#so the chances of false positives is very high
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FWIW I've since been informed that the RAADS-R autism diagnostic test has known issues with accuracy linked at least partially to the vagueness of its questions, also any diagnostic test you take online is moot anyway because tests like that need to be taken in conjunction with conversations with a psychologist/psychiatrist/other trained professional. Self diagnosis is an important tool of medical self-advocacy in an age where mental health issues tend to be ignored or poorly understood, but you also have to keep in mind your own limitations and lack of training. It's fun to take a test and say maybe this is the reason I am the way I am but if it really bothers you you can't leave it at that, you gotta get therapied about it.
#also there's a huge overlap between autism adhd and ptsd#all of which can mimic each other in certain ways#so the chances of false positives is very high#a therapist interpreting my score would keep that in mind if they learned i have adhd and am unmedicated
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A Different World: Gwinam x Reader
Pairing: Yoon Gwinam x Plussize!fem!Reader
Genre: Smut. So much Smut. Minors DNI please
Word Count: 12k
Rating: M....very much M, explicit
Summary: Before the outbreak, you never thought you had a chance with Yoon Gwinam, and he thought the same about you. But, once you've both come into a new state of being, a "hambie", suddenly sexual fantasies don't stay fantasies.
Tags: Fat Shaming, Bullying, Toxic Friendships, Dom/sub, Light Sadism, Light Masochism, Spanking, Pulic Masturbation, Masturbation in bathroom, Mutual pining, blood and gore, blood kink, spit kink, rape fantasy, thigh worship, body worship, rough sex, rough oral sex, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), anal sex, rimming, anal fingering, face slapping, facials, cum swallowing, multiple orgasms (m. and f.), multiple positions, no breaks, they're both fucking pervs and so horny for each other, kind of a forbidden romance? well, until all their friends die anyways.
****
You fixed your shirt for the millionth time that morning. You hated how your stomach and chest lightly pushed on the clear buttons of your shirt; it made you look fatter tucked into your skirt. The skirt is a different breed of annoying. Your thick thighs used to chafe from rubbing together throughout the day. You usually pull on gym pants if it becomes too much, but deodorant sticks and your thigh high stockings make it easier to bear. Other girls can wear the pants without a word; you, the chubby one, can't. You hoped the shirt did not pop open from the stretch. The laundry schedule at home meant you'd have at least one day with the smaller school shirt. Fixing it again, you decided to button your blazer over it for now. When you get to class, you can unbutton it to breathe before doing it again.
"Stop doing that. You're going to make it worse," Hyejin said from beside you. "You should've gotten a larger size."
"The store didn't carry any more of it," you admitted quietly. "I need to go there later to see if they have them again."
Choi Hyejin, small and narrow, was one of the two people you're certain you hate. A petite, brown haired girl from an upper class family, she carried the haughty air and snotty opinions of the high society she came from. Had you two not grown up together, you're sure you'd be her favorite punching bag. But since your fathers worked together, and your mothers ran in the same social circles, she resorted to backhanded compliments like this.
"Or you can have it tailored like my brother did," said the girl on your left.
Slender and tall, Kim Soomin was part of the girl's volleyball team and well liked in the athletic scene. Her black hair tied back in a long plait, she wore her volleyball jacket over her uniform, which made her look broader but slimmer at the same time. Another girl from an affluent family, you and her became close on your first day of primary school. That is where your trio-friendship forged, and where it would remain until the end of time. Soomin didn't discourage you like Hyejin did, but you knew why she hung out with you. It's the same reason they both did:
They look hotter when compared to you. Because even with Hyejin's hooked nose and Soomin's height, at least they're not fat.
"I suppose, but my mom might say no," you told her, holding your books to your chest. "She'll just tell me to lose weight."
"Then why don't you? It'd be better for your health, if anything. It can’t be that hard.”
The false concern for your health stabbed another hole in you. Hyejin and Soomin might not be ideal friends, but it was certainly better than having none. With at least these two, you avoided the cruel, harsh bullying you often witnessed happen to others. If Choi Hyejin and Kim Soomin liked you, then you must be cool. However, the trade off is the occasional 'you're fat and that's why your life sucks' discussion. You knew they didn’t actually care if you lost any weight. The longer you remained fat, the better they’d continue to look in comparison. In your mind’s eye, you saw all the boys who flirted with Hyejin at school. They ignored you completely. Not that you cared. Only one boy in Hyoson High School caught your attention, and he’d never notice you. Not in a million years.
"You can always come to the school gym with me!” said Soomin. “I don't mind having a partner and the coach won't say anything about it."
"No thanks. I hate gyms. I always feel people are watching me."
"Nobody watches you, YN," Hyejin scoffed. "They don't care as much as you think they do."
You wanted to tell her that a fat girl in a gym often attracted some kind of torment, but the words caught in your throat. Looking up the path leading into school, you spotted him. Yoon Gwinam. A tall boy with black hair that reached his neck, he wore the school shirt open with a black sweater underneath, likely to fight off the chill. Long limbs made him look longer and broader. You often imagined him completely encapsulating you in a hug, your head on his shoulder and hearing his heart beating. Your heart fluttered seeing him standing in the distance with his friends. He stood, chuckling and smiling when one of them made a joke. You wished it was you making him smile like that. You’d do anything to see it up close. Gwinam is a tough guy; you’ve seen him beat up people with little effort. The sort of guy who’d protect you and care for you above everyone else; the guy whose heart would only melt for you. No guy you’d managed to date treated you the way you wanted.
“-We did it by that old railroad track outside the train stations,” Hyejin’s story broke into your thoughts as you walked. Your eyes kept focusing on Gwinam, leaning against a building near the school. Absent-mindedly, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, thinking it made you more attractive. “I love it when they groan. It’s super hot when a guy is vocal.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” Soomin laughed. “Especially since he’s dating Aro.”
“Aro should take better care of her man then, if you know what I mean.”
You tuned out Hyejin’s recount, and thought of saying something Gwinam as you walked by. ‘Hey Gwinam’. ‘Morning Gwinam’. ��Gwinam, please rip off my panties, and fuck me hard.’ No, the last one is a bit too much. Besides, if Soomin and Hyejin saw you talking to him, they’d ask why you did. His reputation around school wasn’t very good; he hung around with bullies who picked on people weaker than them. Yet, it was this bad reputation that made you want him more. You didn’t want to “fix” him. You wanted him as he was, meanness and all. You couldn’t really explain it. Something about him attracted you, and they wouldn’t understand.
“Are you still talking to him?” asked Soomin, amused. “Or have you already thrown him away?”
“Nah, we’re still talking,” she said. Of course they were. You knew Hyejin would eventually forget about her newest conquest and move onto someone else. “He said he can’t get enough of me.”
“Oh my god, you’re so bad.”
The thought of Gwinam only wanting sex from you crossed your mind. It was why most guys approached you: they thought heavy girls are desperate and will sleep with them for crumbs of affection. Normally you reject these guys, since high school boys like to brag. Yet, if Gwinam ever showed interest, you’d crumble immediately. If you put out for any guy in school, it’d be him. Deep down, you sensed he enjoyed the kind of sex you did…At least, in your fantasies he did.
“You know, YN, he’s got a pretty cute friend,” she told you. “I mean, he’s not Namjoon hot, but he’s okay looking. He’s definitely your type. I could set you up-YN? Are you listening?”
“Huh? What?”
Hyejin looked between you and where Gwinam stood and let out a soft laugh. “Oh my god, no way,” she teased, “You’re actually checking out Yoon Gwinam?”
“What?! No,” you defended instantly. “I wasn’t looking at him at all.”
“He’s a jerk, YN,” said Soomin. “He’s a bully. How could you like a guy that bullies people?”
“He’s also a total idiot,” added Hyejin.
“I wasn’t looking at him,” you repeated firmly, heat rising in your cheeks. “He’s just…He’s in my eyeline, that’s all.”
“He’s not even a cute bully,” said Soomin. “You know, like the guys in the dramas. He’s ugly. He’s got a weird face shape.”
You wanted to hit her. Gwinam is by no means ugly. You liked his face, his body, his hair, and everything else. In your daydreams, he liked your body too. He’d spend ages telling you how beautiful he thinks you are, and how much you turn him on.
“Not to mention that ugly haircut,” Hyejin scoffed. “Besides, I wouldn’t bother. It’s not like he’d be into you.”
“Hyejin,” Soomin said carefully. “Don’t be so mean.”
“I’m not being mean. I’m being honest,” she retorted. “Guys like him are total assholes. He’d probably laugh at you and walk away if you confessed.”
“I won’t confess because there’s nothing to confess.”
It pained you to admit it, but Hyejin was right. Gwinam would never like a girl like you. You looked at him one more time as you came closer. He didn't even look your way. Why should he? There’s nothing special about you. Guys never looked at you; why should he be any different? You walked past his group, and your eyes met him for a split second. You quickly turned away before he noticed you. It made your cheeks burn more, simply having him acknowledge you for a second even if he thought nothing of you.
“Ugh, so gross,” Soomin huffed.
“The dude’s a walking red flag. You should like someone else,” Hyejin smiled slowly, “Like Lee Suhyeok. Isn’t he gorgeous?”
Yes, Suhyeok was the handsome, friendly guy any sane girl would like. Yet, you didn’t. You found it difficult when you compared him to Gwinam, who checked all your boxes. Your fondness for bad boys will eventually come back to bite you, you know. It was best for everyone if you kept it to yourself.
“Gosh, I’d kill to get a slice of him,” Hyejin sighed.
“But he’s not into you,” you said to her. A little dig into her made you feel good. “He likes someone else, I heard.”
“That’s because he hasn’t gotten with me yet,” she replied with a sly smile.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to get with you because you fuck any guy who gives you attention,” you heard yourself say to her. You instantly gasped and Soomin laughed out loud. “Oh, um, well, I mean maybe-”
“-Maybe ‘what’? At least guys actually look at me, unlike you. Namjoon told me he and his friends have a bet going, you know,” she spat back. “Yeah, to see who could bag The Pig. He told me to introduce you to his friend, since he said if he wins, he’d split the money with us. Want to know what I said? I said ‘no’ because I’m a good friend.”
“What?” Your throat dried up at that confession. It was always your worst fear: a guy showing interest as a dare from his friends. “So, you were going to set me up with someone who means to play a prank on me?”
“Oh, come on, like you’re that dumb. I told him you wouldn’t fall for it. He’d have to try really hard since you always get all weird when you like a guy.”
“But you still knew,” you stopped walking, and gripped your books tightly. “You were still going to go through with it just so some asshole keeps liking you.”
You wanted to hit her. You wanted to call her every name in the book, and smack her until you drew blood. She thought herself so above you and Soomin. You pictured yourself literally knocking her down a size. Your nails dug into the soft cover of your textbooks, so tight your knuckles burned. Images of you sitting in a restaurant, waiting on a guy who might never come, tightened your chest. You hated her.
“I was going to tell you,” she said, “Stop being so dramatic. It’s not like you’ll go through with it. You chicken out every time a guy comes onto you. I told you about it just now, didn’t I? See, I’m a good friend to you and you say mean things to me. I was only looking out for you.”
She turned on her heel and continued walking. Soomin stayed behind for a moment, seeing your eyes glare at Hyejin’s back. “YN?” she came to you cautiously, “YN, we gotta go to class.”
Why were you friends with her? Why were you friends with either of them? You knew why. Because it was better to be friends with them, taking the licks, than not having friends at all.
“YN-”
“-Fuck off,” you hissed at her before leaving her side.
You blinked back the tears building up in her eyes. Going into the school with teary eyes might attract more attention than you’d like. Crying in front of people showed weakness. You couldn’t let people know you’re weak because then you’d become a target too. Walking away from the school pathway, you ended up in the construction site beside the main building. You aren’t sure what the school planned to make the building, but that didn’t matter to you. The half finished, concrete building remained abandoned during the day time. Nobody will hear you crying. You walked until the sounds of the other students faded into nothingness.
You’re a joke to them. You’re the dumb, ugly fat friend who they can look at when they feel bad about themselves. Every rude word, every mean comment from everyone in your life came rushing back to you. Your mother scolded you for eating more than you should. Your father said he was glad because then he didn’t have to worry about boys coming to his door. Hyejin liked pointing out the flaws in your outfits and Soomin constantly offered unsolicited health advice. You doubted this “friend” of Namjoon’s would actually like you. Not even the boys you’d gone out with before liked you. They always shift uncomfortably or tell you to keep it a secret. God forbid their friends should find out they liked the fat girl.
You collapsed against a bare, concrete wall and looked outside a window frame. Fresh air blew past the window, only just brushing the window sill you leaned against. You forced yourself to enjoy the free air to drown out the pain festering inside you. Visions of beating every single person in your life passed like a movie reel. You briefly imagined Hyejin getting into an accident that disfigures her pretty face forever; you pictured your mother finally dying and being free of her hateful words. Why couldn’t people just let you live?
As you stood there thinking, your favorite daydream came back. Gwinam is your boyfriend, and he hears what Hyejin said to you and what Namjoon’s friends planned to do, and beats them all up for you. In this daydream, you have a protector who adores you; who loves you as you are. A Gwinam who’d burn down the world for you; who’d bring ultimate pain to anyone who hurt you. You knew this Gwinam did not exist, but you comforted yourself with the fantasy anyways. Wiping your eyes, hoping the redness won’t be noticeable, sudden footsteps from the next room made you jump. You listened closely and realized it was multiple people.
“I told you to have the money with you.”
The familiar voice of Gwinam sent shivers down your body. You didn’t know who he’d come with, but you guessed it was his gang of bullies. Visions of what they might do if they caught you in the building, weeping and weak, and you pressed yourself against the wall. You could stay there until they left, or maybe you could sneak out through the window. But, the temptation guided you to the nearby hole in the wall meant to be a doorway. You rarely get a chance to watch Gwinam undisturbed this way. Usually, you’re with one of your friends or in a crowded room, and someone might see you. These moments didn’t come very often, so you seized it. Quietly, you walked to the door nearby and peeked one eye into the main room.
There he was, standing a few feet from a short, skinny boy. You immediately recognized the boy as Park Jisung, a boy from your homeroom. Jisung cowered away from Gwinam, who had him cornered in the empty room. Gwinam looked at Jisung the way a cat looked at a mouse. Your eyes scanned over his long frame; you pictured him standing front of you with the same stare. If you wanted anyone to bully you, it’d be Gwinam.
“I’m-I’m sorry, Gwinam,” Jisung gave a bow, shaking and nervous. “I’ll bri-bring it tomorrow.”
“But I need it today,” he said. He sighed, “Guys like you really fucking piss me off.”
‘Yes. Yes, get pissed off. Make him regret it,’ your darkest fantasies screamed. You pushed yourself against the wall, heat starting to flare up in your body despite the cold wall. ‘Hit him. Hurt him. Hit me. Hurt me.’
“I’m sorry, Gwinam! If you give me a little bit of time, I’ll get you the money. I promise. My parents didn’t have any to-”
“-I don’t care,” he said. “Fucking asshole.”
You flinched as Gwinam’s hand slapped Jisung across the face. Jisung stumbled to the side. Psh, weakling. He didn’t even hit that hard. You looked at Gwinam’s face, anger rising in him as he smacked Jisung around more. If only he did that to you. You clenched your thighs together watching him swing his long arms in each slap. Once Jisung hit the ground, Gwinam’s kicks began harsher and deeper. He looked so hot. Being angry or scared brought out a person’s true nature; Gwinam liked hurting people, and you liked watching him hurt people. You liked how Gwinam threw Jisung around like a rag doll, smacking and kicking him. You thought of him doing the same to you. Guys like Gwinam made you feel small and weak, despite your heaviness. You bit your lower lip thinking of those hands pinning you to the ground, leaving bruises around them for later. He’d throw you on the ground, tear open your shirt to bite and slap your tits before fucking you. No foreplay. No gentleness or kindness. You’d be wet from his ferocity alone.
“Piece of shit,” Gwinam growled.
“What a loser,” you heard one of his friends laugh.
Your body slowly began grinding into the side of the doorway. Nobody would see you in the dimness, surely. They’re preoccupied with Jisung, who wept and begged them to stop. Your pussy pulsed watching Gwinam kick and stomp on him. You stuck your hand underneath your skirt, carefully running your fingers over your sex. It’d have to be quick, but watching Gwinam in the flesh this way made you wetter. Tightness built between your thighs, that familiar arousal burning as your fingers trailed over your slit. The chilling wall caused your nipples to harden, and you thought of Gwinam’s mouth on them. He’d bite and suck as his cock grinded into your pussy. You’d grip his shoulders and arms, nails clawing his flesh as he teased you.
You’d let him take you however he wished. You’d be his personal fuck toy; a thing only made to pleasure him.
“Psh, pathetic motherfucker,” Gwinam spat at Jisung. He crouched down and lifted his head by the hair.
You bit down on your lip as you circled your clit. His tongue swirls around it greedily, gripping your thighs hard and growling from the taste. He stood Jisung up to his feet. He’d do the same to you. He’d laugh at you for getting so wet so easily; he’d call you a whore, smack you one more time, before continuing the sexual torture. Maybe he’d do what he did to Min Eunji once. He’d grab a marker and write filthy words on your body, on your clothes, so people knew you belonged to him. Screw what your friends thought. This is your fantasy, not theirs. Your lips grew wetter, and you pushed your panties aside. You started rubbing yourself quicker. A slew of dirty thoughts came as Jisung groaned, and coughed.
Gwinam spanking your ass until it becomes tender and hot.
Gwinam spitting in your mouth, then calling you a filthy bitch for doing it.
Gwinam tying you to his bed at home and leaving you there for whenever he gets horny.
The climax hits you hard with the usual scene: Gwinam chasing you through a forest, feral and high on adrenaline, until he gets his hands on you. You rode it out on your hand as you pictured him fucking you like an animal. His teeth gritted, his muscles tense and tight, and his cock shooting cum over your face and breasts. It’d hurt, but you’d love that. Your juices coated your fingers, and you shivered as you came down into your post-orgasm glow. Gwinam finished beating up Jisung, who tearfully ran away when Gwinam and his friends let him go. Panting, running his hands through his hair, Gwinam stood there a moment while his friends left the building. You continued circling your sensitive nub, wishing you could go for a second time. The bold fantasy of you offering yourself to him right then crossed your mind, but no, you’d never do that. Then, the unthinkable happened.
Gwinam saw you. He’d turned his head casually; you supposed he’d done it to check if anyone had seen him, and spotted you in the other room. You froze in place, quickly withdrawing your hand from your panties. Due to the angle, Gwinam didn’t see your lower half, but him having seen you was enough. Dark eyes swept down the parts of your body he could see. What if he suspected what you’d done? What if he’d heard you and purposefully prolonged the beatdown? You gasped and whipped your body around out of sight. You worried he might confront you. You held back a whimper imagining him coming over to you, sticking his hands in your panties, and telling you how naughty you’ve been.
‘Insatiable slut. You can’t even wait until we’re alone to touch yourself for me. Do it again. Now.’
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. You heard Gwinam’s friend call out to him, and you heard him leave. In reality, he’d never want to touch you. He’ll no doubt go to his friends and tell them what he suspected. They’ll taunt and tease you forever about it. Soomin and Hyejin would be disgusted with you, because even if you disliked them, they’re all you have. On wobbly legs, you picked up your things and left the construction site.
Your fantasies will always be exactly that. Fantasies. Nothing more.
How did you do it? How did you catch his attention when nothing else does? How do you make this entire world slow down when you walk past him? Any time Gwinam saw you, he swore everything around him stopped for you. Most girls at school didn’t have that effect on him. They were too skinny or too annoying. Gwinam liked girls with soft curves that made him drool. You are such a girl. The briefest of glances from you haunt him throughout the rest of the day. That small twinkle of acknowledgement sent him into a stunned silence for several seconds, if not minutes. So, to see you in that half-finished building, breathless and clutching the wall, inspired a fresh series of fantasies. He thought of going up to you in that building, pulling down your panties and shoving himself inside you. You’d stay up against that wall, shirt open and tits bouncing, as he pumped his cum into you. He loved your tits. And your thighs. He liked peeking at them during class. The desk always stopped just underneath them so he had a nice view. Lord knows what he’d do if you sat beside him. He’d leave class with wet fingers every day.
But, sadly, those dirty thoughts would never come to be. A smart, clever girl who always did well would never want an idiot like him. Girls like you wanted handsome, smart guys like Suhyeok. Gwinam is forced to live with thoughts of you in his arms in his dreams. You must be so soft. You always smell nice too. He’s noticed it before; it’s a flowery perfume that drew him to you. He thought of your laugh as he walked towards school with Myunghwa and the others. He wished he could be the one making you laugh. Visions of kissing you, walking hand-in-hand with you, and being with you clouded his mind. He’d be good to you. Gwinam wasn’t kind very often, but he’d treat you so well. He’d give you anything you wanted; do anything you asked of him.
He’d hurt someone for you, if you wished it.
The group entered the school before classes began, and Gwinam caught sight of you rushing past them. A hint of floral perfume hit his nose, causing him to breathe it deeply. He noticed you heading towards the bathrooms. He smirked. You must’ve made such a mess. Too bad he isn’t there to lick you clean. He shook the image of your soaked pussy from his head when Myunghwa smacked the nape of his neck.
“-Are you listening to me?” the short boy asked him irritably.
“Huh? Yeah, I was.”
Myunghwa scoffed disbelievingly. “Fucking idiot,” he said, “You never pay attention.”
“He was checking out Park YN,” Changhoon, another part of their group, smirked. “I can’t believe you like that fattie. She’s not even pretty in the face.”
“I wasn’t checking her out,” Gwinam said defensively. “I wouldn’t touch her even if she was the last girl on earth.” He considered the feeling might be mutual. You’d never truly like him. If you were doing what he thought, it must’ve been for someone else. The idea alone boiled his blood. “She’s ugly.”
No, you’re not. You’re beautiful. So beautiful. He thought of the other day when he saw you in the library. You often go there during lunch to catch up on homework or to read quietly. You liked reading, he noticed. You’d sat beside a window, and he admired how the sun caught in your hair, illuminating your face. He put the image to memory for those tough nights at home. Whenever his dad called him useless or his mom shook her head in disappointment, he pictured you in that chair. You’d lift your head, smile, and tell him he’s not a waste of space. You’d encourage and lift his spirits up…and he’d kiss you. He thought of your lips and the cherry lip balm he spotted in your bag. They must taste so good.
And he’d never have them. He’d never have you. He’s not supposed to like girls like you. He’s supposed to like skinny, pretty girls like your friends. Yet, those girls didn’t excite him like you did.
Myunghwa went on with some story about how someone mentioned his name in Jinsu’s disappearance. The police went to his house to question him. Gwinam wanted to tell him they’d done the same to him and the others. It’s not their fault Jinsu made it so easy for them; he never fought back until that night. Gwinam recalled the way his body hit the sign, hit a balcony, before finally crashing into the alleyway. He’d never seen a dead person before. He’d been sure that the police might arrest him. They could’ve found fingerprints on Jinsu’s skin or caught him on camera somehow. Yet, they’d done the opposite. They believed the story of them having been out in the street and nowhere near Jinsu’s last location.
