#tw kidnapping

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and now, in your own apartment, in the background of your youtube videos. it was a very natural progression, from starting a few fanclubs online as your interest shifted from team to team, to eventually making full-on reviews while mostly glazing your favorite face card at the time. 

you’d earned a sizeable following, made up of mostly women. the men tended to question (rather rudely) whether your interest was genuine, and if you weren’t just openly thirsting over their hardworking athletes. regardless, your videos garnered you enough of a following to allow you to move to barcelona. now you could watch the matches in person, your videos taking on a much more genuine tone as your appreciation for the culture surrounding it grew.

however, recently you’ve been entirely locked in on one person. one man who’s captured your attention to the point of near-madness. every time your eyes found him, your body heated up dangerously. from his tall, muscular frame, to his chiselled face lined with a scar you ached to run your lips across.

bunny iglesias, your undefeated number one obsession for the last 3 years. never before have you stayed so interested in one singular player. and it didn’t look like anything was about to change any time soon.

as the video progresses, you talk more and more animatedly about one of bunny’s passes to lavinho, of course not forgetting how he brushed his hair out of his eyes after he scored the first out of his three goals that match.  

it’s when you replay some of the footage that you pause at someone who isn’t bunny.

“oh!” you clap your hands with a sweet smile, “sae itoshi~ he’s so good too. not better than bunny, though. i loved his assist for leonardo luna, he’s really skilled!”

you’re visibly shaking in your seat as you rewatch the final goal of the match, scored by your bunny. “see that?!” you gush, “that’s why he’s my favorite. he’s so amazing!” 

your squealing and giggling is something you love leaving in your videos, many people have left comments about how cute it was and how contagious your excitement was. it was truly such a beautiful corner of the internet that you’ve managed to create. all because of your boy-crazy, or rather, bunny-crazy nature. 

“right~ this was such a wonderful match, and i’m so happy i got to see it in person!” you swing your legs back and forth, swaying in your chair a bit. “next week there’s a barcha meet and greet! of course i’m going. i really want bunny to sign my jersey!”

“see you guys again soon, i’ll make a video afterwards, as always~ bye bye!”

now to editing, reviews like this are best uploaded as soon as possible.

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

lavinho’s house is loud. bunny knew this, and yet still somehow agreed to come. music blasting from the speakers while the two of them lounge on a couch that’d easily fit over 15 people. his red eyes devoid of.. anything really, focus on the ceiling while his senior yaps away about the recent match. his excitement palpable, his pride oozing off of him in spades. scrolling through his phone grins maniacally and scoots closer to bunny and passes him his phone. 

“ever seen her before?” he questions, eyes darting between him and the woman on the screen. 

bunny squints, examining the title ‘barcha vs re al review & commentary’. “why would i care?”

lavinho laughs him off, “dude, she’s like your biggest fan! a cutie, too.” he presses play.

the next minute that bunny is subjected to your grating fascination feels like it took years off his life. which, honestly works in his favor. the smile on your face has his gut churning, the food he consumed about half an hour ago threatening to come back up. 

yet, he chuckles along with lavinho, “a pretty face, for sure.”

“dude, i watched some of her vlogs, she’s hot as fuck. maybe she’ll be at the meet and whatever,” the older player ponders, “wonder if i can get her number. she looks like a good time.”

bunny has long since tuned him out, trying to keep his nausea at bay. the joy in  your voice, the happy aura you exuded even through a screen incited a type of disgust he hadn’t felt in a long time. that spark in your eye was as vomit inducing, as it was fascinating.

fascinating enough for him to be scrolling through his phone that same evening, torturing himself with every video you’ve ever made. dedicated as he was, he started at the oldest public one, which happened to document the start of your infatuation with him. 

as the videos progressed, your descriptions of him shifted from shallow ‘hot’ and ‘attractive’ to slightly more introspective  ‘skilled’ and ‘quick on his feet’. something that hasn’t changed was your undying elation whenever you spoke of him. your smile only got brighter with every video, and sometimes you’d even (what he assumed was) forget to edit out you fanning yourself as it all just became too much and overheated your soft body. not like he was paying attention to that whenever he watched your vlogs. which showed your whole body. usually dressed in some tiny skirt which he also totally didn’t pay attention to. until he did. 

he grimaced, already dreading the moment he may potentially face you at the fanmeet lavinho mentioned, one he totally forgot about. 

his eyes dart to his bathroom door, maybe if he finally stopped being a coward, he could finally pull through and not have to go to some stupid fan meet at all.

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

but the day does arrive, luckily for you. camera in hand ready to snap a few pictures and maybe some footage, donning your trusty ‘iglesias’ jersey, you set off to the venue. the walk there, in the scorching sun, is aided only by the sea of barcha adverts left and right as a last minute extra promotion of the event. 

as bunny’s biggest fan, you must be there first, though. your feet take you there at a speed rivaling the fastest speed-walkers on earth, the camp-nou stadium comes closer and closer. little skirt swishes around your thighs, flimsily held down by the slightly-too-big jersey. 

your gigantic smile has a few people looking at you weirdly, but you pay them no more mind than a brief wave. if you’re having a good day, you might as well brighten a few others.

a line has already formed, but it’s definitely not too bad. especially given it’s still two hours until the doors open. you choose to watch some recent match replays, it would make for good conversation material.

though, any and all things you could’ve thought of didn’t matter the moment you were face to face with the one and only bunny iglesias. thoughts evaporated the moment his soulless red eyes met your glossy ones. forced to fan away your tears before you became a wreck, you smile brightly at him while you introduce yourself. “i’m s-such a big fan!”

you didn’t anticipate being so nervous. not at all. and yet here you are, stumbling over the most basic sentence he’ll likely be hearing all day today. 

his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s enough for you anyway. 

