, and it hits the floor, your head throbs painfully from the hit.
“You think she’s a virgin?”
“Go check.”
Check?
Your stomach churns, empty lungs short of breath when the man goes to touch your sweatpants, panic rising in your blood.
“No, please, don’t—ow!” You scream in pain when he pushes your head back down to the ground, some dirt entering your mouth.
“ Shut up .”
You’re kicking and screaming at this point, but it’s useless as his hands pull down your sweats.
Cold air smacks your bare skin and you want to cry, heat burning the edges of your eyes as tears form, but no sound comes out.
“Your daddy is fuckin’ up this country, you know that, princess?” The pet-name is cold, icy, as he grits it out like it’s meant to be pleasant.
His finger slides against your clothed folds, and your heart is racing, body limp on the floor as he continues his speech. “You probably don’t know that, huh. You rich fuckers only think about yourself.”
“I don’t,” you gasp out, weakly, hot tears stinging at your eyes.
“Don’t what?”
“Agree with him. I hate him too—hate him so much,” you whimper into the ground, wet chunky tears soaking down your face.
He lets out a hefty sigh, fingers stop touching you down there, and he stands up with a sigh, relighting another cigarette. He takes a puff, a moment to relax himself, and turns to his group.
“What now?” He’s not talking to you, gesturing over to the other men who’ve been watching the whole ordeal with nothing but a straight face.
“I dunno.”
“Ain’t this kinda embarrassin’?”
The men look at the new voice that speaks up from behind them. From what you can spot with your limited vision, he has blue stripes riddled within his blonde hair, adjusting his gold glasses on his face, looking at the group with a disgusted look.
“Fuck does this have to do with you?” The one with the cigarette breath barks out, eyebrows creased with anger. “Go on somewhere.”
The guy simply ignores them, looking straight at you. You feel your blood run cold when you meet his stare. “You alright?”
“I—”
“Don’t answer him.” The guy next to you slaps his hand over your mouth. “Don’t address her.”
“You guys really have nothin’ else to do at night than harass some innocent girl?”
You fear for the guy defending you as he steps closer into the alley, the sound of his boots echoing in your ears as he makes his way towards you. You want to tell him to run, go somewhere, don’t get hurt because of you, but he seems awfully confident, and you couldn’t speak if you tried.
“Innocent? Please, you know who her father is, right?”
He shrugs his shoulders, crossing his arms together. “Na. Who is it?”
“That stupid fat politician scum that’s tryna fuck with our rights.”
He gives him a blank stare, hands shoving themselves into his pockets. “So…what’s that gotta do with her? Go touch up her daddy then. Or what, you scared? Can’t take on a fat man, huh.”
The implication has the guy seething, nostrils flaring as he rips his hand away from your mouth, dropping your head back onto the floor with a smack.
There’s another dull throbbing sting in your head doing nothing but amplifying the previous pain, and your wince catches the attention of the guy defending you.
“I’ll fuckin’ kill you.” The man gets all up in his face, practically drooling like a feral animal without a leash.
“That so? What are you waiting for then?” He smirks as he grabs onto the man’s hands, bunching them into fists and positions them by his own face.
His confidence, his blank stare, his voice…you can’t help but gawk at him, mind hazy as you watch the scene go down. “Hit me, c’mon. I even put you in position.”
The guy spits onto the ground, wiping his nose before lifting his hand to punch him.
“Dude, back the fuck up.” His friend pulls him away, ignoring the complaints and death threats spewing from his lips. “Rin, he didn't mean to threaten you. We weren’t going to do anythin’ to the girl, I promise.”
“Rin?” He cocks his eyebrow meanly. “Are we friends? I don’t know you, don’t call me that.”
The guy slams his mouth shut so quick and fast, his teeth clamp against each other. “S-sorry, Rindou. But I mean it—we really weren’t gonna do anythin’ bad to her! We just wanted to scare her daddy into givin’ us some money. That’s all! I promise…”
“Promise? You really expect me to believe that shit?” Rindou stares at the man who shakes his head in fear. He looks down at you, and your blood runs cold once more. “Did they touch you?”
“He—well, he touched me down there.” You look down at your private area.
The guy guilty of it scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “It was barely even a touch.”
You glare at him from where you’re sitting, feeling a surge of confidence flow through you now that Rindou is here keeping them at bay. “You still touched me, asshole.”
“I’ll fuckin’ do worse if you keep runnin’ that slutty mouth of yours,” he snarls.
Rindou clicks his tongue, unimpressed, lifting you from the floor easily, hoisting you onto his shoulder.
It’s impressive to you how effortless the action was, butterflies flancing around in your stomach when his arm holds your waist to support you.
“You guys better pray my brother doesn’t find out about this.”
“Fuck you and your weak ass brother.”
That guy has some serious anger problems, because even his own friends are gawking at him like he’s a lunatic for spitting those words out.
Probably some unspoken code in these streets to not insult the ‘brothers’.
Now you’re curious.
“Yeah?” Rindou only chuckles, says nothing more, pulling out his phone from his back-pocket. You lay on his shoulder as he dials who you assume is his brother.
The silence in the alley is deafening, you can practically hear the group's hearts beating out of their chest as the line rings.
“Yo?”
“Bro, guess what?”
“What?”
Rindou walks over to the dude who thinks he’s all that. “Found this guy that thinks he can beat you up, thinks you’re weak ‘n shit. And actually, he said he could kill you.”
There’s a snort over the line. “What’s his name?”
Rindou nods over at him. “What’s your name?”
When he refuses to respond, there’s a beat of silence, then Rindou kicks the guy in the knee, sending him dropping to the floor without a beat.
You’re almost certain you heard a cracking noise, then the guy is screaming in pain. You can’t see due to your position on his shoulder, only looking at his friends who stare at him with a sense of pity, but refuse to speak up themselves.
Rindou drops to his level, bringing you down with him. “I said, what’s your name?”
For the sake of it, Rindou digs his hand on his probably—no, definitely broken knee the same way he stepped on your head, applying pressure each second the guy fails to cough up his name.
“It’s Yamajiki Kenzo! Stop—argh, it hurts! Fuck—” He splutters out, desperately trying to push Rindou off.
Rindou clicks his tongue, standing upright, and brings the phone back to his ear. “Didja get that, Ran?”
Ran says with a yawn, “we can find him tomorrow, no biggie.”
“Actually—ah man, looks like I broke his knee. My bad.” Rindou sends him an unapologetic smile, and the guy looks like he’s three seconds away from jumping at him.
He hangs up the phone, tugging it back inside his pocket, turning to face the group.
“Anyway, I’m taking the girl now, or—” he jostles you on his shoulder, catching your attention. “Want me to fuck them up for you?”
“Wha—”
“Did they hurt you?”
“I mean, yeah—but—” You look around. Half of them are scared half to death right now, it won’t do you any justice seeing them beat up on the floor. Part of you wants to be the ones to hit them though, get revenge for yourself. “I don’t know.”
“Say what? You want me to let ‘em go?”
“I don’t care…I just wanna go home…”
“How’s this,” he jostles you one more time, “I take you home and tomorrow I’ll fuck ‘em up for you.”
“Home? No, no. You can’t take me home—my dad he—he doesn’t know I’m out right now. I have to—”
“I can sneak you in. It’s no biggie, I’ve done it before.”
“Okay…”
“Great.” He turns to face the group. “Just wait till tomorrow. Oh and you might wanna bandage that up. Gonna look fuckin’ nasty in the morning.” He gestures to the guy on the floor with a broken knee, his face burning with sheer rage, eyes narrow, and sharp.
“Whatever.”
Rindou puts you back on the ground outside the alleyway, watching you dust yourself off. A hot flush spreads across your cheeks and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.
“Thanks, Rindou. I really appreciate it.”
“‘S no big deal.” His phone vibrates in his pocket so he goes to check it. “Ah, I gotta go. Somethin’ came up.” He folds it shut. “You okay goin’ back home alone?”
“Yeah.”
“‘Kay, stay safe.”
“Bye…” Your words trail off when he heads the opposite direction. You watch him leave, heart twitching a little in disappointment because you wanted to know more about him. You’re unsure you’ll ever be able to see him again unless you get yourself into more trouble, but then again, he’s not Spiderman, showing up at any signs of danger.
Today was merely a coincidence.
You wish you’d bought your phone.
The walk home was rough. Your face and jaw aches like hell, your legs were sore from being pushed onto the ground without a care. Your heart still hasn’t slowed down, could feel it roaring in your ears with every beat.
You managed to sneak back inside your house without getting caught. Everyone was asleep, minus the family dog, rummaging through the kitchen trash. The security were asleep on their posts, and they’d most definitely be fired if your dad caught them.
You flop back onto your bed with a long, exasperated sigh, staring up at the ceiling, reminiscing over today’s events. You search your pockets quickly, frowning when the snack bar the guy bought you wasn’t there. It probably fell on the floor.
Well that’s a bummer.
You find your phone deep inside your drawers, unlock it, and start researching. Crime in Roppongi has gotten so high over the last couple months, mainly due to the fact those in power are money hungry, only caring for themselves, raising the prices for everybody that can’t afford things. Your dad is a part of that group, and no wonder everybody hates his guts so much.
Everything gets paid for you, which is why you didn’t see this as a big deal at first, thinking money was something that came easy to people. But the sheer rage on those guys’ faces made you realise some have it way harder than others, and greedy folks like your dad and his party are only out there caring for themselves.
Though it was a traumatic experience, you learnt a lot from it.
It’s no wonder why gang activity in the area has been rising steadily. Stealing food and money to survive, dropping out of schools because they can’t afford it anymore.
You fell asleep with your phone on. Your father enters your room in the morning, a little bit confused you had some dirt on your face. He taps you awake. You stir, but don’t fully wake up yet, too tired and exhausted from yesterday's events.
“What is that…” he questions, shifting your body upright to see your face better.
The side of your face had signs of minimal bruising, obvious dirt on your face, staining your skin mud brown, your lip has a slight cut on the upper lip, and your eye was slightly bruised.
“Oh my god, what happened to you?” He’s shaking you awake by force this time, and your eyes shoot open, startled, springing up from your bed and wiping your eyes.
“What? Daddy, why’re you here?”
“ Your face .” He reaches out to cup your cheek. You blink at him, utterly confused, brain hazy and muddled from sleep. “What happened to you?”
A quick peek in the side mirror across your room reveals your damaged face.
So last night wasn’t a dream? Maybe you should’ve figured since it was clearly obvious that in real life you did not have sex with dream Rindou. It was so amazing, despite being a virgin, the sensations were completely up to the imagination. He was touching you down there with those big hands of his, fucking you with that cock of his.
You were in the midst of riding him before your stupid father decided to shake you awake, breaking your thoughts, bringing you back to reality.
Wiping the crust from your eyes, you glared at your dad. “Just leave me alone. I wanna go back to sleep.”
You shove his hand off your face, mood sour, sinking back between your sheets.
“Why is there dirt and bruises on your face? Who did this to you?”
“It was nobody! Okay? I just fell. Go. Away.”
Your dad sighs, rubbing a hand on your shoulder to attempt at soothing you. It only makes you groan, wanting to push him away further, preferably out of your room forever.
“I know you’re lying to me, but I can tell you’re upset about something. So I’ll talk to you later.”
“Whatever.”
By the time he’s gone, you try to head back to sleep, try to force your brain to return to that delicious dream you were having, but all fails. You can’t even get back to sleep, yet alone dream that exact scenario again.
Later that night, after you’ve fixed makeup on your bruises, you sneak out one more time, this time with a mission and a purpose. Phone and wallet in your back pocket, you came prepared.
It seems the name Rindou holds quite a name in the town, asking the people around led you to his current location, what seemed to be a nightclub. You’ve never been inside one before, having seen them all in the movies. It was almost exactly the same, yet more overwhelming, crowds and crowds of people dressed in suits, mini dresses, long dresses, short skirts—you were most certainly underdressed, now realising that now that you left the house in a simple black tank top, paired with a matching black zip up hoodie, and a fresh, clean pair of sweatpants.
You look like you were heading out to a sleepover, rather than a private nightclub, and you instantly regret your outfit choice.
Rindou, on his way down the steps, spots you looking around as if searching for someone, and he can’t help but feel sorry for you. God, you’re so stupid, walking into a place you clearly don’t belong. From your outfit, down to the way you were being pushed around by everybody in the thick crowd.
He sighs, making his way towards you, muttering excuse me’s to everybody he’s shoving past to reach you. His hand latches onto your elbow, making you yelp since your back was turned, and you turn around to punch the dude, only to soften when you see him.
“Rindo—” He’s yanking you through the crowd before you could even finish his name, and you’re trying to push him off you, screaming at him to let him go. “Get off me!”
He’s ignoring you, dragging you out of the main room, into the hallway with all the bathrooms. “What the fuck are you doin’ here?” You open your mouth to speak when he cuts you off. “And don’t say to party, because you and I both know that’s bullshit.”
You swallow your words down, chin lowering towards your chest, avoiding eye contact.
How on earth are you supposed to explain that you were here on behalf of a dream you had the night before and want to re-enact it in real life without coming off as desperate ?
“I—I just wanted to see what a nightclub was like…that’s it.”
“Wearing that?”
“Ok. Rude.” You spot dried blood on the side of Rindou’s face, underneath his glasses. You take a step forward, he takes one back, confused when you keep walking forward, eyes trained on his face.
“What? What are you doing?” He’s backed up against a wall when you reach out to touch his face, thumb wiping over the blood from his face. It’s stained, so you frown, digging around your pocket for some tissues “Why are you touching my face?”
“Because there’s blood on it. What happened? Did those boys from yesterday hurt you? Oh my god, I told you not to go after them! I said I would handle it and now you’re hurt because of me—”
“Relax? Jeez, this ain’t because of you, or from them. It’s somethin’ else.”
“What then?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He grabs your hands away from his face, putting them back down at your sides. “Now, are you gonna tell me why someone like you is out here at a club like this at night?”
“I—it’s embarrassing…”
“Now I gotta know. C’mon, tell me.”
You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest, the action pressing your tits together, cleavage exposed from your shirt. Rindou’s eyes not-so-subtly drop downwards, eyeing the crevice between your breasts. You feel fuzzy when you notice it, hoping he finds you as attractive as you find him.
“If I tell you, you can’t laugh. At all, ‘kay?”
“Sure, c’mon what is it?”
“I…want you…to have s-sex with me.” It felt like a weight has been lifted off your chest, body feeling ten times lighter once the words got out. The initial feeling of anxiety lingers at the bottom of your stomach as you wait for his response.
He says nothing, unblinking deep-set purple eyes stare at you, bewilderedly. His brain works 100mph to figure out how to respond to that. He’s had sex before, a couple one-night stands in the past with different girls, had a girlfriend for a couple months who he had regular sex with until they broke up. It’s not often he has girls asking him for sex, they normally initiate it themselves, pulling him in for a kiss, touching his shoulders, thighs, suggestively.
To have you in front of him like this, asking for it…he’s not sure how to respond to that. “You what?”
“I want you to have sex with me. I had a, uh, dream last night about it and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I want you to have sex with me. Only if you want to, though I would appreciate it if you said yes.”
You wriggle your hands beneath your shirt, fiddling clumsily with your fingers, watching the bewilderment play out on his face.
He even scratches his head, contemplating your answer.
“I mean, sure? But—”
“Really?!” Your voice pitches higher with joy, then clears your throat to bring it back. “I mean, really?”
“Yeah I guess.” He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets, heading towards the back door of the club. “You comin’?”
“Wha—what, now? You mean now?!” You jog up to him, crossing the distance quickly! He opens the door, you follow behind him mindlessly as he makes his way to his car.
“Yeah, ain’t that…what you wanted?”
“Yeah! Sorry I was just—”
He grunts, rubbing an exhausted hand over his forehead. “Stop talkin’, c’mon already.”
You snap your lips shut, nodding silently as you enter the front seat of his car. The entire ride to his place has you shifting nervously in your seat, seat belt digging uncomfortably tight against your chest.
The view outside is calming, the streetlights flashing against your face as you stare out the window makes you feel like you’re in a movie.
“Alright, get your ass on the bed.” Rindou nods at his bed, beginning to shed his shirt off. You blink at the sight of his bare chest, thick black ink covering the right side of his chest. It’s distracting, but attractive, mouth salivating at the sight. When you do nothing but stand there, he cocks his eyebrow at you. “Did you hear me?”
“No—I was just…wow.”
He looks confused for a second, following your fixated gaze towards his chest. “Oh, this?”
“Yeah…it’s—so cool.” He snorts, moving towards his bed, dragging you down with him. “Did it hurt?”
“I don’t feel pain.” He’s half paying attention to your words, tugging you onto his lap, hands eagerly untying your sweatpants strings.
“Ooh, edgy—hey! Calm down—” you yelp when he drags your hips forward fiercely, struggling to undo the knot.
“How many times did you loop this shit? What the fuck.”
“I dunno—I just do it.”
He finally unties it, lifting your hips up to tug your pants down your legs.
Your hands hold onto his shoulders, fingers digging tight into his skin as his hands wander your body. It managed to feel better than the dream, which was expected, his warm, moist, calloused palms gripping onto your waist.
He kicks off his pants to the floor, setting you back down flat on his lap. Something feels hard between your legs, pressing into the flesh of your bare thighs and it takes you a minute to realise what it is.
“Is—” you gulp down your words, fighting reality. “Is it meant to be that hard?”
“My dick? Uh, yeah. What, you’ve never touched one before?”
You shake your head anxiously, stomach burning weakly, biting restlessly at your lips as his brows lift, stunned, and bowled over at the fact that he’s about to take your virginity.
“Oh.” He looks down at your hips, white-hot fingers grazing delicately down the curve of your hips. “That’s—wow. Are you sure you wanna do this?”
In contrast to before, you nod your head quickly, and with an indescribably hunger you grab onto his hands on your hips, boldly shifting them backwards to cup your ass.
“I want this, and I won’t regret it. Promise.”
“Even if this was the worst lay of your life?” He says it as a joke, lips curving into a playful smirk as he shamelessly gropes your behind.
“I wouldn’t have anything to compare it to anyway.” You shift a little closer, hands creeping to hold behind his head, itching your fingers in the soft streaks of his hair.
His eloquent eyes drop down to your lips suggestively, soaking in the glossy sight of them. Your body is stiff as you stare at him, blinking rapidly at what’s to come. He doesn’t say anything, just looks back up at you, asking you with his eyes.
Your eyes slip shut mindlessly when he leans forward. His lips are soft, just like his hair, sensually moving them against yours. He’s patient as you learn the ropes, sometimes moving your lips at the wrong time, catching them in an awkward position. He tilts his head to create a new angle, your body stiffens still when the angle makes the kiss deeper.
“Relax,” he pulls away to whisper the words along your lips, kissing down the curve of your jaw sultrily. “You’re too stiff.”
His hands slide up the slope of your back in an attempt to soothe you, hugging your body tight to his. The feeling of his hands holding you is strangely affectionate, the feeling of your heart buzzing in your chest gives you the newfound confidence to lean forward again, capturing your lips together.
It’s quicker this time, more generous and warm, lips sliding against each other, and he drinks up the sounds of your soft moans. Your hands move to grip onto the side of his face, replicating the image you had created in your dreams.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, looking up at you with those eyes of his that never fail to drive you crazy.
“Take off your shirt.”
It’s getting real now, you realise. His voice is seductively low, slightly breathy and you fidget backwards, spine straightening, hands sliding under your shirt to reach behind you, unhooking your bra.
You drag it down and under, unsure of what to do with it, choosing to hand it to him. The second it's in his hand, he tosses it away in favour of lifting your shirt up and over your head.
He reaches under your shirt , both hands cup your soft tit, palming, kneading it. He uses the side of his head to nudge you back into a kiss.
As if now muscle memory, you hold the sides of his face as he presses firm kisses against your lips, one hand pulling at your nipples, rolling, flicking his thumb against the sensitive beaked bud, other hand gripping the size of it in his big hands, occasionally squeezing at it when a soft noise escapes your lips whenever he does something with his tongue, licking into your mouth with fervour, biting at the swell of your lips.
Your thumbs brush against his cheek bones, tilting his head to the side as you scoot yourself closer on his lap, wanting him as close to you as possible.
“So what made you agree to this, Rindou?” you ask questionably, and he breaks the kiss to look up at you.
“I mean, you’re hot, that’s for one.” He lifts your shirt up, but doesn’t take it off, putting his head under and starts to suck your nipple.
You wish you could see his face, only looking at a budge moving around through your shirt. The feeling of his wet tongue gliding across your nipple is extra sensitive, and you bite at your lip to control your moans.
“S-so you find me hot?” You feel warm and fuzzy inside when he nods his head through your shirt. “W-what else?” you ask through a shuddered breath, groaning, eyes slipping shut as your head lifts to the ceiling when his teeth tug at your nipple.
“I dunno,” he grasps both breasts in his hands, squeezing them together, groaning at the sight. “You ask a lotta questions, though.”
“...sorry.”
“What’re you apologisin’ for? It’s cool.” His tongue kitten licks at your nipple a couple times, and you shudder when he sucks it back into his mouth.
“I’m not sure….I always just apologise, I guess.”
He hums in acknowledgement—you think— raising your arms as he’s shrugging your shirt off your body, throwing it across the room. He picks you up from his lap, laying you flat against his bed, propping up his pillows as you snuggle into it.
“It’s comfy,” you say with an awkward smile, unsure what to say now.
Are you supposed to kiss him again? Didn’t you do enough kissing already? Or was it too little? Do you hop right into the sex? Maybe you should’ve watched some porn before this, gotten a little comfy with the setting before jumping straight into losing your virginity.
He laughs as if he could read your racing thoughts, and you look up at him through beaded eyes, but in reality, he’s laughing at your awkward smile. It’s cute, clumsy, and innocent.
“You’re so cute,” he says, leaning forward, propping his arms beside your head, taking in the sight of your face, blinking up at him daringly, lips pursed and parted.
He bends down to kiss you slowly, shifting to fit himself back between your spread legs as they lock around his waist, keeping him in place.
Before you could fully melt into the kiss, he’s pulling back, bracing himself on his knees before your legs, big palms spreading them out further.
You feel exposed, hands covering your face, wincing when he rubs the palm of his hand up and down your clothed pussy, fingers grazing your clit delicately through the fabric of your panties.
“Oh—oh wait, that feels good—”
You’re bucking your hips up into the feeling, trying to feel it again. His finger brushes it again, and your lips fall open in a soft moan. “Oh my god, wait—”
“I’ve barely even touched you yet,” he chuckles, amused, and you swear you feel your thighs tense up when he drops down to the bed, face inches away from your pussy.
His hands grip onto your thighs as he stalks forward, tongue darting out to lick a long strip from the top of your pussy to the bottom, and up and down, up, down again and again through the fabric of your now soaked panties.
Shaky hands wind themselves in his hair, holding the strands in a makeshift ponytail as your back bows off the bed with each lick, every nimble stroke of his tongue.
“Can you—uh, wait—” You sit up on your elbows, looking down at him between your legs. “Can you remove the panties? Please?”
“Yeah, hold-on.” He peels your soaked panties away, bound by your slick, and his saliva, that he eagerly laps up, eyes closed, groaning between your legs at the taste of you.
You can’t bear to watch him eat you out, closing your eyes, head hitting the pillows as your hands reach for his hair again. He’s mumbling something under his breath, burying his face deeper between your legs.
He doesn’t let you catch a breath, tongue scribbling ruthless patterns against your drenched folds that have you squealing, tugging at his hair desperately.
Rindou normally doesn’t do oral, rather have someone else go down on him, but just the thought of making you suck his dick makes him feel bad. There’s a hidden array of feelings concealed by his lust for you that makes him want to just pleasure you tonight, hence why he’s leaving his own comfort zone to make you feel good.