Gwinam walked into class on his own, and spotted you in your usual seat next to him. You shared a desk space with your friend, Soomin, but his desk was across the aisle. He bit the inside of his lip seeing you crossed your legs under your desk. A small peek of your thigh high stocking stirred more dirty images in his mind. He liked how a bit of pudge went over the stocking bands; if he ever got his hands on those thighs, he’d lose his mind. He took his seat nearby and did his best to not look at you. He thought about the construction site again, picturing you fingering yourself to him and cumming hard on your pretty fingers. He shifted his gaze slightly to see your chest exactly where he knew it’d be. The combined picture of your thighs and your breasts caused him to swallow thickly and look elsewhere. He’d die of embarrassment if he got a hardon in class, but how could he ignore such a sensual sight?
As Mr. Lee, their science teacher, began class when Gwinam noticed you starting to pull off your blazer. Logic and reason said you must be hot, considering you’re sitting near the windows. But his horny, perverted mind said you were taking it off for him. You wore a tight shirt today, so it showed off the curves of your bosom and tummy. His jaw dropped when he spotted a white strap through the fabric. Your bra, he hoped. He quickly thought of you in his lap, wearing nothing but your skirt and stockings. No bra. No panties.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he dared a chance to look at it. A message from Myunghwa.
‘Wow, you got it bad for her, huh? Bet she’d crush you if she got on top.’
He clenched his jaw and put the phone away. Whenever he felt a new fantasy coming on, his friends ruined it for him. He wished he could sit closer. He wished he could talk to you, and only you. You’re so smart. You answer Mr. Lee’s questions without hesitation and so eloquently. Your friends might be pretty, but they’re complete airheads. You’re the intelligent one. The intelligent one with pretty lips and eyes that made him melt.
Gwinam went through absolute torture during class. Not even amusing himself by bullying Eunji distracted him. Seeing the buttons between your tits stretch from the size, he knew he’d have plenty of jerk-off scenarios tonight.
‘Gwinam? Could you help me with my shirt? It’s so tight and uncomfortable. Please, take it off me.’
He squeezed his eyes tightly and bit his tongue as the signal for lunch rang through the school.
‘The cold’s making my nipples hard. Would you warm them with your mouth? They’re so hard and my hands aren’t as warm as your tongue.’
Fucking hell. Gwinam stood up from his desk before you did, and decided a walk to the cafeteria might clear his head.
‘Oh, Gwinam, your cock’s so big-’
Fuck. No.
‘-Put it between my tits, and fuck them. I want to make you cum using my soft, huge tits.’
He pushed into a bathroom stall, locked the door and started unbuckling his pants.
‘God, they just swallow your dick. I can’t wait for you to cum all over them. I love cum. I want you to cum on me. Please, Gwinam, cover me in your yummy cum.’
His dick throbbed in his hand in every stroke. His eyes closed and he thought about you in the construction building. He thought of catching you touching yourself, and taking advantage of your vulnerable position. Gwinam pictured himself tearing off your clothes, exposing your luscious body, and tasting every inch of you. You’d struggle at first, pleading and whimpering for him to stop, but you’d soon give into him. Gwinam focused on the image of you riding him to climax. Your tight walls clenched hard around him as he rubbed his thumb over your clit; your breasts bouncing in his face until he suckled on one of them. The thought made him cum within minutes. That’s what you did to him. He wished you didn’t have such a fierce hold on him. He wished he didn’t desire you so much, but he couldn’t help it. He’d become completely blind to any other woman he met. He only wanted you.
Coming down from his orgasm, he cleaned himself up and decided to head to the cafeteria. He felt refreshed having gotten you out of his system. He wondered if he might see you there or if you’d go to the library again today. He didn’t care which one. He’d have to keep his leering to a minimum now that Myunghwa saw him looking at you. He came up with explanations to why he’d been looking your way, but none of them sounded convincing. When he entered the cafeteria, he did see you there. You stood in line with Soomin. You’d put your blazer back on, which dampened his spirits a bit. But then again, it might be good for him. He’d only just finished rubbing one out to you. He can’t do it twice in such a short amount of time.
He got into the line two people behind you, and looked at his phone instead. Myunghwa and Changsoon taunted him over what they’d seen in class. They made fun of you, talking about how your buttons must be holding on for dear life or telling him to be careful as you might break his bed getting into it. He wanted to kill them. He didn’t care if they talked badly about other girls; he didn’t want them talking badly about you. But, rather than tell them off, he joined in the conversation.
‘Kekeke, she probably jiggles around like jello.’
This amused them. Yet, he looked at you as the line moved. You styled your hair differently. Usually, you wore it tied back from your face, but today it flowed freely around your face. Gwinam did not have a particularly favorite look; he loved anything you wore or did to yourself. He watched you chat with Soomin. By your annoyed gaze and clenched jaw, he assumed you’re arguing quietly. No doubt your “friend” Choi Hyejin said something to upset you, and Soomin defended her. He often overheard you three talking at lunch or in class. He liked the sound of your voice, so sue him. Hyejin in particular liked putting you down, and you let her. Just like how he let Myunghwa talk down to him.
He shoved the person in front of him out of the way, stepping to them when they protested until they backed off.
“-She didn’t mean anything by it. She only meant that you’re not that good with guys, so she was trying to help,” Soomin said to you as you started down the line. “She didn’t know Namjoon planned anything until he said it.”
“Whatever.”
“Oh, YN, you know Hyejin cares about you. I do too.”
“Okay.”
You shut down. Whatever Soomin said to you left you defeated. He thought of pushing Soomin aside and holding you close. Whatever prank or mean thing Hyejin said to you would be smothered away by his kisses. He grabbed a tray, and began going down the line with you. Seeing your cold stare, and how you avoided Soomin’s gaze, you’d gotten locked inside your head. It happened to him a lot too. Whenever Myunghwa insulted or hit him, or whenever his father called him a worthless piece of shit, he’d sink into the dark, lonely place in his mind. If only he could pull you from it, then you would never feel pain again. Soomin must’ve given up trying to reach you, because then she scoffed and walked away to sit down. This left a gap between you and him. He thought about what he’d just done in the bathroom, and wished he’d taken you with him. As you reached the end of the line, the both of you reached for a pair of utensils at the same time.
“Oh, sorry,” you said timidly. “I didn’t…I’m sorry, I…”
“It’s okay,” he said, picking up one of the wrapped pairs to hand to you, “Here.”
“Thank you.”
Oh, your eyes. He never gave them enough appreciation. So much innocence and sweetness shined from them, yet they hid something much darker within. He could tell. He wanted to say more, but what? Rarely did he get this close to you. He was always worried someone might see and make fun of him for it. But, there’s nobody who matters around him. He saw you turn away from him shamefully. No doubt you’re remembering what happened on the construction site. When he did not look away from you, you squeaked out:
“I won’t tell anyone what I saw. I promise.”
Did you think he’d hurt you? “Good,” he said, bending down to your ear, “I won’t tell anyone what I saw either. I hope you enjoyed yourself.”
What in the hell was he doing? Trying to scare you away? He mentally kicked himself when he spotted your widening eyes. He watched you scurry away from him like a mouse, and it left him disheartened. He couldn’t help himself, could he? What did he think you’d say to that? Gwinam bit his tongue again, then went to sit with the gang. He forced himself not to look at you. Looking at you in front of the guys meant more teasing. He only liked one kind of teasing, and it was the teasing he got from you.
You woke up with a gasp. Your heart hammered in your ears, and suddenly you croaked in pain. You felt as if someone dislodged your bones, then put them back into place. Heat burned behind your eyes, and briefly you smelled blood all around you. Hunger. A distinct hunger rumbled in your body, but something inside you fought it back. Your mind went back and forth between this limbo of cravings and denials before you paused all together. You blinked your eyes a few times as your vision cleared.
It took several moments for you to register that you were soaked to the bones on the cafeteria floor. All around you, you hear gargled snarling and sharp hissing sounds. You heard feet shuffling or skidding across the floor; the cracking of bones made you flinch every time it sounded in the room. You kept your eyes closed, hoping if you open them, you’ll be back home in your bed. But, no you weren’t. You knew you weren’t.
Sitting up, you felt a distinct soreness in your neck, shoulder, stomach and arm. You looked down at your shaking hands to see them stained with blood. You found more of it on your uniform and stockings. You took deep breaths as you spotted the deep, crimson stain on your left forearm. Gingerly, you pulled up your sleeve to see a bite mark deep in your flesh. It looks fresh, as if it’d never healed. But, when you touched it, you felt no pain. The same was said for the scratches and bites on your stomach, the injuries having slashed through your shirt. You pressed down on the mark on your neck, only to hear the squishing of severed flesh. Curious, you poked your pinky into a hole in your neck, feeling no pain whatsoever. How could this be?
“Am I dead?”
You stared around the empty cafeteria. The people who’d been there had not escaped. The blood stains on the walls, windows, floors and tables told you as much. The creatures who’d once been classmates must’ve attacked the others, turning them into beasts as well. But, why had that not happened to you? You jumped suddenly when the gnashing, guttural sounds came from behind you. Your eyes widened in shock. Hyejin. At least, what was left of her. Hyejin, once dainty and posh, now cracked her neck this way and that as she snapped her jaws like a turtle. You saw her front covered in blood, more of it smeared around her mouth and on her hands. Blood red eyes instantly locked with yours. You let out a scream as she rushed towards you, hands outstretched and clawing for you. You shielded yourself in a fetal position, ready to be devoured by her, before you realized she wasn’t touching you. Hyejin, reeking of rotting flesh, only hunched a few inches from you. You heard her sniffing the air around her. She moved her head side to side, still biting and growling as drool came from her yellowed teeth. But, she did not touch you.
Soon, Hyejin backed away. She jolted upright, and began moving from you to the center of the room. You realized she was not the only one in the room. Other students who’d sat in the cafeteria now jerked and stumbled around. You stood up, almost slipping on the wet floors, and waited for one of them to notice you. But, none of them did. They should be charging at you; they should be ripping and tearing at your body, but they did not. To them, you’re not there. Touching your wounded neck again, you realized something: You’d become one of them. That is why they did not attack you as you walked out of the cafeteria.
Nor when you reached the pathways outside school. All around you, students walked around, sniffing and searching for more human meat. None of them bothered you unless you bothered them first. Even then, they only snapped their teeth at you before moving away. It felt surreal. An ignorant person might believe they’re in a dream, but you knew better. Whatever happened here has led to hundreds of students being infected with a mind altering disease. You wondered what could’ve caused this as you walked around the school. Biochemical warfare? Chemical lab experiment gone wrong? You couldn’t think of anything else. You could only focus on trying not to attract any of the zombies around you.
It all came back to you as you walked. One minute, you’d been apologizing to Hyejin for what you’d said about her, and the next a rush of students flooded the room. You’d been the first to stand from your seat. You remembered students screaming with terror as they ran through the cafeteria. You remembered seeing the things chasing them: other students, all of them red-eyed and feral. They screeched and growled hysterically, as if possessed by demons. But, that’s childish; this was something worse. You’d grabbed your bag once you saw an infected student tackle a girl by the wall and instantly bite into her throat. Soomin, the athlete, managed to get to a back door before either you or Hyejin. Some friends. It truly became every man for himself. Hyejin had screamed in absolute terror when one zombie, a large boy, blundered after her. You remember being a few steps ahead of her by then. You’d reached for the kitchen doors when a hand yanked your head back.
Hyejin used you as a means of escape. You’d slipped and tripped over the floors as the sprinkles above went off, causing it to rain inside the cafeteria. The large zombie grabbed hold of you, but you’d managed to fight him off. Another zombie, a girl with short hair, launched at you. That’s how your arm was bitten. But, you hadn’t stayed under her for long, since you threw her off you. You’d gotten up a second time where you watched Hyejin running through the kitchen to the back doors. Seeing it up ahead, you knew instinctively she’d close the door on you if she reached it. You recall leaping. You never leapt before, but you leapt towards Hyejin. Your hands found her long dark hair, fisted it tightly, and dragged her from the door. She fell to the ground with a painful groan. By the back door, you saw the two zombies attack her. You sidestepped another zombie when you realized the back door was locked. Running into the main kitchen, you dodged zombies and screamed when one of them lurched for you. Due to the slippery floor and chaos of humans and zombies, you’d fallen face forward. All air knocked out of you, you scrambled up before a zombie caught you.
That’s when more of them came. You squeezed your eyes tightly as you thought of the stink of death and harsh pain of teeth breaking skin. You’d howled from the nails digging into your skin, and the number of zombies all vying for a piece of you. Kicking and screaming, you eventually caved when one of them sunk his teeth into your neck, the one that was most obvious to you. You touched it again, walking back into the school to the library, your sanctuary. You didn’t find anyone there. It appeared whatever zombies were here had left.
Empty. That is what the world became: empty. Yet, it didn’t feel like it to you. You heard the sounds of zombies groaning outside perfectly. You could smell the paper of the books underneath the foul odor of blood and corpses. Tapping a table, the sound was louder to you. Your ears became sensitive to any sound you made after. You guessed the other zombies, mindless and aimless, reacted to noise as well. Grabbing a book, you opened the window to test your theory. You saw several zombies walking around the fields outside. You launched the book out the window, watching it fall and crash onto the ground. The small slap alerted every zombie within a twenty foot radius. They clambered over to the sound, but growled their discontent when they only smelled more dead flesh. So, a unique sense of sound. You wondered what else your new existence brought you.
This heightened sense came in handy an hour or so later. You’d been setting small fires across the library, trying to see how far your sense of smell went, when you heard it. At first, you thought it might be another zombie, but your new nose said otherwise. The newcomer did not smell like rotting flesh or congealed blood. They were something in between. You took a whiff around, and the trail led towards the library entrance. You’d been thinking of testing out your strength and speed. You saw how indestructible your fellow zombies were: you’d been throwing computer parts at them from above and barely making a dent. You might have a similar strength. You knew whatever being sauntered into your hideout will be your guinea pig. You put out your small bonfire with a wet paper towel, and followed the sounds and smells with your new body.
You made to move, but the intruder stepped out from behind the bookcases. It was Gwinam, except he looked drastically different from the boy you saw this morning. Firstly, he wore a new jacket that obviously wasn't his. Secondly, a hideous, nauseating gash went through his left eye, leaving a gory mess behind. He stopped when he saw you. You stared at him. He stared at you. Neither of you said anything. It was like meeting one of the zombies; you did not have to speak to understand one another.
"You too?" He asked, his deep voice breaking the silence.
"Yeah."
"In the cafeteria?"
"Yeah. You?"
"In here."
"When?"
"A few hours ago. Cheongsan pushed me off there," he pointed to one of the high bookcases, "And I got bit." His good eye surveyed you from afar.
"And your eye?"
"He shoved a phone into it."
"A phone?"
The idea of a cell phone never occurred to you. You could've called for help, but that didn't seem to matter anymore. Who could help you? And if help was called, they would have come by now. "Yeah, the corner part," he said, acting out the gesture with a stabbing motion, "But it's whatever. I don't really feel it. I plan on killing him." He spotted the deep wounds on your neck, and said, "Those don't bother you either?"
"Not really. I thought they'd at least itch, but they haven't," you said. "I tried recording the healing process, but it's very slow. I think because we're still partly human, we can't feel the pain but our muscles and skin react to it. Look, see," you showed him your bite marks, the skin barely together but no longer leaking blood. "It stopped bleeding, but the wound hasn't healed."
"Is that what you've been doing here?" He gestured to the trash can at your feet. "Experimenting?"
"Well, yes," you said, sheepishly. "I want to see what my body is capable of now that I've reached this new level of being. My senses are certainly sharper: I can smell things from at least twenty feet; I'm able to hear things from a further distance too, since sound echoes and bounces. I've discovered I don't die. I can't die. Seeing you now, I'm assuming it's the same for you?"
"Yeah."
You caught him looking over your body again. You became self-conscious immediately. Being undead, you doubted you'd lose any weight from your previous life. Add the disgusting bites and scratches on your flabby flesh, and you're absolutely distasteful. You didn't need Gwinam staring at you like that.
"Stop it," you said, not meeting his eyes.
"Stop what?"
"Looking at me. You don't see me staring at your eye, do you? I don't need reminding of how ugly I am."
"You're not ugly."
You scoffed, "Please, don't insult my intelligence. I know how my body looks."
"I know too, and I like it."
"Huh?" You saw it once you met his eyes.
"Nothing about your body has ever bothered me," he said, licking his lips at you. "In fact, everything about it turns me the fuck on."
You walked backwards from him as he approached. Your heart thumped in your chest, the sound spreading to your ears and freezing your bones. A sudden heat flared up in your body, and you gulped thickly as it went all over. The glint in his eye is unmistakable, and it excites you. Never did you think this would happen. Yoon Gwinam was only meant for your dirtiest, smuttiest fantasies reserved for lonely nights at home. Yoon Gwinam was the forbidden fruit that you'd never reach; Hyejin and Soomin being the ones raising the branch with each disgusted word. Yet, as the world turned upside down, those fantasies quickly turned into reality as Gwinam moved towards you.
"You make my cock so fucking hard," he nearly growled, already unbuckling his pants. "It drives me crazy. I have to sit in class…seeing you there in that little skirt…seeing your tits almost bursting out of your shirt…I know why you wear it that way…you like showing off those big tits just for me, don't you?" The way he walked reminded you of Jisung from that morning. A lion coming upon its prey. Something about this brazen, direct Gwinam caused your mind to wander back into those fantasies. "And don't get me started on those thighs of yours,” his eyes scanned your body and stopped to your thighs, “I love looking at them, especially when you wear stockings…the way they hug your thighs so some pudges out…fuck, you know it does things to me…"
"What?" Your voice quivered slightly.
"Don't act innocent with me," he said, getting closer. His dark eyes full of frustration and lust brought back to the last scenario you imagined. Your arousal throbbed between your legs. "You act all clean cut but I know deep down you're just a whore who wants to be fucked senseless every second of the day.” He unzipped his fly, but did not pull anything out, "You made me so horny in class that I jerked off in the bathroom during lunch. I remembered you at the construction site, all breathless and horny, and I couldn't help it."
He came within inches of you. The heavy scent of blood and sweat reached your nose, and you bit your bottom lip. A sharp gasp left you when his body pressed into yours. Gwinam tugged down the front of his pants and boxers to withdraw his dick. The sight made you wet instantly. Not too long, it was certainly thick with heavy balls underneath. You knew you'd definitely feel him stretching you soon. You already imagined it tearing you apart as he ravaged your body.
"Open your shirt and let me see those tits," he demanded, eyes focused on your chest. "You were so eager to show them before. I want to see them now."
With trembling fingers you unbutton your shirt. Underneath, Gwinam saw the white undershirt you wore stretched over your large breasts. You untucked your shirt so he may see more of you, which he liked. You worried about the gashes zombies left on your stomach and chest, but Gwinam hardly noticed them. He sailed up your body past them and to your breasts. He cupped one right away, causing you to whimper from the touch. Gwinam smirked and squeezed it so you whimpered again. You never considered stimulation before this moment. You might not feel any pain, but you certainly felt the small sparks his hand alone brought. His hands warmed up as they fondled you over your bra and shirt, the temperature hardened your nipples so they poked into the fabric. The cotton fabric of your bra did nothing to hide this from Gwinam, who bent down to bite gently down on one. You made a mental note to write down ‘sexual stimulation’ as part of your human side.
He put your hand on his crotch, and instinctively you grabbed it. You liked the feel of him against your fingers. Even with his half undead existence, his body felt human as ever. You sensed the blood pumping through his cock, and could almost smell it through the thin skin. Big hands remained nearly lukewarm on your chest; their gentle squeezes were certainly stronger than your daydreams concocted. Full lips didn’t skip over the bite mark on your neck, kissing upwards and licking the dried blood. The feeling of his tongue against your skin sent chills down your body. You needed more of him. You continued lightly touching his cock, sometimes slipping lower to the ball sack underneath, which caused several deep groans.
“You feel so fucking good,” he groaned in your ear, still fondling your breasts. “So addicting,” he went back to kissing your neck, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
You brought him into a kiss, and you're thankful he didn't pull away. His plush lips caressed yours, carefully opening them with a small flick on your bottom lip. Blood tinged your lips, sliding from one tongue to the other, but you liked it. That undeniable hunger for flesh and blood came over you; you growled and sunk further into his kiss. You didn’t know if a half-zombie could eat another half-zombie, but you found his taste to be particularly intoxicating. You pushed yourself against him, roaming his body with your free hand to unzip his jacket There, you found his bloodied black sweater where zombies bit into his torso. You didn’t mind it. This new discovery only aroused you more. It was as if he'd opened the floodgates repressing your desires. You couldn’t stop yourself.
"Let's get rid of this," he growled between kisses.
He took the collar of your tanktop and tore it open easily. Gwinam groaned at the sight of your tight white bra, which squeezed your breasts more than you liked. He kissed fiercely along them, even giving a bite that pinched you, groping and squeezing them. You kept your hand on him, his shaft growing even harder while you jerked him. The touch made your sex clench within you, and your clit throbbed from the newest sensation. Gwinam roughly tugged down your bra, so your tits spilled over the wire supporting them. He stopped kissing you to admire the soft mounds filling his hands. You whined as he grazed his thumbs over your nipples, the two peaks hard against the rough pads.
"Fuck," he moaned, kissing one of them, "They're exactly how I imagined them to be. So big and soft. I could suck these all day." He took it in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and sucking hard. He did this to each one since you squirmed at the mixture of pain and pleasure. "You can't imagine," he grunted, nipping at your tits, "How many times I felt like ripping your shirt open to play with them…How many times I thought of taking you…fucking you…raping you…"
"Gwinam…" you whimpered at his words, the filth causing you to stroke him faster. Droplets of precum stuck to your hand and slickened your motions. This only amplified your arousal.
"Like today with Jisung," he flicked his tongue over the very middle, which sent shocks of pleasure down your body. "I saw you standing there watching me hit him. I saw how you panted and bit your lower lip. You were touching yourself, and I wanted more than anything to fuck you. I wanted to chase you down, rip off your panties and have my way with you…whether you wanted it or not. I don’t care anymore.” He sucked particularly hard on one nipple, then came back up to you, “I’m the boss here now. I can have whatever and whoever I want, especially you.” He cupped your chin for a hard kiss, “I should’ve fucked you there. I would’ve given you the fucking little teases like you deserve.”
"What stopped you?" You asked him breathlessly, sliding one hand over his shoulder to feel more of him. You started pumping him faster. "Hm? What stopped big bad Gwinam from fucking the shit out of me right outside our school? You could've tossed me on the floor, fucking me into the dirt or into the bushes with your hand over my mouth-"
He cut you off by grabbing your throat. The slender digits squeezed both sides of your neck, cutting off air but not hurting you. The pain came from the harsh slap that went across your cheek. When you cried out, he did it again to the opposite cheek. He stared at you for a moment, surveying the need written on your face. Your clit throbbed for his attention, hoping your grinding hips might clue him into that. He then slapped you again, then kissed you roughly.
"You filthy slut," he grunted against your lips. "You like that, huh?” he smacked you again, “You like being hit?”
The truth was: yes, you did. The stinging pain mingled with the desire burning inside you. Being in his strong grasp, pinned by his long body, you knew you could easily escape him. This elevated, evolved being you’ve become came with a strength you’d never known before. It made you invincible. Breaking away from him wouldn’t be a problem, yet you don’t push or thrash in his clutches. You instead spread your thighs and begin pumping him once more. From his heavy breathing, you knew you’d gotten the effect you wanted.