“what would you like me to sign, muñeca?” he takes the cap off of his marker, his tone barely differing from monotone. 

you immediately hold out the bottom of your jersey, face heating up. “i should’ve probably not worn it, huh? that’d be easier.”

he merely shrugs and signs it anyway, “you’re far from the only one.”

you nod, hands shaking as you feel the brief warmth of his near you. you examine his face, especially the scar. it’s pretty and pink-ish. you’ve read some comments from people who thought it was ugly, how it ruined his pretty face, but you couldn’t disagree more. he wears it well. so well, your lips itch to soothe any discomfort those comments may have caused him, had he seen them.

you don’t even realize he’s already done, now just eyeing you boredly while you basically eat him with your eyes. as if burned, you let go of your jersey, letting it fall back against your thighs. “i’m sorry! and thank you!” you ramble, moving to the next player. and the next. and after another five, you land right in front of lavinho. 

he’s sporting a smirk so cunning you shrink into yourself slightly, but smile nonetheless. “hello!” you introduce yourself, and he repeats your name to you while chuckling.

he signs a piece of merch you’ve placed in front of him, a barcha flag, and makes sure to touch your hand with his as he gives it back. “you’ve got that little youtube channel, no? real cute.”

you nod, face heating up all over again, “right! do you watch it?”

“how else would i know?” he winks. “you’re always so happy, it’s infectious. even showed you to bunny the other day.”

your eyes widen, “really? what did he say?”

“he’s a buzzkill, first and foremost,” he shrugs, “said you’ve got a pretty face. that was it.”

ah, of course. 

“but!” he smirks, “i certainly think there’s more to you.”

what do you call this? some sort of divine intervention? security tells you to move along, and even lavinho can’t do anything about it. animatedly complaining to the guard while you wave to him with a small, uncomfortable smile. 

even though the stadium is an open-roof establishment, exiting it still felt like a breath of fresh air. well. only thing left to do now is make your promised video. 

ringlight on, signed jersey and other signed items laid out in front of you, you start recording.

“hello everyone!” you smile wide, cheeks hurting, “i just came back from the event, and as promised i’m here to tell you all about it!”

unable to help yourself, you pull up the jersey first, fists clutching it so hard your knuckles start hurting. “i got it signed! my bunny jersey! personally signed!” you squeal and giggle. the usual works whenever you talk about bunny. 

“he was really nice to me, even though i was like, ugh- insanely awkward!” you scrunch your nose before you remember the most important detail. “wait, you guys-! he actually held this in his hands! oh-em-gee!”

you sniff it, giggling maniacally. “holy shit!”

“oh, i’m never washing this again.”

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

bunny’s lip is pressed tight between his teeth, phone nearly cracking from the deathgrip he has on the poor thing. echoing in his dark room is your voice, laughing and squealing about him. his brows furrowed while he fists his cock angrily. 

whether he’s angry at you or at himself, he doesn’t wish to think about. what he does know is that his current predicament is a hundred percent your fault. whatever it is that you put in your videos, be that your skimpy outfits, or just his jersey, has stuck to him enough he can’t help seeing your stupidly cheery face even when he closes his eyes. and that perfume you wore while at the stadium, it was so sickly sweet he had to try his best to not send you away. 

and yet, here he is. in his bed, jacking off until the skin of his dick is raw. his eyes laser-focused on your face and his torso already covered in two loads. nothing is enough, there’s simply too many videos about him that you’ve made. too much content of you basically worshipping him to get through. and all of it makes his dick so hard he feels like dying. nothing new there, though.

with a few last strokes as you sniff the jersey, he cums a final time, his dick finally giving up as it softens. 

bunny pants heavily, staring at his now dark phone screen. what the actual fuck are you doing to him? and how can he make it stop?

he sluggishly walks over to his bathroom and switches on the shower. a good question, does he even want you to stop? 

the cold water soothes over his heated skin, though it does a piss poor job at actually washing away the partially dried cum off his chest. he can’t help agonizing over the fact that for the first time in a while, someone has affected him. sure, he still can’t wait until the sweet embrace of death graces him, but with you by his side.. worshipping him, loving him.. the wait may no longer be so agonizing. 

he closes his eyes, and as expected, the image of your sheepish smile from where you were sat a mere few centimeters away from him is right there. how disgustingly cute. that spark in your eyes, how full of life you seem to be, both on- and off screen. truly appalling. 

his next match is next week. surely you’ll be there too. you said you always are. and certainly, you won’t mind a ticket upgrade.

the next day he tells his team to send you a vip ticket. doesn’t specify why, and by now they know not to question him.

much to his own chagrin, the days leading up to the match are no different for him at all. his cock weeps anytime he hears your voice through the speaker of his phone. the hours of content now reduced to rewatches as time slips through his fingers and washes away with each cooling shower. finally, something to do instead of agonising over his pathetic life. 

the crowd cheering as he enters the field holding a child’s hand is background noise, his focus entirely on the vip section of the stands. 

lo and behold. you’re right there. eyes bright, hands clapping as you shout your lungs dry, he’d recognize your voice anywhere by now. 

bunny’s mood sours and brightens at the same time, if that’s something that was even remotely possible. the former because your voice screeches through the noise of the crowd, standing out in the most obnoxious way, and the latter, because that jersey he signed that you were sniffing in your video is hanging off your frame so deliciously it makes him want to bend you over and flip up that tiny excuse of a skirt up and take you in front of everyone. 

alas, he’s got his god-forsaken match to play. the darned whistle blows, and off he goes. a pass there, a defender getting in his way here, another pass from lavinho, and unsurprisingly to everyone present, bunny scores within the first 10 minutes. 

he sends a cheeky smile to the camera, throwing up a peace sign before his eyes find their way back to you. there are tears running down your soft cheeks already, you poor thing. he immediately regrets looking over, because the sight of your wet face has his groin stirring like it never did before. 

the young striker's eyes widened. oh, he just found his new favorite expression. people crying has always brought a ghost of a smile to his face, but on you it’s like an entirely new concept. now, if only he can manage to wring those tears out of you in a different context. that is something worth living for. 

the rest of the match he has to actively stop himself from searching you out. if your emotional state got him that distracted at one glance, it could cost him dearly. 

so, goal after goal, with one in between by lavinho, and two lucky ones from the opposing team, barcha wins. 5-2. 

only then does he dare another look in your direction, a mere few feet away from your section. your eyes are already set on him, the wonder and the admiration oozing from you in both sobs and claps and screams of joy. 