He can’t seem to get enough, unsure if it’s meant to feel this good for him despite not being the one being touched.Maybe it’s the way you pull at his hair whenever he sucks with a certain amount of pressure on your clit. His fingers dig more profoundly into your thighs as his tongue flicks and sucks along your clit, up and down, repeating that same motion over and over and over, drinking up your slick in a way that drives you crazy, tugging almost painfully at his hair that it's pleasurable.
Your hips start jolting away from him, trying to run from the feeling of his tongue spreading your puffy lips, tearing you apart piece by piece, lick by lick, stroke by stroke. It’s too much. Too much for you to handle in one sitting, muscles tightening as it chases your climax, goosebumps rising to the surface of your sweaty skin.
“Rindou—ah! F-fuck! I’m—” Your bite your lip so hard it aches, adding to the throbbing pleasure as you cum, hips jerking against his face to spread your juices along his chin as he groans at the feeling, strong hands holding you in place as his tongue continues slurping at your pussy.
You forcefully try to rip him off you, body unable to take the pleasure, your mind hazy, like you’re floating in another dimension. It feels like you aren’t in control anymore, unable to moan loudly as you squirt on his face, whimpering as your shaky legs begin to slow down.
Rindou pulls away, bottom half of his face now soaked as he lifts himself up from the bed, wiping at it with his forearm. When you open your eyes, the corner of your mouth turns downwards when you see the sight of his bedsheets, soaked in your mess.
You don’t mean to feel embarrassed, after all, he was the one that drove you to that point, but your shoulders hunch together and you pout regardless. “I’m sorry—”
“Sorry for what? That was so hot.”
“Really?”
He nods his head, gently pushing you back down to the bed.
“Yeah, it was,” he breathes as shuffles forward, spreading your legs more to get another good view of your pussy. “You look so good—” he dubiously strokes his finger against your slit, dipping it inside, loving the way your back arches upwards. Your reactions are so cute. “—so wet, you’re so hot, fuck—”
“Rindou—” You’ve never been filled, never had anything up there before, so the feeling was new territory, and uncomfortable but as he picks up the speed, your cunt drips more, soaking his long finger, giving it the momentum it needs to continue fucking in and out, in and out.
“How’s that feel?” He presses a finger upwards, brushing your g-spot, and it’s like something inside you switched, a sudden heat prickling inside you has your body jolting forwards with a loud moan that has him biting his lips, pinpointing that spot with his finger effortlessly.
Your body can’t handle another orgasm, and at this rate you’ll be cumming in no time. Your body tries to pull away from him, thigh muscles contracting, toes curling, as his finger fucks you deeper.
His eyes are focused on your body; the pain-laced pleasurable look on your face is his motivation to keep going, slipping in a second finger to watch you go crazy, moans rising in volume, hips jerking from his touch.
“You close?” He asks despite knowing the answer, wetting his lips as he’s watching you attentively, revelling in the way your walls clamp around the girth of both fingers, sucking him in each time he dares to pull out.
“I—I think, yeah—ah—” Your moans sound gargled at this point with how hard your shoving your head into the pillow to silence them.
To hear how noisy you’re being is embarrassing; sinking into the pillow is half to conceal your blaring screams, half to sink into the softness in shame. Despite the burning heat in your face, the unwavering, direct gaze on Rindou’s face as his thumb rubs speedy circles on your clit is enough to push you over the edge, tip you towards your climax for a second time, body convulsing and twitching as a second round of fluids leave your body.
It’s less than last time, having squirted it all out before like a leakage, but it’s powerful enough for your eyes to roll, lips parting in another silent scream as your legs try to desperately push him away.
His fingers still inside you as his eyes survey the damage done to your body and his sheets.
It’s equally messy on both ends, your chest inflating and deflating with every heavy pant, the area on your thighs closest to your pussy now soaked with a mixture of his saliva and your slick. His sheets are ruffled, practically pulled away from their neat placing, wet patches splattered the clean shirts dirty.
When you finally catch your breath, you can’t even find your voice, scared to talk incase of another voice crack, so you stay silent, brows furrowing at the dull ache in your thighs that grow progressively hotter when you try to sit up.
“You good?”
You peek an eye open to stare at Rindou. From his POV, you’re unsure what you might look like: drained, bushed, spent…the list goes on, you think. “I’m fine.”
Your legs are limp, like the small energy you had left in them fizzed away after your second orgasm. It’s not until you hear him unbuckling your pants, you remember you’re not done yet.
There’s still one more little thing left…oh—oh, it’s not little at all.
You’re speechless when he pulls his cock out from his briefs, shrugging them down his legs, onto the floor. He holds it like it’s nothing, like your mind isn’t shaken up, like you’re not goggle-eyed.
Your blinking dumbly, half scared, half still processing stuff out when his hand wraps around the base of it, slowly stroking himself up and down, twisting his wrist when he reaches the tip.
He’s telling you something, but you can’t hear him, not with the way blood is racing towards your ears, blurring out the sound of anything and everything.
“Hey,” he jostles your leg to catch your attention, and it’s like your ears pop, free of static. “I asked you to reach in the dresser. Pass me a condom.”
“Oh—oh, yeah okay.” You gulp down your anxieties, reaching over to his dresser.
You grab a condom packet and toss it to him. He catches it effortlessly, putting the edge of it into his mouth, holding it with his teeth as he spreads your legs for the third time today, fitting himself between them.
It’s hard fighting the urge not to fidget beneath him, tell him you’re not ready and storm out the house, limp over back to your house with your half working legs. But you’re not a bitch—you say weakly in your mind, completely lacking the confidence to say that aloud.
He rips the condom packet open, and for a second you’re puzzled with how that tiny thing could possibly fit around the length of his cock. It’s long, but not huge, not thick either, on the thinner side with a slight curve to it. That curve is already making your insides scream, wondering if you’ll be able to feel that inside you.
Is that a good or bad thing? To feel it in you? Will it add to the pleasure, or just make you bleed?
Your questions go unanswered as you watch with pure focus as he rolls it down his cock, like a veil, and it fits perfectly.
“Alright, I’ma push in now,” he says, leaning forward, strong arms braced at your sides. “If it hurts, squeeze me, ‘kay?”
You nod dumbly, blinking up at him as he rolls his hips against yours, the tip of his cock running over your weeping hole, all wet and ready for him to slip inside.
You can feel your walls stretch open when he shifts forward, engulfing the tip inside your pussy inch by inch.
“Oh—” you choke out, not liking the way the stretch feels.This is far worse than the feeling of his fingers, his tip being three times the size of that.
It feels like forever with the pace he’s going at, ever so slowly pushing himself inside. When he’s around halfway, that’s when the stretch turns into a burn, a heavy, unsettling prickling sensation around your abdomen that has your nerves igniting in a state of panic.
Your fingers fly to his shoulders, digging them almost painfully into his muscles, letting out a shattered breath when Rindou keeps pushing.
“I know, I know—it’ll feel good in a bit,” his lips brush against your temple soothingly, giving your forehead a gentle kiss, fighting the urge to groan at the pain stinging in his shoulders.
When his hips are close to yours, the final inch of his cock left to be pushed inside, your hands fly around his neck, almost cutting off his blood circulation with how hard you’re holding him.
You both let out a satisfied sigh when his hips are pressed flush against yours, his sigh mainly due to pleasure, the heat of your warm cunt is enough to make him spiral; your sigh mainly due to thanking the heavens you didn’t get ripped in two pieces. There’s an agonising ache gnawing in your legs the longer his cock stays nestled inside your pussy.
With what limited space he has, he pulls out slowly, till the tip is left, and you feel so empty for a short moment, before he’s slowly pushing back in, getting your body used to the ministrations.
He repeats this over , and over, until your hold on his shoulders loosen, until your moans are reduced to whimpers, then he picks up the pace just a little, slamming back inside you enough to hit deeper and your back arches off the bed. Your hands get stripped away from his shoulders, bunched up at the wrists, and pinned above your head as he fucks into you raggedly, rolling his hips in a way that hits deeper than your g-spot.
“Rind—Rindou—I wanna t-touch you—stop—” you beg breathlessly, wriggling your wrists from underneath his grasp. “Please.”
The attempt is useless, his grip as strong as his brutal thrusts. You’re sure your body won’t recover after today, you’ll be bedridden for days, weeks even.
He shuts you up with a long kiss, your sweaty chest pressed flush against his own.
He holds your chin up with his spare hand, tongue flicking into your open mouth, tangling with yours. Your hands curl in on themselves, desperately trying to touch any part of him, hold his hand before he pulls away, breathing heavily as his spare hand moves between your legs, spreading you out further, pushing himself deeper. The new angle is relentless, finally feeling the curve of his dick hit your g-spot repeatedly. You see stars behind closed eyes, fingers scratching desperately at his wrists to let you go.
His hips begin to stutter, his pace falling off when your walls spasm and contract around his cock. The condom does nothing to stop the tight squeeze of your pussy holding him in place.
He groans by your ear, the audible and deep noise sets your nerves ablaze, unintentionally clenching around him, ripping another groan from his lips.
Letting go of your hands, he sits up on his knees, both hands gripping the fat of your thighs unceremoniously, digging his nails into the flesh. The pain added to the pleasure going on between your legs, body happily welcoming the sting of his nails.
“H-holy shit—” he grits out, eyes trained on the sight of his cock pushing in and out of your overstimulated pussy.
“W—what?” You dare to lift yourself onto your shaky elbows, barely able to keep yourself upright.
There’s a ring of white cum being shoved into your pussy, and back out again with each thrust, covering the see-through condom cloudy.
“What i—is—ah—that? Is that bad?”
It looks bad…is that supposed to happen? Why is it that texture? Did you get an infection? All these thoughts race through your mind at rapid speed.
“No, it’s not bad. It jus—just means you—fuck—” He can barely get a sentence out, not with the way your pussy spasms around his cock, the way your pussy squelches audibly each time his hungry cock ruts into you. “T-touch your tits, make yourself feel good.”
“Okay.” You reach down, grasping your tits in both hands, squeezing them the way he did before. It doesn’t feel good, you think, unsure if you’re doing it right.
“Your nipples,” he laughs at your confused face, “touch ‘em.”
Your fingers play with your nipples, rolling them between your fingers as his hands slide upwards to your hips. You yelp when he lifts your lower body up from the bed, angling your body in a way that makes his cock hit your spot easier. The sensation from your nipples, paired with the shockwaves of his hips slapping against your ass, blur your vision completely, hitting your peak. Your gut tightens, body dissolving into a feverish pleasure, nipples tender with each rapid flick of your fingers. You think you black out, moaning in a silent scream as you come undone on his cock, crying out his name when his hips stutter, gritting out fuck as a warning he’s about to cum.
You feel empty when he pulls out quickly, tugging the condom off and jerks himself off, shuffling up the bed to kneel beside your body, tugging his cock till cum splatters on your bare chest. It feels warm on your skin, your hands quickly reaching out to scoop it up on your fingers, experimentally tasting it.
It tastes salty, earthy, on your tongue, and he watches as you scoop it up a second time, sucking it from your fingertips.
“Fuck, stop doin’ that, drivin’ me crazy.” He shudders, cock twitching when you look up at him, smirking deviously as you lick up another scoop, making a show of your tongue wrapping around your fingertips.
He’s reaching over into his dresser, grabbing some wipes to help you clean up.
“It didn’t taste like how I expected it to,” you say, laying flat on your back as he drags the cold wipes along your chest.
“That a good or bad thing?”
You shrug, eyes following him as he lays down next to you. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think I can walk right now.” You curl up next to his body, seeking his warmth as he grabs the covers, pulling them over your body. “Don’t laugh at me!”
“‘M not laughin’,” he lies straight through his teeth, a throaty silly chuckle leaving his lips as you dig your fingers in his chest, trying to push him away, fake pouting as a light laugh pours from your throat as-well.
“You literally are! Stop—” He catches your hand when you try to swat at him, placing it back down by your side.
“Thanks for the ego-boost,” he smirks down at you, wiping the sweat from your forehead away.
You shift closer, hand brushing his hair away from his face, gently taking his glasses off, tucking them neatly on the side. You sit up on your elbow, bending down to kiss him. His heart rate skips a beat when your lips, soft, warm, brush his own. His hands slide down to your hips, holding you in place when your tongue traces the edge of his own. You moan when he sucks the length of your tongue sensually, soft whimpers leaving your lips when he sits up, switching the position, laying you flat on the bed as he fits himself between your legs. Your hands skim across his hair, digging them into his scalp as he bites at your lip, swirling your tongue around his.
It’s quite possibly the most intimate kiss he’s ever had, drinking up every inch of you, rolling his hips against yours when your legs wrap around his waist.
He knows he needs to stop—you know you need to stop too, but the way your heart flutters when he groans into your mouth has you kissing him harder, grabbing his hand to squeeze at your breasts.
You pull away first, wiping the saliva from your mouth. “I—I think I should go home now.”
“Can you walk home?” He asks genuinely, but there’s a hint of a playful smirk on his face that has you punching his chest softly. “Stay the night, I’ll walk you home in the morning.”
“But my dad—”
“Who cares? What’s he gonna do?” He dips his head down to your neck, and you pull him closer as he sucks bruises onto your skin.
“He’s strict and protective. He’ll notice I’m gone—”
“He’ll notice you can’t walk straight either. There’s no difference.” When you still look unconvinced, he pleads, hand sliding down to cup your ass, relishing in the way you gasp out. “C’mon, stay please?”
You bite your lip as you think. He has a point; your legs are so sore right now you doubt you could even stand on two feet to head to the door, yet walk through your house without your dad noticing something is up. He’s already suspicious about the bruises on your face that you still need to think of a better explanation for, this will just make him confirm whatever suspicions he’s thought of.
“Ok. I’ll stay.”
Time passes quickly, steady. Months of you sneaking out successfully to meet Rindou at his house, months of you losing yourself in his sheets, tugging his hair as he spreads you open with his fingers, eating you out till your legs shake and cum on his face each time, kissing you like he loves you, riding him like a woman starved, sucking the salty thick cum from his cock, smiling deviously up at him as you swallow it.
Months and months of you learning everything about Rindōu, meeting his family, his friends, creating some sort of social life for yourself.
“So when can I meet your dad?” Rindou asks, catching the ball he’s been throwing repeatedly at the ceiling.
“Never. He’d hate your guts, Rin.”
“So? The feelings are mutual, then.”
You look at him, unimpressed, rolling on the flat of your stomach on his bed. “I’m serious. He’s gonna be weird about it, hate on you, your background, your family, your tattoos—”
“Oi,” he nudges you gently with his feet. “What’s wrong with my tattoos?”
“Nothing!” You sit up, crawling towards him on the bed, lifting the hem of his shirt up, revealing the slightest glimpse of the thick black ink you love so much. “Love it so much, Rin.”
“Yeah?” His lips twitch up to a grin, resting a hand behind his head, “show me.”
You peek at him through your lashes, fluttering them chastely, grinning cunningly, leaning down to kiss down his chest.
His muscles contract and flex with each light kiss, rucking his shirt upwards as you make your way further up his chest.
You kiss up to his lips, shuffling yourself on his lap, sucking sweetly along the swell of his lips.
You pull away with a sigh, sitting back on your knees.
“But on a real note—” you cover his mouth with your palm when he tries to kiss you back, ignoring his ticked-off brow. “—you cannot meet him. At least not yet.”
He says something muffled beneath your hand. You remove it, and he repeats himself. “You’re scared I’ll say somethin’ outta pocket, ain’t you?”
He grins at your eye-roll, wiping some hair from your face as he takes a moment to admire you. You barely notice the love-struck look on his face, too busy ranting about how your dad absolutely cannot find out about your secret relationship.
“I know you’ll say something out of pocket, Rindou. But it’s too early now…and he’ll probably ground me for life for sneaking out all the time to see you and I can’t risk not seeing you anymore. It’s not worth it,” you take his hand, squeeze it gently, reassuringly. “You understand that, right?”
He cradles your body in his lap, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. In truth, you are, he’s never been happier since he’s met you. His brother noticed, his mother noticed, his friends noticed. Even he finds himself thinking about you more than he should; you creep into his dreams at night with that voice of yours, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, creeping your way into his head whenever he zones out.
“Yeah—yeah, I get it.” He pulls you in for a tight, warm hug, nestling your head in the crook of his neck. “I’ll wait however long you need me to.”
#—tr </3#rindou smut#haitani rindou x reader#rindou x reader#rindou haitani x reader#tokrev x reader#tokrev#tokyorev x reader#rindou haitani smut
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²⁴.⍭ 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝?
𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Stepbrother!Curtis Everett x innocent!reader
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | STEPCEST, college au, virgin!reader, size difference, SMUT - minors DNI, daddy kink, somnophilia, oral (f), p*ssy spanking, dirty talk, elements of p*ssy worship, innocence/corruption kink, beard burn, overstimulation, degradation, dumbification, dacryphilia, squirting, the puffier the better.
𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | Curtis has always protected you, and after a horror movie marathon, it’s no surprise you seek comfort in his bed.
𝗪/𝗖 | 6.14K
𝗔/𝗡 | as we reach the end of our smutty october, here is dirty train daddy Curtis. No gifs/photos belong to me, check the Pinterest board on my kinktober masterlist, all credits go to the original creators. All mistakes are my own. [concept asks | fic asks]
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Curtis hears you before he sees you. The hallway light switches on before your shadow appears at the bottom of his door. It opens silently, revealing you bundled in a sweater and a pair of fuzzy socks, dragging a blanket and your favourite stuffed animal.
“C-Curtis?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Can I stay with you?”
Curtis glances at the clock on his nightstand, it’s almost midnight, and those red glowing numbers tell him just how long he’s been glued to his computer and how long your parents have been at that Halloween party. “It’s too late, you should go to bed.”
“I can’t!” You squeaked, “You can keep playing your game and I’ll be super quiet, it’ll be like I’m not even there.” You beg, shivering as the downstairs darkness stares back at you.
Your mind goes wild, forming shapes in the black abyss. Monsters with sharp claws and red eyes, or abnormally long limbs and jagged teeth, or a murderer who broke into the house hours ago and has been watching you all night, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. You don’t know if there’s something there—or if you watched too many scary movies tonight.
Knowing your cowardly nature, it was probably the latter, but you couldn’t shake off that what if… what if there was something down there?
“Please, please, please!” A shiver crawls up your spine and the darkness wraps around you, almost bringing tears to your eyes, “Curtis, please!”
“Dude—what’s the wait up?”
Curtis fixes his headset, his wrist cramping from being in this position for so long. “My sister wants to stay in my room.”
A series of sounds echo through his headphones, varying from disappointment, interest, and sympathy. He could name what noise came from which friend, simply because he knows how each of them feels about you.
You weren’t a spoiled brat or a bitchy devil who turned his life upside down, you were far from that. You were sweet, too gentle and kind to survive by yourself. Clinging to his hands and clothes with your gentle touch and irresistible warmth, like sticky honey. Honey that rotted his teeth and only made him hungrier.
Your naivety has led you to his bedroom many times, from asking him about things you’ve heard on campus—“what is teabagging?” When those words left your innocent mouth, Curtis choked on his saliva. Thankfully he didn’t have to answer you because it was dinner time. Don’t ask, don’t ask, Curtis repeated in his head while everyone was sitting at the dining table, he just knows your parents would find some way to blame him for corrupting you.
If they only knew how much he was holding back from doing that.
You were easily scared, so he expected you to be frightened this dark and dreary, rainy Halloween night. It wasn’t the family’s typical celebration, you were grounded after failing a test and Curtis was stuck babysitting you as punishment for a mishap involving a hockey puck and a broken window.
At least his friends were in the same shit—he wasn’t playing hockey alone—that’s why they’re spending Halloween night playing videos and eating their weight in candy.
Before your parents left for a party, the decorations were taken down because of the upcoming storm, and your jack lanterns were brought inside. Only a handful of trick-or-treaters came by, so the candy bowl by the front door was still full. Or it was until you started nervously snacking halfway through your scary movie marathon. Your tongue is sore from all of the sour treats.
Curtis would be surprised that you didn’t sneak out, but he knows you’re too obedient and fearful to be that bold. Him, on the other hand, you had to cover for him whenever he left in the middle of the night for a party. There was surely an advantage to having a sweet stepsister, he had someone to back him up, or save him from difficult situations. You even let him hide his weed in your bedroom since your parents routinely checked his room after a neighbour caught him smoking in the park and practically dragged him home by his ear.
And the neighbourhood still doesn’t know who egged her house last week—Curtis had the greatest friends in the fucking world.
“—she can’t be that bad.”
“Huh?”
“Your sister, you should let her join our game.”
Steve groans. “Ugh, Buck, you just have a crush on her.”
“No, I don’t!”
“Is that why you sent her those love letters a few weeks ago?”
His gaze locks on Bucky’s character as if that was really him and he could feel Curtis’ glare through the screen. “That was you?”
Bucky makes an offended noise. “Thanks a lot, Steve!” He hisses, “Okay, maybe I do like her, but I wouldn’t try anything, she’s your sister.”
“And he’d probably kick your ass.”
“That too.”
“Nah, but he’s right. She’s probably dying of boredom being trapped in that house.”
Curtis gnaws on his lip, staring at the glowing monitor displaying their stats from the last game. It’s steadily gotten better and he isn’t sure if he wants you to ruin that streak. Plus, you didn’t even like his games, you much preferred using his PC (that he built himself) for the Sims. He thought it was cute that you made a virtual version of him and put the two of you in a big purple and blue house with a dog and a cat.
“We could pick an easier map so she isn’t completely lost.”
Curtis exhales, “Let me think about it.”
“Uhm… okay.” You lean on his doorway, blinking down at the hardwood floor. “Can I still come in though?”
“What?” He turns to you, suddenly remembering you standing there. “Oh, not you, honey. You can stay in here—for a bit.” He tags on, he didn’t want you to linger too much. Especially since he was still playing with his friends, at least you wouldn’t hear their endless profanities and arguing.
You beam and scurry towards the bed, almost tripping over yourself before plopping on the unmade sheets. The mattress jostles and an empty pop can tips over and falls to the ground, joining the mess of the day, from candy wrappers and dirty dishes from when he ordered pizza for dinner.
You giddily settle into his wrinkled sheets, snuggling under the duvet with your blanket and stuffed Care Bear, Grumpy bear. From here, you see his computer monitors and that war game glowing bright, you’ve watched him play a few times, and were always amazed by his quick reflexes and tactics.
“Tell your friends I say hi!” You wiggle your toes, Curtis’ bed was so comfy and warm. “But that’s it because I’ll be quiet now.”
“Honey—now don’t get jealous, Bucky, green isn’t your colour.”
“Shut up!”
“She says hi.” Curtis runs a hand over his buzzed head, tuning out his idiotic friends.
Steve whoops, “Tell her Bucky says he loves her.”
“I live across the street, don’t make me come over and punch your teeth in.”
“Now, now, we all know honey doesn’t like violence. You’ll never marry her with that attitude.”
“Alright, calm down, fellas.” Andy laughs, “Curtis, are we still playing?”
He hums, “let’s fuckin’ go.”
Curtis doesn’t know how long he’s been standing here, but he knows he’s a damn pervert. It’s been an hour since you came in, and Curtis had bid goodbye to his friends before he turned around and saw you sprawled across his bed, your sweater rolled up and exposing your cotton panties and an undeniable wet spot. Spot was an understatement. You were moaning softly and rubbing your thighs together, making the small spot into a full patch that clung to your folds.
He gulps, clenching and releasing his fists until the heat in his belly dissipates. He busies himself with gathering the dishes, food wrappers and empty cans that litter his bedroom, avoiding your wet, clothed cunt at all costs because if he gets another glance, he’ll fall victim to his desires.