“Let me see for myself then.” He stuck his hand under your skirt and roughly pushed your panties aside. You gasped from the sudden invasion of his fingers on your sex. Boys touched you there before, but not like how Gwinam did. Three fingers cupped your dampening center to rub carefully up and down; he didn’t care if you let him or not, your pussy was his now. “Oh, you do enjoy this kind of thing,” he sneered, releasing your throat and grabbing at your hair instead. A quick tug and a forceful pull brought you to your knees in front of him. “I’m going to show you what I would’ve done if I’d caught you. Open.”
He prodded his tip to your lips, which opened right away. The taste of salty precum slid over your tongue and savored the sticky substance. A huge part of your fantasies finally came true. Gwinam kept his hold on your hair while he guided you over his hips. The girth of his filled your mouth completely, and his head hit your throat once or twice. It’s exactly how you imagined. You sucked the hard muscle firmly, a move that made Gwinam groan. You wanted to please him; you wanted his approval and satisfaction. It became harder to breathe once he forced you right up to his base. You gripped your knees tightly as pain started burning your throat and chest. Inhaling through your nose, you tried your best to breathe as Gwinam’s cock nearly suffocated you. You loved it. Something about his dick blocking your airway, causing you to gag and choke on it excited you. Your eyes teared up whenever he held you to him for too long, only moving his tip from your throat in short strokes. Yet, you did not object or force him away. You hummed in your throat as he moved in and out. When he mumbled about enjoying it, you kept on going. Streams of his precum and your saliva started dripping from your mouth, leaking through the corners. You pointedly rocked backward and forward so your tits jiggled for him, and you saw him eye them right away. When he pulled away, streams of it came out and you gasped for air.
“Look at you,” he groaned, tapping his wet cock on your lips and cheeks. “You love choking on dick,” he sneered, pushing his tip into your mouth once more. He kept you still with one hand under your chin and the other on the back of your head. More tears spilled down your cheeks as he fucked your throat. You started playing with your nipples, and moaned around his shaft. “Your mouth is fucking heaven,” he moaned, “Like a silk toy. Because that’s all you are…A mindless, stupid fuck toy for me to use whenever I want.”
Your muffled moans made him laugh. “And, to think, what I’ve become gives me so much more stamina than before,” he continued, shoving himself fully inside. “I can do all the dirty things I’ve wanted to do with you, and never get tired,” he withdrew himself to let you breathe, “And you know what that means, right?” As you tried swallowing the thickness in your mouth, he said, “It means you’re going to learn what happens to sluts who think they can flash their tits and ass at me. You thought you could flaunt those thighs and those tits and that ass and I’d do nothing about it? Hm?” He plunged his cock right back into your mouth, laughing as you cried. “And there’s nobody around to stop me; nobody to laugh at me about it. It’s only you and me, and you make me horny nearly every second of the day.” He thrusted rapidly, drowning out your cries with his moans. “That means you might as well not wear anything at all.”
He pulled out a final time, and watched you sputter and gasp for air. You massaged your throat, which felt hoarse and ached. Gwinam tugged your head back, and rested his balls right on your mouth. You knew exactly what to do. You took one in your mouth for a tender suck, licking your tongue over the curves and skin. Gwinam stroked himself slowly as you tongued his balls; he occasionally grinded into your face so you’d swallow the whole thing. Little moans vibrated over the sensitive skin, and Gwinam gritted his teeth. You grabbed his thighs for some stability, a thing he did not deny you, and buried your face further into his crotch. Gwinam pulled his balls away and had you lick his shaft up and down while you fondled them instead. Your pussy became so wet, you felt your juices sliding between your thighs. You loved how he used you. You loved giving yourself over to him entirely, and being the sex doll he wanted. Gwinam is the only boy you ever considered yourself fucking this way; you knew he had the ferocity, the depravity, the perversion to do it how you’d wanted. Other boys you’d managed to hook up with always showed hesitancy. Not Gwinam. You’ll be his whore and nothing else.
That was what you wanted.
Long, drawn out moans and panting preceded the thick, hot semen suddenly filling your mouth. You eagerly and greedily swallowed the substance going down your throat. It tasted delicious. Whether it was being undead or because it was Gwinam, you swallowed his whole load. Gwinam’s orgasm made him push harder and faster, making your neck and jaw burn from the pain. He didn’t stop until each drop left his tip and into your mouth. You swallowed whatever he left, even opening your mouth to let him squeeze it onto your tongue.
“You’re the perfect cum dump,” he breathed, running his tip over your lips so you’d lick off the droplets remaining. When he spotted worry in your eyes, he laughed, “Don’t worry. There’s more where that came from. Stand up,” he ordered, lifting you with little effort, and turning you around.
Excitement brought out your smile as he forced you to bend over. Your mind whirled from the thoughts going through your head. Spreading your legs, you arched your back slightly for him to see underneath. He lifted up your skirt to show your panties, and the cold air touched over your sex. No doubt he saw the wet spot pooled right in the center, since he then cupped it in his hand. Long fingers rolled up and down each inch of your sex, and stopped right at your clit. Your cotton panties, white and cheap, must be almost see through with how wet you’d made them.
“Your pussy is so fucking wet,” he moaned, one finger finding your clit and teasing it gently. “I thought about it so many times. Even today, when I jerked off during lunch, I thought of your sweet, tight cunt.”
“And I thought of your dick in it,” you admitted, whining when you felt his finger push delicately against your panties. “I want it so bad. I can’t think about anything else when I’m…I’m around you, oh fuck…”
His fingers teasing your clit only caused more wetness to develop. Gwinam then took both sides of your panties and threaded them between your buttocks and folds. A small bit covered your clit yet exposed it to him at the same time. While one hand spanked your ass cheeks, the other used the tip of his finger to pass over the sensitive nub. Streams of mewls, cries, and whimpers left your lips. Every little touch to it tightened the ball building inside your loins. He knew exactly what to do, and how to make you whine like a bitch in heat. Gwinam’s constant torture had you clawing the table and wriggling around in front of him. You thought you might cum from just the teasing alone.
“Fuck,” he hissed, “I could feel that pussy fluttering for me already.” He moved his finger side to side and threw down more sharp spanks to your ass. “I bet you’re dying to have me in there, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, “Yes, yes, please.”
“Please, what, slut?”
“Please fuck me,” you said, tears brimming your eyes.
“Ummm, no.”
Using both hands, Gwinam did not pull off your panties. He did not slowly peel them off and slide them to your ankles. He took the seam keeping front and back together and tore it apart. The sound of shredding fabric reached your ears. He did not remove the waistband. He only ripped it enough to expose your ass and pussy to him, leaving a long tear that went from back to front. Gwinam left your side and crouched down behind you. You felt him dangerously close to your center; you shuddered when something hot and slippery slide over your clit. Gwinam pulled the lips apart and focused his tongue there. You cried out feeling the tip circle it repeatedly; you grabbed at the table whenever he dipped beneath or on top of it slowly. The obscene lapping and slurping from below added to your uncontrollable moans. When he turned you around, your thighs immediately locked around him and with your own strength, you forced his mouth to take your clit. Gwinam gazed up in amusement, eagerly sucking and licking the cunt right in his face. He didn’t stop you from grinding over his mouth and nose; it’s not as if he’d suffocate. That was a perk of being partly dead, you guessed.
“I’ve wanted this for s-s-so long,” you said, gasping when his tongue entered your clenching and unclenching walls. “Oh god, just like that,” you started fucking his face in return, “Your tongue feels so fucking good! Ah!” his sudden grasp of your thighs with a hard smack let out a sudden squeak from you. “I’ve wanted you to fuck me for such a long time. My pussy gets wet just looking at you. I thought…I thought if I teased you, you’d give in and take me. I would’ve let you fuck me however you wanted, as long as I got your cock inside me.” You gripped his hair, soft and silky in your hand, and cried out from the pleasure he brought. “I saw you beat up Jisung, and I couldn’t help…couldn’t help touching myself to it. You being so big and long and strong-”
Gwinam interrupted you by rolling you backwards so your body curled into a c-shape. He pinned your knees to your chest as he wagged his tongue over your pussy. That’s when you came. In a blinding, gut-tensing, muscle-contracting orgasm, you came right on his face. Gwinam only growled his delight at your cum in his mouth. You bucked your hips around, the table underneath you moving slightly, and pushed into his face more. He sucked up all the juices until your clitoris turned sensitive from your climax; it didn’t stop him. Gwinam kissed down to your ass hole where his tongue moved teasingly before coming back up. You're normally concerned with him going from one hole to the other, but not anymore. You’re dead. What infections could you get from it?
“Looks like,” he said, kissing up the backs of your thighs, “We’re both going to get what we want then.”
With total ease, he pulled you to the edge of the table and onto his cock. Keeping your thighs on your stomach, Gwinam charged into you as he liked: hard and rough. The stings of pain did nothing to you. It only made you want to cum again.
“Oh my god,” he growled, squeezing your thighs tightly. “You really must be a whore to take my dick so well. You’re the perfect fuck hole; the perfect cum dump…and you’re all mine.”
“Yes, yes, I am.”
He grabbed your throat, hovering over you and making you face him as you moaned his name. Your lips parted from your constant moans, Gwinam spat into your mouth. He slapped you when you didn’t swallow it immediately. He did it a second time, and you bent to his whims. Then, he gave you another sloppy kiss. You loved the dirtiness of it all; you craved more and more of it. You’d dreamt of this moment for months; you’d desired, lusted, and fantasized about it. When Gwinam grabbed your wrists to keep you on the table, hungrily kissing you, you almost came again. His shirt brushed lightly on your clit which made you weak and shuddering. Biting down on your neck, you winced from the pain, but you knew it wouldn’t last.
“Push back on me,” he said, kissing down to your nipples where he sucked harshly. “Show me how badly you’ve wanted this dick, slut.”
Wrapping your legs around his waist, you kept Gwinam in place as you pushed your hips into his own. His thick cock stretched you pleasantly, bringing you nothing but pleasure as you drove him deep inside. Gwinam stuck out his tongue to let your nipple brush over the flat part, flicking it once or twice or sucking it for you. You purposefully made them bounce in his face which made him growl and grunt. He let go of your wrists and grabbed your tits. His tongue teasing your nipples and his dick hitting that spot inside your pussy brought you closer to another orgasm.
“Gwinam, Gwinam, I’m going to cum,” you wept, the pleasure overwhelming your body. “Oh fuck, you’re going to make me cum again.”
“Good. Do it,” he gripped you by the chin, “Cum on my dick. Do it. Now.”
The second wave made you scream. You worried undead classmates might hear you, but they must’ve been somewhere else. Not that it mattered. They didn’t touch you. Only Gwinam touched you, and he rode out your orgasm in a few thrusts. Still shivering and whimpering, Gwinam ignored your weakened state and tossed you onto the library floor. On your front, air punched out of you for a second before he was on top of you. Without warning, his fingers entered your ass, and his cock shoved into your pussy. You arched your back for him, nearly dizzy from your orgasms and his relentless abuse of your body. And then he fucked you. He fucked you exactly how you’d always wanted. The depravity of the scene made your head swim in the haze of it all. With his free hand, Gwinam gripped your throat so your head lifted from the floor. The slight pressure cut your airway, but not enough that you’d suffocate completely.
“I’m going to cum in all your holes,” he huffed, his fingers knuckle deep in your ass while his dick filled you. “You’re going to be limping out of this library with cum dripping from you. I only wish everyone was alive…then they can see what a fucking…fucking…fucking whore YN is!”
More cum squirted into your pussy, and you couldn’t be bothered to protest. You accepted every drop. “Please cum in me,” you cried, fists underneath you and humping his cock, “Please. I want you to fill each one, please.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll be more than filled,” he grunted, going faster and harder like before.
In a few more strokes, he finished his second orgasm. You took a moment to notice that he did not need a small refractory period. A surprise perk to being dead, you supposed. Not even taking a moment to breathe, Gwinam removed his fingers from your ass and laid back on the floor. You knew immediately what he wanted. You turned around to stuff his coated cock in your mouth, slobbering over it to make it wet as possible. Gwinam groaned, hands going through his hair as pleasure came over him again. A part of you wanted to stay there, cleaning his cock of your combined juices until he came again, but you knew what your lover really wanted. When his cock was prepared, you turned your back to him and sunk down on it…with your ass. This new tightness had Gwinam cursing and moaning your name. You leaned forward, broken panties and skirt over your hips so he’d have a perfect view of your ass, and bounced as much as you could.
Being undead left you stronger and faster. Before, you could never properly ride a guy. Your body felt too heavy and you worried you’d hurt them somehow. Not Gwinam. He handled you with ease, and you had no trouble riding him. You wanted him to cum again. You enjoyed his deep, throaty groans and the names he called you. He dominated you and you couldn’t help but submit. He went back to smacking and grabbing your ass while you touched your soaked, hard clit again. If anyone came upon you two, it’d certainly be a feast for the eyes. The feeling of him fully driving into you, stretching and filling you, drove you wild. You did whatever you could to milk more cum from him.
“Stay still,” he ordered, and you stopped at once. Luckily, it was for him to continue the pace on his own. “Your ass is as good as your pussy, fuck,” he panted, grabbing your hair to pull you backwards, “I could fuck this forever.”
“I wish you would,” you replied, meeting his hips nevertheless so loud smacking sounds filled the space. “I want to be a good toy and make you cum.”
“Oh my god,” he grunted, “Say that again. Say it.”
“I want to be a good toy and make you cum.”
“Then make me cum, slut. Come on,” he smacked your ass hard, “Make me cum with that fat, round…oh fuck, yes, yes, like that-”
The sheer motion of him cumming in your ass had you joining him. You kept going, not feeling exhausted at all. In fact, it heightened every sense. Everything became clearer, and the hunger nestled inside you had you slamming down on him. Once you drained him of cum, Gwinam still did not stop. He seemed incapable of it, and you did not complain. Rolling you onto your side, hands on your breasts, he used one leg to spread your thighs and sink back into your pussy. He let you continue your third orgasm on your own, rubbing your clit and pinching your nipples. You screamed once more as the climax truly hit you this time. Gwinam smacked your clit a few times during it, the light stings having you saying his name. He put you into a scissor position, the new angle driving home and leaving you senseless beneath him. Squelching sounds told you that his cum mixed with yours, and leaked out of your sex. You almost felt it pooling underneath him in every thrust. The new pace and position had you screaming his name a fourth time, and his own soon followed.
You did this for a while. It felt as if all those months of repressed feelings and sexual frustration exploded into this unrelenting, insatiable bomb. You couldn’t stop. You both bit, clawed, slapped, spat and growled throughout the day. Yes, the day. It was a thing you didn’t think possible until you’d turned into this half-human, half-zombie lifeform. Gwinam took you on every possible surface: the tables, chairs, against bookshelves and cabinets. It continued even against the glass doors where the bloody, snarling, stumbling and shuffling zombies went right by. The most exciting was when he fucked you right in the hallway, having you on all fours as he grunted about people watching you both. Pure bliss. That’s all it was.
Fantasies do come true.
***
A/N: wow, this one is wild! lol it's one of my longer pieces, but I hope you still enjoyed this. It's my first Gwinam fic, and I'm really proud of it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed it <3
#yoon gwinam#yoon gwinam x reader#gwinam x reader#all of us are dead#aouad#aouad fanfiction#aouad fanfic#aouad smut#gwinam smut#yoon gwinam smut#yoon gwi nam
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When horses end up with severe leg/hip injuries, they are almost always put to sleep. The odds of recovering full mobility from such injuries are slim and the odds of reinjury are high, so even if the horse is perfectly healthy in all other aspects, it is generally recognized to be more humane to put them down than to keep them alive just to live the rest of their lives limping around a small paddock or stall. A life for a horse in which s/he cannot gallop, leap, explore and play is no life at all. Why not apply the same logic to cetaceans? A life for a cetacean in which they can’t dive hundreds of meters, make meaningful autonomous choices (“should I play with the rubber ball or the puzzle feeder today?” is not a meaningful choice; research has shown that autonomy is crucial for animal welfare), echolocate and experience the rich biodiversity of the ocean is no life. I really don’t understand why it’s so horrible to think it more humane to euthanize a confused and sick orca calf if there is no chance of rehab and release than to take her/him permanently into captivity. It’s not disparaging or hateful to cetacean trainers to say so—I know they care about animals—it’s simply a logical ethical stance. Instead of searching in vain for orca conservation organizations that aren’t “radically anti-captivity”, maybe pro-caps should look inwards and ask themselves why all the major orca organizations (Center for Whale Research, Orca Behavior Institute, OrcaLab, Wild Orca, Orca Conservancy, Far East Russia Orca Project, etc.) as well as some cetacean organizations (ex. Whale and Dolphin Conservation, Cetacean Society International) oppose captivity. Is it because all of these esteemed groups, which if you look them up are all staffed by credentialed scientists, have been duped by the “animal rights agenda”, or could it be because maybe, just maybe, they know what they’re talking about? If captive orcas are so different from wild ones that wild orca biologists have no credibility to speak about their welfare, then that’s a clear indictment of captivity already.
Hi. I'm sorry for not answering right away, I was still at my externship when I got your ask, and I wanted to be able to sit down and give you a proper answer. So unfortunately, I don't think what I say will satisfy you. I don't expect to change your mind, nor is that my goal here. I only want to explain why I believe the way I do, so that you or others reading this can at least understand that it's not a position I take lightly, nor do I think it's infallible.
(Long post below the cut):
To start off, as an (almost) veterinarian, there are absolutely plenty of circumstances where I find euthanasia to be the correct decision. Euthanasia is our final gift to our patients, a swift and painless death in the face of prolonged suffering or poor quality of life. A large dog with debilitating osteoarthritis. A cat with terminal lymphoma. A down cow. A raptor with an amputated leg. Or like you mentioned, a horse with a fractured hip. These animals would live in a constant state of pain that they don't understand, and death can rightly be considered a kindness to them.
But an otherwise healthy orca calf? I would consider that a false equivalence. I agree that life in the wild should be prioritized whenever possible, and that captive orcas lead very different lives than their wild counterparts. But if that orca cannot return to the wild (orphaned and unable to be reunited with its pod, habituated to humans, non-painful disability such as deafness), and there is a facility willing to take it on, I do not think euthanasia is an appropriate option. In human care, that calf can still swim, breach, and dive, even if not to the same depths as the ocean (it's also worth noting that these are all costly behavior energetically and are not performed for no reason). It can still socialize and form family bonds with an adopted pod of whales. It can still (theoretically) mate and rear calves. It can still engage its big brain in problem-solving through training and enrichment in the place of hunting. And as a bonus, it will never go hungry and has access to veterinary care if ill or injured.
This is not a wild life. This is not the same life they would've, or should've known. A pool, no matter how well-appointed, is not the ocean, and we should not claim they're comparable. But I don't think it's a fate worse than death. I truly don't. But if it is... if freedom really is worth more than life, then all captive whales need to be euthanized. Even in a sea pen setting, they will not be free. They will not choose their food, their companions, their enrichment, their comings and goings. Those choices will still be made on their behalf by caregivers, and they will still have pretty much the same levels of autonomy as in their tank habitat. They will still be captive. (While some people do advocate for this, I don't think it's a popular outlook. Even SOS Dolfijn, a historically anti-cap organization, recently announced plans to build an aqauarium as a permanent home for non-releasable cetaceans rather than continuing to euthanize them).
Speaking of autonomy, yes, it is very important. But I truly don't think the orcas are distressed by the lack of meaning in choosing between enrichment devices. I think that's why we disagree on this topic... we have different worldviews. We both see orcas as beautiful, intelligent creatures, but I do not see them as people. They are animals, and for all their complexity, I interpret their behavior the same way I do any other species... they are motivated by food, reproduction, and (since they're highly social) companionship. Because of that, I still think we can give them a good life in human care, which is why it frustrates me to see the zoo community throw up their hands and give up rather than trying to improve our current less-than-ideal setups (*shakes my fist at the Blue World project*).
Now, I don't think it's wrong to be emotional about animals. I most definitely am! And it's very clear to me you love orcas and care about their wellbeing deeply. I admire that about you, and I appreciate your passion.
On to the next point... in the cetacean world, I've found that there is an unfortunate divide between researchers and caregivers who work with cetaceans in human care and those who study them exclusively in the wild. And that schism far predates the Blackfish era. Most of those organizations you listed are indeed legitimate, and I fully support their vital work and encourage others to do the same. A few of them, though, share things like this:
I think you can understand why this hurts me. And it's a lie. I've now interned at three aquariums (two of them AZA-accredited) that house various species of cetacean, and it's impossible for me to reconcile what I know and have seen to be true and what Whale and Dolphin Conservation wants the public to believe: that these unbelievably loved, vivacious animals are drugged and tortured by their greedy captors. It's not true, and I do not appreciate WDC for spreading this creepy artwork around. Nor do I think that fighting captivity is a beneficial allocation of resources when there is an overwhelming number of genuine threats to the survival of wild cetaceans.
Anyway, back to the scientists. Personally, I don't consider researchers who work exclusively with wild orcas to be either superior or inferior to those who work with captive whales. And sometimes I wonder how much of their position is a self-fulfilling prophecy: if someone opposes captivity on moral grounds, they won't work with captive whales, so they'll never get to know what their lives and care are like beyond maybe a single tour of the park or memories of how things were done in the 1960s (like Dr. Spong, who worked with some of the very first captive orcas at the Vancouver Aquarium).
I also don't think it diminishes the expertise of wildlife biologists to say that they are not experts on husbandry, training, or medical care... those are very different fields, and ideally, they should all inform each other. And of course, there are folks who work with both wild and captive whales. One of the reasons I linked SR3 in my previous post is they have staff with backgrounds in both managed care and research of free-ranging populations (I actually have no idea what the organization's official stance on captivity is, it's not something they address).
Maybe I'm wrong. I try my best to keep an open mind, but I know I'm also swayed by my own preconceptions and experiences. When I started this blog in December 2020, I was a first year vet student with minimal actual experience outside of domestic animals and some herps, and had only recently adopted the pro-captivity outlook. Now, I'm much more deeply involved in the zoo and aquarium world. These are people I know and respect, people who have written me letters of recommendation and comment on my Facebook posts, people I've had dinner with and showed up with after hours to care for a sick animal. And I recognize that biases me. The zoo world is often resistant to change, especially folks who have been in the industry for many years. And that doesn't do anyone, especially the animals, any good. I don't want to get stuck in an echo chamber, so I make it a point to read anti-captivity literature, even when it upsets me. If there is anything I can do to improve their lives, I want to learn about it, regardless of the source.
I try to adapt to new information. For example, in the past few months alone, I've become a lot more favorable toward the idea of sea pen habitats. My concerns about "sanctuaries" are more logisitical* and philosophical** rather than the idea that artifical habitats are inherently superior to pen habitats (they're not), especially when plenty of traditional facilites already make great use of ocean pens or enclosed lagoons. There are pros and cons to both, and a lot of it depends on the needs of the individual animals.