in spite of the overwhelming amount of press that will no-doubt capture this moment and plaster it everywhere they can while his pr-team tries to control the damage- he winks. right while making eye contact with you. the camera’s already focused on him, capturing the moment in real time. the stadium erupts in another wave of cheers, while he sees you freeze in your place. aren’t you just so awfully adorable.

without looking back, he’s off to entertain the celebrations for as little as his team lets him get away with before he’s on his way to the locker room, his ear already talked off by his manager about the ‘inappropriate interaction’. 

bunny waves him off, instead instructing him to make sure you get to him. “locker room- whatever you can manage. let me know where she is. i need to speak to her.”

he hears a frustrated huff behind him, and smirks as the footsteps get further and further away; while the sweetheart plaguing his mind is only getting closer and closer.

but when bunny finally exits the locker room, you’re nowhere to be found. there’s not even a call from his manager that you’ve left before he could get to you. 

the scowl on his face has even lavinho backing off from his usual teasing, especially after the stunt he just pulled. “easy there, tiger. what, i thought you weren’t all that impressed with the girl?”

of course, the old fool can’t help himself. “don’t even start,” bunny dismisses him, tone clipped. the cars to take them home are in sight, reporters crowding the exit for one last feature, one last question they’ve all heard before. he brushes past them, mics ignored and overlooked.

his mood entirely ruined, plan in shambles- oh.

he steps inside his car, and aside from the driver, there’s a very, very nervous figure. guess his manager came through better than he expected him to.

bunny can’t help the wide smile from spreading across his face, “hello there, muñeca.”

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

the moment you register that wink, your world stops. the noise of the crowd blurs into background white-noise, and all you see is bunny’s eyes focused right on you. and then just as fast, his back is turned and he walks off. leaving you there, stunned and with your heart racing. even if you hadn’t been a fan of him before, this certainly would’ve cemented you as one. 

as if the tickets weren’t enough. 

wrapping up another video, a simple vlog where you expressed your excitement for the upcoming match, you receive a new email on your business account. 

something something ‘mr. bunny iglesias’, something something ‘vip tickets’. had you been holding something it would’ve clattered to the ground. 

the sound that escaped you then had your neighbors worried enough to knock on your apartment door, believing you might have just been murdered. 

luckily, you were most definitely not. although you might as well have died and come back alive with the violent surge of emotions coursing through you then, as well as now as you watch bunny’s figure get smaller and smaller as he approaches his teammates. 

the celebrations rage on around you, while the less invested leave the stadium in droves. you have half a mind to record anything, being so close to bunny kind of sabotaged your recording efforts. why would you stare at him through the lens of your camera when you can, and did, stare at him from the very front; too busy screaming your throat raw to record. 

when you did finally come-to, it was really only briefly. a firm grip on the shoulder, you’re now faced with no other than mr. manager. bunny’s manager. he looks less than thrilled, his voice strained as if doing this was fully against his will, “he wants to see you.”

your immediate assumption would be some sort of corridor, maybe an office as you trail behind the speed-walking man. “uh- sir? may i ask why?”

 ï’ve got no bloody idea.”

you get neither of those options. instead, you’re ushered into a car before he slams the door. the car is then driven to the exit where you wait anxiously for bunny to show up. it’s honestly a bit too much all at once, tears gather in your eyes and you sniffle. it’s not only the prospect of being semi-alone with bunny, but being personally asked to show up is such an otherworldly concept in and of itself. 

you pick at the hem of your skirt as you examine the car. the seats are a comfortable, red leather, the windows obviously tinted, and a wall-like construction to separate the passenger from the driver which is currently pulled up. you have no idea who’s behind the wheel and maybe that’s for the better. there’s no need for anyone to see you crying to yourself, makeup probably smudged a bit already. 

as time passes, your excitement grows the longer you’re kept in suspense. your lip more and more raw the longer you chew on it, nerves buzzing. what will you even say?

until finally, the door clicks open. a very annoyed bunny steps inside, and briefly pauses once his eyes land on you. his posture now much more relaxed, a wide smile spreads across his face, “hello there, muñeca.”

it takes a superhuman effort for as little as a small wave, his body so close to you it’s hard to even breathe. “hi…”

his eyes scan you head to toe, darkening when they settle on your soft thighs which are barely covered by the poor excuse of a skirt you tend to wear. he then looks back to your face, smile softening into a subtle smirk, “why so nervous? you’re usually so… outspoken when it comes to me.”

your tongue ties as his body leans closer. a hand on your thigh has you malfunctioning briefly before you muster a quiet: “it’s different.”

“different how?” he immediately questions, his face mere inches away from yours. “i have to say, your excitement is cute, but this? this sweet, sickening shyness-”

he leans in until your lips nearly touch, his voice dropping to a breathy whisper, “it’s doing things to me, and i hate it.”

he tilts his head to the side, eyeing you with a faux pout, “it’s been keeping me up at night, you know? it’s stressful, and it may impact my performance… what if you lose interest in me then? i don’t know what i’d do if i lost the support of my biggest fan.”

the tip of his finger traces your jaw, down your neck and the neckline of the jersey, “it may just make life.. a little less worth living.”

then just as fast, he’s back in his own seat, a nearly pleasant smile on his face as he chuckles, “you’ll help me fix it, won’t you?”

stunned doesn’t even begin to cover what you’re experiencing, but it’s soon replaced by a sinking dread. a fear you didn’t know you could experience outside of some really good horror movies.

you find yourself nodding insistently, hands folded as if you’re begging, “o-of course!”

there’s no world you can imagine yourself enjoying if bunny wasn’t in it. he’s been the center of your life for the last three years, and you’d be damned before you let anything happen to him. besides, if it really is your fault, it’s only fair you help him out. however that help might look like. 

his smile widens, although it does not reach his eyes, “i knew you’d be good.”

it doesn’t matter if he meant it as a compliment, you take it as one anyway as your chest warms, same with your face and neck. your hand covers your mouth, disbelief still clouding your mind. 

soon, the car moves in a direction entirely unfamiliar to you, the way richer part of barcelona you’ve never stepped foot in. your attention, however, isn’t focused on the outside long. a hand on your thigh recaptures it, making you look back at bunny curiously.

the look in his eyes is unlike anything you’ve seen before, in anyone. his red eyes don’t usually show any emotion, be that on the pitch or during press interviews, yet what you find is nowhere near empty. instead, combined with a small smile, a deep-rooted tiredness gives way for interest. curiosity. excitement? his brow twitches, and you feel a nail dig into your thigh, almost painfully so while his grip tightens. 

a warmth pools in your belly, he’s so close, way more attractive than you’ve ever seen him. even the sweaty, shirtless paparazzi pictures from a few months back didn’t get you going nearly as much as his touch currently is. his hair still slightly wet from his shower, black tanktop clinging to his muscled torso, and god… his scars. all of them look like they’re aching for some love, and you’d be damned if you let this chance slip by. 