After doing the dishes, he cleans up after you in the living room, picking up small candy wrappers and fixing the throw pillows and blankets to his mother’s liking. He checks all the doors and windows, peeking out the window at the pouring rain and strong winds. Thunder rumbles loudly as he creeps up the stairs slowly, preparing himself for spending the night next to you—and restraining himself from touching you.
He places a glass of water on the nightstand closest to you and picks up your stuffed Grumpy Bear. A yelp erupts from his chest when you grab his arm, latching on with a death grip.
His wide eyes land on you, shockingly awake and breathing heavily, “Honey, what—”
“T-The thunder. I—” You jump as another boom echoes through the sky, you try to tug him into bed, “Curtis! C’mon!”
He slides under the sheets and immediately, you curl up against him, clutching Grumpy to your chest. Your eyes are squeezed shut as he rubs up and down your back, soothing each tremor rocking through your body.
This isn’t the first time this happened, you hated storms with passion. From the dark looming clouds, harsh winds and gallons of rain, the cherry on top was the loud thunder and flickering lightning. Back in your hometown, there were terrifying storms that would tear roofs off houses, sweep away anything outside and knock down trees.
Curtis knew how to deal with you when you got like this, so he distracted you.
You’re okay, honey. Everything is fine. He repeats over and over again until you stop shaking, he plants a chaste kiss on the top of your head, “Why did you want to come in here?”
It’s quiet for a few moments before you speak, timidly meeting his eyes. “I had a horror movie marathon.” You shyly admit, “and just couldn’t be alone. I was too scared!”
He didn't have to ask since he heard your screams and squeals from here, even with his headphones on, but hearing it from your lips boosts his ego. You have always run to him when you were scared, confused or both. He was your saviour in more ways than one, and he’s your first choice for comfort and safety.
“What were you going to wear to the party tonight?”
You slump, remembering your plans with your new friends from college. “We were all gonna be the plastics from Mean Girls! But their Halloween costumes. I was gonna be a mouse.” You pout, “Don’t tell my dad, but I got a little nightie like what she wears in the movie. It’s really short and sheer… you could see almost everything underneath.”
His eyes fall to your puckered lips, “Oh.”
“Yeah, I know. I thought those dresses were only for home, not public, but Nat said all the girls dress that way for Halloween.”
He sometimes forgets you weren’t from the city. Sweet, naive you grew up in a small town before your father married his mother a year ago. He recalls teaching you how to transit everywhere, telling you which trains and buses went where. You were so confused with all the names and routes, you called him every day to ask for directions.
“Sounds like you’d get cold.”
“I could show you!” You go to stand but another rumble of thunder has you clambering back into bed, to your safe soft bundle with your stepbrother. “Maybe later actually.”
Curtis laughs, “You a w’ittle sca’wed?”
You shove him and he’s quick to return it, this time almost knocking you off of the bed. It isn’t long until it turns into a tickle fight, he pins you down and digs his fingers into your sides, straddling your kicking legs as you loudly cackle. You’re no match for his strength and are forced to lie there, laughing till tears are streaming down your face and your throat goes sore. One cough is all it takes for Curtis to release you and hand over the water.
You gulp heartedly, droplets escape the corners of your lips and trail down your chin to your neck.
He still feels the warmth of your body against his, so much smaller than him, and crying the prettiest tears and thrashing between helpless pleas for mercy—if he had it his way, you’d be acting the same way with far fewer clothes on.
Thunder booms and you jump, the water spilling down your chest and legs, soaking straight through your sweater and the sheets below.
“Ugh! Sorry, Curtis, your bed is a little wet now.”
He watches the realization hit your face.
You quickly close your legs, “I didn’t—oh god, I didn’t—I’d never pee in your bed.” Your hand falls between your thighs and your eyes widen, you don’t remember your dream but it must’ve been a dirty one, the kind you’ve only had a handful of times. “I-I have to go change!” You surge up, squeezing your legs together while pulling down the hem of your sweater.
Embarrassment floods you until it pours out your mouth in stuttering excuses, dutifully ignoring Curtis’ offer to walk you to your bedroom if you’re scared.
You don’t even grab your stuffie before shuffling out of his room, yanking the sweater over your ass to savour any bit of pride you have left.
Curtis was seconds away from grabbing you and taking care of your little wet problem. He’d dive headfirst into those sinful delusions and indulge in the pleasure you’re so cluelessly withholding. He rubs over his pants and the wet spot that was more than just water, imagining just how slick you were. He’d bet your arousal was sticking to your panties.
And now it’s all going to fucking waste.
When you come back, he’s comfortable under the sheets with a pillow strategically placed over his crotch, but of course, you don’t notice a thing.
You take shy little steps, your legs never spreading too far until you’re standing at the foot of his bed in a fresh new sweater.
“This is it.”
It is a sheer babydoll dress, thin and delicate with a bow at the collar and a frilly hemline. You hold it against your body, swaying cheekily. “Isn’t it cute? Now imagine me with mouse ears, nose and whiskers.”
Curtis gulps, daydreaming about your glowy skin draped in that airy fabric. “Very cute, honey. But I don’t think that’s appropriate at home either.”
You deflate, “No?”
“Not when our parents are home anyway…” he trails off, “but you can wear it when it’s just us. It’ll be our little secret.”
You nod eagerly, “I’m good at keeping secrets. I haven’t said a word about you sneaking out—or the weed, and I never will!”
That’s why he loved you. So positive and enthusiastic, a breath of fresh air in his normal, boring life. He’s so glad he convinced his mother to go on a second date with your father. And to think he just wanted her out of the house so he could throw a party, and now he has unlimited access to the sweetest, prettiest girl he’s ever seen.
Your gullibility was just a plus, and it’s thanks to that innocence that he’s able to convince you to wear your new nightie to bed.
“It’s Halloween, you should still wear it even if you aren’t going to a party. That way when you do wear it out, you’ll already have broken it in.”
Curtis finds out why you were walking so strangely after you fall asleep again. That demonic little voice wins and convinces him to dip in his twisted curiosity.
The lamp is on the dimmest setting, barely illuminating, but it’s sufficient in this pitch-black darkness. It’s enough, he repeats in his head, he doesn’t need brighter light or a fucking camera, although he wants to immortalize you from this angle.
Curtis is lying on his stomach between your legs. The blanket is slightly pushed to the side and your sweater is rolled up. His hands stroke up and down your inner thighs and his eyes are locked on your too-small panties. The cotton cups your core firmly, outlining your slit and deliciously falling victim to your slick just like the last pair.
You beguiled him, pushing him over the edge and into the dark forbidden depths—from the sheer lingerie to the tiny panties, to fucking grinding against his thigh when he was dead set on not corrupting you tonight.
Now, look what you did.
You were so needy and wet, he’d be a monster to abandon you in agony. Curtis refused to let this gleaming opportunity fade away, he’s saved you countless times, and another wouldn’t be so bad. He’ll put you out of your misery just like any big stepbrother should.
He carefully removes the rest of the sheets from your body. From the drift of cool air, you squirm then settle on your back again, legs splayed wide open. The moonlight fuses with the yellow lamplight, bathing you in an exquisite, irresistible flare. It calls to him like a beacon, pulling him by the throat to your most precious spot.
He mouths against the cotton, soddening the fabric with his saliva. At first, he’s discreet, cautiously licking, as if he isn’t starving for you. Once he’s certain you weren’t waking up, he seeks your clit, the delectable button that has been on his mind all night, and licks it through your panties.
The minimal light might be enough, but this wasn’t. He tugs the gusset to the side, nosing along your inner thigh as your smell drills into his head.
“So fuckin’ pretty.” The words are spoken in a whisper, his dark gaze glued on your folds that glimmer with your arousal. You’re so fucking sticky. He can’t resist breaking the string of your slick between your panties and your slit with his tongue, the minuscule taste instantly makes him addicted. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”
He rubs your clit slowly, just enough to make your breath deepen as you sleep soundly, beautifully unaware. Your nub swells under his touch and your arousal leaks down your cunt to your rosebud. Curtis refuses to let a drop go to waste.
He groans as your taste floods his mouth, your warmth satisfying every craving he’s ever had, fulfilling every ache while leaving more in its place. The demand for more and more fuels him on, just like your soft snores as wet sucking noises float into the air. With his eyes shut in bliss and he grabs your hips, tugging you closer.
He’s only fantasized about this. Never daring to commit to corruption. The guilt should be eating him alive right now, remorse should be wrapping around his neck and yanking him away from you—his sweet, innocent, sleeping stepsister. But it doesn’t, if anything, it excites him. The illicit nature and stark boundaries he’s leaping over.
Your soft whines edge him further, kissing your clit on his way down to your weepy hole. His tongue swirls around before breaching, piercing deep until his nose rubs against your button. He licks into your virgin hole, nuzzling your folds with his prickly beard.
This is far better than shamefully jerking his throbbing cock with your panties to his nose.
Your high hits suddenly, catching him off guard when your hips rise and your panties snap back into place, ridding him of the opportunity of watching you come. He can’t say he hates what he’s gifted anyway, your cream gushes out and soaks the cotton. He rushes forward, enveloping your clothed pussy in his mouth and sucking your orgasm through your panties, hearty groans rumbling in his chest.
He’s so rough and loud that you stir, but that only plunges him into a fervid hunger. Your cunt pulses under his mouth as he cleans you up, greedily taking any drop of your essence like he’ll never have you again. But he will, he knows he will.
Lewd noises draw you from dreamland into a confusing reality, following the trail of the strange fluttering heat between your thighs. “C-Curtis?”
He should pull away, he should apologize and beg for forgiveness but Curtis has played nice long enough.
“These are so thin, I could just—” he rubs his nose along your clothed folds, nudging your swollen clit. “So fuckin’ tight too.”
You squeak, attempting to shut your legs but he forces them open, mouthing against your core like he’s been wandering the desert for days and you’re a stream of water.
Shaky breaths tremble your frame, the sheets wrinkled in your fists as his tongue glides down your slit to your untouched hole, “What—what are you doing!”
“You were rubbing against me, honey.” He’s intoxicated on you yet hyperaware of every tiny movement of your face, reading your reactions effortlessly. “I’m just helping you out, that’s what big brothers do.”
“Is this okay?” You ask, “A-Are we, can we do this?”
“Yeah, baby. You think I’d lie to you?” He licks his hand and reaches under your sweater, tracing up your warm skin. He pinches your nipple, his saliva making you squirm from the sudden cold. He fondles your tit, switching between both until your rigidness fades away and you quietly moan.
His attention falls back on your pussy, inches from his face and begging for him. He’s quick to yank off your panties and fully expose your centre to him once more.
“Are you sure, Curtis?”
He huffs, “I’m sure. It wouldn’t be very kind of me to leave you here to suffer, now will it?” He traces down your folds, taking pride in the hitch in your breath, “And this feels good, right? So it can’t be bad.”
You sleepily process his words, “that feels—oh!” You watch as he lightly licks your clit, his tongue is hot and soft, just grazing over your bundle like it was a saccharine treat.
He hums, closing his lips around it just to make you feel his heat and wanting you to know how good he can make you feel. He pops off tenderly, “It’s sensitive, huh?” He circles the erect nub with his thumb, “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll be gentle. You trust me, right?”
You shakily exhale, struggling to hold his dark gaze with the unfamiliar tingles darting through your body. “S-So much, Curtis.”
“Don’t call me that.” He kisses your mound, his breath puffing against your warm skin as his eyes lock on your face. The moonlight shines over your features, bathing you in the glow. You look pure, untouched and vulnerable, and Curtis wouldn’t have it any other way. “Say daddy.”
You stiffen, fisting the sheets with wide eyes. You shake your head but your body has a mind of its own and jerks up, desperate for his touch.
“Say it, baby.”
“I can’t—”
He pulls back and swats your cunt, making you gasp sharply. He repeats it again and again, aiming for your most sensitive spot and getting rougher each time. Curtis leans up, spitting on your puffy clit, he should feel bad for torturing your button, but you weren’t obeying him. “Say it, or I’ll get a lot meaner.”
His saliva smears down your wetness and you squirm, before his hand lands on your belly, pressing you down to the mattress. Uneven breaths shake your frame, and the ceiling fan spins slowly, almost putting you in a trance. “Dad—daddy.”
“That wasn’t so hard.” He murmurs, peppering kisses along your trembling thighs. His lips ghost your folds before his tongue flattens and licks a firm strip up your slit. “That’s my girl.”
Now that you’re awake, he could have some real fun.
He makes out with your pussy, rubbing your petals raw with his facial hair and sending vibrations up your spine with his deep groans. “So wet for me. Grinding on my leg, moaning in my damn ear.” Curtis exhales, “You didn’t even let me sleep, you know that?”
“I’m sorry!”
“Pardon?”
You mewl as his flat tongue licks up your slit, fucking into your hole. “Da-Daddy! I’m sorry, daddy!”
You were learning so well. “And calling me daddy, I wonder what your real daddy would think of that.” He lets a heavy dollop of saliva drip from his bottom lip to your swollen clit, “He wouldn’t like that I’m eating his daughter’s virgin cunt, huh?”
You feebly attempt to pull him closer, but with his buzzed hair, the best you can do is push him down. Pitifully whimpering as he teases you, licking everywhere but that one spot. As a last resort, you just force him down and squeeze your thighs around his head.
Sparks dance on the inside of your eyelids when he takes that spot—that bundle between his lips with open-mouthed kisses, fueling the shocks coursing through your body. You liked this better than when he slapped it. He alternates between locking the throbbing nub in a suffocating kiss—suckle? And dipping down to noisily slurp at your juices.
This tsunami of impressions and senses brings you to a state of unfamiliar euphoria, a wave crashing within you and releasing an array of passions you’ve never felt before. You mutter nonsense, confused about your body’s response as Curtis works you through it, soothing your pulsating bundle with his skilled tongue and warm mouth.
Curtis is more robust than you and easily escapes your hold, hooking one arm around your thigh. “You liked that, honey?” A smirk plays on his slick lips, “This is your clit, it’s your special sensitive button,” he blows over it and chuckles mockingly when you whimper, “And I fuckin’ love it.”
His thumb pulls back the hood, exposing the delicate bud, erect and swollen, begging for his touch. He can’t resist swirling his tongue over it, your moans music to his ears.
He leans back with the bundle between his lips, pulling lightly before releasing it. A string of spit connects his lips to your core, his saliva coats you and combined with the cream leaking out of your fuckhole, you look like a feast. “So pretty and tasty. So fuckin’ messy.” He groans, “You’ve been keeping this from me, baby?”
You can only blink at him and squeak when he tongues over the exposed nerves. You feel every bump of his wet muscle and his hot breath on your skin, the sensations have your back arching high with unsteady moans.
“What a bad girl, you know how unfair that is? I give you so much, I keep you safe, I’m so nice to you, and you keep this pretty pussy from me.” He presses on your stomach, pinning you down.
“I’m sorry, daddy…” You barely manage and entwine your fingers with his, “didn’t mean t-to!”
“You didn’t?” He repeats, lazily mouthing at the crease between your thigh and warm cunt, his blue eyes locked on your face covered in a sheen of sweat, “but you still hurt me, baby, you made me so upset.”
“I’m sorry!” You yelp when his palm collides with your inner thigh in quick succession, getting awfully close to your centre. “I’m sorry, Curtis!” You apologize again, “Please don’t hit m-my button—”
“—You know what would make me feel better?”
You shake your head, dread sinking deep as he traces down your core, from your puffy clit to your rosebud. He circles the rim, smearing your leaky excitement.
“If you let me play with you.” He lightly spanks your cunt, wet noises flooding the room alongside your choked squeals, “are you gonna let your big brother play with your pussy to feel better?” He doesn’t relent, nor give you the chance to respond, he only slips his fingers down your slit to collect your stickiness and smear it back over your stimulated cunt, paying extra attention to his favourite part. “And you’re making a mess on my bed, dummy. You have a lot to make up for.”
Shuddering from wild nerves and unfamiliar sensations, you give in. He was right, he does so much for you without being asked, he’s your hero in every sense. “You can, uhm… play with me, daddy.”
A bright smile appears on his wet lips, and you’re too blinded by his radiance to notice the rotten roots of his happiness, the utter wrongness of it all. You’d follow recklessly on whatever path he makes, trailing after him like a lost puppy without any thought.
“That’s my good girl—my best girl, actually.” He rewards you with several sweet kisses, pushing up your sweater to give your tummy some love, he trails up higher until your sweater is above your breasts.
You rise towards his comforting touch, biting your bottom lip as he lightly tugs and twists your nipple. He massages your tit, squeezing it gently in his fist while swirling his tongue over your hard nipple. “Have you ever been kissed?”
Your heart thumps loudly, almost muting his low voice. “N-No.”
Curtis cocks his head, blue eyes gleaming fondly, “I’ll make it special for you, honey, but no one can know. I’ll take you out, treat you real nice, and make it like one of those cheesy movies you love so much.”
“Will you?”
“I’ll do anything for you.” He speaks with so much conviction you don’t care about keeping it a secret, a part of you knew how wrong this was, but you’d give up everything before giving up Curtis.
Your hands fall to the back of his neck as you go slack onto the pillows, his chain is cold against your palm, a stark contrast to his heated skin.
“I love you so much, baby.” He kisses down your body until he’s snug between your legs, and his thumb circles your clit, “and Daddy loves you too, pretty button.”
Your face heats up hotter than the sun as burning desire prickles at your skin, he’s gazing lovingly at your most private spot, and talking to it. That only makes you want him more.
“You like when I play with your button, baby?” Curtis asks, speeding up and adding pressure, “You’ve never felt this way before, huh?”
Your eyes water out of pure want and overwhelming pleasure. Your previous highs give you tunnel vision, putting your senses in overdrive. Everything feels unbearably stronger, even his breath on your throbbing centre. “N-No.”
“Never even touched yourself?”
“I’ve had dreams—and woke up sticky, but no.” Even though you can’t remember any of those dreams, you know they’re nothing like this. The heat, desire and pure debauchery are new territories for you, those dirty dreams were just messy blurs but now Curtis is the one to make you feel all those things.
He growls, growing harder at the fact of being the first to taste you and to touch you like this. “You want my mouth on your clit again?” He asks lowly. “You want daddy to suck and lick your pretty, puffy clit, honey?”
“Y-Yes, but please be gentle… it’s really tingly.”
His tongue swipes over his lips, “But I think she wants me to be rough.” He pulls back the hood, spitting down, “she wants me to be mean. That’s why she’s all tingly.”
“Re—” You’re cut off by a whine when he licks the exposed nerves, “Really?”
“Really.” He echos, “your body wants to be ruined, used and stretched around me. This ass and soaked cunt want to be pumped full of my cum, and this fuckin’ clit—she wants me to make you cry ‘cause it feels too good.” His mouth waters as you swell up before his eyes, the smallest stimulation makes your sore button fill with blood, “But that’s a good kind of cryin’ for a good kind of hurt.”
He laps over your petals before latching onto your clit, suckling harshly while his thumb circles your virgin hole. He digs deeper until his facial hair rubs into you, coarse and prickly against your delicate folds. You whimper, caught between grinding against his face and crawling away, bouncing between pain and pleasure.
He pulls back with a deep breath, he could suffocate himself with you and it’d be a joyous end. “Doesn’t it feel good when I���m mean? When I just bully your cunt like I hate it?” When you don’t respond, he glances up to see that lost glazed over your eyes and the stupidest look on your face.
Peaceful is what he’d call it, peacefully divine—but he doesn’t want you peaceful, he wants you ruined and crying, weeping his name like a prayer, he wants you to plead for salvation, a fucking break, just so he can say no.
“Don’t you like it when I do this?” A harsh slap lands on your clit, making your legs flail before he hooks them over his broad shoulders. Prying you open for his ruthless touch, he spits on his thumb then harshly rubs your bundle. “Or when I do this?” He pinches your button meanly and rolls it between his fingers. “Dumb little sister, you like when your big brother is a damn bully, huh?”
“Yes, I do!” You mewl, unable to lie still as the elastic in your belly tightens painfully, stretching you so thin you could shatter with a breeze. “I-I do, I love it so much, da–ddy!”
You’re so pretty when you cry.
“That’s right, you just gotta remember that daddy always knows best.” He dives forward and messily tongues at your creamy hole, eagerly swiping up any juices you have to offer. “Wanna know a secret?” He suckles, pressing deep between your folds and shaking his head, burning your sore skin with his beard. “The puffier it is, the better it tastes.”
He thrusts his tongue in your hole while rubbing your clit, the bottom half of his face is a mess. Your previous orgasms and his spit coating his beard and down his chin, your cream collecting around his swollen lips. You aren’t any better, hot tears streaming down your face and drool seeping out of the corner of your lips dumbly.
You can barely think—your mind is flooded with him, his smell, his soft bed under you, and his touch.
“Have you ever squirted before?” He asks, but all you can utter are incoherent words, he takes the benefit of the doubt and settles on a squeaky pathetic no. “Fuck, are you gonna make a stupid mess on daddy’s bed, dumb baby? Gonna get me all dirty, fuckin’ soak me with juices from this virgin cunt?”
You make confused noises, stuttering out his name between heaving breaths as the wave builds and builds, threatening to crash over and flood you from the inside out.
Curtis grins madly, eating up every one of your helpless mewls, bullying your sensitive nerves with his thumb as if you’re his damn controller. “It’s okay, honey, your body is gonna thank me for being so mean.”
You squeal so loudly that your voice cracks, breaking off into mindless babbles as you squirt, your orgasm shooting out into Curtis’ awaiting mouth. His torturous touch on your swollen bundle never yields and only gets more intense.
You’re caught between horrified and amazed as Curtis ferociously sucks your burning clit, prolonging your orgasm until you try to get away. He pulls you back and secures your quivering thighs around his head. He’s merciless and dives forward, roughly tonguing your pulsating bundle until much weaker, final spurts escape your body.
He doesn’t stop until you’re a quivering mess, covered in your arousal, sweat and his saliva. Even then, he spits down on your thoroughly ruined pussy with your juices that still filled his mouth. He meets your watery gaze, flashing you a wide smile. “You okay, honey?”
“That—Is that it?”
“It doesn’t have to be.” He raises to his knees, your juices shining in his beard and around his lips. “But I don’t want you to get overwhelmed, I know that was a lot.” And he didn’t even kiss you yet.
“But you… doesn’t that hurt?” You blink down at his hard bulge, your legs still spread wide with your wetness seeping into his bedsheets. “I don’t want you to hurt.”
“So fuckin’ sweet.” He exhales, cupping your cheek. “You can watch me, okay?” He tugs down his sweatpants and boxers with one swoop, and his cock smacks into his lower abs, flushed an angry red and leaking pre cum from the mushroom tip and down the prominent veins. “Just spread your legs and keep looking at me.”
You subconsciously lick your lips, spreading your legs wide as he crawls forward on his knees, squeezing his thick base.
“Good girl, why don’t you spread your pretty pussy for me too?” His jaw tightens under his beard, eyes bouncing between your dazed face and your ruined clit, “show daddy your puffy button so I can come on it.”
𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: ehem... a very special eun @comfortcap made me this way with button play. I'm also very tempted to make a part two. But i already have a full series with stepbro!ari coming [fraternal instincts] BUT CURTISSS😖🫶
𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! check my kinktober masterlist for the rest of my fics
As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼
I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
#Curtis Everett#curtis everett fanfic#curtis everett fanfiction#curtis everett smut#curtis everett x innocent!reader#stepbrother curtis everett#step brother Curtis Everett#stepbro curtis everett#curtis everett x reader#Curtis Everett x you#curtis everett x female reader#Curtis Everett imagine#innocent reader#why are you scared au#sonny’s stories#Chris evans#tw stepcest#Chris evans fanfiction#Chris evans smut#Chris evans x reader#snowpiercer fanfiction#Curtis Everett x reader smut#size difference#chris evans fanfic#tw somnophilia#Chris evans characters
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Okay lets all put our heads together and talk about this - the WILL Outro video
For any Atiny who are not a Loretiny, here’s what you need to know:
There are two universes inside the Ateez context - Universe A and Universe Z (otherwise referred to as Strictland).