*funding; maintenance; lack of land-based backup pools and fully-equipped medical facilities; introducing immunologically naive animals to pollutants and infectious agents; disruptions to native wildlife; staffing activists and wildlife biologists rather than those with relevant husbandry experience
**villainizing aquariums; promoting the project as a "release to freedom" to the public when it's really another form of captivity; claiming the animals' lives will be "natural" when they will still require training, artificial enrichment, contraceptives, and social management if done correctly; downplaying or completely denying the very real risks of such a transition and insisting the animals will automatically be better off when Little White and Little Grey have proved that's not the case
If you made it to the bottom, thanks for reading. I wish all the best for you, and I mean that genuinely ❤️ even if we disagree, I hope you can appreciate our shared love for these animals and a desire for their wellbeing. Best of luck in all your endeavors!
#also no hard feelings if you unfollow me#I understand#orcas#killer whales#dolphins#cetaceans#marine mammals#animal welfare#cetacean captivity#pro captivity#anti captivity#aquariums#answered asks#anonymous
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a very popular headcanon people have (i Think its popular. at least a lot of my twitter mutuals agreed with me a while back) is that joker comes from inaba, and if youve played p4 you know that theres literally nothing to do there
so a big headcanon that i used to be obsessed with is that he would spend a lot of his days skateboarding or biking around listening to music and exploring old dirt roads.. and he ended up getting a special interest in bugs and reptiles because hed come across so many during his little solo adventures. hes also very well versed in fishing its not a fixation or anything but just something hes pretty good at
this is why i tend to draw joker like some sort of skater boy. i think hes always stood out a lot in this small town even before the false assault charge, like he wasnt disliked or bullied but he just didnt really fit in. and this didnt bother him. i think he only realized how boring his life was when he became a phantom thief and got all these new friends in this new big city that understood him despite the circumstances that led him here. like man i really used to live like that and see nothing wrong with it? i didnt yearn for more?
it makes it even more painful when he has to leave and they naturally drift apart. because they all have dreams and ambitions, and the best years of their lives are waiting for them around the corner. but joker is back in this small town where theres nothing to do but hang out in some food court or poke around in the woods. i imagine this newfound loneliness is really hard on him, not to mention the guilt for feeling like hes somehow to blame for. well, whatever happened with goro
to me personally i think goro lived. i think he mustered up the perseverance to bite and claw his way out of shidos palace after seeing that even someone like him has a chance at being loved, he just didnt really remember this in marukis reality because it was all a blur. so both goro and joker were completely clueless as to what his fate would be if they went back to their true reality, which is what was so scary. the uncertainty. he could very well be dead but how could they know for sure? i just dont like the thought of him dying before he could truly live, even though i understand the tragedy of it can be poetic, i just cant stand for him going out like that because i relate a lot to his struggles. and i think it would go against the overall positive message of p5r. sure not everybody gets to have a second chance or a happy ending, but. man. anyways
joker fully believes goro is dead though. he wouldnt be crazy to assume this considering how they parted ways in shidos palace. but it eats away at him and maybe he really does go crazy. maybe his life feels like its stuck in time and while his old friends are out chasing their dreams, hes stuck. broken and shattered over feeling like he couldve done something to save him, knowing jokers savior/martyr complex
im running out of steam and i didnt mean to ramble on about my post-p5r headcanons but, to wrap it up: goro is in rehab somewhere and has a service dog to help with his dissociation and mood swings. and a couple other stuff. he feels like if he walks back into jokers life itll mess something up like joker will just break down or something. so he keeps his distance until they cross paths again. im just very obsessed with the idea of goro getting his life together vs joker wanting so badly to chase that high of phantom thievery again but failing and being actually so depressed
man morgana must be exhausted
#persona 5#idk might as well tag it? DFJHNJDMKSNDJ#I WANT PEOPLE TO SEE MY RAMBLE.#pleaseeeee tell me what you think i love to think about post p5r shuake <- literally running a zine about it
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Merry Schnees-Mas!
It's Christmas, so here comes a short meta on the Schnees' secondary allusion, which is rooted in the founder of the SDC: Nicholas Schnee.
NICHOLAS AS SANTA CLAUS
Nicholas alludes to Santa Claus:
He is called "Old Nick"
He has a white beard and wears a red cape with white fur
He lives in the Kingdom of Winter and is the Head of the Schnee (snow) family
He is famous for being fair and generous
He is the founder of a company who produces the equivalent of magic (Dust) and is known all around the world
Under his leadership the SDC is small, but famous for its quality, fairness and genuine values.
JACQUES AS A GOBLIN-JACK FROST
Jacques alludes to Jack Frost:
His name Jacques is similar to Jack and his surname Gelè means frost in French
He is associated with cold, as he makes his family's life cold and lonely through his abuse
Jack Frost is often depicted positively and is even considered Santa Claus's helper. For example, he makes snow fall, so that Santa can camouflage himself in the sky. Obviously, Jacques is an inversion, as he tricks Willow and Nicholas in trusting him with the SDC. In short, he is a false friend to them: he acts as the embodyment of winter, only to reveal himself as a cruel goblin. Like the one who builds the evil mirror in The Snow Queen. Or like Santa Claus's most famous enemies.
Under him, the Company grows and starts exporting in the whole world. Still, the workers are exploited and more and more unethical methods are used. The SDC and the Schnee Family both lose their identity.
THE TRUE MEANING OF CHRISTMAS
Let's review:
Nicholas founds a company built on mutual help, fairness and quality
Jacques comes and makes it bigger and more successful, but sacrifices its people for it
Doesn't it sound similar to what capitalism does to Santa Claus and Christmas itself?
Then the point may very well be that the Schnee Family needs to rediscover the "true meaning of Christmas" and Nicholas's original ideals.
Luckily, a certain snowflake is on it:
Weiss: I don’t know who you think you are, but let me tell you who I am: I am the granddaughter of a hero and a child of a villain. I am a citizen of a fallen Kingdom and an heir to nothing. I will not be defined by my name because I will be the one to define it. I am Weiss Schnee, and I am a Huntress!
Weiss is bound to rebuild the Schnee Family legacy and to define what her surname stands for.
Interestingly, our Snowhite is also tied to resurrection (as per her fairy tale) and to religious symbolism:
And what is Christmas, if not the celebration of Jesus's birthday? The child who will die and be reborn to save humanity?
I would say our Snow Angel's chances to succeed are pretty high!
Merry Christmas to whoever celebrates! And Happy Holidays to everybody!
#rwby#rwby meta#once upon an allusion#schnee family#weiss schnee#nicholas schnee#jacques schnee#santa's granddaughter#my meta#merry christmas!#greenlight volume 10
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In the future, modern psychological science has invented the Questioning. This free, voluntary, non-invasive procedure consists of only a short, hour-long survey and written assessment with a professional, after which time all problems with a human's mental health may be ascertained and treated in subsequent follow up sessions.
However, the Questioning is also an assessment to test for REPLICANTS, which are infiltrators, disguised as some small percentage of humans, though the exact numbers are not known. These REPLICANTS present a danger to mankind and themselves, and need to be kept safely away somewhere else.
Although no one knows for sure if they are a REPLICANT, the assessment criteria used to determine it are publicly available, so many may have some indication of their status. But as always, self-evaluations of mental states are tricky, and there is a high chance of misdiagnosis, so the professionals caution against attempting to determine your own status. Most people who assess themselves as REPLICANTS turn out to be mistaken, so there is little cause for concern.
Although many humans do exhibit some REPLICANT-like behavior, and many of the assessment criteria are subjective, the professionals who make these assessments receive several years of training, so false positives are unlikely. Because of this, and the danger these infiltrators pose, once assessed, REPLICANTS cannot be trusted. Most of them will immediately protest their REPLICANT status, and seek to escape. This is proof of their erratic, harmful behavior, and often requires sedation and restraint once they are relocated somewhere else so they they stay there, far away from humans. Tragically, there is still little we can do for them, but know that we have their and our best interests at heart in treating them.
The Questioning is very popular in media, and several successive public relations campaigns have removed any social stigma associated with asking for help. Anyone who exhibits any issues that might be resolved by the Questioning, such as career uncertainty, interpersonal troubles, or SEEING THINGS THAT AREN'T THERE is strongly encouraged towards it by most friends, family, and even employers. But yet, many still have unresolved issues that could be treated by the Questioning, because despite almost everyone paying lip service to the Questioning, only 8% of adults have ever tried it! The people who administer the Questioning only want to help everyone. It's a great mystery still why it's not more popular. People must not care about their own mental well-being.
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Intercity Relations (An Arcane one-shot)
Description: Spending years studying Interstate relations at Piltover's academy, you made both allies and rivals during your studies. Unlucky for you, Cassandra Kiramman hated your guts ever since you first met.
The woman ensured you'd never see Ixtal or Shumira but rather serve as an intercity negotiator between Zaun and Piltover.
Pairing: Vander x afab!reader, NSFW, the reader being born and raised in Piltover™ (so expect some cultural differences, mostly Vander teasing the reader very lovingly).
Warnings: I did my best to go over all the typos, but some certainly made it through.
The entire 'plot' just for the sake of convenience, age difference (reader being around 25, Vander should be pushing 40 - the math doesn't add up, fuck it), should be set one year after Vander became a dad™, so we aren't in any rush, vile language, mentions of violence and substance abuse. Also, unprotected sex - don't be silly, wrap your willy! The smut is very gentle tho, very loving and fluffy.
Jayce and Ezreal being supportive golden retriever besties™. Subtle Jayce and Viktor shenanigans (will miss if you squint your eyes).
A/N: I wanted to write something for Vander for so so so long, but never got the inspiration. Three years after the release of Arcane, I finally made my long-lasting dream come true. It's also my first smut after a long time, so I hope you won't find it clunky and lame. Enjoy reading!
Music inspo: Mainly by Seven (Jung Kook), Love Again (stolen from Ezreal's playlist, performed by Baekhyun), Moonlight by Kali Uchis & The Weekend by BIBI & 88rising.
Word count: 21K (and I fucking ooop-)
Music playlist: ezreal's bedroom bangers
The politics and schemes of Piltover's creme of society never ceased to surprise you.
That position should've been yours. Heimerdinger more or less confirmed it a week ago - you should've been the negotiator between Shurima and Piltover regarding business and foreseeable Noxian invasion. The Yordle quite literally said you were the 'best suited' for such negotiations, that he'd realized it soon after you started your studies.
From the get-go, it was supposed to be you who'd end up with this position. Truth be told, however, the council members despised you for all they got. You weren't some high-class Nancy who'd flatter them with expensive gifts and false compliments - but you were fucking good at negotiating. You were the best of your class. It wasn't Kacey who could barely tie her own shoelaces or God forbid Damien, who had trouble remembering even the most basic negotiation principles. It was you.
Studying at the Academy was an honor, you were aware of that. Your family poured everything into securing your spot there, which you were endlessly grateful for. The Academy gave you a better chance at life than you'd otherwise get. Being a middle-class Piltoverian wasn't as bad, per se, but it wasn't a win either.
Anyone in your family knew what poverty or starvation was, had money for medicine and nice clothes, quality food, and your flat just outside downtown wasn't bad either, but you didn't plan on taking after your mother's hat shop. Making hats wasn't a bad hobby, both you and your brother enjoyed creating new designs and spending time with momma, but it didn't fulfill you.
It could be around your 10th birthday when you announced you'd like to be a diplomat one day. Your mom and older brother scoffed at it - no way a small child would aim to be a diplomat, right? Most kids wanted to be princesses or singers, they didn't want to deal with interstate relations. But... The phase never went away.
It was clear as day that you weren't aiming for anything else as your fifteenth birthday rolled around - you kept up good grades, went to debate classes, and traveled to Holdrum and Kumangra to take part in various debate competitions; you didn't win all of them, but your arguments always left the jurors in awe. When you were leaving high school, it was recommended for you to apply for the Academy's scholarship.
At that moment your mom finally cracked and said 'Fine, let's give it a shot'. The tender was as enjoyable as could be, there were other excellent kids after your spot at the Academy, after all. It took numerous tryouts and evaluations - the Academy first accounted for your past academic achievements, then came assessment interviews, then various intelligence tests, ending it all with a few rounds of debates. Some of those were nearly nerve-crushing.
When you were informed of getting the scholarship, you were also informed about all the strict rules you'd have to obey - starting with a strict dress code, frequent one-on-one evaluations with the dean of your faculty, and ending with oddly specific dorm and library rules.
During the matriculation, you'd meet your best friend for the few following years - he came fashionably late (presumably sleeping in), barging into the dead-silent hall with his clothes hastily put on, his hair a fucking mess. As the boy stood on the stairway (looking like a deer in the headlights), the rector stuttered, watching the latecomer with matching intensity.
Leaning over to the boy, you'd grab his sleeve and force him to sit next to you. Honestly, you liked Jayce ever since you first laid your eyes on him. If there was a definition of conventionally attractive, Jayce was it - hazel colored eyes, a bright smile full of straight teeth, clean-shaven face, a perfect haircut that was taken care of (gell and everything), and built like a fucking mountain with his 6'7 in height, as you'd learn later. His facial features were very pleasurable to look at. As you said - Jayce was the 'it'.
"I really thought this ceremony starts at 10 a.m... Two weeks from now." - The man mumbled to you, putting his bag down next to his seat. As he leaned closer to you over, the smell of some nice and surely very expensive cologne tingled in your nose.
"They changed it last week on a whim, probably to avoid the matriculation overlapping with Progress Day. Wouldn't know about it if I wasn't moved into dorm already."
"Makes enough sense. Did I miss something important?"
"Something something, the great future, Piltover, something something, you are our new hope. Something along these lines." - You repeated, chuckling at yourself. Your brother always told you you were fucking horrendous at making friends, but the latecomer seemed to appreciate your sense of humor. Smirking at you, he licked his lips and offered you his palm under the table.
"Name's Jayce Talis." - The guy whispered, feeling as your palm slipped into his. His skin was nicely warm and so soft. A rich Piltie, you assumed. - "What's yours?"
"Y/N Y/L/N." - Whispering back, you shook hands, still grinning at one another. - "Hi."
"Oh, doesn't your family run a hat shop or something? Mrs. Kiramman loves that place to death, had to endure a fashion show of her and her daughter's hats tailored according to the latest fashion trends in Ixtal." - Jayce wondered, clearly memorizing the lane by heart.
"Yeah, I helped make these. My mom runs it. I was supposed to take over the shop when she'd feel like she couldn't do it anymore." - You explained swiftly, completely forgetting why you two were sitting in the hall. - "You know councilor Kiramman? The Cassandra Kiramman?"
"Mhm." - The Jayce guy nodded, showing you dimples in his cheeks. He was getting hotter by the second. - "Also know the dean."
"The dean?" - You squirmed, shooting him an amazed look. - "Are you like a child of some super-important politician?"
"No. I just know how to make good childhood friends."
"Geez. I had to fight for a way in."
"My mom had been dead set on my future since day one. Surely, if Cait was a few years older, they'd even arrange our marriage." - Jayce scoffed, turning his eyes to the dean, a Yordle named Heimerdinger. - "How did you fight your way in? Gladiator style, cage match, blood, sand, and everything?" - He muttered, making you snicker as you pretended to listen to the speech. The matriculation had almost two hours of runtime, so you still had an hour and a half ahead of you.
"More of a streetfight style - who'd beat up the most kids to pulp won the scholarship."
"Sounds way more exciting than just getting in because you have a rich friend."
"I don't think that's the case." - With a smile, you bumped his rib with your elbow. - "Councilor Heimerdinger doesn't seem to be the type to just let anyone study here. We're Piltover's future, aren't you listening to his words? There's gotta something in that noggin' of yours."
"I don't think you'd be the type to beat kids into pulps either. Actually, you look like someone I'd love to be friends with. Truthfully, I don't know anyone else inside the Academy, which terrifies me. I'm not a rich kid and I'm not good at talking to these rich assholes."
"Didn't you say you're tight with the Kirammans?"
"Caitlyn is anything but a rich asshole. She runs her mouth faster than her brain, bless her soul. Sometimes, she blows Mrs. Kiramman out of the water, leaving me speechless. If I were to talk to her mother like this, my mom would lock me up in a cellar until I'd apologize."
"Your mom isn't like..."
"No." - Jayce ended the discussion categorically. Since he didn't seem to like the topic, you hummed and nodded.
"For your information, I think I'd be able to beat up that kid." - Pointing at a veiny, super-skinny ginger with glasses sitting two rows in front of you. - "... But I'm keener on logic and words, you got me there. Nonetheless, I'll take your words as a compliment, Talis. I'd like to... Be friends, I mean."
"Lunch after?" - Jayce asked simply, pulling out a paper and a pen on his desk. First, you were concerned; was he about to take notes? Surely not, right? Then, he looked over at you with one of the most devilish grins you'd seen until that day. - "And tick-tack-toe now?"
"God, you're already my best friend, Talis." - Without hesitation, you started to draw the playing board, sticking your tongue out of your mouth due to sheer concentration.
As promised, the two of you would set out to have lunch after the assembly, talking about everything and nothing. Talis was a great company - charming, funny, witty, and handsome. What he saw in you? No idea, but the two of you clicked right away.
Even after years, you couldn't decipher what Jayce saw in you. The field of your research and studies were as different as could be, so you usually didn't dwell too much on such topics. Of course, you asked 'How are the studies going?' but it was never the centerpiece of your conversation. While you dealt with human relations, Jayce was a scientist, working with some miraculous blue stone (no idea what that was about). It only took a week to realize you'd found the best friend for the few following years.
On the very second day, Talis showed you around his workshop, designating it as your hangout spot outside the faculty - it was a small maisonette with an enormous balcony and a very tiny bathroom. The upper floor was holding a bed and a couch. Since it also had a small fridge, you could just buy some beers and snacks for late-night study sessions and screw the dorm.
This friendship seemed fishy. People like Jayce Talis (attractive, genius, and charming) usually didn't seek company with the likes of you. Piltover was just a rat race, people climbing on the social ladders, striving for a better life. Jayce, on the other hand, didn't seem to be that guy. It seemed like he genuinely doesn't give a fuck. Also, Caitlyn Kiramman liked you, ensuring she'd like you even if you'd crawl out of the deepest part of the Undercity. Just as Jayce informed you, Cait's mouth ran much faster than her brain. You found this part of Kiramman endearing.
Even though Talis sent you nothing but good vibes to you, it was hard to just accept this pure form of friendship. It took him around a week and a half to truly convince you he isn't hanging out with you for some insane, out-of-this-world reason. The guy simply liked being around you. That was also the first time Jayce sang and danced around you while studying in his condo - he was an awful singer.
Keeping the promise, you'd gather early the following Monday, ready to celebrate Progress Day. The festival was kicked off with yet another of Heimer's speeches (of which you and Talis appropriately made fun; nothing mean, just stupid jokes here and there).
The rest of the day was in your hands - and dear God, you had a lot to wander through. Various attractions from all around the world, newest inventions, doubtful souvenirs, and snack stands... You simply loved the Progress Day. As you absentmindedly licked on your ice-creams, a boy stopped you. Neither of you could know that this particular man will soon be the last member of your party.
While also being very good-looking, the boy couldn't be more different from Jayce. He was around your age and based on his uniform, he was too a student at the Academy.
His blonde hair was stylized perfectly, his blue eyes were piercing, you'd swear you hadn't seen clearer skin before and his facial features resembled those of a sculpture or a painting. He'd been considerably shorter than Jayce, but equally as handsome... Also, he was visibly distressed.
"Uh, hi you two. Hi. How you doin'?." - The boy greeted you, shaking your hand loosely as he fidgeted around, looking over his shoulders. You were pretty positive the stranger didn't even look you in the face before gripping your hand.
"Hi?" - You asked, furrowing at him. He'd been shaking your hand for over a minute, still searching for something in the crowd... Or someone. - "Do you need something?"
"I'm in a bit of trouble. Hi." - The boy jumped over to shake Jayce's hand frantically. - "Could you help me? It won't take long."
"What can we do for you?" - Jayce asked. You've been both grinning by that point. The boy's behavior was funny.
"I'm trying to run away from my blind date. She's been going on a tangent about how we 'belong together even in the heavens' and that I must be the guy her 'oracle saw in the tarot cards'."
"That sounds scary." - Jayce admitted, carefully twisting his palm from the stranger's grasp. The blonde boy, however, didn't seem to notice as he still looked around for his blind date. - "What do you say, Y/N? I'd be pretty scared if you pulled out a stunt like that."
"I was just about to get to what my oracle said about you, Talis, but I mean... It sounds like the start of a horror story. I'm down to whatever."
"Geez, you guys are the best and I mean that. My name's Ezreal, by the way."
When Ez piped down a bit and wasn't searching for the mysterious oracle girl, he was good company. As you walked through the main square and adjacent streets, he explained that he was studying history at the Academy and that you were in the same year. His parents were archeologists who traveled all over Runeterra so he was often left in Piltover under the care of his uncle, famous professor Lymere. That's how Ezreal got into the Academy anyway - quoting Ezreal, 'it definitely wasn't his intellectual prowess'.
The guy was in awe when Jayce also invited Ezreal to his convo to share some beers while waiting for the fireworks to go off. Even though he seemed to be a social butterfly, Ezreal admitted people didn't stick around for long, often calling him 'annoying' or 'difficult to be around'; Jayce's invitation genuinely moved him. That's how you met your two best friends in the whole wide world.
The three of you were so different that you completed each other.
You've been the most grounded in reality - studying political situations and people gave you a good insight into the world around you. If the two boys felt like arguing with someone, you were their person - you could go on for hours, debating like your life depended on it, beating them with facts grounded in reality.
Ezreal, on the other hand, was the dreamer and romantic. Boy, oh boy, his romantic endeavors were something - each week, you'd have to commiserate and listen to him obsessing over a different girl. You and Jayce would be the first to know all the details about his latest miserable breakup and future plans. He'd been prone to dramatize and exaggerate.
Also, while being street-smart and intelligent (to a degree), Ezreal could come across as very naive and innocent. It was fun watching him not having a clue about his romantic interest's innuendos or hints, ignoring it all like the sweet summer child he was.
You'd seen a lot of his romantic failures, if you had to be honest - the boy often invited you and Jayce for hangouts with his newest discovery (secretly hoping to set you up), and at times, you had to do your best not to start hysterically laughing right into his face. You loved Ezreal.
Jayce was the scientist of your group - he'd constantly lived in the world of wonder, progress, and inventions, constantly building towards a better future. His grind never stopped for anything. You and Ezreal would listen to his drunken rambles about how he'll change the world one day - you liked to believe Jayce. His dreams sounded nice.
Despite Ezreal's best hopes, the two of you never hit it off - there was never a spark of romantic interest between you. Jayce often joked he didn't have time for romance, but if he would, he'd definitely ask you out - at that, you'd laugh and say 'Stop keeping your damn hopes up, this ain't happening, Talis'.
Anytime you'd bump into something you didn't understand or felt emotionally vulnerable and wanted to share with someone, Jayce became your go-to person. His condo became the party's designed hangout spot, so you'd spend most of your Academy days there, watching over Piltover with dumb smiles.
All and all, you couldn't ask for better friends.
It was also this duo that expected your acceptance letter with batted breath alongside you. As usual, you'd barge into his condo. The two were talking before Ezreal raised his eyes to you frantically waving the letter around.
Before you barged in, Ezreal was leaning over Jayce's shoulder (talking about Rachel... Again) and watched as the scientist connected wires in his latest contraption.