“we’re almost there,” he says, though it sounds mildly like a warning. 

you tilt your head, leaning into him unconsciously, “where?”

a corner of his lips quirks up an easily missable bit, “my apartment.”

his hold switches from your thigh to your hand, the imprint left by his nail drawing a bit of blood. before you can even mention it, he’s already tugging you out of the car, the tiny drop runs down your leg. “bunny-”

“got a bit carried away,” he brushes you off, he squeezes your hand, the pressure on your knuckles causes you to grimace briefly. 

but that is all forgiven and forgotten once he gets you in the elevator, both of his hands on your hips as he makes you face him. there’s a tone to his smile now you can’t put your finger on, but neither do you want to when he leans down to press a few kisses on your neck and up to your ear. a shiver runs down your spine, the tickling pleasure has your hands scrunching his tanktop in your hands. “a-ah~”

your eyes flutter shut while he starts to softly suckle on the skin right under your ear. though with each suck it’s like he gets hungrier and hungrier. he switches spots, the previous one already bruising. your knees buckle, but he holds you up, hands switching from your hips to your ass as he squeezes.

“bunny..!” you moan, and you feel him stiffen for a second before he resumes, harder and greedier than before. he kisses up your jaw before he plants a hickey there too. 

then, the elevator door opens and you’re startled out of your haze. bunny doesn’t seem too bothered, but he still stops. his eyes are barely open; you’d say he’s drunk if you didn’t know any better. 

he then grasps your hand again and drags you along to his door, his steps large and hurried, and very hard to keep up with. you’re out of breath by the time you get to the door, which unlocks and slams shut behind you in a split second. you don’t even have the time to process your surroundings before you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, his lips on yours in a display of lust you’d never thought you’d be on the receiving end of. his hands cup your cheeks, keeping you in place while he forces his tongue inside your mouth. his whole build somehow manages to completely dwarf you, and his hands soon get bored as they travel down to your chest, one of them lingering to squeeze your throat. the surprised sound you let out has him smiling into the kiss, though it’s more tongue-sucking at this point. and still, he goes down further, pinching your nipples which are so hard they poke through your flimsy bra and jersey.

the lack of air has you light-headed, the pleasure of him feeling you up clouding the remaining sense you’ve got. his presence is so intense in and of its own, the heaviness with which he’s rooted in his spot, keeping you pressed between him and the wall makes it impossible to push him away even the tiniest bit for that little bit of relief. 

just as you feel yourself getting weaker, he pulls away, panting. his hands hold you up by the waist, his eyes scan over your already fucked-out face with an eagerness that feels entirely unfamiliar to even someone like you, who’s been dutifully analyzing him for the last 3 years. 

you don’t even know how you get to the bedroom, splayed out on your back while he sits back on his haunches. he examines you like some experiment, fingers tracing from your jaw, down to your neck, over your covered breast and hardened nipple, down your soft belly and then over the junction between your belly and thigh where he lingers a few centimeters above where you actually need him most. his touch is featherlight, combined with the fabric still covering you it’s easy to think you’re imagining it. and yet he’s there, watching your face for every twitch, every microexpression and with every noise you make his own expression gets tighter and tighter. if you had any clarity left, you’d be inclined to question why he looks like he doesn’t really want to be here. 

suddenly, your skirt is gone. it falls down to the floor where bunny dropped it haphazardly. he leans over you a little more, bunching your jersey around your waist. your sweet, pink cotton panties with a little bow are on full display, the wet patch on the gusset giving away how your body aches for him. as if your whole body being so pliant for him didn’t do so already.

your brain is nearly melting out of your ears when his hands reach your inner thighs. still nowhere near your soaked core, which he can definitely see get wetter and wetter with each caress. you want to be embarrassed at how clear your need for more is, small whines and whimpers spill past your lips any time he gets even that tad bit closer.

until finally, he pushes at your thighs, spreading you open for him. he pushes them down, almost folding you in half before he runs his thumb over the ruined fabric of your underwear. from your twitchy clit to your fluttering entrance. he presses a bit harder there, almost pushing in with the fabric still in between. 

it has your whines increasing in volume, head thrown back at his teasing. “y’re so mean..!”

“mean?” he questions, “you’re the mean one, looking away from me while i try to make you feel good. eyes on me please, muñeca.”

his tone sounds just disappointed enough for you to look back immediately, cheeks flushing with heat as you bite your lip, “i’m sorry.”

“good. remember you’re doing this for me, yeah?” he smiles sadly, “i don’t want to feel bad anymore.”

“of course.” the guilt eats you alive. he’s being so nice to you, and you can’t help being impatient. calling him mean? that was too far. tears gather in your eyes, “i’m really sorry.” 

he leans his head against your thigh, his fingers running up and down your clothed slit while you shudder. he looks as if you kicked him, “you’ll still help me, right?”

you nod, eyelids fluttering from the pleasure. “y-yeah.. ah!”

your eyes widen as he slides your panties to the side, fingertips making direct contact with your throbbing clit. he rubs agonizingly slow yet precise circles over the bud, all while maintaining eye contact. he watches you intently as he speeds up and slows back down. he then sits back up, slides his fingers down to your entrance, and pushes two fingers in to the knuckle. 

his eyes widen as your hips buck and eyes squeeze shut, the moan you let out so is pornographic it’d make a virgin cream his pants immediately. 

the relief of finally being filled, especially when he curls his fingers immediately has your head spinning. 

unfortunately for you, it’s taken away just as quickly. your cunt now empty and fluttering and leaking copious amounts of slick makes you cry out, “bunny! please, please, i need it!”