Universe A is the one that we are familiar with. It’s bright and colorful and happy. It’s seen is mvs like Pirate King, Treasure, Wave, and Dreamers. If you’re more familiar with their performances, it’s any song that has costumes with color. They softer looks in sweaters and khakis and such. Those are all Universe A.
Universe Z is the alternate universe. Time is funky here and I won’t get into a whole thing about it but it’s reversed. So there is a 12 hour time difference between A and Z. Complete opposites existing at the same time. This universe is dark. There’s lots of broken down buildings and boarded up windows. There are no mirrors or other sources of reflection so the people cannot see themselves and wish to be free. It’s seen in mvs like Hala Hala, Say My Name, Deja Vu, Halazia, Bouncy, and Crazy Form. In this Universe, music and art and all forms of expression are banned. The people all have microchips implanted in them to disable their emotions. The Black Pirates, who we know are in kahoot with the Ateez we know and love, are a group of rebels that are trying to bring art and emotions back through song (very HSM) and disable the microchips. There’s a whole thing about how they got there but that’s not important for this context.
There is a device called The Cromer, which allows Ateez to switch between these universes when the moon is full (which is why we see a lot of moon imagery). When the moon is not full, it does other things that again are not important here.
We know that the Cromer was broken. This happened in Deja Vu when Yeosang broke it to save the rest of Ateez (long story that’s again not important here). Ateez eventually uses the Cromer from Universe A, that is not broken, to get back to Universe Z later.
We see the broken Cromer at the end of Bouncy as well, but this time a little blue bird flies seemingly out of it. There are lots of questions about this Cromer. Is it the original Cromer? Is it the Cromer from Universe A? Why is there a bird? Was it trapped inside? Is that how it works? Is there a significance to the Cromer breaking when the moon is full? Is that why the bird appeared? I don’t know. And the new video cleared up approximately nothing. It shows the bird as it flies around the set of Crazy Form, but without the members. It’s after the events of the MV take place, which we know for sure because it shows the area that Yeosang is seen spray painting.
The first pic is from the new video and the second pic is from the Crazy Form MV.
I’ve seen some people as questions about the people in white. But these are students at Prestige Academy. There’s a good bit of lore here but the gist of it is, the Black Pirates are using the school as a place to start their revolution. The school is introduced in the Guerrilla mv. A boy from the school appears. It’s also seen in the Bouncy MV and referenced in the narrative in the Diary version of Outlaw.
There is also a paper and a cube seen at the end.
The paper is clearly plans for a pirate ship. The questions here lie solely on when this all takes place. As we know Ateez has all of their lore all mapped out. It’s is all carefully planned, meaning when they release new content, it’s not necessarily in chronological order. We’ve seen them release things out of order before. There’s no real way to know until we get what comes next. So the question of what is the ship for, relies on when this takes place. If it’s earlier in the timeline, then we have seen the ship in action. If it’s later in the timeline, then it could be replacing the old ship.
The cube is a little more confusing. I’ve seen some people say that it’s probably the same cube that is seen in the Dreamers mv.
Except now it’s red. Red is not a good color in the Ateez world. So what does it mean and what does it do? Dreamers takes place in Universe A, but we are in Universe Z now. Is it a different color because it is a different universe? Is it a different color because it’s been activated? What sort of abilities does the cube have? Is it related to the Cromer or is it separate?
I don’t know.
Thoughts?? Please anyone what are you thinking??
Even if you’re not a designated Loretiny, I’d still love to hear what you’re thinking. Or you can Reblog so other Atiny can see this.
I need answers!!!!
#ateez#ateez lore#lore#loretiny#Atiny#ateez mingi#ateez yeosang#ateez san#ateez wooyoung#ateez yunho#ateez seonghwa#ateez hongjoong#ateez jongho
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Ethnicity in JJBA
I love that Araki decided to use different ethnicities for his characters and I could talk about it all day, to be honest.
Like, it all started with George I, Dario, Jonathan and Erina, and George II and Lisa Lisa as British people and then Joseph decided he likes Italians.
Boom: half-British half-Italian Holly Joestar who married a Japanese musician = half-Japanese, quarter Italian and quarter British Jotaro Kujo.
Jolyne is half-American, quarter Japanese and one eighth Italian and British each.
Josuke: half-Japanese and half-British, just like Giorno.
The only difference is that Giorno’s living in Italy because his mother said “yo I have a thing for European men” and married an Italian who forced Giorno to say goodbye to his Japanese origin.
As for his half brothers, all we know is that their mothers were all American. But I like to think that Rikiel’s mother is/was black, just like I do for the Costello sisters.
I have to admit, I was confused at first when I saw that Gloria didn’t have dark skin or dark hair like Hermes before I realized that they could be mixed, and the same goes for the Pucci children. Plus, it’s canon that Ermes is Mexican (I’m just not sure if half- or fully) and Pucci is Italian or Italo-American, which are also little details that I really love.
One thing that will always have a special place in my heart is Avdol being Egyptian. It has never been mentioned, but I like to think that he’s also muslim. Which is really important to me since I haven’t really seen a piece of media from non-muslim parts of the world that represented muslims accordingly. They’re either shown as terrorists or don’t exist at all. So this was extremely refreshing and he’s also black AND canonically OP af?? I love.
Japanese Noriaki Kakyoin with red hair? Now that’s what I like to see. I think he’s also a part of the Has Been Bullied Club and he was a very lonely child, so being with the Crusaders must’ve been really important to him.
Not to forget our beloved Frenchman Polnareff. I love how he switches to French just to emphasize things or when he’s too frustrated to even think in English. I relate a lot to that, especially because English is my third language of six languages in total.
I’ve also seen the headcanon of Rohan possibly being Indian or having Indian ancestors and while I don’t agree with that, it has actually crossed my mind when I heard his name for the first time (cliché, I know I’m sorry). It could also be that his parents just liked the sound of the name and that’s all to it, which I think was more the case.
Little things like these give me the freedom to headcanon whatever I want.
For example, I love the thought of Holly learning English and Italian from her parents and then teaching those to Jotaro, who then taught Italian and Japanese to Jolyne.
Or a crossover where the other JoJos and GioGio meet Jodio and Hermes starts laughing her ass off because of the Spanish meaning of the word jodio.
Or, on the angsty side of things, Jotaro being bullied by older students because he’s “only” half-Japanese. Just like Giorno was bullied (although I do not remember if it actually was because of his heritage, but I think so).
Not taking Part 7 – Part 9 characters into the equation because I haven’t finished reading Steel Ball Run yet, which means I didn’t even think about JoJolion and The JoJoLands.
#jojo's bizarre adventure#jjba headcanons#jjba part 1#jjba part 2#jjba part 3#jjba part 4#jjba part 5#jjba part 6#jonathan joestar#erina pendleton#george joestar#elizabeth joestar#joseph joestar#jotaro kujo#holly kujo#suzie q#jolyne kujo#giorno giovanna#muhammad avdol#jean pierre polnareff#josuke higashikata#rohan kishibe#noriaki kakyoin#ermes costello#domenico pucci#enrico pucci#gloria costello#sons of dio
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Jedi robe significations
[NB: all of this is headcanon, derived from what clothing items are named in-game, what various Jedi NPCs wear, and also things I just made up because I like them.]
White robes indicates a consular whose work is primarily in diplomatic or other physically “safe” arenas, as white is a hard colour to keep pristine in rough environments and in combat.
Likewise, particularly trailing sleeves indicate the same.
One or two pieces of light leather armor (e.g. shoulder-pads and vambraces) indicate a Jedi regards putting themselves in physical danger in warzones and other combat to be part of their personal duties.
Heavier armour indicates that a Jedi is primarily involved - as in, their current mission is - in war. This is often a way to spot a Jedi who is more willing to fight than many of their peers are.
The Ansata are a sub-group of Jedi that believe they follow the Force’s will specifically by gathering and protecting knowledge. Ansata patterns and hair/head jewelry, such as those worn by Jocasta Nu and Atris, indicate a Jedi belongs to the Ansata group.
It’s rare to see a Kyber Jedi away from Ilum, but if you do, they can be distinguished by their kyber crystal being not carried as part of a lightsaber but carried in a clear case or on its own as jewelry. Their robes are embroidered or cut into fractal patterns, and often have transparent, glowing, or shimmering elements. Cold-weather gear is commonly worn by Kyber Jedi even in warm environments, and many will never appear publicly unhooded.
Dark grey robes indicate either work with the criminal underworld or status as a Shadow.
Jedi in green robes are, of course, usually Corellian Green Jedi.
While brown robes are extremely commonly worn by Jedi - indeed, a plain brown robe over cream or brown tunics is known galaxy-wide as what a Jedi is “supposed” to wear - and golden elements aren’t overly uncommon, wearing red robes is taboo, due to association with the Sith. For this reason, dark orange is also best avoided.
Visibly repaired (patched, ragged, re-stitched, etc) robes, when not worn out of necessity, indicate a Jedi who is primarily devoted to alleviating social inequality.
Jedi who wear animal fur, pelts or skins, and are not from a species or heritage that values the use of animal products (e.g., Togruta or Trandoshan Jedi), are animal specialists, training, befriending, and working alongside any animal from acklays to gundarks to zeldrake.
Many Jedi healers wear the medical emblem in an easy-to-see location on their upper sleeves.
Jedi stationed on Coruscant or Tython often incorporate gold-coloured elements into their robes.
“Mismatched” robes, with each clothing element being of a different material, in a different style, and with different motifs, indicates a Jedi whose focus is communication between differing cultures, whether as a diplomat, a translator, or simply someone whose circle of contacts is extremely diverse.
Want to know if a Jedi has just thrown on their current robes to fit what they’re doing today? Look at the boots. If the boots don’t match, they’ve either just switched assignments or this isn’t their usual work. Similarly, a Jedi’s robes should in some way match the style of their lightsaber(s), and if they don’t, they’re not in robes they wear often.
If a Jedi’s robes and lightsaber are black and spiky, that’s probably not a Jedi. Move along, now.
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Chan as both tsundere/yandere
warnings: contains cursing, manipulation, stalking, obsession, mentions of killing & abuse, licking & biting, nicknames, angst, smoking, switch povs, smut, unprotected sex, hair pulling, squirting, creampie, Chan x female reader, reader is secretly a yandere.
I've always felt like I was alone. That there was no one like me. I thought no one understood.
I would do anything for someone to be able to relate to me, just someone to hear me. To see me. To want me as much as I want them. For my presence to be as important to them as they are to me.
Until there was you...
Fuck this job. Same shit everyday. Same basic ass people who have nothing better to do with their lives. All hiding behind a mask while they are all secretly hating their lives. So predictable. I know what their story is just by looking at them. God just one more hour until i get out of this hellhole.
"You got a light?"
I turn my head to a girl standing next to me. A cigarette in her mouth. I nod my head, taking my lighter out of my pocket. I light her cigarette as her eyes look up into mine. She inhales and blows the smoke away from me. "Knew you were a smoker."
She smirks and leans against the wall. I turn my focus to looking at the ground, I can feel her eyes on me. She takes another inhale and continues staring at me. "What's your name?" I look at her, a small upward smile laid on her lips. I ignore her and take my phone out.
"Chan?" I quickly changed my gaze to her. "Do you know me?" She walks towards me, she tilts her head to the side. "So you speak." She smirks again at me. "Nah, the name tag gave it away." I look down at my work shirt, my metal name tag glistening in the sunlight. She blows out another puff and then throws it on the floor. Using her shoe to put it out. My gaze going down to it.
I notice she's wearing black heels with red bottoms. Rich girl? Can’t be, the way she talks is too casual. Her clothes are simple, casual but elegant. A black skirt with a baggy silky top. Like a business woman? Her makeup slightly messy, like she had been crying a bit. Like a broken hearted teen? Her hair half up-half down, perfectly messy. Like if she was going to kick someone’s ass? At a glance she may seem like a normal person, but there’s something about her.
Who are you? Why can’t i figure you out? What makes you so different from the rest? Easy. You acknowledge my existence. You make the effort to figure me out. You’re interested in me. Which makes me wonder, are you who I’ve been waiting for?
“Woah. Are you checking me out?” My gaze quickly snaps up to her. “Sorry what?” I say confused. She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrow. “So staring intently across my body isn’t checking me out?” I shake my head no, “I wasn’t.” She nods her head, although it seems she doesn’t believe me.
“You are interesting.” She giggles a bit, turning her body to leave. “See you around, Chan.” She waves her hand bye as I watch her disappear around the corner. Now you, are worth my time.
~
It’s been a couple days since I last saw her. I didn’t even get to ask for her name. All proof of her that she actually exists is just my lighter. It remains untouched from when I used it for her. When I think back on her, her presence. The smell of cherries and smoke illuminating around me. Her glossy lips and perfect eyes, smudged eyeliner just a bit. The confidence plastered on her body language. And yet, I don’t know who you are. What kind of person she is. That’s what I like about you. The unpredictability of you.
I could drown in you. I would go to the ends of the earth for you. Even if I could just have you fue a second. My life would be fulfilled. You are all I want. All I need.
“Excuse me, do you work here?” I know this voice. I turn around to my eyes meeting with hers. Those eyes. A smile gleaming on her lips. My breath is taken away. “Is that a yes orrr?” I nod my head. I can’t bring myself to form words, even though I really want to. She lets out a light laugh, she leans on the table dividing us lightly. “What do you recommend? I’ve never been here before.”
Right. This boring little coffee shop which I call a job. Or a hellhole.
"Well what do you prefer? Sweet, savory, or strong drinks?"
She flashes a big smile to me. "Surprise me." She slid me some money on the table. I grab it and I hand her the change. Our fingers lightly graze past each other. She feels soft. She turns and leaves to sit at a table. I go to make her order.
Once i finish, i turn around to bring it to her. She's reading a book. 'Fruits basket.' She has her pen in her mouth, chewing on the end. Lips curve up into a smile, her eyes twinkling as they move as she reads. Her leg crossed over the other, bouncing up and down happily. Her eyes flicker up to me, curious. She puts her book down, "Is that for me?"
I walk over and place it in front of her. She immediately grabs it and brings it up to lips. Taking a big sip and her eyes twinkled up at me. "Perfect." She sits back in her chair. Our eyes make eye contact for a couple seconds. I look away looking at her book again.
"You want to be seen. You want to be wanted. You want someone to understand you."
My eyes shoot to look at her again. "What did you just say?" She nods her head towards the book. “Kyo. The main character. Thats what he needed. What he longed for the most.” She stands up and gathers her stuff. “You remind me of him, you know?” She lightly touches my hair. My hearts beating fast now. Once again, I smell her cherry aura but this time there’s no smoke smell. She smiles and walks away, out the cafe. My body not moving as I feel shocked.
Shit. I forget to ask her name again. Crap. I sigh and look at the table she was sitting at. Then noticing a piece of paper. I walk towards it and pick it up.
Thanks for the drink. It’s my favorite. -y/n(First and last).
….
Y/n. So that’s your name. It suits you. It’s the only thing that really matches you. You’re hard to figure out. But now a name, I can find out.
Luckily thanks to new advances on the internet. Finding a girl like you would be easy. Immediately you pop up. Not much to your social media. The occasional selfies and pics with friends. Just exactly who are you?
What is it about you that is so fascinating? That has me hooked?
Now scrolling through your following to discover you follow a publishing company. To find that you wrote a book. Sold many in fact. A writer. That's who you are.
That's why you were so keen to read your book. How you're so free to flow with anyone. Connecting to everyone you meet with just a look. How you were so easy to read me.
But you don't just connect to anyone. I'm different. You like me. You will be mine. Just you wait.
~
I was crossing the street when I noticed you standing in front of me. Is this fate? How could we meet like this without even trying?
I decided I should follow you.. Just to make sure you're safe. That no one hurts you.
A little while later, we arrived at your apartment. You live on the top floor. It has a balcony which you like to read on. Drink coffee in the mornings and watch the people pass by.
But most importantly, you like people to watch. To watch your stupid hookups. Those men who can never treat you like I can. Who always leave you unsatisfied. Which after they leave you have to pleasure yourself.
Once you're mine, you'll never have to do that. I promise you that.
~
One night, I was watching as yet another guy came onto you. But this time you pushed him off. He was angry. He began to try to grab you. You are pushing him off with all your strength. He then slaps you which brings you to the floor. He seems to apologize but you get back up. Managing you to kick him out of your place as you shut the door in his face.
I will make sure he will never hurt you again. That will be the last thing he will ever do. I slide out the knife from my pocket as I follow this man home..
~
One night, you've left. To a friends house or whatever. But you've left your window open. Through the side of your building, there's a fence that grows up to your balcony. Perfect to crawl into at night. I take the chance to explore.
To really figure you out and how you live. I crawled in successfully. To find your life portrayed everywhere. Your bed. Clothes. Which I couldn't help but sneak a pair of one of your panties. It smells like you.
You've left papers scattered on your coffee table. Which I couldn't help but take a peek at. To find that you're writing another book. But this character sounds too familiar. It's about me.
How dirty you are, y/n. You've written fantasies about me. How you wish my hands were on your body. My lips on yours. How every guy you encounter in your bed, you wished I was there.
Your wish will soon be answered my love.
~
"Come on let's gooo." My little sister Hannah begs me. I glare at her. "Just why should I?"
"Because it'll be a chance for you to leave the house. Plus there will be many girls there." She is slowly getting on my nerves. I don't want any girls. No one besides you. You are the only girl for me.
"Please?" She gets on her knees and shoots me puppy dog eyes. "Fine." She gets up and squeals. "Omgggg thank youu." She hugs me and runs to her room to get ready.
Guess I'll have to get ready now.
~
As soon as we get to the party, Hannah ditches me. Hope she doesn't get herself in trouble. I walk over to what seems to be drinks. A mysterious punch, hope it won't make me pass out. Then, a girl taps my shoulder.
"Hey. wanna dance?" This girl says slurring her words. "Not interested." She attempts to grab my arm but I pull away before she does. "Get lost." She makes a poutty face and runs away looking like she's gonna cry. I roll my eyes and take a sip of the drink. I spit it back in the cup from how strong it is.
"Strong, huh." I look up to meet your eyes. It's you.
~Thanks to the glorious internet, earlier you posted about a party. This party. I knew i couldn't miss this opportunity. The opportunity to see you. ~
"Pretty intense scene earlier. The girl doesn't know how to keep her hands to herself." I watch as you take a sip from your drink. "You saw that?" I say as I rub the back of my neck.
"Was about to come throw hands with her if she didn't take her hands off you." I tilt my head to the side. "What's it to you. I'm a grown man. I could do whatever I want with other girls."
She smirks at me. "Really? Well I'm a grown woman with needs. And my needs tell me that I want you." She comes closer to me, putting her hands around my neck. Our lips inches away. "Would you like that, pretty boy?" Her thumb rubs across my bottom lip.
My heart starts to race in my chest, so much that I think it'll pop out soon. She moves my head to the side to whisper in my ear. "I've been watching you, watching me. Mr. Stalker." She licks my earlobe teasingly.
My body freezes. Does she know? How did she figure it out easily? She backs away and laughs. "Jeez. calm down, Chan. I was only kidding." My name sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.
I try to laugh it off, trying my best not to seem scared or awkward. You smile at me and look around. "Wanna get out of here?"
~
A part of me feels bad for leaving Hannah there but I called my mom to pick her up.
y/n is more important than her right now. And she invited me to her house. Which we are currently standing in front of.
"Home sweet home." She says as she unlocks and opens her front door. She closes the door behind us as she sits on her couch. She looks over at me and pats down the spot next to her. Motioning for me to sit next to her.
"Want a drink?" I nod my head as she gets up to go to the kitchen. "Oh Chan, can you get me a towel from my bathroom?" She yells from the kitchen as I hear clutter. "Yeah, sure." I say and walk down the hallway to her bathroom. I pick u a towel she has laying there.
Until.. the realization hits. She never told me where the bathroom was. I look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are wide as I see myself breathing hard. I walk slowly back toe the living room.
She's sitting on the chair facing me with a cigarette in her mouth.
"Caught you."
~~
From the first day you saw him. A tall, fit dude minding his business. You knew who exactly he was. Took you no time to figure him out. A smoker? Let's find out.
Your first meet. It revealed that he would be interested in you after. but he'll need a little push at times. Which you'll gladly do.
You planned everything perfectly. Making sure your social media was up to date. So he'll know exactly who you are and what you do. But keeping it a secret that you know he watches you.
The first time you noticed was when you were walking home. You had originally planned to follow him, but when you saw him. You couldn't pass up the opportunity to have him follow you. To know where you live.
Now that he knows where you live, you can't help but tease him a little. Fucking men in front of the window knowing he's watching. Leaving the window open for him to crawl inside. Which you pretended to leave and watched him from afar. Watched him crawl inside your house and get to know what it's like from inside.
You had made sure to write those stories about him so he could read them. So that he knows how badly you want him as he wants you.
But not everything was planned. Certainly you getting slapped by that lowlife wasn't planned. But you knew Chan was watching. You knew that he would take care of it. Which he did once you found out that lowlife went missing. My protector.
You knew he was going to be at that party if you were going. You made sure of it by posting it. When you finally saw him again. Your heart was going to burst out of your chest. That dirty girl had no right to put her hands on him. you wanted to rip her head off. But he handled it.
you couldn't help but tease him a bit. Him freezing on the spot was entertaining to watch. Your plan was going perfectly. Now you invited him to your house, which will be the ultimate test.
Which he made the mistake of going to your bathroom, which you knew that you never told him about.
~~
She smirks at me. Holy shit. She knew.
"My sweet Chan." She puts out her cigarette in the cup of wine. She walks close to me. She places her hands on my cheeks.
"we were made for each other Chan." Her eyes shine into mine. A thousand stars in her eyes. "You protected me. You ended that lowlife for me. I love you for that.. Do you love me Chan?"
“There’s not a thing in world, that I wouldn’t do for you.” She smiles big at me. "I love you y/n."
"good." She leans in, our lips finally connecting at last. My arms wrapping around her waist. Our tongues colliding and mixing our tastes together. She's so addicting. She wraps her legs around me.
I take her to the bedroom and lay her down. Not breaking the kiss in the slightest. She breaks free one of her hands to palm me through my pants. I groan in her mouth.
"I need you so bad Chan." She mumbles against my lips. Lord have mercy. This woman will be the death of me. ~
You feel him get hard under your hand. His breaths become harsh as he attempts to keep kissing you. You unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants as you sneak your hand into his boxers. Feeling his warm length as you rub him up and down.
He whimpers out. “Fuck y/n.” His eyes roll back as you continue stroking him. “Tell me how good it feels.” His head drops to your neck. “It’s feels so good y/n. Please don’t stop.” He whimpers out again. You take the opportunity to flip him on his back.
He watches you pull down his boxers and pants down. You lean over and kiss him again as you stroke him. His muffled whimpers and groans are starting to get you woozy. Making you feel butterflies in your crotch area. “Fuck Chan I can’t anymore.”
He looks at you confused as you move your body directly above his length. Little does he not know that you choose not to wear any underwear under your skirt. Letting easy access for you to sink into him. Without warning you sink down on him. Your head falls back as your mouth falls open.