You and Jayce graduated earlier this summer, actually. Jayce, as you expected, finished his studies with a red diploma. You'd expect him to move out of Piltover, and work on his tech in collaboration with scientists from the other states - to your surprise, the man chose to work under the science faculty of the Academy.
Ezreal, on the other hand, had to retake two classes - maths and geography of Runeterra... Despite all odds, this was a major success in your books. He'd been expecting to retake at least four.
"It's here, bozos." - You announced, demanding their full attention. Ezreal straightened up, walking closer to you - Jayce just turned around in his chair and waited for you to start reading.
"I'm sure it's Shurima. Like, 100% positive. Heimer talked about you enthusiastically last week, Y/N. I've heard it all." - Coach Ezreal mumbled supportively while walking behind you to massage your shoulders. As he patted your shoulder, you nodded at his words and let out a huge sigh before tearing the envelope outside. You had to be the next Piltoverian diplomat. It had to be you. It was always supposed to be you.
"Dear Ms. Y/N Y/L/N." - The letter started. - "It is a pleasure to welcome you on board our organization as the newest foreign service specialist. That's a good sign, no?" - You took a breath in, looking at both the boys; your fingers were trembling, breath shallow.
"Jesus, don't stop in the middle of the letter!" - Ez exclaimed with a furrow.
"Just go on." - Jayce mumbled, hanging on your lips.
"Due to exceeding the number of current foreign specialists in the field, we are pleased to announce your new position as the official negotiator between the two states of Piltover and Zaun... Your accommodation in the state of Zaun will be... In case of unclarities, please contact..." - The blood in your veins froze as you read more and more. - "... Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Oh no..." - Ezreal sighed softly, his expression sagging as he watched tears forming in your eyes. You could barely breathe, your fingers shaking, your heart beating rapidly. You've never felt more betrayed in your life - this should've been your fucking moment to spread your wings and leave Piltover. You were supposed to explore the world just like you and Ezreal dreamed. You've been supposed to take part in negotiations between nations and... - "It's okay."
"It's not okay!" - Both the boys' hearts broke upon seeing you break down, squealing at the top of your lungs. - "I've worked so fucking hard and everything..." - Jayce offered you an empty bottle so you could break it by throwing it on the ground, letting the anger out. It was better to clean up some mess than see you in ruins. - "... And that bitch, that old foul hag, that fucking snake!" - (Another bottle) - "I've always known she wouldn't fucking let me go. The moment I met her during my evaluations, I knew she hated me." - (Another bottle) - "To her bad fucking luck, Heimerdinger liked me, so she couldn't just get rid of me." - Your hand stretched out for another bottle, but Jayce stopped you.
"I don't think she dislikes you..." - Talis approached you from behind, carefully massaging your shoulder. - "I just think something's going on in Zaun. The council would have someone who lived here their whole life and can trust as their diplomat, rather than someone who's not oriented in the problems and dynamics."
"Hey, I gotta repeat that geography class just because I looked at the professor funny. No one even wants to employ me." - Ezreal spoke slowly and softly, smiling at you. Grinning at his statement, you started to dry out your tears.
"You gotta repeat it because the professor found out you're fooling around with his daughter."
"Ehh... Maybe, but that's not the point." - Ezreal giggled, smoothing your shoulder. - "Listen, Y/N, you're the smartest and prettiest girl I know. You're able to inspire people, talk them through everything, and argue for hours when it comes down to it. And... The Undercity's not that bad, really. I know a few dudes selling fun stuff. I can introduce you to some of them to get you started?"
"Ezreal..." - It was a high-pitched whine as you hugged him, letting out a long breath. His words made you emotional, moving you until you felt a fuzzy warmth spreading inside your chest.
"But... If I'm the prettiest girl you know, why didn't you ask me out yet?" - You joked, giggling.
Being transferred to the Undercity wasn't all bad. It had its advantages - you'd stay close to your family and best friends. You didn't have to hope you'd bump into each other once a year, you could see them anytime you wanted. You'd be on hand in case your ma or bro needed help with the hat shop. You didn't have to leave your old life behind.
"Because I respect you too much to let you fool around with someone like me." - The blonde sighed, hugging you back. Jayce was already on cleaning duty, brewing you all a cup of hot cocoa. It was exactly what you needed, in his expert opinion. As usual, Jayce was right.
"... It's because you know I'd see right through your bullshit, right?"
"... Yeah, you got me there, girl."
Two weeks later:
The Undercity was definitely not what you'd expect.
First things first, it smelled horrible - when you talked to the lady who was introducing you to the issues at hand, she warned you about the possibility of wearing a mask. The Grey (fumes from factories located in the Underbelly) was making the air heavy. So far, so good; while the place reeked, it never got too bad.
Secondly, the people didn't cut your head off when meeting you. The Trenchers were indifferent when it came to you; it was clear as day you weren't native to Zaun, but they didn't care much. The number of Enforcers traveling to Zaun was actually quite impressive. You've been worried you'd have to fight for your life, but just like Ezreal promised, Zaun wasn't that bad.
Thirdly, your newly assigned condo and monthly payment were good. It gave you enough financial freedom to be fully self-sufficient, which felt simply wonderful. People from the agency acted respectfully towards you, putting weight on Jayce's words; maybe it was a last-minute decision to assign you to Zaun. Maybe, something was brewing on the horizon.
Your assigned informant from the agency told you to ask for Sheriff Grayson of the Piltover's Enforcers. If she knows who's the authority in Lanes, she could introduce you to them and get you accustomed. The problem with Zaun was simple - the city wanted independence from Piltover. If you wanted proof, all you had to do was to take the last riot into account. Your job was to secure a fool-proof plan that would benefit both parties while not degrading either.
Well, with Piltover's attitude towards Zaun, that ask turned into a whole another pain in the ass, you realized fairly soon-ish.
Sheriff Grayson turned out to be a reasonable, charming woman with a lot of wisdom regarding both sides of the conflict; she referred to someone named 'Vander', the man who had a reputation and respect among the Zaunites. Ezreal wasn't aware of anyone named Vander, but he knew a black-market trader named Benzo.
The blonde swore that if anyone knew Vander, it would be his dealer.
"You look like you're acclimatizing fairly well." - The boy brought up as you locked the door to your condo, leaving to see Benzo. - "How is Zaun treating you?"
"Hm... It's not as bad as I'd assume, no one tried stabbing me so far." - It was a bad joke, but Ez chuckled nonetheless. Walking down the stairs, your elbow mindlessly entwined with his as usual. You were happy Ezreal came to visit you in the Lanes. Throughout the last week, you've only talked to Sheriff Grayson and your sweet land lady who also had dementia.- "I'm just... Lonely. The two of you are living on the other side of Sun Canal. Getting over that damn bridge is hard, even for a diplomat. That said, the folk are more or less nice around here. They don't welcome me with arms wide open, but they're polite so far."
"Sounds like you'll get used to living here before you know it. You'd get along even with someone as demonic as old prof Lymere, on my honor."
"Your uncle sounds like a tough nut. I appreciate the trust, though, young Mr. Lymere. Big preach."
"After you, m'lady Y/L/N." - Ezreal exclaimed dramatically, holding the front door open for you; he even bowed, having you giggle under your breath.
Seeing Zaun through Ezreal's eyes was fascinating. The blonde definitely spent a lot of time here, knowing most of the small shops and dark alleys you wouldn't dare to go to alone. As you walked through the Lanes, he told you the history of it all; how Zaun came to be, what were its most historically significant locations, and a bit about their culture (Ezreal described it as 'pretty grim' and moved on).
Benzo's pawn shop was located just off the main street - it wasn't in any grim alley where you wouldn't go in a million years or anything like that - it was a pretty nice place if you'd have to be honest. Sure, most of the goods were giving 'not acquired legally' vibes, but that wasn't your jurisdiction, so you didn't bother commenting on it.
Benzo himself wasn't a bad person either, you liked him. After Ezreal introduced you, the atmosphere even shifted to a lighthearted meeting of two acquaintances. A small boy was slacking around the pawn shop, goggling his enormous brown eyes at you, but Benzo soon sent him away.
"At least, he'll have something to tell the other nuisances about." - Benzo sighed, clearly referring to other children growing up in the Lanes. - "Young Mr. Lymere. What do I owe the pleasure?"
"I'm not here for business today, Benzo. My friend needs a bit of help."
"Ah, really? And what can I do for the young lady? Anything particular she's looking for?"
"Not something, but someone. She's not... Interested in buying, if you will." - Ezreal explained as he played with various trinkets lying around the shop. You didn't want to talk until you'd be introduced, so you simply stood around and watched the exchange. - "Y/N was sent here by the council." - In that instant, Benzo's demeanor switched to hostile for a bit.
"Ah, wonderful." - The man gritted with a forced smile. - "What do these jerks need?"
"I'm here to handle diplomatic communications between Piltover and Zaun. Seems like the council finally considered Zaun's declaration of independence, the one that happened a year ago. I'm here to ensure things go as smoothly as they can. I mean no harm."
Benzo watched you with a furrow, thinking about his answer. Ezreal leaned into the counter with a mischievous smile on his lips. - "Y/N is one of the best people I've met, Benzo, I can vouch for her if my word means anything to you."
"Sorry if I came across as an old bastard, the folk often call me one." - The pawnshop laughed, offering you his palm. - "Name's Benzo, young lady. I'm the owner of this pawnshop, as Mr. Lymere surely informed you. Nice to know someone cares."
Yeah, only if you cared voluntarily, huh? You accepted the handshake nonetheless, offering him the sweetest smile you mustered. - "Y/N Y/L/N, call me Y/N. Nice to meet you, Benzo."
"See, I told you, you'll be fine anywhere." - Ezreal smiled, nudging your side.
"Who's the poor soul you're looking for?"
"Sheriff Grayson referred me to someone going by 'Vander'. Said he's a geezer with one hell of a reputation around here. If there would be anyone these folk listen to, she said, it's Vander. Ever heard of him? I'd like to go over what the people could want so I could relay it to the council and start with the negotiations."
"If I know that old rascal? Ha!" - Benzo started laughing again. You liked him more and more by the minute. - "Everyone around here does. He runs a pub, you had to cross it on your way here. The Last Drop, does that ring any bells?"
"Oh, yeah!" - Both you and Ezreal nodded in unison. The main pub in the largest square of the Lanes, a local district filled to the brim with former black market operations as Ezreal informed you just half an hour prior. - "Looked welcoming."
"You bet, two lovebirds like you won't find a better place to make out anywhere around here."
"Oh! That's not... You got it wrong!" - You exclaimed, falling into a fit of wholehearted laughter. This was the first time you laughed during your stay in Zaun - you laughed so hard your belly hurt, tears streaming down your face.
"I know we've been over this, but this genuinely hurts my feelings, Y/N." - Ezreal muttered, fighting laughter himself. - "Anyway, thanks for the help, Benzo."
"You ever go there to have a cold one by any chance?" - You wondered, wiping the tears, calming down. Each time people assumed you and Ezreal were a thing, this was your reaction - breaking down, laughing so hard you cried. - "I've got the feeling I'll be spending a lot of time there."
"I'll see you around, Y/N."
"Can't wait!" - As the door closed behind you, Ezreal nudged your side again before letting you entwine your elbow with his. It helped you feel safe, especially in places such as this.
The Last Drop. Entering the pub, you got a feeling this is precisely the place where everything goes down. This was your first time being in a place such as this, so you looked around with batted breath while Ezreal led you to a table, nodding at a few people here and there.
It genuinely felt like the lair of all the sin and alcohol. People played pool, some sulked around drinking, dancing in front of a small jukebox, playing cards or arm wrestling, laughing, and joking around. Each game was played for a bid, this pub was gamble-core galore. While you never even tried playing poker for money, Ezreal genuinely seemed to be acquainted with some of the Last Drop's patrons, nodding their way.
These people felt different than those who you met until that moment... More alive, more fun, nicer. Well, until a skirmish broke out in front of the bar; a 6'8 man with chemtech augmentations punched another dude square in the face, resulting in both of them being dragged out by other patrons.
And that was when you first saw him.
He'd been talking with a woman sitting at the bar, snickering at her remark while absentmindedly polishing pints.
The man, whoever he fucking was, looked like a sculpture. First, there was the smile - the mischievous spark in it, something vaguely boyish in his eyes as he looked at the woman, his watery-colored eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Secondly, you admired his facial structure. There was something so... Good-looking about his jaw and small, nicely shaped lips. You liked it when he smiled and immediately started imagining if you could make him laugh. Your heart skipped a beat upon that imagination.
Thirdly, his hair and beard were visibly kept in good shape, but overgrown; it looked good on him, though, which was a look not a lot of men could pull off.
And fucking lord, he was so well built. Broad shoulders, strong forearms, nicely shaped waist that begged to be hugged by your arms. Piltover didn't have men like similar to this kind, you were sure of that - he appeared to be gruff, but the mischievous smile told you otherwise. His posture and body screamed dominance, but his eyes whispered safety.
There was no doubt in your mind that the mysterious bartender was probably twice your age and that you definitely shouldn't be thirsting over him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't look away from him - the longer you watched him, the more deranged scenarios devoured your mind. Witch each piece of clothing disappearing, your mouth felt drier, the boiling hot blood traveling right between your thighs. It was impossible to look away from him.
His presence ensured you wouldn't pay attention to anything else as you sat there, gravitating towards him like a moth to a lamp.
Each move he made was like cinema to you and each time his lips moved as he talked to the lady, butterflies started tingling in your belly. You wanted him to talk to you this way, was it a far cry to imagine you'd catch his attention? What were you thinking? He was a Trencher, you were a Piltie; two utterly different worlds. This guy probably wouldn't be interested in you, would he? Well, a girl can dream...
"Ezreal to Y/N. Are you okay?" - Ezreal bumped into your shoulder, making you finally look away from the bartender. Clearing your throat, trying not to appear as a flustered deer in the headlights, you looked at the spunky kid standing next to your table, seemingly getting your order. Her expression was unreadable and judging by her age and the bruise under her eye, she wasn't working here voluntarily. Who was she?
"Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. What's the best drink you have?" - You tried sounding at least a bit excited, but the kid just pointed to the menu and walked away. - "She seems friendly."
"Probably got herself into some sort of trouble and got punished by helping that Vander guy, don't take it too personally." - Ezreal muttered, watching as you got up. - "Where are you going?"
"I'll the bartender about the best drink… And about Vander."
"And will you at least get a beer for me?" - Ez cried out as you disappeared into the crowd showing him thumbs, too busy staring at the mysterious man to look back at Ez.
If you weren’t mesmerized by the bartender, your shoulder wouldn’t bump into a very imposing woman who, at the time, played pool with her buddies. If you hadn’t bumped into her, she wouldn’t spill and break her pint on the ground. If her beer hadn’t been spilled, she wouldn’t turn around to take a good look at you.
Upon the sound of shattering glass, the pub fell silent for a second, everyone turning their attention to the two of you. Before Ezreal got the time to get off his ass to get you outta there, the woman shoved you to the ground; so harshly that your head hit the wooden flooring.
The bartender was forgotten as you grunted in pain, picking yourself off the ground; you didn’t have to bother, though. The woman gripped the hem of your jacket, making you tiptoe as she forcibly invaded your space - even though you didn’t consider yourself to be the smallest bean in the room, her physical build definitely overshone yours. She watched you like fucking prey, ready to kick or punch your teeth in.
“The fuck do you think you doin’, huh?” - The woman gritted through her teeth, biting down on a toothpick. - “You're not local, are you? Fucking Pilties, thinking you own everything 'round here, actin' like nothin' can happen to you. Guess what, princess.”
“It was an accident. Put her down so we can talk this through. Sevika, c'mon.” - The friend she played against was trying to get you outta there. Even though it was a nice sentiment from the stranger, Sevika scoffed as her palms pulled you even closer.
Holy shit. Were you about to get your soul kicked out of you just two weeks after moving into Zaun? Had to be some sort of speed run record, you were positive.
“As if. Pilties gotta learn their lesson, just like we learned ours back on the bridge. Better if this pretty little thing learns it soon on.”
“I’ll buy you another round, how 'bout that?” - You choked out with trouble, catching her palms in yours as you did your best to defuse the situation. Ezreal was standing just next to you now, ready to get into a fight if it would get to it. The boy, bless him, being a sweet summer child was still willing to fight for your dignity and honor. - “I’m sure we can talk about it.”
“That’s all you, fucking Pilties - all talk and no walk. Zaun isn’t for people like you. You don’t belong here, sweetcheeks, you ruined our lives and now,…” - With each word, Sevika brought you closer, tightening the grip on your t-shirt. Just as you started to feel her breath on your cheeks, someone else stepped into the spectacle - someone's palm circled around her forearm, forcing her to put you back down.
It was him, the man you were mesmerized with. The bartender. The tender expression and feelings in his eyes were replaced with an unpleasant furrow directed towards Sevika.
Now that he was closer, you realized he was even more handsome than you assumed. His head was cocked towards his shoulder, his brows knitted together, veins on his palm and forearm prominent due to the force he applied on Sevika's grip.
“'t’s enough.” - The man said quietly and slowly, the tension immediately defusing into thin air as your feet touched the ground. - “‘t was an accident, nothin’ more. Lass said she’ll buy you a new round, so I don’t see any problem 'ere. This is not how we welcome people 'round here.”
"Old man, did you already forget..." - Sevika gasped for air, the muscles on her arm tensing as she got ready to pack a hefty punch to the man. The bartender, however, remained cool as a cucumber - simply stared at her, not flinching out of the way.
"Of all the folk 'round, I'm the one who remembers everythin'. Also, you should remember it's unwise to threaten the guy who pours the drinks 'round here."
"Let's get you some air, you." - Sevika's companion mutters, tugging her towards the door. - "Let's go for a walk, c'mon."
"Hey." - When Sevika was out of the door, the life in the pub started moving again - people got back to their gambling, arm wrestling, and talking, seemingly forgetting about anything even happening. The bartender was now turned to you, patting your shoulder gently while leading you towards the bar. - "You alrite?"
"I'm whole, which is better than I anticipated. Sorry for causing trouble during your shift, though. Must be a lot as it is."
"Huh?" - That smirk... His damned smirk made you forget about who you've been and what you were supposed to be doing in the Last Drop. - "Trouble? Sevika? Don't take it personally. I know that can be hard to do, but still. Local folk are usually much nicer."
"I've noticed." - You nodded, flushing simply because he was talking to you. Christ, you were down bad, almost starting to feel like Ezreal. - "Been living here for the past two weeks. You people are... Indifferent. But better than you being hostile."
"Indifferent?" - The guy repeated after you, sending you a small, warm smile. - "That's a first. Never been called indifferent before. That a compliment?"
"Depends on if you'd like to take it as such, I suppose." - His expression made you smile back at him, heart pounding in your chest.
"Y'know what? I'll take it as one." - His chuckle almost sent you spiraling, making you smile at him dumbfoundedly. - "So, what can I do you for?"
"I would want a beer for that gentleman over there." - Pointing over at Ezreal, the boy just waved in your direction. - "And a drink for me."
"Ordering 'a drink' doesn't narrow it enough I'm afraid, sweetheart."
"What's your best drink, then?" - You wondered, enjoying the atmosphere and banter you had going on.
"Do you like surprises?"
"I can do without them." - You sighed in defeat. - "I can make an exception, though. One-time ocassoon, tho, don't take your chances."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
While he mixed the drinks, you were keeping him company. Letting the banter flow, he started asking you why you moved to Zaun, whether you're suffering or enjoying yourself, and how you like the pub... Small talk every bartender makes to appease their customers, more or less. Even though it was this basic, you couldn't look away from him - where he moved, your eyes followed. When he smiled, you mimicked. Whenever he was closer than a foot, your heart skipped a beat.
He smelled so nice, so earthy, like wood, jasmine and oranges.
"Oh, by the way." - You reminded yourself as he finished the drink, facing away from you to keep it as 'a surprise'. Uh-hm was all you got in response. - "I'm here to meet someone named Vander? Rings a bell?"
"I'd assume so. What do ya need of that old bastard, sweetheart?"
"I'm here to talk about possible future negotiations between Piltover and Zaun. The council wants to grant this region greater rights in exchange for peace."
"You're a diplomat?" - The man stopped, bright pink cocktail umbrella hanging between his fingers. The atmosphere seemed to fade away while he processed the information, his smile disappearing.
"Listen, you have nothing to worry about. I'm here to make sure everything goes smoothly and help as much as I can. Vander isn't in any sort of danger. Sheriff Grayson referred to him as someone who'd be in a position to make demands for the Zaunites."
"You're pretty young for a diplomat's what I meant to say, sweetheart. Don't take it the wrong way. One'd assume such a young thing would have other things on her mind."
"You know him or not?" - You asked, amused by his explanation.
"'s me. Vander, pleasure's on my side."
Oh shit. Oh fuck. So this was Vander. The former 'Hound of the Underground', as Grayson informed you.
This beautiful man, this absolute spectacle... Was the guy you'd spend hours and hours with talking about political nonsense? This both excited and worried you. It was a curse in disguise. How were you supposed to even start talking to him? The moment you'd be alone, your mind would fill with very inappropriate fucking thoughts.
"Oh, snap."
"Haven't heard anything more Piltoverian in a long time. Well... How 'bout you?"
"What about me?"
"What's your name, sweetheart? Wouldn't mind calling you names, but when we get to business, I wouldn't wanna come across as immature... God forbid rude." - The way his tongue deliberately stretched 'business' between his lips made you swoon, gasping for air in hopes Vander wouldn't notice (he definitely noticed).
"Y/N, my name's Y/N Y/L/N. Pleasure's on my side."
"Hey now, that's my line." - With a chuckle, Vander put down a cocktail in front of you. It was dark blue, frothy with crushed ice, decorated by a piece of orange and that pink cocktail umbrella you'd seen earlier. - "Look at the beauty." - Vander smiled, pushing it a bit closer. No idea what he was talking about (whether you or the cocktail), but your heart skipped a beat. Again. - "The best drink I can make. Hope it'll taste good.
"How much?"
"Hm?" - Vander asked, watching as you pulled out your wallet.
"For the drinks. How much?"
"Leave it, 's on the house."
"No way, cowboy. How - much?"
"Take it as compensation for Sevika's tantrum earlier, doll." - Fucking hell, this nickname almost gave you a heart attack. - "If you keep on flatterin' me, ya not payin' a single dime."
"Unprofessional. Immature. Rude." - You gritted and passed a few Valors on the bar. - "Take the tip, at least."
"'Aight. Can say no to that. If you'd want another drink or anythin' else, just wave at me. I'll be there in no time. Deal, sweetheart?"
"What a smooth criminal you are, Vander. Thank you kindly." - As you took both drinks and walked back to your table, you couldn't see the smile freeze on Vander's face as you called him a 'smooth criminal'. Did you know? Had Greyson mentioned his impressive portfolio that still haunted him to that day? The Hound of the Underground. That's how people knew him, why they respected him.
"So, did we find the guy, or..."
"Right there. The bartender. That's our guy."
"Oh... Wow." - Ezreal leaned his elbow into the chair, eyeing Vander properly. - "Seems decent enough of a man. Expected someone older, though."
"He's very nice and very polite."
"Heh. Sure. Nice and polite." - Ezreal snickered, looking at you.