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

bunny hoped getting you under him would solve this nearly crippling disgust he felt around you and your content. the fascination that kept him coming back for more bordered on an addiction, one with a sick and painful aftermath as his cock screams for rest after he’s jerked off for the 7th time that day. 

but nothing could’ve prepared him for the up close view of your tearful eyes. your cunt spread open for him, neck and jaw lined with bruises and the tiny wound surrounded by dried blood on your inner thigh makes his head spin. his patience has run dry. the moment he felt you envelop his fingers in your needy heat, it was over. 

he basically rips his clothes off, and in one slick thrust, his fully hard, abnormally thick dick is forced all the way inside your pussy. his heart soars, filling up the otherwise empty space. 

but oh, the tears streaming down your cheeks, the frantic spasms of your cunt as you try to adjust and the sobs. oh, the sobs. he can’t decide whether he wants to look at your cunt or your face more. both are wet, extremely so. though the tears running down your cheeks is what he’s been after this whole time.

your cries are like a balm to his scattered soul, the way you claw at his arms, his chest, begging and trying to be as close to him as possible. it’s all too much. he knew this would relieve him, even if only temporarily, but not even his wildest dreams could’ve prepared him for the absolute euphoria of seeing you cry up close. 

bunny leans down, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist, his hands bracing on the sides of your head. he feels your arms wrap around his torso, and he could damn well start crying too. 

and he almost does, once your lips make contact with one of the scars on his shoulder. in between your sobs of pleasure, he feels you whimper as you kiss along the marred skin. his hands grip the sheets underneath, eyes widening. “oh, hermosa..”

he nearly chokes, eyes glossing over for a second before he forcefully blinks it away. whatever you just did to him, you may just start wishing you hadn’t. 

he looks down at you, where you’re still going at it, trailing kisses wherever you can reach as the force of his thrusts push you up and down the bed. overwhelmed with emotion, bunny leans down and captures your lips with his again. he can’t have you getting carried away, the pressure on his chest grows rapidly on its own even without your help.

he feels his own cheeks getting wet as he continues kissing you, dutifully swallowing your moans while his cock somehow only gets harder. 

somewhere in between his assault on your mouth he hears you mumble that you’re about to cum and it has him pulling away immediately. he needs to see your face while you fall apart. he speeds up, encouraging you, “come on, give it to me.” 

your cries gradually get more frantic, higher in pitch before he feels a warm liquid spray his abdomen. your eyes roll into the back of your skull, and your mouth hangs open so obscenely he can’t help wishing to stuff his cock inside there too. even more tears stream down your cheeks and your cunt squeezes him so tight it forces his own orgasm out of him. his balls tighten, and he grips your waist to keep you locked onto him as he spills inside. “f-fuck-!”

his whole body is white hot with an emotion so new to him it leaves him speechless. he waits until you come-to, but it seems the whole ordeal was intense enough for you to knock you out cold. your breathing slowly evens out while he stays buried inside you, plugging you up. 

with gentle hands, he caresses your body up and down. from a brief massage on your thighs to using his shirt to wipe down your sweaty forehead. he leaves the tear stains though. he thinks they make you look absolutely gorgeous. 

from wanting to vomit at the sound of your stupidly cheery voice to jacking off to your videos nearly 24/7 to now wanting nothing more than to wring out every noise you could possibly make. 

bunny is truly baffled at what you’ve managed to do to him, his heart finally doesn’t feel like a void, and the thought of you leaving feels like ripping that all away. 

he smirks, the first bits of white escape around his softening cock. there’s a myriad of ways to keep you here. and he intends on using any method that sticks. 

he cleans you up; his version of it is to take his cock out, push the cum back in with his fingers and pull your panties back over your cunt. he gives your pussy a loving pat for good measure.

he’ll let you sleep for now, and he’ll join you soon. but first, a few arrangements are to be made.

° ⋆˖ ‧ ᯓ⚽︎ ₊˚.

you wake up with your body sore, the only comfort being the big, warm body spooning you. you rub your eyes, the area between your legs is uncomfortably sticky and your face heats up as you remember why. never in a million years would you have thought you’d ever get to sleep with the bunny iglesias, and yet, he sought you out himself. 

that’s obviously a detail you’ll omit in your new video. 

you take a moment to enjoy the body heat, while you replay yesterday over and over in your mind. you’d never taken a cock that big before, and you can’t get over how little resistance your cunt provided. he really just does turn you on that much. 

bunny stirring behind you has you laying entirely still, hoping he’ll think you’re still asleep to stay here just a minute longer. 

“good morning,” he mumbles into your neck, his hoarse, speel-ridden voice slicking your cunt all over again.

you yawn despite yourself. hoping to hide your disappointment you mumble a small and sleepy: “good morning.”

you wait for him to send you away, any type of ushering out the door, but instead, he just pulls you back closer, “sleep well?”

“huh? oh, yeah. very well, actually.”

“good,” he murmurs, caressing your thigh.

it’s almost as if he’s fallen back asleep, leaving you in a frankly uncomfortable silence as you’re unsure how to proceed. 

deciding to take matters into your own hands, you lift his arm from over your waist and lay it back down on the mattress gently. you manage to find your skirt, which is very easy given his clean bedroom floor, and put it on. with one last look at his handsome face you step out of the room, finding your shoes scattered over the hall. you hadn’t gotten a good look at his interior back when you came here yesterday, but he’s got an impressive amount of recording equipment yet to unpack in his livingroom. you’re almost jealous. equipment like this would elevate anyone’s content into virality for the quality of the footage alone. 

you put your shoes on, and walk towards the door with a sigh. 

huh?

the door won’t open. all the inside locks are unlocked, though.. maybe it’s just the regular key lock? you look around the hall and find a bunny keychain with a few keys. right! one of them must be it. 

but right as you slide in the first one, someone clears their throat behind you. humiliation flushes over your whole body and you’re paralyzed in your spot. slowly you turn around to face none other than the only other person in this apartment, bunny.