He lets out a loud groan as he fills you up. “Fuck fuck fuck y/n!” You don’t care. You start to ride him letting your pleasure take over. Your clit lightly gliding against him as your legs start to tremble lightly. He fills you up so good and you can’t get enough. He places his hands on your waist to help you grind. His moans are heavenly.
This whole situation is everything you wished for. He is everything you wished for. He rips off your shirt as you continue grinding on him. You immediately grab his hands and place them on your tits. Craving his touch. He gladly obeys and pulls you bra down to tease your nipples. You let out a high pitched moan as he pinched them.
A noise like that has never left your mouth before. You start to slow your pace down as you start to get tired. He notices and switches you around. Now he’s on top and your on your knees. He succeeds in rubbing off your skirt. Leaving you only in your bra now. He pushes your head down on the bed as he starts to pound into you. The pleasure starts to get to much and you try to move away from him.
Earning a small smack on your ass from him. “Uh uh you started this. Take it.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs on it. Moans and whimpers are all that is leaving your mouth. Your legs start to tremble as you can feel your high coming.
“Chan.. don’t stop please.” There was no way he was gonna stop. Seeing your legs tremble because of him was making him feel like god. Providing you pleasure none of those other guys could. Your pussy on his cock was heaven to him.
You feel the knot in your tummy get tighter and tighter. Finally seeing the end as you start to lose control of your body. One more thrust from him and it was over. You feel your liquids shoot out of you and your body goes numb. You slowly come down as you feel him about to reach his high too.
You grab onto his hand and look back at him. “Cum inside me Chan.” You shoot your iconic eyes at him as he keeps the eye contact. His mouth opens wide as you feel him shoot his load inside you. He pulls out slowly and watches his cub drip out of your pussy.
“Holy shit.” You laugh at his comment. He kisses the side of your cheek as he gets up. He grabs a towel and cleans you off. You pull him on top of you and kiss him. “Now you can’t leave.” You tell him.
He looks at you as he caresses your cheek.
“I will never leave you.”
~
I had always thought that there was no one like me. That no one understood me. Until you, you were exactly like me..
Taglist: @kitakirasstuff @jdopes-recorder @midsoulz @queenmea604 @hyunsungbased @moasworld
a/n: hiii everyoneee. I hope you all enjoyed reading the first fic to this new series. I will start to write the new fic today and should upload it soon . mwah bye now!
#stray kids#stray kids stay#stray kids imagines#stray kids series#straykids hard hours#stray kids smut#skz scenarios#straykids smut#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz smut#skz#bang chan#bang chan smut#skz bang chan#bang chris
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The Odd Couples
Hi, tumblrs! I’m back with yet another AU of one of my favorite AUs: it’s the DC gang, paired differently.
(I know I haven’t written anything DC AU-related in a long ass five minutes, and I swear Chapter 6 of the original series is practically ready to post, just needs a deep-dive edit)
So, this story is the product of two separate ideas: First, what if I hadn’t followed canon/fanon/personal head canons when pairing the couples up/off? And the second idea comes from the What If episode of Friends where that gang ends up with someone different (Phoebe x Ross, Monica x Joey, Rachel x Chandler).
Side note: Using throwback DC crew (Liam, Riley, Max, Leo, Liv, Drake, Madeleine, and Penelope). Also, check out the link to Leo’s shirt (if you make it that far). It’s the Leo-est shirt ever IMHO)
Side Note 2: Mixing the pairings up means I have/will be writing pairings that others write/have written and are generally associated with said writer(s). While I am fully aware that no one owns ships, I realize this is a fandom and strive to be mindful of those who write rareships and respect their pairings.
This is simply my take on my version of these characters when coupled differently in my world.
To those who read over this story in parcels, pieces, and in whole ...THANK YOU!
For those who do read this fic, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you realize.
Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. Microsoft Editor rates this piece as 99% error free.
I’ll be back sooner rather than later with a submission for Hana Lee Appreciation Week, an angsty Driam/Riley love triangle, and some Stormholt.
Song Inspo: Moments We Live For (Acoustic Version), In Paradise
Word Count: 4,099
Pairings: SGL x Olivia; Drake x Madeleine; Leo x Riley B; Max x Penelope
Rating: M for Mature themes
SGL x Liv
Liam Rys tipsily followed Olivia Nervakis into the hotel room, hip-checking the door to shut it while Olivia occasionally paused her steps to turn on table lamps. Her black stiletto heels made no noise against the carpet; however, the swish of her highly starched black and white polka-dotted dress sounded scratchy in the silent room.
“Do you have to turn on every light?” Liam complained as he fastened the deadbolt.
“It’s not every light, and not our electric bill,” his girlfriend responded tartly as she flipped yet another switch.
The couple was in Baltimore for the weekend, attending a costume party thrown by Liv’s employer. There had been a buffet; an open bar; and a prize for the best costume, which Liam and Olivia did not win. Carlos Santiago, a member of the Environmental Services team, and his wife and three children came costumed as The Birds and The Bees and won the prize.
Liam and Liv were The Ricardos: Olivia’s red hair was done up in Lucy’s signature poodle hairstyle, and her dress was a dead ringer for the world’s most famous housewife’s iconic frock. He had wanted to wear a tuxedo and carry a conga drum but settled for Ricky’s purple, polka dot silk smoking jacket with shawl collar, black pants, and black velvet slippers.
“I can’t believe we didn’t win!” Liam muttered beneath his breath as he came behind Olivia, arms encircling her waist; his palms splayed against her flat, toned stomach. She responded by leaning against him, her back pressed against his chest.
“Don’t hate!” she admonished. “With those Korean features and Boston accent, no way were you a convincing Cuban band leader. Besides, you have to admit Carlos had a pretty creative idea.”
“Not more creative than my SOCK GAME! I mean, Liv … you gotta admit, it’s damn good tonight!”
He was wearing black, knee-length socks with red hearts inscribed with “I Love Lucy” scattered all over. Olivia rolled her eyes in exasperation at the mention of his sock game.
This man and his socks! Liam thought his sock game could cure cancer and bring about world peace.
“You’re sock game is great as it always is, darling. But it was a costume contest,” Olivia placated in a soothing tone as his fingers began removing bobby pins from her hair.
She spun around, facing her boyfriend as her hair fell in soft curls that framed her face. Her green eyes twinkled as she pressed a quick kiss against his lips.
“You big, spoiled baby,” she teased. “Wanna smoke, take the edge off? I brought a couple of blunts along.”
He quickly shook his head. “No way am I going to be in BALTIMORE off some loud.”
Olivia grabbed the lapels of Liam’s smoking jacket, pulling him closer to her. The tip of her tongue swiped his lower lip. “Makes sense,” she agreed.
Liam pressed his palms against her ass cheeks; he sang softly in her ear as he swayed his hips against hers.
And life is heaven, you see
'Cause I love Lucy, yes
I love Lucy
And Lucy
Loves me!
“My name’s Liv”, Olivia corrected with a giggle as she gently wriggled out of Liam’s embrace. “C’mon, let’s get ready for bed,” she urged as she headed for the bathroom.
Liam stuck out his tongue at her retreating back before glancing around the room. It was a typical hotel room, nothing really standing out or making it different from any other room.
The door that led to the balcony was all glass with a brass doorknob; the hotel promised a 360◦ view of the city’s famed Harbor from the patio. The couple planned to have breakfast there in the morning.
There was a workstation; a large, wall-mounted television; coffee maker and microwave; and the bed: queen-sized, four-poster, and centered against the back wall.
His eyes widened when he saw the wall to the side of the bed. It was covered floor to ceiling, and side to side with a … mirror.
Well, that was different.
Liam approached the bed, kicking off his slippers as he went; he stared curiously at his reflection before climbing atop the bed and resting on his haunches. He then lay on his back, turning his head to continue staring at his reflection.
He impatiently pushed his hair off his forehead before rolling over onto his stomach; pressing his palms against the bedcovers, Liam pushed himself up with his arms, still watching himself. He imagined Liv beneath him, her pale legs scissored across his back as they watched themselves.
This could be fun.
“LIVVY!” he yelled excitedly over the sound of water running in the sink. “There’s a MIRROR! On the WALL! By the BED!”
The water turned off; Olivia sauntered into the room; her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, damp ends of her hair curling, and wearing a red lace bra with matching panties. A sultry smirk curved her lips.
Liam caught sight of her in the mirror’s reflection, and visibly gulped. Liv only wore matching underwear when they were going to have sex.
“Ai yi yi yi”, he muttered as he bounded off the bed and hastily divested himself of the smoking jacket.
Olivia was now standing directly in front of Liam; after guiding him to the other side of the bed, directly against the wall so he could see them both in the mirror, her red-tipped fingernails trailed a path from his throat to his belt buckle before unfastening the belt. She slid to her knees, pulling the pants zipper down with her teeth. Her eyes looked up at Liam.
“Care to hear me do some ‘splaining?” she purred as her hand reached inside the opening and pulled his cock out.
Liam never answered; he was too busy staring at Liv’s reflection as her mouth swallowed his manhood.
Drake x Madeleine
“Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue,” Madeleine demanded.
Drake’s chocolate brown eyes stared up at her before raking over her body, his gaze settling on her chest. “Take off your shirt,” he countered.
Madeleine exhaled a frustrated sigh that fluttered her bangs as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Damnit, Drake! You’re sick, and I need to take your temperature to make sure the meds are working.”
Quickly covering his mouth, Drake Walker let out a series of deep, wet coughs that rattled the congestion in his chest.
“They aren't”, he rasped as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Tits would help. For sure.”
With a horrified look, Madeleine hastily grabbed and thrusted a bottle of hand sanitizer in his face. “WIPE!”
Rolling his eyes, Drake took the bottle; he then complied with his girlfriend’s first request. He slathered the disinfectant over his hands while Madeleine inserted a thermometer under his tongue.
His temperature was 102◦; two degrees lower than it had been three hours ago. Uneasy relief washed over Madeleine’s features.
“You should take the meds on a full stomach. You hungry?”
Drake turned onto his side, adjusting the pillows beneath his head as he did so. “Not really, but we both know you’re gonna harp on it until I give in. I think I have some canned soup in one of the kitchen cabinets.”
Madeleine nodded absently as she stepped into the bathroom to run the instrument under hot water in an attempt to kill the cooties her boyfriend more than likely transferred onto it. She heard Drake’s question when she turned the water off.
“When are you giving up that broom closet you’re living in to move in with me?”
“Don’t start,” Madeleine warned with a shake of her head as she re-entered the bedroom.
“Start what? You’re paying $1300 a month to RENT A ROOM! You could move in here with me and pay HALF that and it would be a whole ass apartment! You could start saving, pay down that credit card debt of yours …”
“I prefer to have my own, Drake!”
Madeleine’s boyfriend rolled his eyes. “You HAVE your own RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW! Clothes! Shoes! Makeup! Oat milk! And if we’re talking preferences, I prefer to wake up with you in my bed every morning. I prefer to glare and glower at you from across the room when we argue instead of sitting on the phone in awkward silence. I prefer to not have to wait for make-up sex!”
Madeleine shifted uncomfortably, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the carpet. Her green eyes peeked up to sneak a glance at Drake, whose bleary eyes stared at her with a mixture of frustration and hopefulness. His fingers idly played in his chest hair.
“Why won’t you just accept this greatness?” he huffed accusingly.
Madeleine rolled her eyes in a here we go again way.
She and Drake were in love with each other. They were the odd couple of the group: The WASP and the Blue-Collar Worker, but they fit each other like a glove. Most of the time.
Cohabitation should have been the next logical step in their relationship.
Madeleine found it nice to come to his U Street apartment after work and find him cooking them dinner while she mixed killer cocktails to help them unwind from their day.
Or for her to be the first one awake and cook them breakfast, making sure to prepare the thick-cut bacon he liked, and brew the dark-roast coffee that was his favorite before sharing morning-breath kisses.
Drake making sure Madeleine had the apricot and cream body wash that cost a small fortune, and high thread count Egyptian cotton towels she insisted upon for her showers.
While their relationship was highly sexual, it was not sexually based. There were debates and discussions covering a gambit from international events and politics to cooking meats with mustard. The only thing they could never agree on was music: Madeleine was a Swiftie, and Drake was 70s rock and country. They shared a love of exercise and the outdoors; weekends usually found them taking day trips to Shenandoah to hike the trails, snacking on the beef jerky Drake loved and Madeleine tolerated.
But people broke up all the time … over the most minute and ridiculous things. And Madeleine knew she could be an anal-retentive pill most of the time. She wasn’t going to be heartbroken and house hunting if things went south with Drake.
Madeleine had been instilled from an early age that God blessed the child that had their own.
“I’m not going to be that chick if we don’t work out," she stated in a small but firm voice as she sat at the foot of the bed; close enough to show support and comfort, far enough away to maybe being in a germ-free zone.
“You’re saying that after I just asked you to move in with me for the 100th time?” Drake huffed before another coughing fit overtook him.
While Drake hacked up a lung, Madeleine looked around the bedroom, wondering if he had any masks around. The couple locked eyes briefly, chocolate fastened on emerald.
“You could dump me at Target or something!” she countered as she alternated between awkwardly patting his back and scooting further away from him.
When the coughing subsided, Drake pointed to the nightstand on Madeleine’s side of the bed.
“Masks. Bottom drawer.”
Drake knew her.
“As for dumping you, you don’t shop at Target; it’d have to be Macy’s.”
So well.
Leo x Riley B.
Leo Rys hefted an oversized, too-full sriracha red snapper taco in both hands before greedily biting into it. He let out a low grunt of satisfaction as flavors and spices exploded over his tongue and crumbles of taco shell fell onto his plate.
Saturday afternoons couldn’t get much better than this: wearing his most comfortable shirt; hanging with his girlfriend Riley Brooks, who was his favorite person in the world; and lunch at his new favorite eatery, Tia Maria Tacos. Bonus: they had scored an upstairs window booth that overlooked the Potomac River.
Normally for the pair, Saturdays were for sleeping in and being lazy; 24 hours of partial nudity and horizontal positions suited them just fine after clocking out of work on a Friday afternoon. Especially if they had worked a full week.
But Riley had been in a funk lately; she had been to five job interviews over the past month; good interviews, where she had been a top-two contender. However, that hadn’t been good enough. Riley had been passed over every time, for each job.
Requests for feedback had not been helpful; hiring managers told her they couldn’t go wrong regardless of who they chose for the position. Riley’s ego was bruised, her esteem low. Despite her having a job that she had worked for the past 10 years ... a job she did damn well ... she was now comparing herself to Penelope, for Chrissakes.
Leo knew he had to do something, so he planned Date Day.
They began at Lincoln’s Waffle House for breakfast followed by a couples’ massage in Cleveland Park. Riley wanted to visit a tarot shop; Leo was agreeable. They both got readings, and she purchased a deck of tarot cards along with a strand of chakra beads.
From there they went to Georgetown, navigating the crowds and perusing shops. A French bakery was offering a European tea meal; Riley looked at Leo with hopeful eyes that quickly filled with dismay at his emphatic refusal. An hour later, laden with bags from a vintage clothing shop, a sex store, and a spice-filled storefront, they decided they were hungry; Leo suggested tacos.
He took a long swallow from his bottle of beer, his gaze fixed on Riley who had a plate filled key lime shrimp, Korean BBQ, and spicy chicken tacos, along with a serving of nacho fries. She felt his gaze and looked up to smile at him before taking a healthy bite of the shrimp taco.
Her eyes widened with surprise before closing in bliss.
“Hmmmmmm, this is soooooo good, Leo! I mean, it ain’t Chinese food but still like, hella good! Thank you for suggesting this place!” she said around a mouthful of food.
“Anytime, boo,” he replied with a wink as he reached into her plate for fries covered in nacho cheese and seasoned ground beef.
“And thank you for cheering me up today. It’s the reminder I needed that the Universe is just doing what it does, and all those hiring managers are just bitches and heifers.”
Leo dragged his fork through seasoned beans and rice. “They weren’t the jobs for you,” he assured her. “YOU are smart, funny, kind, and the greatest asset any person or job can have, and the right organization will recognize that. Not to mention you’re fucking gorgeous, and do you have any idea how hot you are?”
Riley bit into the spicy chicken taco, and quickly took a sip of her Sierra Mist with lemon. She nodded at Leo. “How hot I am? Yeah, I know ... and the answer is not very.”
Leo chuckled as he shook his head. This woman.
He and Riley were the couple that were never supposed to be. Both had had extremely bad luck with love, resulting in deeply rooted trust issues; the issues were more prevalent on Riley’s end than Leo’s.
They were both ambiverts, which loosely translated meant that there was no guarantee that plans made at 10am would still be in effect at 5pm. And you couldn’t be angry about it.
Physically, neither was the other’s type. Leo was a touch too lanky and fit for the buxom Riley; for Leo, Riley had a few too many inches in height, and was a tad curvier than he was used to. They met via Tinder, and it was supposed to be a one-night stand.
But their chemistry was off the charts.
But the sex was too good.
But their pillow talk left them curious to know more about each other while fully clothed.
Long story short … she kept him wild, and he kept her safe.
Before Leo could reassure his girlfriend that she was indeed VERY hot, her eyes trained on someone at a table near the back wall; they narrowed in anger as she tossed her food onto her plate while muttering, “What the actual FUCK?”
Leo looked around puzzled, wondering WHO happened. Because with Riley, it was never a what. If he could change two things about his woman, it would be her incredible grudge-holding talents and her penchant for public confrontation.
Only one table in the far corner was occupied. A Latina, facing them, was excitedly showing off one of her purchases to her male companion; Leo squinted, determining that the girl was proudly displaying a pair of earrings.
He swung back around, a look of confusion on his face. “Who are we hating on here?”
Riley dramatically pointed her index finger at the Latina. “HER! She told me I was a SHOO-IN for that freaking job!! AND THEN WENT WITH SOMEONE ELSE!”
Leo looked even more confused. “Which job? There were five of them!”
Riley didn’t answer. She was too busy scowling at the woman across the room while alternating between shaking her fist and making symbols with her fingers.
“Babe, what are you doing?”
“Throwing gang signs!”
“DC DOESN’T HAVE GANGS!” Leo argued.
“IT DOES NOW!!”
So much for a peaceful outing and letting the Universe do its thing.
Maxwell x Penelope
“I cannot believe you right now, Pen!” Maxwell Beaumont seethed as he rubbed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes.
The Communications and Marketing Director inhaled and exhaled deeply, slowly. It was rare that anyone or anything upset Maxwell, much less angered him; but if anyone could knock him off his equilibrium, for certain it was his girlfriend, Penelope.
His girlfriend stared at him with her wide, pansy-blue eyes before quickly licking her pink-glossed lips. She ran slender, pale fingers through her black hair, then tightened the belt of her pink silk robe. Penelope outstretched her arm, her fingertips grazing the fabric of her boyfriend’s shirt; at his look of frustrated rage, she quickly pulled her hand back.
“Max,” she began in her breathy voice, “I know you’re upset with me, but I HAD to leave that godawful job! The commute sucked and who knew data entry was so … exacting? It’s a miracle I lasted as long as I did!”
By the time she finished her explanation, her hands were gesticulating wildly about, and her tone of voice had become a shriek.
Maxwell turned his back on Penelope to go into their kitchen; still hot Italian food sat on the stove, wrapped in plastic bags. He hollered at her while he began unpacking what was supposed to be a celebratory dinner for Penelope’s new job.
“IT WAS A TELEWORK POSITION! That you were LATE for BOTH DAYS you worked! And it was MAIL MERGE, NOT DATA ENTRY!” He turned to glare daggers at her. “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact you put forth entirely ZERO effort into at least TRYING to become a member of the working class, or that you lied to me the entire week about still having the damn job!”
An angry retort sprang to her lips; Penelope debated continuing the argument but thought better of it. She had known the lie would catch up with her, but she had been hoping it would have been after the dinner. Carmine’s had the most amazing food, and Penelope was in love with their broiled Lobster Oreganata, Porterhouse Pizzaiola, and pasta with meatballs and sausage.
With Maxwell’s back facing her, Penelope quietly tiptoed into the kitchen, trying to neither be seen nor heard. She peered over her potentially ex-boyfriend's shoulder, salivating at the sight and smells of containers filled with pastas, meats, and sauces.
Maxwell felt his girlfriend’s eyes on him and exhaled a silent breath. He should have known from their first meeting that Penelope was not relationship material.
They met at 9:30am on the elevator at the office building Max worked in; it was Penelope’s first day at a company occupying the entire third floor. At 11am, Max was back on the elevator hellbent on a Starbucks run; the elevator stopped at the third floor and Penelope entered, her blue eyes filled with tears.
She had been let go from her new job in less than 90 minutes.
Max was a sucker for a damsel in distress. He dried Penelope’s tears, treated her to a coffee, and offered to take her out on a date. That had been over two years ago, and if the woman had worked a cumulative 40-hour work week since, he knew nothing about it.
He had asked the gang if their companies were hiring; Liam laughed so hard, his drink came out of his nose. Riley, who worked with Max, rolled her eyes as she muttered, “You already know.” Everyone else shook their heads vigorously.
For a brief period, he had even let her be a stay-at-home girlfriend, but that definitely didn’t work out; Penelope couldn’t cook and had no concept of housekeeping. He had to pull from his savings to replace his wardrobe when she tossed his lights, darks and half a bottle of bleach into the washing machine. She was asleep when he left for work, and asleep when he returned home.
Irresponsible was too inadequate of a word to describe his girlfriend. She was a money pit in addition to being careless, thoughtless, and an emotional vampire.
But Maxwell Beaumont loved Penelope Ebrim. She could be sweet, buying him small gifts that brought a smile to his face. She mixed mean cocktails, had a killer sense of humor, and was a terrific dancer. She just needed to find her way.
Apparently, God had chosen Max to help her do so.
“Pen, you have GOT to find and keep a job!” Max stated in a firm tone that brooked no argument as he prepared her a plate of lobster, pasta with garlic and oil, and shrimp parmigiana.
When Penelope saw Maxwell piling a plate with Italian yumminess, she had moved to the cabinets to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses. She was setting them on the dinette table as she debated coming clean in her reply.
“I may have found something; I’m supposed to have an interview Monday.”
Max set the serving spoon down as be swung his head to look at his girlfriend in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“I was waiting until afterwards so I could surprise you!” Penelope crowed happily.
“Well, where? With who?” Max’s smile covered his entire face as he resumed plating food.
Maybe things were looking up.
Penelope expertly removed the wine bottle’s cork and began pouring sparkling merlot into the glasses.
“The interview is at The Greene Turtle, and it’s with a temp agency called Daddy’s Little Girl. Basically, I would be having lunches and meetings at hotels with older men for an hourly rate.”
Maxwell had plates in both hands, which he slowly lowered onto the kitchen counter; his every movement displayed his disbelief. There was no way his girlfriend had applied for a job as an escort.
No.Way.
“You’re going to be a prostitute?” he choked out.
Penelope had just taken her seat. She looked up at Maxwell in horror at his words.
“NO!! Why would you say THAT? How could you even THINK THAT of me??’ It’s like lunch meetings or something!”
“NAKED LUNCH! Pen, NO ONE is paying a woman … a PRETTY WOMAN … to just “have lunch”!! And meetings in HOTEL ROOMS? What the ACTUAL fuck?”
“It’s working lunches, sometimes dinners, with out-of-town business entrepreneurs who need someone to take dictation!”
Max’s face dropped into his open palm.
“The going rate is $150 an hour! I was told with my looks and appearance, I could be in huge demand,” Penelope argued.
“WHEN DID THEY SEE YOU?” Max yelled as he threateningly shook a plastic spatula in Penelope’s direction.
“I saw the ad on Craigslist and called the number in the listing, then did a Zoom with the manager.”
Maxwell Beaumont stared at his girlfriend for a long, silent moment before exiting the kitchen and heading for their bedroom.