You really had no fucking clue, did you? About how assertive you were, about how lovely the features of your face were. On the occasions, he and Jayce got you into a tight corner and you got flustered (which happened rarely) and you became a stuttering, annoyed mess, you were one of the most beautiful girls Ezreal had laid eyes on. And no, he wasn't saying it out of chivalry or because you two were best friends - it was because you were best that he pulled his head out of his ass for once and behaved the best he could.
Back when you got the letter? Ezreal meant each word.
Collaborating with Vander actually wasn't as bad as you worried it'd be. With each meeting, you'd swoon harder and harder but managed to pull your head out of your ass to focus on the responsibilities at hand.
In the beginning, Vander did his best to inform you about how things are and go in Zaun so you'd be accommodated better. Usually, he'd either invite you before he'd open the pub or reserve you a spot at the bar, where you'd talk about points that started coming up over time - like Enforcer oppression, increasing drug usage, and inadequate means for children to reach at least basic education. His points and observations were reasonable and understandable.
When he wouldn't be talking about business with you, as he settled on calling it, your mind would be consumed with him as he rambled about everything and nothing. Sometimes, you wouldn't even listen to him, you'd simply sip on your drink and let his deep voice intoxicate your brain. His smell, God almighty, his fucking smell. Over time, you've become mesmerized with the details.
Vander throwing the tea towel over his broad shoulder, polishing the bar, the muscles on his back dancing in unison. How his fingers ruffled his hair. His smile when he greeted patrons and regulars. How he bit on his lower lip when he thought of a response. How he smoothed his beard when you said something out of pocket... So many details. You loved watching him like a stage play, especially when he served other guests.
Did he know? He must've known - he'd send you a knowing grin each time your fingers brushed over the document you've been working on. Vander even went as far as figuring out which nickname you liked the most. Seeing as you shrugged and stuttered each time he'd call you a doll, it became his most used word.
Was he this attentive to all the other female guests? You couldn't tell. You liked watching him work, yes, but you weren't listening in on their conversation. Was it a formality, due to occupation, a game or did he mean it when he occasionally flirted with you? Some compliments Vander came up with left you speechless.
He was the man to notice subtle wardrobe changes and make-up experimentations, mainly because you dressed differently than 90% of the local population. He'd be the first to comment on phrases 'so Piltoverian it hurt'. When it got late enough at the Last Drop and you'd be tipsy enough, Vander got daring enough to compliment your smile, saying it always 'lit up his entire day'. This man knew how to run his fucking mouth, sending you into spirals each time he'd whip out a compliment.
What he was hesitant about, however, was touching you - in moments when he stopped paying attention, his hand would slip on your shoulder blades as he watched you writing into the document. You never commented on it, you loved it when he touched you - it sent a heat wave through your entire body, making your breath hitch in your throat and push your thighs close together. As soon as he saw you looking at his palm, it would be gone from your back, leaving you craving more.
Benzo became one of your best friends in the Undercity, you had to admit. He had his oddities, but he'd welcome you inside his shop whenever you dropped for a visit. Ekko, the young boy you've met earlier, was introduced to you as his ward. The boy grew to adore you - you'd bring him sweets when you visited Piltover and tell him about how it looks and works up there. Benzo explained that his ward is very good with inventions, a scientist by heart - you'd promised Ekko you'd show him Jayce's workshop sometime in the future.
Each time he'd be in Last Drop, whenever you came to have something to eat, a drink, or work with Vander, Benzo'd wave at you over the entire pub and save you a spot on the bar. Even though his business surely had little to nothing to do with legality, you grew fond of him.
That night, you've waited until Vander would close the pub. The place slowly depopulated while Vander flickered most of the lighting, drowning it in darkness. The only remaining light was above your head, shining right into the Blue Lagoon you'd ordered earlier.
"And who'd busted your bubble?" - Vander asked quietly, watching as you played around with the cocktail umbrella. No matter what drink you ordered, he ensured you'd always have a cocktail umbrella stuck in. - "Even put some oranges in it, you've seemed to enjoy it the last time."
"Just tired, I think, been finishing the document so I can turn it in. Grammar and formatting are a pain in the ass."
"Sorry to hear that, doll." - The big guy huffed, sitting on the neighboring stool while patting your shoulder. Joining in, he poured himself a beer. Again, your breath hitched as you enjoyed every second of his body touching yours. - "What was wrong with the last draft? Thought it looked decent 'nough?"
"Overlooked some paragraphs and spacing. Council would return it to me the moment they'd notice."
"Well, 't least you tried."
"Hm." - You sighed, putting your head on the bar.
"Hey, you." - Vander chuckled, his head cocked to the side as he tried keeping eye contact with you. - "Can you smile?"
"Why would I do that? I'm suffering."
"C'mon, pretty girl. Smile." - He'd whisper, gently caressing your back. The caress made you breathe in shakily, smiling as he asked. - "See? The nite is suddenly much better."
"You're such a comedian. Why do I take the bait each time?"
"Maybe you like smilin' at someone handsome as me?" - Vander opposed, making you giggle. He was the handsome man you'd met, that much was true.
It wasn't just about being attracted to him at this point, though. There was more than level-surface attraction and crackling chemistry - you liked him. Seriously liked him.
As you lay away in your flat, you'd play with your blanket and think about how things could be in a perfect world - Vander would close the inn and come home shortly after midnight, kissing you on the forehead after he'd take off his jacket. That would most certainly wake you up, so you'd join him in the kitchen for a bit before leading him to bed. You usually had to stop yourself, forcefully, from letting the daydream carry on - you'd only imagine stripping him of his clothes when you got desperate enough, jerking off before sleep.
It needed to be let out. Vander had to know how you felt about him. To either decline your offer or agree to try pushing the boundaries a bit. You've been tipsy enough to conclude that confrontation was a great fucking idea - you've had enough of watching other women goggling their eyes at him, pushing their breasts together as they'd order. It was bothering to look at his well-trained smile (the smile you've learned to love) as he answered them, winking their way.
You liked the guy, you loved spending time with him... And he seemed to be interested as well. To what degree, you had no idea about it, but he surely liked having you around.
"Or maybe..." - It took all of your courage to turn at him, putting your palm on his upper thigh. Vander's fingers stopped caressing the glass, squinted his eyes, and tried deciphering what you've been up to. Your touch felt wonderful and, for the love of God, you smelled so good.
"What has gotten into you, doll, hm?" - The man whispered, gently moving strands of your hair out of your face, smiling warmly. Your eyes were open wide, filled with little sparkles as you stared at his face.
"I want to kiss you, Vander." - With those words, his motions stopped altogether.
Of course, he thought about kissing you. Multiple times - each time you were sitting at the bar and sent him a smile, to be precise. It would be easy to simply lean over, smooth your cheek, and steal all your thunder. In fact, you couldn't have an idea what you were doing to him, intoxicating his brain with the sweetest scenarios and possibilities.
It would be the easiest way of shutting you up whenever Vander got you flustered; he enjoyed when you turned into a stuttering, annoyed cute little mess, though. It was endearing watching you try to get yourself off the sinking boat while digging yourself a deep grave.
Vander also thought about much more than just kissing you - he'd seen you naked so many times (inside his head), he'd swear he'd recognize your body amongst other women, even with the lights off. Your strange turns of phrases often made his tummy tingle with butterflies as he laughed, explaining to you that you sounded too Piltoverian. Your expression and widened eyes goggling at him made him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside... You've managed to make the Hound of the Underground soften.
Fucking God almighty, your outfits made Vander's heart flutter - it was a mix of everything; sometimes you'd be wearing a fluffy white blouse paired with a brown tar-tar vest and derby trousers, other times you'd appear in a bright-colored dress and paired with, again, a tight vest. Even though you always looked out of place, Vander loved that about you. His eyes never searched for you too long, not to mention you looked like an absolute goddess. The derby trousers did nothing for your buttcheeks. When serving, he'd have to keep himself away from you so he wouldn't slap them. How would you sound if he'd made you squeak? Or if you'd be a whining, meowling mess as he'd hover over you, losing his senses to you? How would his name sound when screamed at the top of your lungs?
No matter how hard Vander had it for you (literally and figuratively), there wasn't a world when it would work for both of you. He'd been a Zaunite gangster back in the day, recently reformed into a full-time father and pub owner. Ah, when talking about fatherhood - you didn't even know he's looking after four fucking kids. You didn't have a clue about Vi, Powder, Mylo and Claggor. How could you?
Such a pretty young thing didn't deserve a life like this - bound to one place without the alternative to leave. Vander couldn't leave Zaun. But you could.
Each time Vander realized how intelligent you truly were, it would knock the air outta his lungs - if there was anyone with a bright future, it got to be you. You had the entire Runeterra laying at your feed, ready for you to explore every nook and cranny. You had places to be, people to meet, work to do... No way he'd let you throw that away for someone like himself. Compared to you, he'd been significantly older, slower and already set in his tracks - you had a whole life ahead of you.
One kiss couldn't ruin anything, could it?
You've been tipsy, ogling each other for the entire night, saying shit you shouldn't really say. He wasn't afraid of rejection - Vander was perceptive enough to recognize bedroom eyes on a woman from a mile away. He was afraid of rejecting you. Now that he knew you, it was impossible to imagine Last Drop without having you around. Benzo was fond of you, Ekko loved you (Benzo admitted that the little boy might be crushing on you a teeny-tiny bit) and most of the locals started treating you as an equal.
You... You couldn't disappear out of his life.
He'd hesitated for too long. The grip on his thigh started to weaken as you pulled away, flustered beyond any reason - you were turning away, awkwardly coughing into your sleeve. Everything inside his body froze before he could stop it, pushing your palm back where it was - on his thigh, squeezing it gently. As you turned to face him, he leaped forward, kissing you.
It made your head spin, that's how good of a kiss it was. Things you hadn't enough courage to admit out loud, all the desire and tension resulted in teeth clattering, tongues dancing, and lips crashing again... And again... And again. You've kissed like nothing else mattered, slipping off the stools - his knee parted your legs while his palms roamed his sides and lower back, spreading them further apart as he pressed you onto the bar, palms sliding along your curved back.
If Vander hadn't the willpower to snap out, you'd likely end up bent over the pool table or the tappers. Thankfully, when he felt your fingers tugging his shirt out of his pants, he stepped away, catching your palm in his.
"I... 'm sorry, doll, I shouldn't have done that, I dunno what's gotten into me." - Vander whispered apologetically, awkwardly picking up the stool you'd knocked to the ground during the kiss.
"There's nothing to be sorry about, I asked for it."
"Doll, there's everythin' to be sorry 'bout."
"What do you mean?" - As he registered the vulnerability in your voice, his eyes snapped to you, still leaning your back into the bar. God, you looked amazing with your lips swollen from the kiss. There wasn't time to admire, you, however -this was a fine line Vander found himself on. One wrong word and you could slip past his fingers, never to be seen again.
"You... You shouldn't even be here this late, sweetheart."
"Are you trying to say you don't want me here? That none of this is... Real? Was it a game for you?" - The moment you started doubting this, Vander's finger snapped at you as he shook his head.
"That's not what I'm sayin'. You should be in your bed, fallin' asleep next to someone your age, maybe that blonde boy'f yours. Seems to have the hots for you, poor kid. Instead, you're here, spendin' your time with someone like me."
"Someone like you?"
"I could be your father, Y/N." - Vander hissed. Wow. You couldn't recall the last time he'd use your first name - he had to be worked up real bad.
"You'd have to start really early, then." - You chuckled, continuing before he caught another wind. - "You're getting yourself too worked up over nothing. It's... Just a kiss, nothing more - I'll still be your regular. I loved it." - Even though the last sentence was a mere whisper, it made Vander straighten up. The explosion of a guttural warmth inside his chest was insane, almost setting him on fire. Even though it wasn't any concrete confession, one step would lead to another...
"'t felt good tonite, will feel like shit tomorrow morning, doll, you'll see." - Sighing, Vander stepped closer to you, leaning into the bar while taking one of your palms to his, playing with your fingers. - "Whatcha thinkin', doll? A Piltie like you with a Tencher like me? C'mon now, what good would that bring?" - Taking a breath, Vander pushed a stand of your hand behind your ear.
"How about you let me decide what I'd like to do and how I feel about kissing you? That okay?" - Sighing, you leaned your forehead into his shoulder and gently hugged his waist with your palms. - "I'll let you know the next time I drop by."
"Okay, lemme say it differently - what would such a pretty little pet like you even do with an old geezer like me? You're not just someone, you've even studied at the Academy - the Undercity ain't somethin' you should be aimin' for, Y/N. When I look at you, I see the future. And a damn bright one at that." - His fingers were ghosting along your jaw, his heart thumping steadily. You knew the tone and look in his eyes - like a kid staring at a toy they wouldn't be able to get in a million years. - "And when you change the world, me and Benzo'll tell everyone about ya - 'Y/N? That's our girl, one of the Zaunites; the one who'd been kind enough to kiss an old fool like me'."
"To which I'd say I wished you'd kiss me ever since I've met. You're just... Like a fire and I'm a moth, constantly gravitating towards you. When you're not around, it's like my breathing gets heavier, I'm worrying about where you are, what you're doing, and if you're okay... And when I see you, this warmth spreads through my chest. There's not a day when I wouldn't wanna see you and let you poke at my accent or turns of phrases. Vander, I... I... I should go." - With that, you pushed Vander off and picked up your belongings, putting a few Valors on the bars as you usually did. If you continue running your mouth, you'll start unveiling things you did your best to keep hidden away from Vander. For example, that you loved him.
If you weren't so nervous, you wouldn't miss the mesmerized look Vander gave you, breathlessly staring at you. He knew what you've been trying to say - he was on the same boat. He was just a man in his best years trying to get by, helping his community and people. It was so fucking hard to believe a girl like you liked him for what he was.
If you'd say it out loud, he'd believe you. He'd even say it back. Three words - such a short phrase would become his favorite. If you had enough courage to say it, he'd repeat it over and over.
Instead, he watched as you packed your things, holding everything together with a last-ditch effort. - "If I keep on going, Vander, I'd probably say things neither of us want to hear. If a kiss made the situation this messy, we wouldn't withstand what's on my mind. I... I'll see you around, I promise."
God. You were wrong. So fucking wrong. You're almost out of the door when you hear Vander calling out your name, making you turn around. He'd been mustering up the strength to say it, but before he could... The courage dissipated as you smiled at him. - "Hm?"
The way he stared at you dried your mouth and your knees weakened. If you've ever seen bedroom eyes on anyone, this was it. His eyes darkened, his breath short as he tried to come up with something... Anything. Lust was a double-edged sword, that much you realized. Vander would get on his knees to hear whatever stupid shit you had on your mind if there was a slight possibility you felt the same - if that'd be the case, you'd end up bent over the bar. Drunk fucking, that would be the worst thing you could do.
If you'd get down to it, you wanted Vander to be sober. You wanted to be sure it was just him touching you, whispering sweet nothings, moaning at appropriate times; not alcohol. You didn't want it to be remorse either. The moment would be right if Vander hadn't started overthinking and overcomplicating shit.
"I'll go now, Vander. Remember... I won't even regret kissing you."
You didn't have the balls to go for a beer for the two following weeks. You avoided The Last Drop as if it were a plague epicenter, not even looking its way when you walked through the Lanes.
Benzo caught up on the shift, asking if everything was alright. Since Vander seemingly didn't bother with informing Benzo about what happened, you hadn't either; when you popped by his pawn ship to drop off some sweets for Ekko, Benzo even got the audacity to tell you that: 'Vander misses you, asks for you every nite, girl. Whatever the old bastard had done can't be that bad, can it?' Did Vander even do anything wrong? He hadn't outright rejected you, had he? It almost seemed he'd admit there's more to it than just a kiss. Emotions, perhaps? Well, you've been on a streak of childish behavior and you planned to continue.
No matter how long you worked during the night, Vander plagued your mind. You've missed him, the way he smiled at you, gently caressed you with his looks, and how delicate his tone was when he spoke with you. It was strange to work in silence since you've gotten used to the vivacity of the Last Drop.
Your flat suddenly felt like a prison - too small, too dark, and too quiet. Even when Ezreal came over to visit you and sleepover, it didn't brighten up the mood. The boy wasn't stupid when it came to crushes and lovesickness - as soon as he heard you sigh, he'd been onto your ass, trying to lure details outta you. It wasn't a bad idea, actually - you needed your friends to help you solve the conundrum of 'Vander'.
"And... You left after that?" - Ezreal asked, genuinely shocked. You've called for an emergency meeting at Jayce's - all three of you were splattered all over Jayce's sofa, sipping on a beer, eating take-out.
"What else was I supposed to do?"
"So, you've fallen in love with this amazing Trencher..." - Jayce mumbled through the noodles in his mouth, sitting up. - "And he kissed you like anyone before?"
"Yeah, it was... Wow. We've knocked over a few stools, even, but we were both drunk." - You reminded, sighing.
"Have you seen how he looks at you?" - Ezreal asked you, having you cock your head towards him dumbfoundedly. - "Every time we're there for a drink, the guy doesn't look at anyone but you. Like there's no other person in the pub, just you."
"Have you heard a word from what I've told you?"
"You ran away after he pointed out a few excellent points instead of telling him what's on your mind... And then left him conscience-stricken for two weeks. Without dropping by to tell him you're just confused." - Jayce reiterated. It wasn't like that, was it? You didn't run away without telling - Vander surely knew. Why didn't he comment or answer it in any way? It wasn't just your fault - there were two to blame.
"I'm... I wasn't confused."
"Don't take this personally, but we've never seen you fall in love with anyone. You fooled around at the Academy - who didn't? But it looks like when it comes to real feelings... You're not too good at conveying them. Lemme guess - you started talking, said something incredibly cheesy, and then rambled, didn't you?" - Ezreal asked, smoothing your shoulder. How did he know? God, these guys knew you better than you could ever know yourself. - "In response, Vander started rambling about the future - about how it couldn't be good for you and stuff. Even though it might've come across as dismissive, Y/N, that man thought about a future by your side. Also, we can't see every thought that goes inside that brain of yours, so it can be confusing to navigate at times. You love him, then? And want to fu..." - Ezreal nibbled on, making you unnerved and flustered. Was he just about to ask you if you wanted to fuck Vander? That casually, like it's nothing?
"Yes, Ezreal, yes! I can't think of anything but him, I can't eat, can't sleep..." - You exclaimed, standing up to take a long breath. The duo gave you a run for your money, you had to admit. - "All I want is him. But I don't know how to do it or what to say. That's why we're here."
"Then I don't see a problem here. Do you, Ezreal?"
"None, Jayce."
"We're on the same page, then." - Jayce smiled, clinking his bottle to Ezreal's before taking a good swing. - "God, these noodles are so good."
"If you two don't talk, I swear on Heimerdinger's inventions..."
"Vander, from what I've gathered, is an upfront, honest guy..." - Jayce started, having Ezreal nod in confirmation.
"... Then it's obvious what you have to do. Just tell him. Which part? I don't know. Just go for it."
"That's the best piece of advice you got for me - 'just tell him'? Isn't that what I attempted last time?"
"Oh, Y/N, girl." - Ezreal howled, pushing you back to the sofa between Jayce and him, and handing you back your beer. - "This time, you're gonna go straight to the point. No cheesiness, no romance - it'll be a love confession, but you see what I mean, right? Let me phrase it delicately... You'll tell him all about those dirty scenarios inside your head. We guys love hearing stuff like that, it boosts our confidence."
"For once, I second everything Ezreal said. You got this, Y/N, look at yourself. Ezreal is mostly right when sensing crushes - if he says Vander's got it bad for you, I'd trust him."
Ezreal didn't leave you on your own, God bless this sweet summer child - he'd made sure you'd really go talking to Vander, even helped you with picking out the outfit. He'd put together something insanely simple, yet elegant - a white lacey dress, a suiting black vest with golden detailing to match your Wellington boots. When enriched with adequate, very subtle golden accessories, and the right hairstyle...
"God, Ezreal. When did you plan on letting me know you're a fashionista?" - You wondered, turning around to see every inch of you. You had these pieces for years and never thought enough to piece them together. Your fashion sense wasn't bad, per se, but faded in comparison to Ezreal's.
"I've been making fashion statements for some time now, one'd assume you noticed since we hang out all the time." - The boy muttered, sitting on your bed.
"I look so good." - Still checking yourself out, you leaned towards the mirror to look at how the golden necklace sits on your neck.
"You always did. I just pushed it a step further, that's all." - Making you stand up, Ezreal caught your shoulders and looked you in the eyes. - "What's the plan? Run it by me one last time."
"I'll walk in the Last Drop, looking like a million Valors."
"Duh."
"Tell Vander I'd like to talk to him... Alone."
"Yeah?"
"And when we're alone, I'll tell him what I wanna do to him... Which will be so incredibly disgraceful and awkward..."
"It'll be disgraceful and awkward if you don't pull yourself together. Be confident, smirk, touch him, smooth his shoulder, bite your lip, wiggle your eyebrows - just don't turn into a flustered mess. Imagine you're in a debating competition if that helps. Show him how serious you are, don't leave a single question unanswered." - Coach Ezreal instructed you, having you nod with fiery passion. While not known for his intelligence prowess, Ezreal was a great leader and an amazing empath. He'd known you much better than you knew yourself, helping you cross bridges you'd deemed impossible. Now, he was doing it again.
"Alright, seems to me you're in the right zone and everything. My job here is done." - The boy grinned, fixing a few strands of hair behind your ear. - "I gotta catch a date for myself."
"Who's the poor soul? Do I know 'em?" - You wondered, the Undercity accent rubbing its way in. No wonder, you've been living in Zaun for at least three months by that point. Ezreal didn't point it out, just grinned while picking up his stuff lying around.
"Linda from the study department."
"Wow!" - You exclaimed, locking your flat. You'd walk Ez out on your way to the Last Drop. - "Why do you sound so down, then? Weren't you pinning against Linda for months?"
"Eh... I mean, yeah... The problem is I asked her out at a party, super-drunk, and everything. Don't even remember what I fooled her into believing. Remember that faculty party you didn't come with me because you were too busy ogling at Vander?"
"Hey, I'm not taking accountability for that. Jayce was your babysitter for the night."
"He, for one, was busy ogling some guy from Heimer's office and didn't make it in time to inform Linda it's not a great idea." - Ezreal grinned, watching as you gasped for air. Ogling a guy from Heimer's office? Damn.
"How come I hadn't heard about this 'till now?"
"You were too busy putting that draft together. Even sobbed about it when I slept over last week. Didn't think telling you about Jayce's romantic endeavors would help much."
"And... Who's the guy? Do we know him? What's Jayce's type?" - Eyebrows wiggling, you pressed on, making Ezreal chuckle.
"No, don't know him, I saw him at the party for the first time. How'd I describe him... Frail and foreign for sure. Don't take it wrong, he's... Strangely handsome, that one. Think it's the accent doing it for our poor old Jayce."
"Fuck me." - You snorted, opening the front door. - "Our science bro has it down bad for other scientists. Twist of the century."
"I liked Viktor." - Ez mumbled while leading you towards the main parade. - "He's snarky and most likely a genius. Zaunite by heart, strangely perceptive, weirdly confident in the best way... You'd love him."
"You think Jayce would ask him on his own?"