“where do you think you’re going?” he asks calmly, his smile icy cold. devoid of any of this morning’s affection.

“just.. home?” you try to respond normally, but even such a straightforward and valid answer feels ridiculous under his scrutinising gaze. 

his whole demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. had you actually blanked you would’ve missed it. his smile entirely gone, exchanged for the saddest you’ve ever seen a man. his brows furrowed, lips forming a pout you’ve got to admit is very endearing. 

but the worst part is his voice, cracking at every other word, “you’re leaving me?”

your eyes widen, “w-what? what do you mean? this was just me helping you out, right? didn’t i make up for… whatever it was you wanted?”

he takes a step closer, a conflict of emotions rises within you. panic, but sympathy too.

he reaches out his arms, as if inviting you for a hug, “i’ll be really, really sad if you go.”

you can’t help taking a step closer, voice hesitant, “b-but, i can come back, right? i don’t have to leave forever…”

he sniffles and shakes his head, “i don’t think i’ll survive. just the thought of you leaving makes me want to- it makes me want to-.”

“makes you want to do what, bunny?” you ask carefully.

there’s tears in his eyes now, “i have these pills in my bathroom…,” he chokes.

your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull, panic overtaking your whole system. you nearly run into his arms, “no, no! i’ll stay, i promise i’ll stay.”

you bury your face in his chest, heart nearly beating out of yours. 

just as you thought a crisis may have been averted, his giggles reach your ears while his hold on you tightens, “i’m so glad you’re staying! i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

all the blood drains from your face and down to your cunt when he leans in even closer so he can whisper into your ear, “we’ll be together forever, mi vida.”

hermosa = pretty

mi vida = my life

His hands found your waist and held you in your place on the bathroom counter, sliding to stand between your legs. Dick’s kisses were peppered along the side of your neck down to your collarbone as his hands squeezed gently. Your hands rested on his shoulders as you pushed lightly, craning your neck away from his warm lips. 

It was his evening to watch you while the rest of the Bats were on patrol. Even Alfred was out of the manor this evening on an errand Bruce had assigned to him. The quiet halls were only marked by the rainy skies of Gotham and Dick’s ragged breaths against you. You were used to the cuddling and the occasional kiss when he was sure you wouldn’t tattle on him to Bruce, but you never thought Dick would actually lose all restraint once he knew for certain he wouldn’t get caught. 

“Dick, we shouldn’t be doing this–” You were cut off with a quick peck to your lips as Dick made his way up your face. His smile was unnerving as he rested his cheek against yours, staring at you with easy eyes. He had caught you on the way to your bath, the one respite you knew you were guaranteed from them. 

“What? Having a little fun?” He chuckled as he pulled back to look at you, hands sliding down to trace the hem of your shirt. 

“It’s just us tonight; you know you don’t have to be shy with me.” His fingers curled under your shirt and rested against your stomach as he leaned into you to kiss you fully.

Your head tilted to the side again as he settled to kiss your cheek wetly. 

“If-If Bruce catches you, it’s gonna be–” His chuckle interrupted you as he held a hand under your chin to look at him straight on. The hand under your shirt smoothed its way up to your breast as he cupped it. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good? I know he hasn’t yet.” 

Yet.

Bruce had his restraint, too, but it only went so far. You knew that when he threw himself into his work more than usual, he was getting his heated passion out through his fists in the streets. The boys knew anything concerning you was off limits until he had his turn. He was determined to be your first, but only when you decided to bring him into your bed. It was only natural for his patience to wear too thin if his sons were overeager.  

You gasped as he squeezed gently on your chest, avoiding his gaze as his lips sought to capture yours again. 

“Let me be good to you. Bruce is too busy patrolling; he won’t catch us.” Dick whispered against your pursed lips. 

You pushed as hard as you could on his shoulders, making no difference in his stance as your mouth opened to shout at him. 

“Is that right?”

Bruce’s voice cut like a sonic boom through the bathroom as your head whipped to stare at him wide-eyed in the doorway. He was still in his suit, dripping with the night’s rain on the tile. His arms were tightly crossed against his heaving chest as he waited patiently for an answer. Dick sighed heavily, resigning himself to closing his eyes and letting his hand drop out from under your shirt, resting on the tile counter next to your hip. 

“Bruce!” You breathed, finally pushing Dick back as he let go of his grip on you. 

His jaw relaxed slightly as his eyes shifted to yours, answering your silent prayer. His boots thundered against the silence as he made his way into the bathroom, sliding his wet cowl off to stand in front of Dick. 

Dick met his gaze, locked in a silent battle. Their faces and body language were unreadable to you, trained under years of masking. You slid off the counter, resting your back against it as you watched nervously. 

“Go back to Blüdhaven, Dick. Don’t neglect your city.” Bruce said dryly, staring as Dick turned back to you, giving you a quick kiss on the back of your hand and a warm smile before accepting his fate. The silence was deafening as you and Bruce watched him make his way out of the bathroom. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget to not neglect what’s yours, too.” Dick bit back, closing the door as he left.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder, they say. You hoped it made him never want to return. 

You saw Bruce had half a mind to show him out for that bit of disrespect, but he was more preoccupied with dealing with who was still in front of him. You made a move to head out the door as well, but a gloved hand on your shoulder stopped you. The wetness seeped into your shirt as you looked down at the tile.

“Stay.” Bruce murmured, stepping towards the bath to start running hot water. 

You padded after him, trying to assess just how deep in shit you were with him. What could you say to get yourself out of whatever punishment he was planning? Maybe you could grovel and beg for his forgiveness. You’d drop to your knees then and there, pleading with him to at least be gentle with you. 

The enormity of the bathroom made you feel even smaller under his gaze. Sounds of the water splashing and filling the tub echoed in the tense silence. The dark green and black tile made it seem like the walls were closing in on the two of you as you stopped in front of the tub. It was sunken into a platform with a step leading up to it and was absolutely big enough for both of you. You glanced over your shoulder as he began to undress and caught the sight in the large mirrors covering the adjacent wall. 