“MAX! Where are you going??”
“To have a talk with God.”
Penelope stared at his retreating back with a furrowed brow before shrugging and rising to fetch her dinner.
“Tell Him I said heyyyy.”
Max’s response was to slam the bedroom door.
Tagging: @ao719 @jared2612 @marietrinmimi @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @mom2000aggie @liamxs-world @liamrhysstalker2020 @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet @busywoman @beezm @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @gardeningourmet @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890 @lovingchoices14 @lady-calypso @walkerdrakewalker @queenjilian @kristinamae093 @choicesficwriterscreations
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@ellinorosterberg sent me a request to fill ❤️ The request was the brothers performing CPR and liking it a little too much
I wrote two different scenarios: A silly one and an angsty one
this is the silly one (AO3 link)
The world around them fizzles and shifts and Dean finds himself standing barefoot in the sand, wearing a pair of bright red swim shorts. He looks around. They’re at a beach, people around him splashing around or lounging on bright beach towels. Squinting against the light, he catches sight of something he wouldn’t mind having a closer look at. A Pamela Anderson lookalike walking straight towards him, wavy blonde hair, black one-piece, chest bouncing rhythmically with every step.
“Well, finally some quality entertainment, eh, Sammy?” He turns to the empty space next to him.
“Sammy?”
The lady in the one piece shrieks, pointing at the water.
“On my god, somebody’s drowning! Is there a lifeguard nearby?”
Dean sighs. That must be his cue.
He only barely manages to wrestle Sam’s gargantuan body back to land, which is even more unwielding now that he´s unconscious. Dean’s not too worried. As far as he remembers, it´s usually the lifeguards that drowned on Baywatch, and he made it back in one piece. Once they reach land, Dean rolls Sam on his side. He excepts him to start coughing up water, but Sam´s not moving at all. Putting his fingers under his nose, Dean discovers he isn’t breathing either.
“Does anyone know CPR?” Someone in the gathering crowd yells, as if cluing Dean in on his next move. It cuts through his building panic and he locks eyes with the woman from before. He shoots her a dirty look, before turning his attention back to Sam.
Flopping Sam on his back, he puts his palms between those massive tits of him, but his wet hands keep slipping towards his throat every time he puts pressure on them. Dean switches approach.
He swings a leg over Sam to get a better angle, sand kicking up everywhere and starts compressions properly. Or at least what passes as properly on TV. He’s not too eager to actually break bones.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.” The Bee Gee’s sing in his head to keep the right beat. After each minute, Dean bends down, pressing his mouth to Sam’s, pinching his nose closed while he blows air back into his lungs. His skin is salty from the sea and slightly cold. A pleasant contrast with the hot sun beating down on his back. He feels Sam’s chest rise, and pulls back in anticipation, yet it deflates and lies still again when he pulls back.
Dean starts up a new cycle.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive.” He repeats it out loud to keep his mind from asking if this is how this ends. After everything they’ve been through, Sam dying on Baywatch. The world’s unfunniest joke.
He bends down again, pressing his hands against Sam’s cheeks and blows. There’s a slight gurgling in the back of Sam’s throat. He blows in again and Sam lurches, almost head-butting Dean in the process. He moves out of the way and breathes out, relieved, while Sam hacks his lungs up into the sand.
“Why are you on top of me?” Sam asks once he’s caught his breath enough to form words again. His cheeks are flushed from the exertion.
“I was saving your life. You’re welcome, by the way.” Dean says, sitting up on Sam’s hips.
Sam’s eyes flick down.
“Uh huh. Saving my life.” He repeats bemused. Dean follows his line of sight, landing on his awkwardly crumpled swim suit. He feels embarrassment creeping him from his neck to his face, burning hotter than the sun.
“Oh, don’t be gross. It was the excitement, the friction, and stuff.” He scrambles to get off of Sam, pushing at him, while his feet struggle to find purchase in the sand. He lands awkwardly back in Sam’s lap.
Dean freezes.
He slowly turns his gaze to Sam, who’s doing everything to avoid eyecontact. He starts to subtly scramble out from under Dean before the latter gets the bright idea of opening his mouth.
Unfortunately for Sam, tha's exactly what he does.
“So what’s your excuse then?” Dean asks slowly, his eyebrow travelling up in apprehensive amusement.
“Oh, you know.” Sam sniffles, “Friction, and stuff.”
“Oh ho ho, if I’d known we were gonna get the Sleeping Beauty experience I would’ve conjured up something more romantic.” A voice from the crowd shuts them up. Just as Dean looks up and spots the busty blonde again, her face morphs into that of the trickster’s.
That image is definitely going to come back in his nightmares.
“You did this!” He growls, staring daggers at him, while trying to make a dignified yet quick exit out of Sam’s lap.
“I might have changed the setting, but whatever’s happening in those tight swim trunks of yours is a 100% you, au naturel, baby.”
Dean charges to lunge. He can’t kill him, but at the very least he could get one satisfying punch in.
The trickster sidesteps the attack with ease and snaps his fingers.
The world fizzles and shifts.
#Thank you for the request!#red writes#wincest#fanfic#CPR#for context this is set during changing channels
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Chapter 21: The Tickle Community Flags
Luigi and Mario head home from their dinner with their family. Mario learns about the tickle community flags, while Luigi learns how to be honest about what tickles he desires.
They are back! This fanfic will talk a slight bit about the fetish community, but only about the flags. And I promise that this time, Luigi doesn't have an opinion on the whole thing. He's just neutral, and that's how it'll stay. I hope you enjoy.
After they got home, Mario and Luigi plopped themselves onto the couch for a few moments. “Gosh…What a night…” Mario muttered breathlessly.
Strangely enough, Luigi didn’t respond to his brother. In fact, the only answer Mario got from his brother was pre-recorded laughter coming from Luigi’s phone.
Mario turned to look at Luigi, immediately recognizing the laughter. He leaned in to look at the video, and started laughing softly as he watched the funny video of Uncle Arthur and Uncle Tony tickling the hell out of their Papa. “I always knew Papa was ticklish, but…not this ticklish.” Mario added.
Luigi giggled. “I know, right?! Makes me wanna get him back for all those years of him playing the tickle monster.” Luigi admitted.
Mario chuckled. “I might just offer to help you.” Mario added.
Luigi looked at Mario with surprise. “Wait, really?!” Luigi reacted.
“Well, yeah. Revenge was bound to happen eventually, right?” Mario added.
Luigi chuckled. “True…”
Mario turned to look at Luigi. “You said you had flags to show me?” Mario asked.
Luigi nodded and hummed, pulling up the picture for the ticklee flag. “This was the flag I was gonna show you first.” Luigi admitted as he showed his phone to Mario.
Mario looked at the picture and smiled. “Usually the colors mean something. What do they mean?” Mario asked.
Luigi chuckled and looked at Mario. “The dark blue and turquoise colors are supposed to represent trust and security.” He said. “I don’t know which represents which, but I do know for sure that the yellow line in the middle represents laughter.” Luigi added, pointing to the yellow stripe in the middle.
Mario nodded and smiled as he scrolled down. “What about red and pink?” Mario asked.
“The red and pink and yellow flag is the tickler flag. I think the red represents excitement, and the pink represents playfulness.” Luigi admitted.
And the blue, turquoise, yellow, pink and red flag represents switches?” Mario asked with a smirk.
“Y-Yes.” Luigi replied.
Mario smiled and pointed to the Tumblr. “Who’s @your-fav-loves-tickles?” Mario asked.
“Oh! They came up with the flags. They also used to upload these pictures of characters with their respective flags on it, stating that ‘this character is a [blank]’.” Luigi explained. “For example: “Freddy Fazbear is a lee.” Luigi explained.
“Is that confirmed?” Mario asked.
Luigi shrugged his shoulders. “I think Tumblr deleted their account, sadly…” Luigi admitted.
Mario clicked his tongue. “That sucks…” Mario muttered.
“But the flag post has been reblogged so much through the community, that…no one has forgotten the creator.” Luigi added. “We can’t open their Tumblr anymore, but we know their name.” Luigi mentioned.
Mario smiled and clicked the back button on Google, and tilted his head when he saw them. “Is this…” Mario turned Luigi’s phone to show him the light purple and dark purple striped flag with feathers on it. And beside it, was a dark blue and black striped flag with red feathers on it.
Luigi hummed. “Right, that’s the tickle fetish flag.” Luigi replied.
Mario hummed. “Fetish flag?” Mario asked. Luigi nodded his head. “Yup. Some people like tickling for different reasons. Some people like it for innocent reasons, some people like it for sexual reasons.” Luigi explained. “And some people like it for both.” Luigi explained.
Mario looked at the flags. “So these lee, ler and switch flags don’t represent both sides?” Mario asked.
“Nope. The NSFW side has its own set of flags.” Luigi told him.
Mario nodded his head and looked up [tickle flag] on his own phone. “Which flag do you go by?” Mario asked.
“The switch flag.” Luigi replied. “What about you?” Luigi asked with a smile.
Mario looked up at Luigi. “I’m not really part of the community.” Mario admitted.
“But you’re an ally.” Luigi added.
Mario chuckled. “I guess…but…” Mario muttered.
Luigi smiled. “That counts, Mario. Just like with the LGBTQ+ community, we need ally’s just as much as we need members.” Luigi told him. “In fact, in this community, we’re in dire need of ally’s.” Luigi added.
Mario smiled and clicked something on his screen. “Switch flag: printed.” Mario said as he got up.
Luigi watched as Mario got up off the couch. “Printed?? For what?” Luigi asked.
Mario smiled. “For representation.” Mario told him. “You deserve a tickle pride flag on your wall.” Mario told him.
Luigi smiled brightly and got up off the couch. He ran to the kitchen, grabbed the scissors and removed some pieces of tape while Mario took the paper off the printer and cut out the switch pride flag. Placing it upside down in front of his brother, Luigi rolled the tape pieces up and placed the tape pieces onto the back of the paper, before putting the paper flag up onto the wall. “There.” Luigi said, smiling as he looked at the wall.
“It’s perfect.” Mario said with a smile. “But…One more thing:” Mario taped something else up on the wall. “There. Now it’s perfect.” Mario said before crossing his arms.
Luigi looked at the wall and blushed deeply upon seeing it…It was the purple feather from back when they were at the daycare. Luigi sighed and rubbed his arm as a wobbly smile grew onto his face.
Mario giggled. “Did I put you in a lee mood?” Mario asked.
Luigi whined and covered his mouth. “Noooo.” Luigi muttered.
Mario smirked and leaned in. “You wouldn’t happen to be lying now…would you?” Mario asked.
Luigi uncovered his right eye using his fingers, and looked down. “.....Maaaybe…” Luigi muttered next.
Mario giggled and wiggled his fingers at him. “Tickle tickle~” he teased.
Luigi squeaked and covered his eyes again, shaking his head. “Nooohohohooo.” Luigi whimpered.
“Tickle tickle tickle~” Mario teased again, bringing his fingers closer to Luigi while wiggling his fingers slightly faster.
Luigi let out a few squeaky giggles and doubled over slightly, bending his knees while he slightly curled himself up like an adorable hedgehog.
“What’s another tease…Oh! Coochy coochy coo~!” Mario teased, poking Luigi’s right side.
Luigi squeaked and uncovered his face, curling away from the finger before giggling from pure bashfulness. “EEEheheheeee! Mahario nooo!” Luigi begged.
“Okay.” Mario replied, stopping. “But what about the ears?” He asked, bringing his hand up to Luigi’s left ear.
Despite the visible need to move away, Luigi pushed through and let Mario’s finger tickle against his ear. “Swirly-swirly-swirly-swirrrrl~” Mario teased.
Luigi let out many squeaky giggles, snorting occasionally. “Heeheeheeheehee! *snort* Nuhuhuhuuuu!” Luigi giggled.
“Ooohoho, but yes!!” Mario then did the unthinkable: He started scratching on the back part of Luigi’s ear…
And Luigi squealed super loudly and curled his neck, before giggling all hysterically. “HAHAHAhahahahaha! Whyhyhy thehehehere?!” Luigi asked, skittering away and holding the back of his ear.
Mario chuckled. “Because someone mentioned they liked being tickled there.” Mario reminded him. “Someone I happen to know very, very well…” he added.
Luigi bit his lip and looked down. The difficult part was…he had a point. He had a big point. He had told Mario on Monday night that he loved ear tickles. And…he was going to either regret saying it, or be thankful for saying it. Or maybe a mix of both…who knows.
Luigi let out a breath. “Okahahahay.” Luigi replied.
Mario stopped tickling. “Okay what? Okay ‘that’s enough’? Or ‘okay I want more’?” Mario asked next.
“The…the second option.” Luigi admitted.
“What was the second option again?” Mario asked, acting completely oblivious.
Luigi whined and audibly groaned. “Mario, Stoooop!” Luigi whined.
“I’m not doing anything! I’m just asking you to clarify what you mean by ‘the second option’.” Mario told him.
Luigi grunted and covered his face. “You suck.” Luigi muttered.
“Like a vacuum?” Mario teased.
Luigi couldn’t stop the laugh that left his mouth. “No, like a leaf blower.” Luigi replied.
Mario laughed a bit at that. “Well, I don’t know how else to explain this: Tell me what you want, and where you want it.” Mario told him.
“Ihi wahahant more tickles…on my ears.” Luigi told him.
“Very well!” Mario walked up and started tickling his right ear gently with his fingers. “Ear tickles coming right up.”
Luigi snorted right away and tilted his head towards the fingers, giggling and showing off his dorky, toothy smile right away. “Ohohoho gohohohosh! Hahahahahaha!” Luigi laughed.
Mario smiled and tickled around the crevices and folds of Luigi’s ears. “Coochy coochy coochy coo, Luigi~!” Mario teased. “Listen to that perfect little Lee-uigi laugh!” Mario teased.
Luigi could feel the warm blush on his face heating up upon hearing that. Baby teases?! AND nicknames?! Why must he do this to him?! What part made him start teasing in this fashion?! Was it the fact that he lied before?! Is his brother looking for an apology from him for lying to him?!
“Yohohohou’re beheheing uhuhunfahahair!” Luigi reacted.
Mario smirked. “Oh I am, am I?” Mario teased.
“Yeheah!” Luigi replied rather confidently considering the circumstances.
Mario shook his head. “If this is unfair…” Mario then laid Luigi down onto the floor and gently placed his hand onto Luigi’s cheek to keep his head turned to the side. With his head effectively immobilized, Mario started dragging his finger very slowly around the folds of his ear. “Then THIS must be SUPER unfair.” Mario added in actuality.
Luigi started wiggling his limbs around and giggling in short spurts as he struggled to cope with such slow, overwhelmingly evil tickles. To make matters worse (or better), Luigi’s head was being held down in a position that limited his movements from the shoulders up. So even if he wanted to shake his head, he just couldn’t. The fact that Mario had the palm of his hand flat against the cheek with his fingers on the facial muscles surrounding the ear…it was something only a skilled tickle community member could possibly come up with. There had to be something he wasn’t telling him. Because no person ever masters a skill in a week! How can someone outside of the community know so many tickle strategies in so little time?!
“Ihihihi’m sohohorryhyhy.” Luigi admitted.
“For what? You didn’t do anything.” Mario asked next.
Luigi looked at him. “Yohou’re not-” Luigi moved Mario’s hand away from his ear. He tried his best to keep talking despite his face being pushed down somewhat. “You’re not mad that I lied to you earlier?” Luigi asked.
Mario tilted his head. “You lied to me? When?” Mario asked, genuinely forgetting. He removed his hand from Luigi’s cheek, letting Luigi turn his head back forward.
“Wh-…” Luigi looked up and bit his lip. “When I said I wasn’t in a lee mood…and then you said ‘are you lying to me’.” Luigi admitted.
Mario chuckled. “No. I’m not mad about that at all.” Mario admitted. “I know that you lie when you want to be tickled.” Mario said. “You…You seriously thought I was gonna be mad at you for that?” Mario asked.
Luigi bit his lip and nodded his head. “If you were mad…then I might get tickled more…” Luigi admitted.
Mario chuckled and closed his eyes as he shook his head with a smile. “Luigi…you wanted ear tickles, right? That’s what I was giving you. Do you want me to continue? Or do you wanna go to bed?” Mario asked him.
Luigi smiled and turned his head to the left side again. “A couple more minutes…then I can go to bed.” Luigi told him.
“Hear you loud and clear!” Mario placed his right hand on Luigi’s right ear. But then, Mario moved Luigi’s head forward so his head was straight. With the head straightened out, Mario placed the left fingers on his left ear and started to skitter. “How about I do both ears this time?” Mario asked.
Luigi jumped and started letting out squeaky giggles with snorts in between. “EEEheeehee! *snort* Ohoho- *snort* Ohohoho gohosh! *snort* Heeheehehehe!” Luigi giggled.
“Which ear tickles more? The right?” Mario tickled the right ear only.
Luigi snorted and covered his mouth instinctively, not wanting Mario to hear his snort. “MMMHMHMHMHmhmhmhmmm!” Luigi let out a muffled whine.
“Hey!” Mario tickled his fingers onto the skin right behind the ear. “No covering up your laugh. You know this.” Mario ordered as he booped his nose.
Luigi squeezed his eyes shut as he uncovered his mouth. “NAHAHAHA!” Luigi cackled. When Mario moved his right fingers back onto the right ear, He went back to calmer laughter. “Hahahahaha! HEheheheheheee!” Luigi giggled.
“Alright, good. What about the left?” Mario asked, tickling his left ear alone with his left hand. “Does the left tickle more?” He asked.
Luigi snorted yet again. “HAhahahahaha! Kihihindahaha? Ihihi thihihink?” Luigi replied.
“I see.” Mario replied.
Luigi did all he could to not cover up his mouth. He didn’t want the secret spot to be tickled again. Not yet, anyway. But when I say it was hard, it was REALLY hard. To the point that Luigi’s laughter sounded slightly strained, and not entirely freeing. And it didn’t take long for Mario to notice this. He stopped his hands. “You look like you’re struggling. Do you want me to keep your hands out of the way for you? Or do you want to be allowed to cover your mouth?” Mario asked.
Luigi looked up at Mario and thought for a moment. “Just…I think I want to cover my mouth.” Luigi admitted.
Mario nodded his head and straightened Luigi’s head. “Let’s give this a try.” Mario told him as he started to flutter his fingers on the ear.
Luigi giggled and started snorting almost right away. “HEhehehehehe- *snort* HAHAhahahaha! *snort* Gahahahahaha-” Luigi finally covered his mouth and continued giggling while muffling them with his hand.
“So cute…” Mario teased. “I can’t wait to tell Peach about this tomorrow.” Mario teased.
Luigi uncovered his mouth. “Wahahahait- Ahahabout whahahahat?” Luigi asked.
“About how adorable you are!” Mario replied.
“Buhuhut- shehehe knohows thahahat.” Luigi replied.
“So you admit it?” Mario asked with a chuckle. “You admit that you’re cute?” Mario clarified.
Luigi whined and covered his face, growing more and more embarrassed. “Mmmhmhmhmhmhmm.” Luigi muffled.
Mario smirked and poked his belly button. “You didn’t answer me.” He told him. Luigi screeched and covered his belly, doubling over and laughing. “You admit that you’re adorable?” Mario asked again, grabbing his shoulder and poking his side repeatedly.
“Nohohoho!” Luigi replied, pushing Mario with his one hand as best he could. “Ihihi’m nohohohot!” Luigi told him.
Mario chuckled and poked Luigi a few more times before stopping. “There. You got your fill for the night?” Mario asked.
Luigi chuckled and nodded his head almost like a shy puppy. “Yeah…” he replied awkwardly.
“Alright. I’m gonna shower and head to bed.” Mario told him.
Luigi nodded and got himself into his PJ’s. “Sounds good.”
While Mario went to get ready for bed, Luigi hopped onto his phone and decided to do some fanfic reading while he waited. He checked up on any fanfictions from his online friends, and began to reply to new DM’s from his online friends. A lot of the posts he was seeing were posts about dealing with lee moods on their own…and how lonely that can get. And while he understood that…he felt really lucky in that regard. Lucky that he could just tell Mario about the tickle community. Lucky to have someone who can tickle him when he’s in a lee mood, and let Luigi tickle him when he’s in a ler mood. It felt…comforting for him…but almost unfair in that aspect. Because not everybody has a twin sibling that’s a member or an ally of the community.
Speaking of ler moods…reading all these stories had ended up stirring up a ler mood inside him. But…even if he wanted to act on it…he would have to wait till morning to do such a thing. Mario had to sleep. And frankly, Luigi should be asleep too. But he still couldn’t let go of the daydreams of tickle fights with his brother at 12am.
One hour turned to two hours. Two hours turned to three hours. And Luigi was still awake due to the overwhelming tickler mood. He could imagine himself making Mario laugh and cackle with just a few pokes to the ribs, or cackle thanks to a few skittering fingers in his armpits. Gosh, even the idea of poking in Mario’s belly button made him want to smile.
His imagination was going haywire, and he was struggling to stop it. The thoughts were driving him crazy…and the idea of waiting for morning was making time go way too slow. He could feel himself getting unbelievably antsy. He couldn’t sit still. The silence of the room was killing him…
Not able to take much more of this, Luigi quickly pulled out his phone. He pulled up a certain profile on Tumblr, and clicked the anonymous asking area. He started to type something into the message area, and checked it over. Then, he added his usual trademark hat emoji, before sending the message. Maybe someone in the tickle community would be able to help him out during this overwhelming, desperate ler mood.
Only one way to find out.
#luigi's secret#chapter 21#teasing#ear tickles#fluffy#tickle community flags#ticklefic#ler!mario#lee!luigi
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Ghosts Dont go to High School
Chapter 10
<Read on Ao3>
D.F. 👻:
Still want to know about ghosts?
Danny sent the message halfway through patrol while Tim was in the middle of breaking up an attempted burglary. He sent back a quick message while blocking a punch with his staff.
Red Robin:
Yes
A quick sweep of his staff landed the last of the thugs on his back.
Red Robin:
Did you talk to Phantom?
While waiting for a reply he zip-tied the thugs together for the GCPD to find and made his way to the nearest rooftop
D.F. 👻:
He agreed to meet you at Old Gotham Cemetery tomorrow at midnight.
Tim frowned at the time and place. Talk about cliche.
Red Robin:
I can be there.
Tim landed on the roof of a building across from Gotham Cemetery at 11:30 pm Sunday. His comm crackled in his ear.
“Are you sure you don’t want any backup?” Nightwing asked.
“I’m sure. Phantom is flighty. If a pack of vigilantes shows up it will scare him off. There’s no telling when or if he’d agree to meet again.” Tim said. Gotham Cemetery stood empty, the large iron gates were chained shut. It didn’t look like Phantom was there yet. Good.
“If Drake allows the ghost to get away again, someone else should be in charge of this case,” Damian said. Tim could almost see the sneer on the demon brat’s face.
“Codenames,” Batman said over the comms. “Red Robin is the only one who has been able to get close to Phantom. We need information on ghosts to be prepared if anything happens, but Phantom is not our enemy.” There was a pause as Batman allowed those words to seep in. “That being said, I can be there in three minutes.”
“It will be fine.” Tim stood to get a better view of the cemetery.
“Isn’t it a bit on-the-nose for a ghost to hang out in a graveyard?” Nightwing asked.
“It’s a cemetery, actually,” Tim said, switching from the regular vision in his mask to infrared. If Phantom had ice powers, maybe he could see him as a cold spot.
“What’s the difference?”
“Graveyards are attached to churches,” Tim responded, “Cemeteries aren't.” There wasn’t anything on thermal vision.
“Did Phantom tell you that?” Damian asked, his derisive tone clear even over the comm.