"Eh, no, not really. I'll start working on setting them up soon."
"What would we do without our romance and fashion guru, Mr. Lymere?" - Looking him in the eyes, you smiled while Ezreal caught your hands in his, nodding at you.
"Now, forget all about Talis and his non-existent game... I mean, the guy can flirt, that's for sure, but..."
"Not the point, Ez."
"Right." - Ezreal nodded some more, clearing his throat. - "When you come tomorrow evening for the play, all I'm going to hear about is how this hunky, handsome guy blew your back out, 'kay?"
"Ez!" - It was a squeal as you started to laugh, stepping aside, breaking the moment. - "You gotta stop saying that. I'm not good with... Saying this stuff out loud, you know that."
"Good luck, lovely." - The boy leaned in, kissed your cheek, and sent you one of his typical smiles before turning on his heels and leaving. God, you loved Ezreal.
As Coach Ezreal coaxed you into doing, you did your best to walk into the Last Drop like a million Valors (not to mention the intense break you took leaned into the pub's wall, trying to get your shit together). As per usual, the place was lively - people haggling around, playing cards, jukebox playing a nice tune while they drank. Since it was the weekend, Vander wasn't behind the bar alone; Vera and Jakob were his backup for the night. You'd admired how Vander and his part-timers work in unison. Their responsibilities were strictly given, so each of them had their own little universe to keep in check - Vander dealt with the orders, Vera mixed cocktails and prepared snacks and Jakob ensured there were always enough dishes.
"Look who we got here! Hey, Y/N!" - Benzo's voice exclaimed so loudly it was heard all over the pub - some locals acknowledged you with a nod or wave, not staring for too long. Benzo, however, was seemingly happy to have his drinking buddy back in business. As you made your way towards the bar, you'd let the guy hug you clumsily before stepping aside.
The bartender hadn't said a word to acknowledge your presence. Hadn't even looked your way, it seemed. Was he hurt, just like Ezreal expected? Was he pissed to see you walk in so casually? Why didn't he reach out, then? You'd bet your money that he knew where you lived - one could never keep a secret while living in the Lanes.
It took all your willpower to snap your eyes into Vander's face, waiting for him to do anything, say something so you'd know what you're on. Funnily enough, Vander didn't plan on making it easier for you. At first, you were worried that he'd truly become indifferent.
Devil's always in the detail, you reminded yourself, searching for signs of what's going on inside his head. When you started noticing, your heart fluttered in your chest, hot blood rushed into your cheeks. His eyes lingered on your lips, the gulp he'd desperately tried to suppress, the grip tightening around the glasses he polished. He'd held onto them to forcefully his knuckles turned white.
"It's so good to see you, both of you." - With a smile, you turned towards the bar. Vander automatically pulled out your favorite coater (he'd hide it away from other guests, this one was yours specifically), leaning his hands into the desk like a let-down parent.
"What can I get you?" - His mumble was quiet, devoid of any emotion. No nicknames, no jokes, no flirting, huh? He'd really have to be pissed off, then.
"I'm here on business, actually." - Sending him a sweet smile didn't help either? Damn. - "Could I steal you for a minute or two? Won't be keeping you long and then I'm out of your hair, promise."
"Somethin' goin' down up there?" - Benzo asked with worries in his tone.
"Nothing I can't take off, Benzo. Just need Vander's expert opinion, that's all. He'll be back before you know it. Shall we?" - With a clap of hands, you sent Vander yet another warm smile. The bartender raised his eyebrows, sighed, and put his tea towel on the bar. Picking up his sandwich, he'd informed Vera about being gone for fifteen minutes (for his break) at tops before vaguely gesturing for you to follow him. Fifteen minutes was all you got, huh? Fuck.
You'd expect him to lead you to his office on the upper floor - Vander didn't deem you worthy enough to sit on his plushy chairs, because he'd open the back pantry for you, opting you to sit on one of the barrels.
"Well, start talkin'. We ain't have the whole evenin' - is it about the readin' or somethin'?" - Without an ounce of care, he'd peeled the napkin off his sandwich, chewing on it.
"How... Have you been?"
"How have I... Thought you wanna talk business, young lady." - Vander reiterated mockingly, looking away from you; his eyes had been stuck on your lacy dress, drowning in the sight of your breasts pushed together to form a delightful cleavage - it wasn't showing too much, but it definitely showed more than usual. Your breasts looked so... He'd been this close to reaching towards you, undoing the vest so he could squeeze them and nuzzle his head to your chest.
Fuck, you looked so absurdly alluring and tantalizing Vander couldn't stand to look at you. He was mad at you just an hour ago - he couldn't give in that easily.
He'd spent the last two weeks being absolutely miserable - your seat remained empty night after night, your coater hidden behind the tappers. Even though he'd known you weren't coming, he'd always ushered customers from sitting on your stool - his mind often going back to your carefree smile, your elbow supporting your head as you watched every move Vander made, reminding him of the cute expression on your face. Even the kids caught onto his mood swings - Vi laid into him regarding what, to quote her, 'Fucking busted his bubble?'
It took you a lot of courage to pick yourself off the barrel, stepping closer to him. Did you look seductive? You didn't feel like it at fucking all. Vander freezing like a deer in the headlights hinted that you were on the right track.
"I'm here to finish the conversation we started last week."
"Not this again..." - Vander countered and started picking himself up to leave - it was a surprise when you pushed him back on his ass, keeping one hand on his shoulder, soothing his jaw with your other one.
"I don't think I made myself clear enough."
"Oh, trust me, darlin', you've said plenty..."
"Yeah? Then you're gonna listen to it all again, I guess. Poor you." - The sandwich was long forgotten, lying on one of the shelves as you cocked your head to the side, sending Vander the calmest, sweetest smile you could muster. Holy shit, you realized, Ezreal's advice worked. Vander couldn't look away from you as you leaned your knee between his, planting your thumb on his lower lip to enthuse you'd love to kiss him again. Feeling the softness of his mouth made you lick your lips.
"I hoped you'd be smarter than this, sweetheart." - Vander whispered, finally giving in to your touch - you could feel his fingers creeping up your calves, gently lifting your skirt up, traveling up to your thighs. - "I ain't good news for a young thing like you. You'll get bored soon 'nough, leavin' me behind. Won't even remember me a few years from now... Thought you not showin' up was a good sign."
"Good sign?"
"That you'd understood what I tried to say and decided it would be best not to fool around with someone like me."
"I thought about this a lot over the last week - about you, me, and what I tried to do. I was drunk, we both were, and words didn't come across as I'd like 'em to." - Lifting his chin up, you started playing with his hair. - "No matter how much you hate hearing this, I'm really into you. I think I'm in love with you."
Everything stopped for a second - his grip on your thighs tightened as he brought you closer, staring at you with pure adoration. His expression didn't reflect all the love and happiness behind his eyes, but the fireworks going off told you more than you needed to know. He'd felt the same, to one degree or another. There wasn't any rush to say it back - when he opened his mouth to talk, your finger stopped him as you pressed it there. Cheekily, Vander planted a kiss on it, waiting for what you wanted to say.
Rest assured, your words almost gave him a heart attack.
"Now - stop fucking telling me how I'll feel or what I'll do in a few years. I want to be in the now with you and you're making it pretty fucking difficult. How about you just forget about everything for one night and show me how you feel about me? I don't care if this isn't a good long-term decision or whatever you're about to say - you're what I want most now. And even if I'd become a real diplomat one day... Vander, we're smart. We can figure it out. Stay in the moment, here with me." - Stepping in, you could feel your thighs bump into his abdomen - still holding his head in your palm, you were standing directly above him. Fucking hell, he was even more handsome up close. You loved every small wrinkle and crevice of his skin, an almost invisible scar on his lower lip, prominent cheekbones, and hair so soft you wanted to simply tug on it.
His fingers on your thighs started to move up and down, caressing your smooth skin - even that alone was enough to make you meowl softly.
"So, therefore, I propose we drop the act and focus on letting whatever this is blossom. Fuck, you have no idea about how many times I'd imagined kissing you, Vander, how I melt each time you smile or give me a cheesy compliment. No other man in my life makes my hands shake just by standing beside me. You have no idea how many times I've dreamt you'd be in my bed, taking my clothes off and eating me out... And all the things I'd like to do to you, shit." - You continued mumbling erratically, not really paying attention to what was leaving your mouth - Vander seemed mesmerized either way as he bent your knees carefully, lifting you up to sit his lap (given he was sitting on a barrel, that shit must've been uncomfortable as fuck). Hearing you curse for the first time was an out-of-world experience for him, especially when accompanied by quiet hisses and subtle moans. Every word leaving your lips was dipped in honey, making him gasp for air helplessly - if he'd like to, he was sure you'd be willing to undress right there and then.
Your knees fit around his waist as if he was made for you, his hardening dick pressing onto your thigh the moment you wiggled a bit. Feeling him made you gulp and lick your lips as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, playing with his hair.
"I don't know what you're so scared of? I'm here, you're here... Let's just... See what happens."
"Ain't this an abuse of power, miss diplomat?" - He whispered, making you giggle.
"Would be if you didn't want to fuck me as desperately as I wanna fuck you." - You whispered, stealing a quick peck off his lips. This broke the dam, causing all the feelings and emotions to flood out.
"You - have - no - idea - what - ya - doin' - to - me - doll." - After each word, Vander stole a kiss from your lips, his palms lifting your ass, making you rock on his waist, grinding on his dick with a raisin intensity. Each movement made you moan breathily, sending chills down your spine. and started grinding your groin against his, earning a breathy moan from you. - "Seein' you talk to men makes my blood boil 'cause I want to be the only one you give that pretty smile to. I wanna be the one wakin' up next to you, caressin' your skin, help you with showerin' your back, and see all the newest clothes and underwear you bring home... Mainly the latter, 'f course. I just... I just wanna be your man."
"Then show me, baby." - You whispered quietly, pulling him for a proper kiss, grinding against his lap in a steady rhythm. Warmth was spreading through your tummy, making it tighten each time your clit grazed the fabric of his trousers.
"I'd love nothin' else, doll..." - The man hummed, holding your chin between his fingers. Dear lord almighty, you looked more sensual than any woman he'd met before you - you seemed to be intoxicated from his kisses and words, your face burning up as he dragged his finger along your cheek. Each time you rocked your hips over his cock, your entire body shivered, eyelids fluttering. Realizing it was him making you meowl, that he kissed you so passionately that your lips were swollen was the hottest turn-on he'd ever felt. - "But my break is almost over. No way I'd undress you in this damn pantry for our first time, you deserve somethin' much better. You free tonight?"
"Hmhm? What do you have on mind?"
"Come pick me up after I close down. I'll make us dinner. We'll see where the things go from there, yeah?"
"Can't wait, handsome."
After Vander watched you leave the Last Drop with a shy smile, his eyes glued to your ass, he couldn't stop grinning. Five hours remaining until your randez-vouz... A whole fucking eternity.
The tent in his pants was unquenchable, no matter how many hairy men Vander attempted to imagine.
This tween behavior made Benzo grin - he didn't need to ask what you've been up to, he already knew. Watching Vander's blush and his constant throat clearing was enough of a show in itself. Business his ass; Benzo and Vera actually bet if you'd have sex right then and there or if you'd wait for a better moment. Vera was now 20 Valors richer.
"Could you take over the tappers for a minute?" - Vander asked, looking at the drink she was just finishing - you'd like it. Filled with pieces of chopped fruit, a very refreshing mix of spirits and lemonade. - "Gotta arrange somethin' real quick."
"You got it, V." - Vera called over her shoulder, showing Vander a thumbs-up. Leaving his tea towel on the bar, Vander turned on his heels to walk into the basement - this was his kids' designed hangout spot when they didn't feel like exploring Lanes. And since Vi was under house arrest, they've been lounging around it all weekend.
"Oh, hey." - Claggor was first to acknowledge him - he and small Powder were playing tick-tack-toe while Mylo read in the corner, only sending him a nod. Vi was sitting on the couch with her palms under her head, staring at the ceiling.
"What's up, old man?" - Vi muttered, sitting up. She had the most authority over the group, so she needed to be pressured the most - getting along with her meant getting along with the rest of the kids. At this point, Vi wasn't even mad, unlike a month back - now, she spent most of the time thinking about how to avoid Vander's attention next time, ticking off the few remaining days on her hands.
"I wanna make a deal with ya, kids." - Vander started, leaning his ass into the counter below him. Everyone was paying attention now, their head turned directly at him. The truth was - he needed the flat empty if he wanted to host a dinner for you and fuck senseless after... Which would be difficult with four fucking kids around. - "I'll let Vi off the hook sooner if you'd sleep here, need ya outta my hair. Just for tonight."
"Why?" - Powder wondered, her enormous blue eyes ogling at Vander. It was time to blush, sweat, and truly clear his throat. All the kids stared at him before Mylo exclaimed 'Aaaaah', laughing at Vander's busted ass.
"... Our old man got himself a date." - The boy explained - before he managed to utter another word, Vi gripped her palm around his shoulder.
"That's all she needs to know." - The girl ended topically, grinning at Vander. - "That's it? No buts or ifs if we stay the night here? That's all you askin'? You'll just... Let me off the hook?"
"Depends, have you learned your lesson?"
"Of course I did." - The girl answered, emphasis on the word 'did'. Yeah, right, and Vander was the newest fucking councilor. The kids started nodding frantically, making the old man chuckle. - "We all did. Last month had been very educational for all four of us."
"Then you're off the hook. Of course, in case of an emergency, just come ask for help - I'll be here for you..." - Vander informed swiftly, watching as Vi sat next to him with an angelic smile - from his experience, she was about to ask the stupidest fucking question he'd heard all day.
"Is it the pretty one? That one sitting on the bar all the time and staring at you as if she'd never seen a man? She has it bad for you."
"You're begging for another month of house arrest."
"Hadn't even said anything!" - The girl laughed, taking Vander's answer as a yes.
Striking a deal with the kids was a double-edged sword - they might be grateful for now, but jokes and innuendos were coming Vander's way, for sure. He needed to embrace all parts of fatherhood - the good parts, like Powder's drawings on the fridge or Vi's occasional hugs as well as the bad parts, consisting, for example, of the kids consistently finding sex and relationships cringe and disgusting.
"Can I ask a favor from ya?" - Vander stopped in the doorframe, looking at the kids. - "Would you clean up the mess you've made yesterday?"
"Oh, yeah... The pancakes..." - Powder sighed, remembering all the dirty dishes and ingredients plastered all over the kitchen sink. That might've been her job. Vander (while being very grateful for the breakfast) asked the kids if a bomb had gone off in the kitchen.
"No problem, big guy, you got it!" - Vi exclaimed, her eyes shining as she just found another angle for a stupid statement. - "Everything will be good as new for your big night, on my honor."
"You're on some mighty thin ice here." - The old man mumbled, but couldn't hide the grin appearing on his face.
Waiting for the Last Drop to close was endless, you'd swear - you'd change into outfit after outfit, trying out different underwear sets and even switching your hairstyle three times. You'd decided on something more decadent and less showy - while the afternoon visit was to seduce Vander, now you wanted to be more you - while being less fashionista, your outfits were still cute.
Even walking into the establishment was nerve-wracking - just as you slipped through the door, Vera was leaving for the night after cleaning the whole place up. Jakob was long gone after that point - his mom was sick, so he'd leave around ten, leaving the two to deal with the locals and patrons.
"Hey." - You waved, smiling at the guy shyly. Vander was just polishing the tappers - you loved how his hand moved steadily, showing all the veins on his forearm.
"Hey, you. Lookin' cute." - The man didn't waste any time making you fluster as you put your bag on your stool - you'd packed a few spare things to change into.
"How was the night?" - Without hesitation, you'd walk behind the bar and roll up your sleeves to sort the different glass types Vander had lying around.
"C'mhere. Forgotten somethin', silly." - Without notifying you, the man hugged your hips and pulled you in for a kiss - no matter your wet hands. Giggling, you didn't hesitate to kiss him back, gently smoothing his chin.
"Missed ya here, sweetheart."
"I'm here now... And I'm starving."
"Let me finish up so I can cook you somethin' delicious, doll." - Gently slapping your ass (melting at your surprised squeal), the man started finishing the very last chores feverishly.
"I'm here to help - after I finish the glasses, what's on the agenda?"
"Nothin' for you. I'd like some help in the kitchen, though."
"Got it. Well..." - Smiling at him, you'd slap his ass back. It was a homely gesture you enjoyed, honestly. Something about slapping ass and watching his eyes shine as he glared at you made your heart flutter - getting another kiss helped too.
Vander's flat was on the top floor of the Last Drop - it was spacious, but felt crowded at the same time, for an inexplicable reason. There was a lot of stuff. Even though it was tidy, you got a chaotic vibe from the place... That meant you wouldn't like it, however.
The design was incongruous, as you'd expected from a bachelor's fault - the pieces of furniture didn't match at all (in case they did, it was only vague), and the decoration was lacking, but he'd everything he needed. The flat smelled nice, unlike the rest of Zaun - like wood, oranges, jasmine, and his musk... It smelled like him.
"Welcome to my little kingdom."
"Mhm, I like it here... A lot. Feels quite like home." - Your words made him smile even more widely than before - walking to you, he gently held your head in his palms before lowering his, kissing you with a happy hum. It was a sweet, delicate romantic kiss; his lips gently brushed yours, his palms slowly traveling onto your shoulders, copying the curve of your back and settling on your ass, bringing you impossibly close.
"Let's get cookin' before you make me lose my damn mind, doll." - With a last caress of your jaw, he'd walk into a spacious kitchen/dining room. The table was impressively large - enough to host at least seven people. That was where you noticed it for sure - a lonely crayon forgotten under the table and children's drawings on the pantry door. Observing them, you nodded to yourself, putting your bag onto one of the chairs.
"There are... Nice." - You muttered, pointing at them. His expression froze for a second before he joined you in observing the masterpieces.
"Mhm. I like 'em a lot. Always make my day."
"Who gave them to you?" - With the most innocent expression you could muster, you pressed on with the interrogation. Vander... Wasn't taken, was he? He'd tell you if he was, right? Where would be his wife and presumed children - would he just tell them to leave the flat until he deals with his booty call? Surely not.
"Well, yannow, I help around the community. A lot of kids out here, a lot of excited painters."
"Uh-huh." - The confusion and suspicion in your voice was almost tangible. There was one theory you could test out. - "Could I use the bathroom real quick?"
"Suit yourself, doll. The first door on the left. Call out if you need anythin'."
"I'll be right back." - Kissing his shoulder to divert his attention a bit, you walked inside the small bathroom - it wasn't anything regal, but it fulfilled its purpose. Turning on the basin to cause distraction, you started searching for proof of feminine presence - make-up, perfume, comb... Anything. The only thing you found, however, was a pink hairband forgotten next to the shower. A girl's hairband, you realized - could he be a widower? That would be fine too, you'd even understand why he hadn't mentioned it until then. Well, in that case, it would be better not to pressure him - he'll tell you on his own.
"Everythin' alright?" - He'd ask as soon as he noticed you lurking around the kitchen. Letting your eyes drown in the sight of a homey, domestic Vander was a heavenly sight. He'd taken off his jacket and worked on cutting some vegetables.
"Everything alright. What can I help with?"
"The meat."
Cooking together was fun. You'd open a bottle of wine, chatting as you prepared the meal - Vander asked about details he hadn't learned yet, and you asked about his past, favorite pastime, and hobbies. As per usual, he'd been an open book, answering everything right away and with honesty - this guy could be married, no way in a million years.
When a comfortable silence settled between you, you just wait for the meal to be ready - you've decided to settle on a small, very old kitchen island while waiting for Vander to finish peeling and roasting the potatoes.
"Whatcha grinnin' at, you pretty little thing?"
"Just watching the most beautiful man I've met, 's all."
"Look at her." - Approaching you, the man was purring with happiness. As he approached the edge of the island, your legs opened themselves to hook around his waist, bringing him closer. - "The accent's catchin' 'n everythin'."
"Did to impress the guy I like."
"Hope he's handsome and treats you right."
"You have no idea." - Holding him in place with your palm, you put the glass down and closed off the distance, kissing him slowly. Passion built up with each little movement - he'd hold you impossibly close, his hands roaming your body freely, even taking the vest you've been wearing. Hip lips traveled from your lips to your neck, kissing a small trail below the collar of your blouse as he worked on the buttons. If you weren't starving, you'd let him undress you right there, on the fucking kitchen island...
Ruining the atmosphere, your stomach started growling. The moment was gone in an instant, having you both laugh quietly.
"I'm sorry." - You laughed as he hugged you. This time, you let your hands roam around his broad back and shoulders, scratching it with your fingers.
"Nothin' to be sorry 'bout. I promised you dinner and I intend to keep the promise."
"You bet. Couldn't wait for what you have in store."
"... If you provide the desert, that is." - The tone of his voice mesmerized you, having you ogling at him. Fucking hell, he looked so hot - looking at you with his eyes darkened with lust, his thumb playing with your lower lip. Wiggling your hips around, you could feel what was the reason for this sudden change of mood. His dick was deliciously outlined, almost begging to be pulled out and sucked, hitting the back of your throat.
"I can give you a little taste." - With an innocent smile, your palm slowly caressed his lower abdomen, slipping down between his legs. Even the thought of having his dick on your palm made you hot and bothered, let alone imagine him finally fucking you after all this time.
Sure, you've had sex before, but you've been this down bad and horny for anyone. Imagining him naked made you shuttered, his warmth made goosebumps rise on your skin - as if he knew what pressure to apply, how to apply it, and for how long... Vander was perfect. Fucking perfect.
Just when you brushed the tip, Vander's palm tugged on yours.
"Dinner first, doll." - Pushing himself between your legs, he couldn't resist pulling you for one last kiss. - "You'll have all night for showin' me what a good fuckin' girl you are."
"Okay, baby."
"Good. I ain't plannin' on lettin' you leave until the mornin'." - With a last kiss on your temple, Vander walked back to the stove to check on the food. It smelled delicious. So much so that your stomach grumbled again.
The dinner was delicious, you had to admit. The man knew his cooking and he wasn't shying away from showing you heaven by overstimulating the everliving shit out of your taste buds. Vander even brought a bottle of wine from Last Drop's exclusive displays to amp it up. Having a man working in gastronomy spoiling you rotten had its benefits, you must admit.
The conversation was... Mundane. You'd suspect the rising tension would've made it harder to make small talk. Still, it didn't change much except the hunger behind Vander's eyes - he hadn't seen you or talked to you properly in the last two weeks, of course, he wanted to hear what you've been up to, how locals treated you and if there's anything he can do to help.
You've been the one to do the dishes, despite Vander's protests - he was ordered to sit down and relax for a bit; he'd been on a long shift and cooked for you, no way you wouldn't return the hospitality. Other than fucking him senseless, that was.
"Lord almighty." - It was a mere whisper, almost too quiet for you to notice. While drying your hands, you'd turned your head to Vander to send him a smile - his expression made you freeze in one place. His voice was husky as he stared at you, looking you up and down as if he hadn't seen a prettier woman before. His elbow leaned to the back of his chair, his tongue slowly traveling on his lips as he enjoyed the view - your hair let down, blouse half unbuttoned, tar trousers perfectly hugging your curves. Domestic behavior was one of his weaknesses.