Bruce didn’t push on your boundaries too hard, but you knew at the end of the day, whatever he said went. You were hardly one to break rules, considering how futile you knew it would be to try to one-up the Batman himself. His cape was thrown haphazardly to the floor as he peeled the rest of the Kevlar suit off his wet body. Soon, he was fully naked before you as you tried not to stare, feeling the flush rising to your face. His attention never left you, though. 

You’d slept with him shirtless plenty of times in warmer months, but this was the first time you’d seen him stripped all the way down. He motioned for you to come over with one finger, letting you take your time to build the courage up to stand so close to him. His cold fingers made you jump when they made contact with your stomach as he pulled your shirt up over your head. Your eyes were still glued to the floor as he pulled your sleep shorts off and let you step out of them. 

His thumb came under your chin to raise your gaze to meet his, staring down at you intensely as he looked you over. You’d never been so stripped down in front of him either, and you could only assume that under his steady gaze, he was taking you in. Your eyes were still desperately wandering, fixating on anything but the man in front of you. Shakiness rolled off of you in a way neither of you could ignore. His shoulders were still square and taut, eyes assessing you more closely as he smoothed some of your hair off your shoulder. His other hand wandered down to your breast and rolled a thumb over your hardened nipple as you gasped softly.

“You’re freezing; let me warm you up.” 

Bruce’s hand found the small of your back and herded you into the steaming water, not adding any bubbles until you were fully seated. He was quick to join you, positioning himself behind you as he maneuvered you to lie on his chest. You were in no position to protest him, not after what he walked into. You’d only ever broken the small rules, inconsequential things that earned you a scolding.

His calloused hand caressed your left shoulder as you relaxed into his touch, letting your ear rest against his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat. You could only hope yours would fall in tandem. His right hand came up to rest over your chest, thumb stroking in small circles. The bathroom fell unbearably silent, save for the drops leaking from the faucet. 

“You were shaking like this the night I found you.” Bruce said, sounding as if he were reminiscing on a sweet meet-cute the two of you shared. 

You’d hardly think to recall your mugging on New Year's Eve as anything other than horrifying. His left hand slid up to your chin, holding your throat gently in his hand as his thumb ran along your neck. 

“You were so cold, so scared…so alone in that alley. I knew you couldn’t wait any longer.”

This was it, you thought. Bruce was going to strangle you in the tub. Or drown you. Or strangle and drown you. Loyalty was not something he took lightly. Trust was not easily earned, and you were certain it was shattered into a million pieces over a rule you didn’t even break. 

“You don’t need to be scared now.” He whispered into your hair, pressing a kiss to your crown. “You’re safe with me.”

A long exhale had him easing his shoulders, relaxing fully against the porcelain, and sinking the two of you further into the water. Holding you in his arms always brought him a sense of peace, a sense of relief. All was right with the world when he got to feel you alive and breathing against his scarred skin. You just wish you could feel the same.

“I knew something was wrong when Dick silenced his comms.” Bruce said quietly, leaning down to rest his chin on your right shoulder. Hot kisses were pressed against you as his right hand slid down to rest on your thigh. “I should have known better than to trust one of the boys while Alfred is away.” 

“Bruce…” You whispered, going stiff against him as his hand caressed your thigh. Any excuse you could muster up died on your tongue before you could speak. His kisses slowed gently until his lips rested against your temple, silently prompting you. Your fear finally bubbled over, leading you to spill your side in hopes of pacifying him. “I…I didn’t come onto him, I swear. I told him it was a bad idea and–” 

Bruce shushed your nervous rambling with a small kiss to the left corner of your lip, using the hand on your chin to tilt your eyes up to his. His thumb stroked over the spot he kissed as his right hand came to rest between your legs. His gaze was piercing as he let the silence permeate. There was no use in pleading your case; his mind was made up. 

“Trust goes both ways,” Bruce said quietly, leaning closer to your face. “I trust that you're telling the truth.” 

His right hand cupped you gently, pressing the flat of his palm against your clit. Your right hand flew to grip his wrist while your left hand lay flat on the tile outside of the tub. The water began sloshing out of the tub as you arched yourself away from his hand, trying to sit up from lying against him. Bruce pinned you against him, wrapping his left arm around you and holding both wrists in one hand. His right leg interlocked over yours as he let you thrash slightly. 

“And you can trust that I’ll save you.” 

Bruce’s shushing tickled your ears as you settled against him, deciding which battles you’d pick and choose tonight. You were certain you were in deep shit still; you didn’t want to add more to the other shoe that you were still waiting to see drop. 

“Relax.” 

His palm ground slowly against you as you bit back a whine. The grip on your wrist loosened, letting you rest your hands against his right forearm. 

“You’re not in trouble, sweetheart,” Bruce whispered in your ear, washing his warm breath over your skin. 

The promise was sealed with a gentle kiss to your earlobe. His chin sat on your left shoulder, settling into the crook of your neck as he kissed all the skin he could reach. 

“Don’t hold it against Dick. He can be…overzealous with the people he loves, sometimes. He means well.” 

The warmth of his touch and the heat from the bath did nothing to help the cold shiver that ran down your spine. Dick had a temper, that much you knew. No matter how well he tried to hide it from you, you could hear it in the fights you eavesdropped on in the cave. You felt it when he held you a little too tight, grabbed you a little too hard. At least Bruce had the decency to hide his restraint from you. 

The water started to settle as you stilled in Bruce’s arms, letting him kiss the skin he could reach quietly. Bruce wasn’t like his sons. He was steady and predictable, a welcome refuge in the stormy weather of the Wayne household. Initially, you worried he’d be as strict with you as he was with his work. Even with all the ways he let you have your freedom, you were still a caged bird that met her gilded bars every time you looked out the window. Expectations for you were few and far between, but they were ironclad. 

“You like that I can protect you from them, don’t you?” 

His words were stoking the icy dread in you because they were true. 

“You trust me.” 