“No, actually. Da- uh… someone else did.”
“It was your physics partner, wasn't it?” Damian asked.
“Your boyfriend knows the difference between graveyards and cemeteries?" Dick asked. "That’s kinda creepy.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Tim shot back.
“Not yet,” Dick sing-songed.
“Chatter on comms,” Batman warned.
“Oh, come on, B. You have to admit, he’s the son of ghost hunters, is in regular contact with ghosts, and hangs out in cemeteries. That’s creepy. All he needs is fangs and he could be a full-on vampire.”
Tim felt his face flush as he was reminded of the sharper-than-human teeth he knew Danny sometimes had. “He’s not a vampire.”
“You wouldn’t be talking about me, would you?”
Tim spun around and found himself face to face with Phantom. Tim wondered if he had had a bad night since the ghost was looking rough. His white hair, which usually floated around as if blown in an invisible breeze hung limp, and there were dark blue bags under his eyes that showed in sharp contrast to his paler-blue-than-normal skin. Even his pointed ears seemed to droop. He had a lumpy black duffle bag thrown over one shoulder and it sat heavily against his hip, or where his hip would be if his body didn’t end in a wispy tail.
“No, of course not,” Tim answered quickly. Phantom hummed, looking unconvinced, and shifted the duffle higher onto his shoulder. “What's in the bag?”
Phantom set it down and pulled out a thin silvery rod, about a foot long and covered in green markings and copper wires. Tim took it from the ghost. “What is it?” Tim turned the rod around in his hands. If he had to guess, it was a lightning rod of some kind.
“Let's head into the cemetery and I’ll tell you about it.” Phantom took the rod back and stuck it into the bag. He floated over to the edge of the building. “After you.”
Tim eyed Phantom; the ghost looked like a strong wind would blow him away, but he gestured for Tim to go first, so he shot off his grapple and landed inside the gates to the cemetery. Phantom joined him just a second later.
“So, what are those rods?”
“It’s why I wanted you here.” Phantom was digging in his duffle bag again. “I’ve been waiting for a natural portal to open between here and the Infinite Realms so I could send Cindy home, but it’s been weeks and there hasn’t been one, which is odd.” Phantom finally found what he was looking for, a device with a small radar dish on the front. He powered it up and a green grid popped up on the screen. “See?” Phantom turned the device so he could see it better.
Tim squinted at the device. There was a line that was rotating and a steady slow beep, but nothing on the screen stood out to him. “I don’t see anything.”
“Exactly! There is supposed to be ectoplasm everywhere," Phantom said, pulling the device back to himself. "It gathers in certain places: ley lines, graveyards, cemeteries, battlegrounds, war zones."
"Places where there is a lot of death," Tim supplied, trying to figure out the line of thought Phantom was on.
"Yeah. Gotham should be an ectoplasm hot spot, what with all the…" Phantom waved his hand in the air in a vague gesture before he shrugged. "Everything about this place." He stopped his explanation long enough to tap some buttons on the device. "But it isn't."
Phantom continued to fidget with the machine but didn't continue his explanation. The cemetery grew silent around them, the only sound was the breeze in the yellowing leaves. Tim shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"Any ideas why that is?" Tim raised his eyebrow in question.
"Theories, not anything concrete." Phantom studied the device in his hands and ran a thumb along the surface. "Most likely, there is a– well, it doesn't translate well from ghost speak, but a kind of natural ectoplasm filter here."
"A filter," Tim deadpanned.
"As I said, it doesn't translate well.” Phantom floated away from Tim a little until he was settled cross-legged on the top of an old headstone. “They form naturally when there is a high concentration of ectoplasm in one spot in the mortal realm. It's part of the natural ectoplasm cycle."
“Ectoplasm Cycle?” Nightwing asked over the comm. Tim ignored him.
"If they form in places high in ectoplasm, why are the levels in Gotham so low?"
"Because they soak up all the ectoplasm like a sponge and filter it back into the infinite realms.”
Chatter exploded over the comms about the Lazarus pit somewhere in the caves under Gotham, but surely not. The pits were mysterious, but they didn't have anything to do with ghosts, surely. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to ask. “What does this filter look like?” the comms went silent.
“I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen one, just read about them.” Phantom put the device back into the bag and pulled out a rod. “In any case, to send Cindy home, I need to force a portal to form. That’s where this comes in.” Phantom held out the rod. He looked pleased with himself, so much so that Tim hated to ask.
“Right." Tim crossed his arms over his chest and nodded toward the rod. "You still haven’t told me what that is.”
“It’s an ecto-rod.” Phantom turned the rod around in his hands. “It gathers ambient ectoplasm and channels it to a single spot. Once the ectoplasm levels in the area get high enough, a portal forms. Then I can send Cindy home.” Phantom tapped the end of the rod twice on his shoulder. “So, that’s my deal. You let me put these where I need them to go, and I’ll answer any questions about ghosts you may have while I’m doing it.” Phantom held the rod in his lap and watched Tim, waiting.
“Is it safe? We aren’t going to have zombies running around Gotham cemetery, are we?” Tim asked. The last thing they needed was more zombies, Solomon Grundy was enough.
“Oh, yeah, no, yeah,” Phantom waved his hand in the air, “it’s perfectly safe. Ectoplasm doesn’t create zombies, only ghosts and the occasional overly aggressive food item.”
"Aggressive food items?" Dick asked.
“What do you mean, aggressive food item?”
“Hmm. That falls under ‘questions about ghosts’" Phantom gave him a fanged smirk.
“If there isn’t any ectoplasm in Gotham, how are the rods going to gather it to form a portal?” Damian asked and Tim hated that he made a good point, but he repeated the question anyway.
“Oh, in a few weeks, it will be Samhain. The barrier is thinner then, so more ectoplasm than usual is going to leak across. The filter won’t be able to keep up with it and there will hopefully be enough to make a portal big enough for Cindy to slip through.”
“And if there isn’t enough?”
Phantom grew still and his voice was nearly a whisper when he responded. “I can supplement if there isn’t enough.”
“What does that mean?” Tim and Dick asked at the same time.
“That falls under ‘questions about ghosts'," Phantom repeated. There was no grin this time.
“Let him set them up. We can increase patrols in the area until we know there isn’t a threat,” Batman growled over the comms.
“Hood isn’t going to be happy about that. This area is right on the edge of his territory,” Dick responded.
They kept talking, their chatter an annoying buzz in his ear. Tim reached up and turned off his comm so he could focus on Phantom. The ghost had his head cocked to the side, watching him curiously. With his glowing green eyes and black-and-white coloring Tim was reminded of a tuxedo cat.
“Okay, you can set up the ecto rods.” Tim hoped they weren't going to regret trusting Phantom.
Phantom smiled brightly and floated down from the headstone. “Great! This way.”
Tim walked beside Phantom deeper into the silent cemetery. The older ornate headstones gave way to smaller stones and placards. The light from the crescent moon shone down in mottled spots, ever-shifting due to the cloud cover. It was still early enough in the season for the leaves to start changing colors but not late enough for them to fall. A cool breeze ruffled his hair bringing with it the scent of fresh-cut grass and gasoline, along with the ever-present stench of the city. He was quiet for a bit, mulling over his thoughts. To his surprise, Phantom broke the silence first.
“So, before you get started interrogating me about ghosts, I have a few ground rules.” Phantom rubbed his shoulder and looked up toward the moon. “Don’t ask about a ghost's death. It’s…rude.” Phantom paused. For a long moment, he was silent, but Tim could tell he wanted to say something else, so he kept quiet until Phantom continued. “You have to understand, ghosts don’t form from nice deaths.” The hand that had been gripping his shoulder that had been on his shoulder came down to squeeze at his hand, his thumb digging into the meat of his left palm.
“Is that-” Tim caught himself asking about Phantom's hand, but the subject of conversation was painting a picture of his days, a death that Tim didn't like the look of. He switched gears instead. “Okay. Anything else?”
“Some things aren’t my secrets to tell. Don’t push for answers if I tell you ‘no’.”
“Okay,” Tim said. “Can I ask you to elaborate on what you meant about supplementing ectoplasm?”
“Ghosts are mostly ectoplasm, in the same way, humans are mostly water. If there isn’t enough ectoplasm to trigger a portal, I can use some of my own.” Phantom held up his hand with the palm facing up.
"Isn't that like using your blood?" Tim felt sick at the thought.
Phantom shrugged. "Sort of."
“There has to be another way.” The last thing he wanted was for Phantom to have to use his own blood, or life force.
Phantom sighed, a thin mist forming from his breath. “Not without sneaking into a highly secured vault with advanced anti-ghost defenses, twenty-four/seven armed guard, and a one-way trip to a holding cell If I'm caught.”
“Maybe I could–”
“No.” Phantom stopped in front of Tim and pinned him with a sharp look. It was the most serious he had ever seen the ghost look. “I don’t want you any more involved than you already are. It’s hard enough keeping Cindy out of danger, I don’t need you poking your nose in where it doesn’t belong. Okay?”
"Okay," Tim said. Phantom nodded and started down a smaller path. He was starting to get an idea of where they were going.
“Speaking of Cindy," Tim spoke up after a few minutes of silence. "Where is she?”
“She’s with me.” Phantom looked over at him and his eyes trailed down toward his left leg. “Or, she’s with you right now.” Tim looked down but he didn’t see anything. He tried switching to infrared, and even ultraviolet views.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Yeah, most people can’t see ghosts when they want to stay hidden.” Phantom stopped to dig into his bag and pulled out a large copper ring wrapped in a thin green wire. The ring could easily fit on Tim’s finger. “Try looking through this.”
Tim took it and held it up to the sky, squinting one eye to peer through the hole. “What is it?”
“It’s like a hag stone but it actually works.” Phantom crossed his arms and waited. Tim sighed and pressed the metal to his eye and immediately pulled it away.
“What the hell?” Tim blinked at the stone in confusion while Phantom smirked at him. He put the ring back to his eye and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Phantom was still Phantom, same blue skin and white hair, but there was a mist surrounding him, green like his eyes. It seemed to pulse, growing brighter and dimmer in a steady beat. Most of the mist swirled around his torso, but some of it was floating toward Tim. He followed it and found himself looking into the face of a child who was clinging to his leg like a toddler. She smiled and Tim noticed a few missing teeth. Where Phantom was in full color, Cindy’s color was muted grays and pinks.
“She used up a lot of her ectoplasm in the fire. She’s been subsisting on mine since then, but it’s not a permanent solution.”
“Why is she on me?”
Phantom smiled down at the girl and when he spoke his voice was fond. “She likes you, says you feel familiar.”
Phantom made a strange chirping sound and Cindy reluctantly let go of Tim’s leg and settled on the ghost’s shoulders. Her small size reminded Tim of how young Cindy must have been when she died. He didn’t have to ask how she had died, he could guess. Her mother had died in a house fire, and Cindy’s ghost was haunting the burnt-out remnants of an apartment building. Tim clenched the ring in his fist and closed his eyes.
A child had died scared and in pain and his first instinct when meeting her was to think of her as a monster.
“Can she hear me?” Tim asked. At Phantom’s nod, he put the ring back up to his eye. Cindy was still on Phantom’s shoulders watching him with interest. She was much less defined than Phantom, sort of fuzzy around the edges, though no less there. “I want to apologize for the way I acted when we first met. I will help Phantom get you back to your mom if I can,” he said, speaking directly to her.
Cindy’s face broke into a large grin and she flew off of Phantom’s shoulders and crashed into him. Tim could actually feel her. He was surprised by how warm she was for a ghost, how tightly something non-corporeal could squeeze.
“Aw, that’s nice. Well, we’re here.” Phantom turned to the small grave marker. Someone had put fresh white lilies on the grave and it had been recently cleaned of leaves. Tim knew without looking that the grave marker would say ‘Michelle Howe’. Cindy’s mother.
Tim felt Cindy shift her hold on him until she was settled against his back. “What’s the plan?”
Phantom set the duffle bag on the ground and pulled out one of the rods. “I’m going to put these around the grave.”
Phantom floated to the headstone and sunk the rod far too easily into the ground beside it.
"How did you do that?" Red Robin asked. "Density shifting?"
"No,” Phantom pulled another rod out of the bag before answering. “Phase shifting." He pushed the second pole into the ground on the other side of the headstone.
"What's the difference?"
Phantom gave him a look like he should know the answer before shaking his head. "Density shifting is changing the distance between atoms so the atoms in object A pass between the atoms of object B. Phase shifting is moving object A out of phase with the current reality."
"That sounds complicated."
Phantom snorted a laugh. "Ghosts exist on a different plane of reality. The complicated part is staying on this plane." He sunk another pole into the ground several feet away from the first two and in line with the second one. "I can't tell you how many times I fell through the floor before I got the hang of it."
“According to the Fentons, ghosts can control their powers instinctively, but you can't?” Tim asked. Phantom shifted uncomfortably and Cindy seemed to hold onto Tim’s shoulders tighter.
“Most ghosts can, but not all.” Phantom fiddled with the fourth rod. “I can send you some actual research on the different types of ghosts.”
He turned away from Tim and pressed the rod into the ground, completing a large rectangle around the gravesite. There was no evidence of the area being tampered with at all. Phantom pulled the last rod out of the bag.
"How do you know so much about density shifting?" Tim asked.
"Popular Mechanics did an article on some of the Justice League's powers a few years back. I always liked Martian Manhunter the best, before… well, before." Phantom gestured to his wispy tail and pointed ears. Red Robin could finish the thought himself. Before Phantom died.
Which opened up a whole new avenue of questions. According to the Fenton's research ghosts couldn't remember their lives before they died. But Phantom remembered that he liked Martian Manhunter, and Cindy certainly remembers who she was. If they were wrong about that, what else could they have been wrong about?
"What about Martian Manhunter did you like?"
Phantom's eyes lit up, "He's from Mars. He's an actual real-life Martian. We only just developed sustainable space travel, and Martians had that technology before humans even existed. We could have learned so much about space, technology, and the history of the universe from them!"
Red Robin could swear he saw literal stars in Phantom's eyes as he continued to talk about Martians and space travel and the universe at large, and was it his imagination, or was his glow getting brighter? Phantom had started to talk about the formation of the Crab Head Nebula when he suddenly stopped and gave Red Robin a sheepish look. "Sorry, I got carried away. You don't care about any of that."
"You don't have to stop on my account. You seem to really love space."
"Yeah." Phantom fiddled with the last pole in his hands. "I wanted to be an astronaut. Before. I used to read scientific journals about space for fun."
Tim remembered the first time he had seen Phantom, eating a burger and staring up at what little of the stars he could see. "You spent your life studying aeronautics." Red Robin couldn't help the grief welling up like a spring in his chest. For maybe the first time he realized Phantom had been alive once. A human with passions and dreams and hobbies. He had a goal and was never able to achieve it because he had died.
Phantom's hand clenched around the pole, his white gloves made no sound, even though they were made of some sort of rubber. Neoprene, or a chemical-resistant PVC. In fact, his whole suit was a kind of rubberized hazmat uniform similar to the ones the Doctors Fenton had been wearing.
A thought, half-formed, flitted through his brain, and the spring of grief in his chest turned to ice. "When did you meet Danny?"
Phantom turned to face him. The guard that had dropped while he spoke of space was back up, reinforced with wariness. "A long time ago."
"Did you know him before?"
Instead of answering, Phantom narrowed his eyes and sunk the final pole into the center of the grave. "I'm all done here. I shouldn't need your help again."
"Wait!" Tim yelled, reaching out to the ghost. If Phantom disappeared now he may never have the opportunity to speak to him again. But it was too late. Phantom was already gone.
#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp x dc#dc comics#batman#crossover#tim drake#fanfic#brain dead#dead tired#ghosts dont go to high school#evandarya writes
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We Shall Not Overcome
Author: Chaoticdean (@chaoticdean)
Artist: Deancodedcastielenby (@deancodedcastielenby)
No Major Archive Warnings
Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Soccer AU, soccer player Castiel, soccer player Dean Winchester, secret relationship, homophobia, bisexual Dean Winchester, pansexual Castiel, team everyone switches forever, come play
Summary:
Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have virtually nothing in common: they’re both from different countries (Cas would argue that Canada and the US aren’t that different but Dean begs to differ), they come from wildly different types of families, and where Castiel excelled at school Dean failed. When it comes to their social skills they’re also diametrically opposed: Dean is outgoing, funny and easy-going; Castiel is more of an introvert who likes books and still has to see any Star Wars movie.
In real life though, Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester are both professional soccer players with the same position in concurrent teams.
It would be complicated enough as it is, but Dean and Cas have also been a couple for several years, hiding their relationship from the public and homophobia in the world of soccer while living in Europe away from their families.
Can they make it through another season without cracking?
Preview:
“OFFSIDE?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘OFFSIDE’?!” Castiel yells as the linesman waves his stupid little flag, indicating that the goal he just scored doesn’t actually count.
It was a fucking magnificent goal- the ball was coming from Balt on the left side and Cas managed to get rid of three defenders on his own before he put the ball right into the top corner.
A Novak special, if you will.
“It means we have one more chance to beat your ass,” a voice he knows too well fake-whisper next to him.
Castiel turns around and immediately slams into the body of his opponent of the day- Atletico Madrid’s number 11, the one and only Dean Winchester.
“Fuck off,” he says as he and Dean size each other up, both of their forehead coming to rest against the other.
Dean wears a black jersey, indicating that he’s not playing home today- despite the Santiago-Bernabéu stadium and the Metropolitano only being 15 minutes away from each other. Cas is wearing his favorite jersey- the white and gold one, his home jersey, sporting number 7.
Winchester flashes a smile at him, one of those cocky ones that make Cas’ blood boil. But right before he does something about it, the referee is standing next to them and firmly pushes Dean off Cas.
“Take a breather, you two, or I’m carding you both!”
Cas trots away, still fuming, but not wanting to add on to the pile and potentially ruin the night by getting a red card.
Half an hour later and the referee’s whistle signals the end of the game, with the win going to Cas’ adversaries.
1-2, Atletico takes the win.
Winchester scored twice.
Cas goes back to the dressing room angry at himself and the team.
It’s only two hours later when Dean and Cas, back in the apartment they’ve been sharing for several years in downtown Madrid, settle their dispute on the counter of their kitchen.
“I wanted to- ahh- punch you in the face,” Cas whines as Dean puts both of his legs on his shoulder, allowing him to hit that sweet spot right there inside of Cas. “Fuck, Dean-”
“Yeah, you did?” Dean smiles, that same cocky smile he did on the field. “I wanted to kiss you so bad, shame the ref interrupted us honestly.”
Cas can’t help the laugh that escapes him, right until it transforms into a whine because goddammit, Dean is too damn good at finding all the right moves to drive him crazy. The sound his cock makes as he pushes and pulls into Cas shouldn’t sound so hot, but neither should the way Cas can feel Dean’s heavy balls slap against his hole.
“I swear if you don’t bend me in half and fuck me like a man already I’m going to go insane,” Cas snarls, right before Dean kisses him sloppily, all tongues and teeth.
“Mhm, is that a request or an order, Novak?” Dean smiles against Cas’ lips as he pistons his hips faster into the warmth of Cas’ ass.
“I wanna feel it when I train tomorrow- ah holy shit,” Cas whines as Dean complies, folding him in half over the table and letting his cock drag in and out of Cas’ puffy asshole.
It barely takes them both a minute to come after that. Dean carries a half-asleep Cas to the shower and takes care of them both, before they head to bed.
Together, like they’ve been doing for four years since they both came to Europe to play soccer. Together, but not for the camera, for which they’re both playing the game of being enemies that hate each other.
But tonight, right before Cas falls asleep, the only thing he can feel is Dean, all warm and here against him. He brushes a kiss underneath Cas’ earlobe, that secret spot he loves so much, and hums an “I love you”, that Cas sleepily answers with a “me too” that barely sounds like something.
It’s been their lives for the past four years.
But Cas wonders if they have it in them to go on like this for a fifth.
POSTING BETWEEN APRIL 23rd AND MAY 6th, 2023!
#deancasswitchbang#dcsb#dcsb2023#We Shall Not Overcome#Author: Chaoticdean#Artist: deancodedcastielenby
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Has anyone else watched Miraculous Ladybug and thought to themselves; you know for a show where the main protagonist and antagonist are into fashion, we could use a few stylish outfits. So here’s a long ramble where I brainstorm what Nathalie Sancoeur could also wear if the animation budget allowed for more outfits. Buckle up this will get long.
First off, let’s take a look at her main outfit:
A neatly put together business suit that’s both professional, practical, yet allows her to express her individuality, all points that are a plus for someone working for a fashion company.
We also see her main color scheme consists of: black, red, and purple, with main emphasis on red due to the streak in her hair, and the borders of her glasses. Nathalie is someone who looks good in darker shades. I cannot for the life of me see her wearing something like pastels. At the very least, a light color like sky blue would fit her well since it matches her eyes. Colors that sharply contrast with red such as deep pinks, yellow, or orange would be jarring on the eyes. So colors that I could see her in beyond the red,black, purple scheme are:
Gray
Forrest or Hunter Green
Navy Blue
Teal
Light Blue
White
Gold
Silver
I don’t think she’d choose shades of beige, tan, or brown due to wearing them often doing field work as an archaeologist.
Clothes
I imagine her business contract states that she has to get her work clothes from Gabriel’s brand, and that she has to be up to date with the latest trends. She’d probably have at least two other business suits in her closet that can easily be paired with different colored tops. Perhaps something like:
If you want to spice up her spice up her usual outfit, something you could do is to replace her slacks with a knee length pencil skirt. It is a timeless look, especially with the red turtleneck she wears:
Or if her suit color scheme is black, we could switch the turtleneck for a top like:
In the event that she has to attend a formal event/ party to promote Gabriel’s brand, I obviously would put her in a red dress:
Shoes & Accessories
Nathalie wears flats in the show. I’d guess she’s around 5’5 (165 cm) so using heels to add height wouldn’t be a huge concern, but a shoe with a touch of height and has support if she’s up on her feet all day can go a long way. I bet most of her shoes would black with the occasional off white pair:
In colder weather she might pair ankle length boots with her outfit:
For a more out there look, I can definitely see her wearing those pull up knee high boots that outline the shape of your leg. Goes great with a dress or a skirt.
As for jewelry, Nathalie wouldn’t want anything getting in the way as she works so no dangly earrings or bracelets. I can see her wearing pearl studs or the occasional necklace, but nothing more. I think story framing wise, it’s good to keep the jewelry to a minimum until she starts wearing the peacock miraculous.
Thanks for reading!
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Bakugou Dating a Nerd
A/N: Hey guys! I’m going to try and get some writing done every now and then, but I’m not sure how often I’ll be posting for a while. Thanks for the cooperation so far though.
In this fic, reader is Aizawa and Hizashi’s adopted daughter who goes to UA but takes classes at her old high school. Idk, it’s just something I thought of during my Medical Intervention class.
“Red, red, green, black, blue, green, blue, red…”
“What is she muttering?” Denki asked from his seat at the counter in the kitchen, leaning over to Kirishima. The two were staring at you, eyebrows raised. As they watched you work. You were sitting at one of the study tables, working on something unknown to the two boys.
Kirishima and Denki made their way over to Bakugou, who was sitting across from you. He looked unfazed by your constant muttering. “Hey Bakubro,” Kirishima whispered so as not to interrupt you. “What’s she doing?”
“Some nerd thing,” he muttered. “For one of her science classes.”
“Red, green, blue, blue, blue, black, red, red, green. Umm, then, A, A, T, G, G, C, A, T…” you suddenly switched from colors to letters, tossing down your different colored pens and then a pencil, scribbling down on a piece of paper.
“Hey Y/N,” Denki said, catching your attention. You hummed in question, still muttering letters under your breath. “Whatcha’ doing?”
“Hold on,” you commented, muttering again before looking up and tapping your pencil on the desk. “Yeah?”
“What are you doing?” Kirishima repeated with a smile. “You keep muttering colors and letters and stuff.”
You smiled widely, and Bakugou noticed how your posture changed with how excited you were. It caused him to smile slightly. He watched your interaction with his friends. “I’m not actually sure what it is called,” you began. “I want to say it’s just DNA sequencing, but I’m not too sure.” You lifted up a graph that looked similar to an EKG or heart monitor. There were multi-colored scribbles across the large piece of paper. “Each color represents a different nucleotide. And so I have to read this graph thing, and then figure out what nucleotide each number corresponds with.”
You placed the big paper back down on the table in front of you and then picked up another paper. “I color coded this table so each number has the same color as it does on the graph so I can better read what number has what nucleotide. And then tomorrow I get to type all of this into a computer and something cool is supposed to happen. I don’t remember though, I wasn’t really listening.”
You lost Kirishima and Denki at the beginning of your explanation, but Bakugou just stared at you. He loved when you started rambling on and on about your science assignments, or just random facts. Before anyone could say anything, you began rambling again, but more to yourself. “I love genetics. It’s so satisfying doing RNA and DNA stuff, and then testing things like blood. Oh! And the Kastle-Meyer test! I love that kinda stuff. And punnett squares. I love those, too.”
Kirishima and Denki chuckled. “That’s so cool! What class is this for?” Denki asked. “Cause I’d never be able to do what you’re doing.”
“It’s for my Medical Intervention class,” you answered. “We’re looking at the DNA to see if there’s any diseases we can identify.” You began scribbling down on the paper again, muttering letters to yourself.
Kirishima and Denki turned back to Bakugou. He was staring at you, smiling softly. It was very rare to catch him this calm. “You’re girlfriend’s a nerd,” Denki whispered.
“I know,” Katsuki smiled. “But she’s my nerd, and I love it. She goes on and on about what she’s learning all the time, or how she doesn’t understand something. And she trips over her words sometimes and says them wrong, but continues to say them wrong because she just can’t pronounce them.”
“You’re in love, man,” Kirishima smiled, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. “You better keep her.”
Katsuki swatted Kiri’s hand away, scowling suddenly. “I’m not letting my girlfriend do your homework for you. Now get lost!” Kirishima and Denki laughed as they walked away, not missing the loving glance Bakugou gave you before returning to his own homework.
#bnha#bakugou#katsuki#bakugou x reader comfort#bakugou katuski x reader#mha bakugou#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou imagine#bakugou katsuki#katsuki bakugou#denki kaminari#kirishima eijiro#x reader#mha#mha x reader#bnha x reader
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999 Week 2023 - Santa
actually got to put a bit of a major reference to last year's word for day 10 of the week, with the old ladies at the pottery class that santa attends. aka the outsider is one of those ladies
Your body may not work like it used to, it hasn’t in a long time, yet you still go to the weekly pottery classes like you’ve done for decades. You’re surrounded by your friends, old and new, both in age and how long you’ve known them. It’s been years since you’ve lost your partner, your soulmate who helped keep your home more lively and had joined you for these classes, and you both stay connected through it.
Like every once in a while, there’s somebody new. A young man with whiter hair than even you. There’s plenty of young people here, some younger like the boy who’s father brought him in to make something for his grandparents and some older like a woman who’s trying to find something new after her divorce.
He’s quiet but the grumblings he has when he makes mistakes are clear, commonly self-deprecating as if he couldn’t afford to make a mistake in the first place. Whenever you’re close enough, along with any of the other ladies around your age, you chide him for those remarks and try to give advice that more than not he takes. Usually his speed.
“You’ll keep repeating those mistakes if you keep rushing,” you chuckle to him, and it’s like a switch flips, as if this sentence was the button that needed to be pushed for him to go slower from then on.
At one point, the instructor prompted what to paint, something rare but you guess Halloween brought out things like that. The prompt was what you fear. You had the common things, such as ghosts and witches and zombies that played things up for the younger ones. Others were more bleak, such as a dystopia and an empty bank that’s all too real to this generation, but the young man’s caught the instructor’s eye.
“Ah! Aoi! How unique!” she had said. You look at it, with reds and oranges and yellows streaking upwards like flames, yet peaking out were pale pinks and darker purples, with occasional different blues and deep pinks. They were subtle, but stood out. It made you curious, but it wasn’t right to pry. All you could do is support him the best you could, especially as the month turned over to November and his demeanour became even more scowly and more jumpy, hunched over with what seemed like regret. It reminded you of one of your friends who had passed in recent years, back when he was a teenager and felt regret for not being able to stay with his girlfriend. Even if this seemed worse.
It lasted even until after December, a time where he simply missed multiple classes. He came back looking, as the kids put it, like complete and utter hell. Enough to make you tip off one of the younger gals in the group, who then tipped off the man who usually gets coffee for the ones who need it. At least with the coffee he seemed more calm. Until the end of the class where he got all but yelled at to get some sleep, especially by you and the older ladies who don’t care if he’s busy, he needs sleep and “goddammit if you don’t do it son, I won’t hesitate to go over to where you live and force you into bed.”
But after that, things seemed to get better. More open to people actually trying to help in ways that weren’t pottery and more open to bringing people around once in a while. Whether it be his sister, always open to talking who sees painting as a sort of therapy; his sister’s fiance who stays close to him and prefers “coffee as black as his soul”, to which Aoi laughs; a blond who he admits he doesn’t know very well but they get along and he wanted to branch out a bit, and he fits right in; and plenty of others, such as an ice cream man and a sarcastic girl with hair as white as his with the exception of orange roots.
It’s a slow process that you get to watch, as he opens up and loses some of that darkness and regret in his eyes and posture, but it’s one that makes you smile and glad that he joined you all.
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Saiyuki Reload Blast Drama CD 2 – Track 1: Superhero Team
Summary: The Ikkou forms (or rather, attempts to form) a superhero team. Will they ever agree on which of them will get to play the Red Ranger?
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Hakkai: Here, in a certain town, due to youkai raids stemming from Gyumaoh’s empire, the people are in distress. In order to save them and keep the peace, a team of superheros has been formed. Its name is – West Rangers!
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Hakkai: All right! Today’s our first meeting, which is itself worthy of commemoration. Let’s put in our fighting spirit in our new roles as superheroes!
The other three (with varying levels of enthusiasm): Alright!
Sanzo: What a bother. You guys take care of this mess as you see fit, between just the three of you.
Gojyo: What are you saying? In the first place, you were the one who received the order from The Three Aspects.
Sanzo: Like I care. It’s something they arbitrarily decided on their own.
Goku: Why a superhero team?
Hakkai: It’s just the whim of a certain merciful and benevolent personage, isn’t it? But, in this way, a secret base of operations has been especially prepared for us, so let’s do our best to live up to their expectation!
Sanzo: What are you getting so hyped up for.
Hakkai: Who among us have not admired superhero teams at some point in our youth?
Gojyo: “Our youth....” You make it sound like we’re geezers already. To begin with, what you call a secret base is just a meeting room in a coffee shop.
Hakkai: By the way, we can make our order via the telephone they’ve provided here. I heard that the food and beverage costs will be covered by The Three Aspects.
Goku: Alright! I’d like a cream soda, a club sandwich, a pizza toast, a ham sandwich, a milk sandwich, a chicken sandwich and a pork-cutlet sandwich.
Gojyo: One ice coffee for me.
Sanzo: A lemon squash and a maple French toast.
Goku: Ah! I want a maple French toast too.
Gojyo: Are you two girls?
Hakkai: I’ll have a plain tomato juice. Well then, I’ll make our order. (picks up the phone) Hello, I’m calling from Room Number Three. Yes, I’d like to make an order. One ice coffee, one cream soda, one lemon squash, one plain tomato juice, two maple French toasts. On top of that, one of the following: club sandwich, pizza toast, ham sandwich, milk sandwich, chicken sandwich and pork-cutlet sandwich.
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Goku: Talking about superheroes, one would expect that thing, right? A belt you can wear and switch on in order to transform?
Hakkai: Unfortunately, we don’t have a transformation belt. However, our costumes have arrived. (heaves a heavy box onto the table and opens it)
Sanzo: What are those clothes?
Hakkai: When it comes to superheroes, costumes with different colors are essential, you know. Let’s see – they come in red, blue, yellow and black.
Gojyo: Isn’t that a large amount of clothes for four persons?
Hakkai: The spares are included. There are lots of them, so feel free fight to your heart's content without worrying about dirtying or ruining your costume. Well then, without further delay, shall we decide the color for everyone?
Sanzo: Something like the color of our costumes is just a trivial matter.
Hakkai: No, it is not! For superheroes, the color assignment is important. For example, the leader is almost always dressed in red, a color which symbolizes passion, vigor and victory. In short, the color of the costume is directly connected to the character of its wearer. The different colors represent the superheroes’ different personalities coming together in teamwork. Moreover, through their righteous conducts, superheroes provide extensive guidance to children and adults alike. Without these characteristics, one has no right to call oneself a superhero.
Gojyo: Y–yes.
Goku: Hakkai sure knows a lot about superhero teams.
Hakkai: It’s just something I enjoy reading up on early in the morning, since I’m an early riser.
Gojyo (sighs): Well, one way or another, we have to form a superhero team. So let’s hurry up and decide on the colors already. Shall we start with Sanzo?
Goku: For Sanzo... Sanzo... Sanzo... well, it should be yellow!
Gojyo: I bet you just decided that based on his hair color. So predictable.
Hakkai: What do you think, Sanzo?
Sanzo: Hmmph. Have it your way.
Hakkai: Alright, it’s yellow for Sanzo then. Here are the costumes and the boil-in-the-bag curry sauce.
Sanzo: Hah? What’s the latter for?
Hakkai: According to superhero team lore, the yellow-clad superhero tends to be a curry lover. From today on, please have curry for every meal in order to get into character.
Gojyo (bursts into laughter): Three curry meals a day? You’ll get fat in no time!
Sanzo: I’m not going to do it!
Goku: I like curry, so let’s exchange colors.
Gojyo: You like anything as long as it’s edible.
Goku: But, I’d like to be the red one too. The leader of the superhero team is the one in red, right? The leader is the coolest!
Gojyo: Hold on, hold on. Hold on! The leader is the one with the highest approval rating, isn’t he? Then it should be me, the guy who’s the most popular with the ladies.
Goku: When was it decided that you’re the most popular with the ladies?
Hakkai: I don’t recall us ever holding such a popularity poll.
Sanzo: It’s a kappa’s delusion.
Gojyo: Hah?
Sanzo: The main point is that the one in red is the leader, correct? If that’s the case, it should be me.
Gojyo: You just go and eat curry for the rest of eternity, curry monk!
Sanzo: Hah?!
Hakkai: Wait a minute, please! I can’t entrust the color red to any of you, because none of you have even an inkling of what superhero teams are like. Therefore, I’ll be the superhero in red.
Goku: Eh? Everyone wants to be red?
Gojyo: Since it’s come to this, we’ll have no choice but to decide via a game.
Hakkai: Then shall we make it a game of cards? Mahjong’s fine with me, too.
Gojyo: You’re sure full of confidence.
Sanzo: There’s no need for a game. I’m the leader and you guys are the underlings – that’s a conclusive fact.
Gojyo: Who’d want to be your underling?
Goku: Hmm....
Hakkai: What’s the matter, Goku?
Gojyo: If you need the toilet, hurry up and go already.
Goku: That’s not it!
Sanzo: Then, what is it?
Goku: What I’m trying to say is, if everyone wants to be red, why not just go with that?
Hakkai: Eh?
Sanzo and Gojyo: Hah?
Goku: Why not? Let’s just form a team of red superheroes!
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Woman: What’s that?
Man: A bunch dressed in red....
Woman: They look scary.
Goku: Hey.
Gojyo: Hah?
Goku: We kind of stand out, don’t we?
Sanzo: That’s obvious. A group clad in red uniforms is bound to be menacingly conspicuous.
Gojyo: On top of that, we’re wearing these weird masks which cover our whole faces. It’d be strange if we aren’t looked on with suspicion.
Goku: What’s with the complaints? In the end, even Sanzo and Gojyo agreed to everyone being red.
Gojyo: That’s because we couldn’t come to a decision even after thirty rounds of rock-paper-scissors.
Hakkai: That was why I suggested deciding via a game of poker or mahjong.
Gojyo: Yeah, like we’d go with your suggestion. Those are games you know you’re good at.
Hakkai: Well, these days there are groups in which each member is a superstar in their own right. I guess this would be acceptable for a superhero team too.
Goku: Leaving that aside, there seems to be no youkai around.
Sanzo: Indeed.
Hakkai: That’s strange. According to the information that’s recently come in, there should be some youkai in this area. Furthermore, the youkai frequently sighted around here are said to be high-ranking ones.
Sanzo: High-ranking? Someone like Kougaiji?
Gojyo: Judging from his name, he seems to be another red guy. Gimme a break! We’re swarmed with the color red already.
Goku: Oh! The shop over there is selling some delicious-looking stuff. Can we stop there?
Sanzo: Forget it. They’ll call security on us if we do that.
Goku: Why?
Gojyo: If a group in red like us were to suddenly walk into my shop, I’d report them too.
Hakkai: Ah!
Goku: What’s the matter, Hakkai?
Hakkai: How could I’ve forgotten that, me of all people? I’ve not yet prepared our signature phrase and pose!
Gojyo: Do we need those things?
Hakkai: Yes, we do! They’re indispensable! Ah, what should I do? Even if I have to improvise, I must come up with them now. Let me see.... The signature phrase could go like this: “In order to keep world peace, we, West Rangers, shall defeat the villains!” As for the signature pose–
(A loud crash resounds, followed by a menacing laughter.)
Youkai leader: From now on, this town shall come under the rule of the Gyumaoh’s empire! This is a foregone conclusion! As the citizens of a vassal state, hand over your valuables!
Goku: The youkai have appeared!
Hakkai: Right. This is West Rangers’ first job. Let’s put in our fighting spirit and do it!
Sanzo: I can’t go on like this.
Gojyo: That’s some fighting spirit you’re showing in support. Never mind that, let’s go!
Goku: Yeah! (approaches the youkai) Oi, you’re Kougaiji, aren’t you?
Youkai leader: Hah? Who are you guys? What’s with the bizarre get-ups? A procession of superhero-wanna-bes like this–
(A gunshot rings out. The youkai collapses.)
Sanzo: Do you think I’m dressed like this by choice?
Youkai underling: You bastards! (to his comrades) Attack them, guys!
(The youkai rush toward the Ikkou.)
Goku: Bring it on! The fight’s just begun!
Hakkai: Wait a minute, please! First, get into a line formation. Then – “In order to keep world peace, we, West Rangers–”
Gojyo: We don’t have time for that! (shouts and starts to fight a youkai)
Woman: What are you doing?
Hakkai: Ah.... I guess it can’t be helped. The signature pose will have to wait until the next time. (unleashes a ball of chi)
Man: My house!
Woman: Someone please stop them!
Sanzo: Tch.
(Crashes and gunshots are heard in the mayhem.)
--------
Gojyo: The place is cleared out thanks to the damage.
Goku: That Kougaiji guy was sure weak for a high-ranking youkai.
Hakkai: As expected of them, superheroes always win and save the day.
Gojyo: It’s all fine and dandy that we’ve won, but I’m a fix, because my coolness just now has probably won me more fans than ever.
Hakkai: Eh? But we’re all wearing masks, so how would it be possible to tell which one is you?
Gojyo: Oh. That was a mistake on my part.
Sanzo: Whatever. Let’s leave right away.
Goku: Let’s grab something to eat first. I’m hungry!
Gojyo: Hey, we’d better make some improvement to our get-ups. If no-one can tell us apart, there’s no point to this superhero stuff.
Hakkai: What are you saying? Making sure that the opponent has no idea you’re the one fixing the mess is the real thrill of being a superhero.
--------
Dokugakuji: How terrible! The buildings and the streets have all been smashed. What on earth happened?
Kougaiji: One of our followers was supposed to take control of this area, but–
Dokugakuji: Should we ask around? (to the town dwellers) Excuse me.
Man 1: Yes? What do you guys want? We’re all busy clearing away the rubble.
Dokugakuji: What happened here? This town seemed to have suffered frightful damage.
Man 2: What happened, you ask? Hear me out! A group of four dressed in red appeared out of nowhere and went on a rampage!
Man 1: Hear, hear. It’s great that they went and defeated a bunch of youkai, but they also ended up making the mess you see now. Some favor they did us!
Kougaiji: What?
Dokugakuji: So some guys are fighting against us youkai? Looks like they killed all of our followers. Hmm, this bunch of red-clad four must be quite skillful.
Kougaiji: At any rate, this is a dreadful spectacle. Even if we’re at war against humans, our followers were at fault too. As their leader, it’s my duty to make up for their misconduct. Dokugakuji, let’s help the townspeople clear away the rubble.
Dokugakuji: You’re really not suited to the role of the villain honcho. Well, that’s just like you though.
Kougaiji: All right then. (to the town dwellers) We’ll lend you a hand.
Man 2: Really?
Dokugakuji: You could use some help here, right?
Man 2: Yes, we sure could! Oi, everyone! These guys said they’ll lend us a hand!
Other town dwellers (sounding grateful): That’d save us some trouble!
--------
Gojyo (rifles through the newspaper): Now, I wonder if yesterday’s event will grab the headlines. Maybe something like “West Rangers’ Heroic Exploit....” Hah?
Hakkai: What’s the matter, Gojyo?
Gojyo: What’s this?!
Sanzo: Be quiet!
Goku: What is it?
Gojyo: Look at this!
Hakkai: Hmm? “Knight in Shining Armor Kougaiji Aids Town’s Reconstruction?”
Goku: Ah! So this guy’s Kougaiji. He sure looks strong.
Gojyo: That’s not the point.
Hakkai: Instead of us, it’s him and his followers who are being featured extensively in the news. As for us–
Goku: Huh? “Mysterious Red Bunch On A Rampage?”
Gojyo: We’re being painted as some bad guys who’ve destroyed a town!
Goku: Why? We beat those youkai!
Sanzo: That’s probably because we also wrecked the buildings and the streets aside from beating the youkai.
Hakkai: I see. We should have protected the town infrastructure even as we defeat the villains. Being a champion of justice is not that easy, is it?
Gojyo: Jeez, I’ve had enough! I quit! This superhero stuff’s just impossible!
Hakkai: What are you saying? This is just the beginning of West Rangers’ great efforts. Let’s make sure to do things properly the next time.
Goku: Yeah!
--------
Hakkai (strikes a pose): “In order to keep world peace!”
Goku (strikes a pose as well): “We shall defeat the villains!”
Both: “We’re West Rangers!”
Hakkai: Why are you two not continuing?
Sanzo: I don’t give a damn anymore. Count me out.
Gojyo: Same here.
Goku: Eh? Let’s do it together.
Hakkai: I’ve even come up with the signature pose, you know. (strikes a pose) Like this! What do you think? Excellent, isn’t it?
Goku: Like this?
Gojyo: “Like this?” he said. You can’t convey that in an audio drama, can you?
Sanzo: That’s a blunt way of putting it. I agree.
(Hakkai and Goku continue striking poses.)
Hakkai: No, stretch your arm more there.
Goku: Like this?
Hakkai: Yes, like that. Now, if you angle your hand a bit more higher, it’d be even better. One, two–
Both: Like this!
--------
(Round brackets): actions and sound effects.
#最遊記#saiyuki#saiyuki drama cd#translation#cho hakkai#genjo sanzo#sha gojyo#son goku#kougaiji#dokugakuji
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Its May the 4th!
What lightsaber colors would the batfam have? Would they be Jedi? Sith? Something in between, or something that is neither? Lets see! This is purely just for fun for me, if you don’t agreed with colors or anything that's fine, feel free to put in the comments what you think their lightsaber color would actually be!
Alfred: I feel like Alfred wound have a Light Blue Saber, based on his background in military. When he was younger he would have had a Brilliant Blue Saber, but as he grew older it faded. He isn’t any less capable, just older. Just a single sided Saber
Bruce: While it would be great to give Bruce a Black Saber, I personally don’t think it actually fits him. Instead I think that Bruce would have a Magenta Saber. He used to have a Purple Saber, tapping into some dark side techniques whilst training with the League. It turned Magenta after he struggled with his connection to the Force, losing it for a short while after Jasons death. When he finally reconnected with it, he found that his saber had dimmed from Purple to Magenta. He uses a single sided Saber.
Barbara: Babs has a Yellow Green Saber, more Yellow than Green as of late but still Yellow Green. Her color has never changed, not even when the Joker injured her. It didn’t change her, just made her think and use her abilities in a different way. When she does use her Saber it is a single sided one.
Dick: Cyan, a mix between Blue and Green. He used to have an Indigo Saber, a mix between Blue and Purple, and before that a Green Saber. But he no longer uses any Dark side abilities. And after many long hours of meditation he was able to reestablish his connection with just the Light side, although his new connection was no longer just on the spiritual level like it was before. He carries two like his escrima sticks.
Jason: At the moment Jason has an Indigo Saber, although it could change as Jasons Saber has changed the most. When he was first starting out as a young Padawan he had an Orange Saber, never fighting unless he had to, although pranking was very much on the table. After his death and subsequent revival his Saber took on a Purple color, due to Talia and the Leagues teachings. Talia was, unhappy, with this, hoping that he would come out with a Red Saber. When Jason was accepted back into the fold, his saber slowly changed into his now Indigo Saber. You know Ezras gun Saber, yeah Jason has that. He also just has a couple blasters in him, because, it’s Jason.
Cass: Cass has a White Saber. A White saber (for those who might not know) is a Saber that has been ‘healed’ so to say from the red of being on the Dark side. She had a Red Saber growing up, from exclusive use of the Dark side and her fathers influence. When she came to Gotham and started to work with Bruce and the rest of them she went through a Jedi healing ritual for the soul and came out of it with a blinding White Saber. She switches between a double-sided Saber and a single sided Saber.
Steph: Now Steph, you could give her a couple of different colors but I've decided to go with Blue. A deep brilliant Blue, a guardian of her order, always on the front lines, although she does seem to be dipping close to Indigo. She uses a single sided Saber
Tim: Tim has a Yellow Saber, his focus always been on more practical ways of fighting and learning. He and Babs have upgraded countless numbers of Jedi and Sith technologies, improving and perfecting them. He uses a double-sided Saber, like his Bo staff.
Trace: They have an Orange Saber, cementing their insistence on not fighting unless they had to because they are a healer. She has taken it upon herself to learn as many different ways to heal others with and without the force. Their saber is single sided, although rarely used.
Duke: Due to his Metahuman abilities I feel like Duke would have a Green Saber. Those with a Green Saber will tend to use Force abilities more than their saber. It just feels right. Fun fact Duke actually didn’t have a Saber for a good amount of time, and he just used the Force and his Metahuman powers. When he did get his Saber he didn’t want any modifications so he kept it single sided.
Damian: To the disappointment of Talia and Ras Damian has a Purple Saber rather than a Red Saber. He takes after his Father in that way, which is the reason Talia sent him to Bruce. While fighting with his Saber Damian will switch from single sided to double-sided to two sabers swiftly.
Happy May the 4th! May the Force be With You
#BatFam#Batman Oc#dc#star wars#lightsaber#shapes and colors#alfred pennyworth#bruce wayne#dick grayson#barbara gordon#jason todd#cassandra cain#cassandra wayne#tim drake#tim drake-wayne#trace drake#trace drake-wayne#stephanie brown#duke thomas#damian al ghul#damian wayne#this was fun for me
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