The heel of his palm ground into you again, not letting up when you squirmed from the teasing this time. You whined and shook your head, bucking your hips in retaliation. Bruce’s right leg pinned you down again, holding you in place against him. 

“You don’t need to admit it; we both know it’s true.” 

He slid his hand up slowly until his fingertips ghosted over your clit. Your blood ran cold as tears burned the corners of your eyes. 

“No! I would never–” 

Your desperate defense was cut off by a pathetic whine when his finger started rubbing slow circles in you. 

“They didn’t find you that night. It was me you clung to in fear.” 

Your hands gripped his forearm, digging your nails into his marred flesh until he bled. Your thrashing was useless against his strength. 

“You knew I’d save you from Dick, even though you thought I’d be angry with you.”

You threw your head back on his chest, shutting your eyes as the tears began to flow. 

“You trust me because you know I would never do anything to hurt you.” 

“Bruce, no!” You cried, looking up at him with watery eyes. “This is hurting me.” 

His left hand cupped your chin and stroked it, holding it steady as he looked at you. There was a crinkle in his eyes and a tug at his lips as he chuckled breathily. His thumb tugged on your bottom lip, opening it slightly as you let out gasping breaths. 

“You have so much to learn about love…”

Bruce’s lips ghosted over yours, brushing against them with each word. Your lips trembled with your sobs. 

“I have so much to teach you.” 

His fingers sank into you as he laid a searing kiss on your parted mouth. 

Your right arm wrapped under his as you gripped him tightly, drawing blood over a new scar on his forearm. His fingers slowly went in, curling deeply when he was in you up to his knuckles. Bruce swallowed your whines greedily as he kissed you deeply. Your left hand flew up to grip his hair and pull him off you as he smirked against your lips. Panic crawled in your throat, almost choking you with fear. 

“Don’t try to play dirty with me.” 

His thumb found your clit as he stroked and curled his fingers in tandem. 

“You won’t like it when I win.” 

It took everything in you not to scream and thrash in his arms. If only to spare yourself some pain, to not anger him enough to break a bone accidentally. His scarred hand was hot on your cheek as you cried into his mouth. These were the hands that Gotham feared, the fists that could knock a grown man down with a single blow. Dealing with your fighting was child’s play to him. If this wasn’t winning to him, you’d never want to challenge him again. 

Your hand slowly let go of his hair and slid to rest on top of his. Even the touch on your chin was gentle, but absolutely immobile. He didn’t even have to try. 

“Bruce, please…please.” 

Your whine was pathetic as you looked up at him through wet lashes, coughing your way through your gasps. He stared right back at you, not slowing his pace. You closed your eyes and pecked his lips gently. If fighting against him wouldn’t get him to stop, maybe being the small and needy thing he pretended you were would. 

“No need to beg, I’ll make you come.” 

Bruce kissed you again, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth. His thumb pressed harder, circling over your clit at a steady pace. You gasped into his mouth, digging your nails harder into his skin with both hands. His fingers began to pump in and out of you as you shook in his arms, letting your sobs and your tears flow freely. 

You clenched around him when his fingers curled deep inside you and made a summoning motion. It was horrifying how quickly he was making you come undone. The pleasure being drawn out of you made you tense in his arms as you felt warmth pooling in your gut. Even though Dick was the one who started the fight with him, you somehow still ended up losing to Bruce. 

You didn’t want to give Bruce the satisfaction of acknowledging he was right. Even though your trust in him was compartmentalized, you refused to hand yourself over on a silver platter. Surviving through his protection did not open him up to the rest of your vulnerability. Bruce preventing his sons from descending on you was more out of possessiveness than safety. He’s quite territorial about what he thinks belongs to him – his city, his mission, his lover. You didn’t want to be another obsession he channeled his grief through. 

Bruce finally eased up on his deep, consuming kisses and let you take in gasping, shuddering sobs. You cried openly as the pleasure began to override the panic. Moans and whines started to drown out your fearful crying.

“You’re feeling good because your body trusts me.” 

You shook your head in response as you wailed, cheeks wet with tears. It was a biological response; it wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault. But in the depths of your beaten psyche, his words rang true. The pleasure was too much, too precise. Your body betrayed you by feeling this good when you hated it as much as you did. 

Bruce stared down at you intensely, stroking your chin with his thumb. Even now, even like this, he was an absolute mystery to you. His expression was unreadable, almost neutral, as he wrecked you. To think he goes out every evening to beat the living hell out of other men in the streets for daring to do what he’s doing now. His ability to compartmentalize on such a precise level was something you doubt you could reach despite your best efforts to stay sane. You envied it, to be honest. Maybe you’d be happier if you could be as delusional as he is. 

Pleasure seized your whole body as your orgasm tore through you. You shut your eyes and let your mouth fall open as you heaved through your cries. Bruce shushed you softly, riding out your high until the sensation became unbearable. His hands slid across your body, wrapping around your shoulders and torso to hug you close to him. He turned you gently, positioning you to lie chest to chest with him. You pressed your cheek to his chest and looked back at the mirror on the wall, staring at your reflection. It was a touching scene to the untrained eye. Just a man and the woman he loves sharing a warm bath on a cold night. But your eyes were bloodshot, your face was stained with tears, and you swore you could see Bruce’s smugness even from a distance. 

“Why?” 

Bruce thought for a minute as he pulled you into the crook of his neck.

“You’re mine. I have to take care of you.”

It was all so simple to him, wasn’t it? Decided. Inarguable. His hand rested on your cheek as he rested his cheek against your forehead. You stayed like this for a while, letting your sobs die quietly down into sniffles as the water began to cool. The silence was victory to him. 

A buzzing sound clattering against the tile broke Bruce from his contentment as he leaned over and picked up the ringing device. 

“I’ve been away too long.” 

Bruce spoke openly over the comms as he stroked your cheek with his thumb, making no move to leave the tub. You closed your eyes and shuddered mildly, drowning out the conversation – something about Bruce staying in for the rest of the evening and investigating a case down in the cave. You imagined he’d haul you down with him, curled up in a blanket in his lap. He’d be wanting to keep a closer eye on you after what happened tonight; you were sure of it.