The stare sucked the air out of your lungs, the smile disappearing. He'd been staring at you as if he was preparing to devour you alive, like a wolf preparing for the last blow. You've never felt like prey... Not in a good way.
Daring to take it a step further, you unbuttoned the vest, letting it slip off your shoulders. The man didn't tear his eyes off you - it was hard to even blink, let alone move. Carefully, your fingers push under the blouse, showing off more and more of your skin. As you teased to show him your breasts, his response was a playful scoff. Turning away from him, you slipped the piece of clothing over your head; the see-through fabric left little to the imagination anyway, but finally looking at the laces of your bra left Vander biting his lip.
"Enjoying the show, big guy?"
"You have no idea, doll."
"How about you show me, then?"
"Seems you're havin' fun on your own, don't lemme slow you down."
"Could use a spare pair of hands."
"Keep goin' and I'll think 'bout it."
Stripping for someone's enjoyment was new for you, but it was... Fun. You'd suspect you'd feel dumb, maybe silly; seeing how he palmed his hardening dick over his pants while watching each move you made gave you confidence. So much of it, in fact, that you slowly slipped the pants off your hips, your boots following soon after. Vander's eyes were glued to how you palmed your breast, playing with the hems of your panties.
"Still want to only watch?"
"Do you realize how mesmerizing you look, darlin'?" - With that, your fingers finally slipped under the fabric - your other palm grabbed on the kitchen unit so you could ache your back, letting out a lewd moan. - "Keep goin', doll, show me how you like it."
Fulfilling the wish, your fingers drew delicate circles around you, gathering all the wetness leaking out of you. You hadn't been this wet for anyone before Vander. Soon, you stopped caring if he was even watching you - you started to slip your fingers in and out, playing with yourself just as you enjoyed it. It was when your breathing got heavier and your knees started giving out when he finally walked over to you.
Immediately, your forehead found its way to his shoulder, your fingers grabbing his forearm forcefully enough to leave dents. Helping you with getting off, he carefully pushed the tiny lacy panties aside (Vander wanted to keep them intact mainly because he suspected this piece of clothing would bring him on his knees anytime you'd show it to him). His fingers were much thicker than yours, making you moan in sensation as he carefully pushed them inside you, curling them up ever so slightly.
"Keep goin' for me, pretty girl, I wanna hear you moan."
"F-fuck, Vander." - As he requested, so you provided, panting heavily between meowls and lewd moans leaving your mouth. - "You can add one more and go faster, please."
While doing as you asked, he also slipped one of the straps off your shoulder, letting your breast bounce out of the bra. Carefully nibbling on your nipple, he'd pushed his knee between your legs to support you. With each second, your moves started becoming erratic as you ground against his hand, trying to match his palm's thrusts.
"Shit, I think... I'm about to..." - Throwing your head backward, his lips found yours in a rough, passionate kiss.
"Let go for me, c'mon, good girl." - His husky voice in your ears defused the bomb building inside your abdomen, letting you sink into his fingers in one last stretch. The orgasm felt surreal - his smell intoxicated your brain, your ears started ringing from the blood rushing inside your veins and your mouth produced the most erotic sounds it ever has.
"Holy shit, that was nice." - You admitted, gripping his shirt to lower him down for a proper kiss.
"I want to hear this more often, sweetheart." - Vander chuckled, licking his fingers clean while staring you in the eyes. This view had you biting on your lip, kissing him once more just to feel his and your tastes mixed. This alone made you smirk. - "Can't believe how lucky I am to have you here. I imagined this so many times..."
"Let me take care of you, big guy." - Leaving all the clothes in a discarded mess on the kitchen floor, your palm tugged on his palm to lead him inside the bedroom.
It was a bit messy, surely seen better days, but it felt very homey - his bed was unmade, clothes that he discarded in a rush were thrown over the chair and a collection of various books and papers gathered on the table. You could notice various framed pictures hanging on the wall but didn't go as far as to check them out. The bed seemed sturdy, excessive wooden frame resting at the mint green wall. You liked it.
Even before you asked the first question, his lips crushed to yours, forcing you to back until your knees hit the edge of the mattress. While his hands started pulling his t-shirt off his body, you didn't waste any time unbuckling his belt, your lips kissing a wet trail on the skin he uncovered for you.
He'd been in better shape than you imagined - Vander wasn't the type to have his muscles flexing or rocking a six-pack, but he was slender with just the right amount of chubbiness sprinkled on top of it. Dad bod in its finest form, that's how Ezreal described it to you.
You loved the curly hair on his chest; it wasn't too dense, just enough to look ridiculously hot. His happy trail below the belly button was very tasteful, making you moan breathily. Your fingers started to shake as you finally pushed his trousers down, putting your palms on his hips and taking a moment to simply adore him.
Vander was the most beautiful man you came across, there was doubt in your mind - you loved his fucking body. His palms were much larger in comparison to yours, also filled with small calluses due to his occupation, but the rest of his skin was smooth and warm.
His stature was a sight to behold - broad shoulders, wide chest, and waist that simply begged to be puzzled between your thighs. Just by looking at the outline of his dick, you knew it was going to be a nice ride - its length was perfect for you, the only thing you were worrying about was how thick it appeared to be.
"What's the frown for, doll?" - His voice broke you out of your thoughts, his thumb playing with your lower lip.
"Never had someone so wide." - Your words made your pussy contract delightfully, already aching to feel him filling you to the brim.
"I'm a handy guy, doll, I'm sure you can take it if I help you. But you gave me a promise, remember?"
"Desert?"
"Lay down for me, sweetheart, c'mon." - With a quick, skillful move, the bra slid off your shoulders, leaving you fully naked. And yet, you've never felt sexier as you laid down, letting him prop your back up with a pillow while getting on his knees. - "Look at the view, doll." -Vander murmured, pecking both your inner thighs. His smirk was screaming danger, but so fucking good-looking. You've been so aroused that the surrounding air felt cold on your core. - "Must be nicest I had in years. You're even wetter than before doll, God." - With a murmur, he'd kiss the sweet spot right above your clit, sliding his nose through your folds tantalizingly slow. - "You smell and taste so fucking good."
Then, he dived right in, taking you in his mouth with careful, slow, and precise movements - his tongue copied lazy circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves, and his palms and shoulders kept your legs spread wide open, no matter how many times you tried pushing them together. It could be felt he's skilled in eating out - even though he couldn't know what you liked, he started slow and looked at how you reacted, being perceptive enough to repeat the movements you seemed to enjoy and avoid those that made you frown.
It didn't take him long to make you a whimpering, whiney mess - especially after his mouth dipped down to catch every bit of your arousal, licking you clean - his watery eyes were piercing through yours, watching as your breasts moved with each breath you took. When he pushed two fingers in once more, a long and needy moan filled his bedroom. That was when you broke off the eye contact and draped the sheets, concentrating on the heat slowly building in your abdomen, your toes curling against your will. His tempo was slow, playful... Vander was definitely taking his time with you.
"'s this what you imagined, doll? Havin' me on my knees, goin' insane over how you taste and sound?" - The man murmured into the skin on your thigh, sending light vibrations through your pussy as he chuckled upon listening to how you desperately tried putting a sensical sentence together. You failed miserably. As you stumbled on your words, his fingers sped up until you squirmed with pleasure, tightening the grip around his shoulders. - "With I could stay here forever, eatin' this pretty little cunt 'til my name's the only thing you remember. Such a pretty fuckin' little girl."
"Vander, please, I need you." - With all the will remaining inside you, you managed to pick yourself up on your elbows, tugging on his hair. - "Please, baby, I need you so fucking much. Your tongue on me, your dick balls deep inside me, whatever you'd like... Just don't fucking stop."
"Never, doll." - His mouth assaulted your sex with precision, devouring you like there was no tomorrow, even pushing his face further into you while his fingers worked wonders inside you. Your fingers tangled inside his hair, ensuring he wouldn't move an inch. The movements of his tongue became brutal the more your pelvis rode his face as you started chasing your release. He mumbled something, but you never got to know what it was - the vibrations were enough to send you over the edge, making your body tense up and thighs squeeze his head impossibly close to your clit as he continued sucking on it, riding you out of your high.
When your legs spread again, he gasped for air with a large smile, his beard glistening with your arousal. Fuck. Having him marked like that was turning you on. His fingers inside you didn't stop moving yet, enjoying the way your walls squeezed them. He enjoyed how you squirmed each time his thumb gently caressed your oversensitive bundle of nerves.
"All good, doll?"
"No one had... Jesus, hmpf... How... How are you so good at this?"
"Just wanna see my girl happy, 's all. Love seein' your face like this." - Still working wonders between your legs, Vander picked himself off the floor to kiss you. Gently, he pressed in another finger, stretching you even more. But by Gods, it felt so good. - "We're there, baby girl."
Not breaking the kiss, his fingers slipped out of your slit, helping you to climb higher on the bed. Once again, you propped your pelvis up with a pillow, sinking your head into another.
Vander caressed your cheek and kissed you before teasingly running his dick through your folds - you were still slippery enough thanks to the mix of his saliva and your arousal, so there wasn't a need for lubricating. His precum leaking out of the tip of his cock made it simpler. Still kissing you, he started teasing you cradling his pelvis back and forth with his dick aligned with your entrance, as if it was to slip any moment now; his other arm propped on the bedframe.
"Ready, doll?"
"Whenever you are."
"Attagirl."
As soon as the tip of his cock slipped inside you, a hurtful hiss crossed your lips - his mouth was instantaneously back on yours, kissing you gently, the palm which was guiding his cock minutes later entangled with yours. Even though Vander did his best to loosen you up, he was still wide. The width made you gasp for air between kisses, each inch filling you like anything before.
It didn't hurt, it was just a bit uncomfortable until you got used to the sensation. Your eyes sliding across his face and mouth wide open, you started enjoying the feeling of fullness, especially seeing the ecstatic, awed expression on his face.
"Almost there, doll, almost there. You're takin' it so good."
"It feels so good, baby. I love feelin' your dick inside me." - As you traced your fingers on his face, you could feel him throbbing upon your words. The sensation made you move against his body, letting the rest of the dick slip inside in one swift motion. - "Holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck."
"You look so fuckin' mesmerizing, takin' my dick like that." - His pelvis started moving carefully, sloppily slipping in and out of you. The sounds were so erotic, so perfect, turning you on even more.
When you felt like you could take it, you started to meet his thrusts halfway, making you both groan in pleasure. Your knees circle around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you - as he did his best to make love to you, his thrusts were playful, slow, and careful, making sure you're getting the most out of it. Vander was also making sure you'll be ready for when he'll start mercilessly fucking you like there's no tomorrow.
"Mhmh, you feel so fucking good, Vander."
"Love it when you say my name like this."
"Vander..." - You moaned, feeling as his pace started picking up, his thrusts becoming more precise. - "God, Vander, Vander, Vander."
"You'll be the death of me, fuck."
Before you grasped it, the headboard started banging into the wall as the bed creaked under the brutal tempo Vander had set - you didn't attempt to shush your screams and moans as you dragged your nails down his back, aching your back until your breasts met his chest. Both of you were sweaty and aching in the best way possible, sloppily kissing anytime you could.
"I won't last for much longer, doll." - His voice was hoarse as he stared at your tits bouncing around, every semblance of sense erased from his mind. All Vander knew was how perfect you felt tightening around him, that this pussy must've been hand-made for him and him only, and that your moans were the most musical sounds he'd heard until that day.
"Cum for me, big guy."
"Where... Shit." - Vander sat up, putting his forearm under your back to keep you in position. This new sensation made you squirm, digging your nails deep into his forearm. He'd been even wider from this angle, filling you up better than before. - "Where do you want me, doll?"
"Anywhere you want, Vander."
This was Vander's last stretch. His name falling off your lips in such a lewd manner fried his circuits, having him bury his dick deep inside you with one last thrust. Out of breath, Vander collapsed on your chest, listening to your fast heartbeat. Your fingers started playing with his hair and caressing his sweaty back, feeling the warmth spreading deep within you. Everything felt perfect.
"You know how you said... You loved me?"
"... Also said you don't have to say it back, Vander."
"What if I'd like to, doll?"
"... Then I'd be the happiest girl in the Lanes."
"I love you." - The man murmured, picking his head up to look you in your eyes. The words made you smile widely as you held his pace in your arms, giggling. His softening member was still inside you, but neither of you seemed to be in the rush to pull it out.
"That's the fucking talking, big guy."
"It ain't, on my honor. You're the best girl I've ever met. If you won't mind, I'd love to make you mine."
"Then repeat it..."
"I love you, doll."
"Again."
"I love you."
"... One more time."
"I love you, Y/N."
"I love you too, Vander." - Cracking a smile, you let the man kiss you, losing yourself in his warm bear hug and embrace. Moments after, he finally picked himself up, walking to the bathroom to bring you a warm towel. Letting you clean yourself up, he disappeared into the kitchen to make you tea and pick up all your clothes scattered over the floor.
The night, just as he promised, was endless - he'd taken you from more positions, caressing your body with the utmost care, as if you were a goddess he wished to worship. You did your best to project his behavior, but you've been too lost in it all - his lips, warm skin, arms wrapped around each time part of your body, his groans in your ear, his beard scratching your lips anytime you kissed... It was around seven in the morning when you finally picked yourself up, pushing his shirt over your head.
"Want something from the kitchen, big guy?"
"All I want is you back as soon as you can."
"Bet your ass..." - Before you could finish the joke, someone barged into the room, making you scream in surprise. You were moaning Vander's name just a few minutes back - who the fuck was this?
Looking at the incoming person, you've known the girl. You've already seen her serving in Vander's - the same violet hair, deadpan on her face as she looked at Vander covering himself with his sheets.
"What the..." - You asked, looking at her. The girl, seemingly, ignored you.
"... She did it again. I need your help, old man."
"What? Who did what? Who are you? Vander?" - You asked with confusion, looking from Vander to the girl and back.
"Oh, hi." - Suddenly, the trouble was forgotten as she leaned her shoulder into the doorframe, smiling at you cockily. - "Fancy seeing you here. Looking good."
"Hi?"
"What did Powder do this time?" - Vander sighed, bringing Vi's attention back to him. To hide the embarrassment, Vander massaged his face with a long sigh.
"We wanted to prepare some breakfast for you guys, so naturally, the stove's on fire." - The girl explained, but didn't seem to be in a rush to stop the ongoing apocalypse in the kitchen - now that you concentrated on it, you could hear distressed squeals and multiple people arguing, pans clinking on the metal - you could also see the smoke rolling out of the kitchen. The flat smelled hellish, making your eyes swell in tears from the subtle itching.
"Cover the pan with a pot lid - it'll put out the flames. I'll be right over."
"Hope you'll swing by too. Powder can't wait to meet you." - The girl picked herself off the doorframe, winking at you before closing the door.
"What the fuck was that?" - You asked, looking at Vander with disbelief. Who was she? Was she his daughter? Who are the other kids? You had your suspicions, yes, but this freaked you out more than you expected. You expected one, two kids at best - according to the ruckus, there were more people than that, though.
"Listen, if you want to leave now, doll, I understand... I..."
"Are these your kids?"
"Sorta?"
"Sort of? How can you 'sort of' have kids?
"Adopted 'em little nuisances after the riots last year. None of 'em had a home to go back to - felt responsible for 'em. Listen, as I said, no one's holdin' you here. You must be furious..."
"Fucking confused is what I am. Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"Wasn't confident 'nough if I'll even be what ya want without knowing I have four kids on my back."
The vulnerable expression on his face made you soften up. Four kids was a lot, yes - his actions, however, were honorable. Where would they end up if Vander didn't step up, giving them a home and a loving fatherly embrace?
The longer you stared at Vander, the more motivated you were to step out of the door confidently, sharing this awkward morning with all five of them, and taking everything it could give you.
You... Wanted to meet them. You wished to know every possible side of Vander and share all the good and the bad with him. You wanted everything he was offering - whether it was holding your hand, kissing you during his shifts in the pub, all the mindblowing sex, warmth in his eyes as he whispered 'I love you', his fingers tracing your skin as you laid opposite each other and talked between fucking, his warmth, his love... You wanted it all. And if he had kids, that was a part of this little everything you wanted so bad, no matter how worried it made you.
"Was this the reason why you freaked out so bad?"
"Ain't it obvious, Y/N? I'm almost forty, with a pub and four kids on my neck. Someone as young shouldn't worry about whether they have 'nough to eat, clothes to wear, 'bout what trouble they got themselves into this time... This ain't a life for such a young little thing."
"But it's your life. And I want you..."
"That's precisely why you shouldn't be wantin' me, doll. C'mon."
"Stop making my decisions for me, Vander. Did you plan on telling me about the kids?"
"Not for a bit... I was worried it would drive you away. I'm a selfish bastard, haven't you noticed?"
"Fucking far from it. The least you could do was to tell me about them. It would make things less embarrassing."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, if you told me ahead of time, we could have our little rendezvous at my place - do you realize how awkward this is for me? For them also, I'm sure."
"I'm sorry, Y/N... I didn't know how to bring it up..."
"We better get going before Powder blows the kitchen up."
"... You ain't gonna leave?"
"Of course not. These kids are a part of your life, so I want to get to know them. Step by step. If let me stick around, I can be a good step-mum to them one day, maybe."
"Are you serious?" - Vander asked, staring at you with his lips parted.
"Dead serious."
"I... Fucking love you, Y/N."
"Right back at you, handsome. Move your ass before someone barges in to drag us into the kitchen."
___
Author's note: So, regarding Ezreal... I didn't want him to come across as a sappy romantic who's in love with the reader - he's more of a naïve playboy in my mind, constantly falling in love with whoever's in front of him, seeing different people every week. Ez definitely got the charm and rizz to pull something like that off.
On the other hand, I think it could be a platonic love situation - they're both into each other (to one degree or another) - the reader doesn't date him, however, because she has standards, and Ezreal, as he admitted, would rather die than seeing someone like himself fooling around with her.
#ezreal league of legends#jayce league of legends#jayle talis#jayce arcane#vander arcane#vander is such a dilf istg#he's next to joel on my list#this guy could break me in half and I'd thank him#vander x fem!reader#vander x afab!reader#the kids are on it#i live for the last drop's kids squad#vi arcane#powder arcane#mylo arcane#claggor arcane
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Can You Hear Me Now?
TW: Cheating. Smut. Language. Dark Rafe?
SUMMARY: Rafe's POV when you refuse to leave your boyfriend and he takes matters into his own hands.
WORD COUNT: 880
REQUESTED
Rafe calling readers boyfriend without her knowing so he can hear how he makes her come ??? Please 🧡🧡🧡
Can You Hear Me Now?
It had been months of my undeserved patience and she still managed to convince me to wait a little bit longer. Those false promises were no longer enough when I knew she would just end up going back to him once I did what it was she had come for. But the moment I would feel her hands coerce me to forgive her, those lips reminding me why I didn't supply my focus to anyone else, and that soft breath speaking my name in pleas, I was a victim to her ambition once again.
Only this time. It would be the last time I would do so without being proactive to keep her.
"Let me hear how good it feels, baby..." I groaned into her neck as I buried my cock further into her. No matter how angry or distracted I had been, that tightness only she could wrap around me, had been enough to return me to her every fucking time. I would never admit it, God knew that, but I swear her goddamn pussy controlled me. Dictated my dick without much more than a seductive look across a room or a late night text. But after today, I would make it so even if she would not leave him on her own, he would no longer want her when knowing I took her this well. This deep. And this hard.
"Fuck, Rafe!"
"Oh, you are, baby...Letting me pound into you, might break the bed," I scoffed at the idea. Wouldn't be the first time...
"Please!"
"If you want something from me, you're going to have to speak up...all I can hear is how fucking wet you are for me..."
"Make me come, Rafe!"
"Don't I always?" I teased, turning her onto her stomach and in a position she knew well. Her hips were taken in waves against my own until the soft plough turned to a turbulent rush as my hands were hungry for every inch of her. On the off chance she would never let me touch her again, a risk I was willing to take, I took stock of her completely. Her breasts were fondled and teased, squeezed and pulled. Her neck was marked with my kiss and bruising from what would be hickies she would no longer have to be deceptive and explain away. Her sweet pussy would be battered and left in an ache as my fingers circulated her clit to remind her how I controlled that pleasure she begged for so breathlessly. And lastly, her ass was marked a candy apple red as I struck the exposed skin with each time her cheeks projected forward in a thrust.
"Do I make you come harder than he does?" I asked suddenly, the mention of her boyfriend making her clench around my cock as I pulled her hair tightly.
"I asked you a question that didn't involve the command of you stopping-Keep taking me and answer me-" I slapped her ass again as she gasped.
"Always better!"
"Why?"
"Because I'm bigger?"
"Yes! So much bigger that it hurts!" She offered this additional information that made me thrive inside of her. I could come alone by her endorsement. But not yet. Not until I made sure he knew it too.
"Deeper? Harder?"
"Yes, RAFE!" She sang for me, each letter made winded by my speed increasing in both my fingers to her sensitive nerves and the force of my cock pulling her to that edge.
"He make you come this hard?" I asked, waiting to do so as she spilled over me, fucking her harder through that high to be granted my own as she composed herself for a moment as I pulled her back to face me.
"Does me?"
"I fake it. I think of you every time." I smiled victoriously, her expression shifting to worry as I pulled her phone from view. The very phone I had concealed throughout this exchange. The same one I had stolen when I first undressed her and told her to wait with her eyes closed as I ate her out, dialing his number, and ensuring he knew for sure he had let her down in the ways I had amended.
"Still there?"
"Yes." He spoke on the other end of the phone as she was quick to try and explain it away. But no variation of a creative lie would allow her to charm her way out of what he had heard. And with a wide grin across my face, I was well aware I had won. He would not want her. Not after knowing I had been inside of her. Better than him. Longer than him. She said it herself. And even if she was too upset to admit it now, she would come back to me.
She always did...
Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire @belcalis9503
#rafecameron x reader#rafecameronfanfiction#rafecameron#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#outerbanks smut#outerbanks#obx#outer banks smut#obxsmut#obx fanfiction#outer banks#outer banks fanfiction
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In a shen twins au do you think sy is desperate to protect his brothers reputation so he doesn’t blacken further and give reasons for his imprisonment? Would sy get along with lqg as someone who could protect them against lbh or would be get pissed at this guy who keeps making his brother’s rep worse? Also sy vs sqh trying to steer the plot to stay alive lol
In a Shen twins AU, there's no reason why it can't be Shen Yuan that becomes the Qing Jing peak lord Shen Qingqiu instead of Shen Jiu.
Now, it's not that Shen Yuan was more ambitious or more talented than Shen Jiu. Pft, can you imagine Shen Yuan being that motivated to even pursue the spot of head disciple?!
Nah, instead Shen Yuan got the spotlight just through being Shen Jiu's identical twin. It's precisely Shen Jiu's talents (and hard work, but no one on Qing Jing calls it hard work since that implies any old commoner can be just as skilled as a noble-born child) that caught the eye of the old Qing Jing peak lord and yes, it was Shen Jiu that was the head disciple and the selected successor.
Shen Yuan panicked, okay?! He couldn't let his beloved twin become a human stick. Despite all of his twin's prickly faults, Shen Yuan loved the idiot cactus of a human. So... with his knowledge of PIDW, he might had initiated letters with the imperial palace, traded some of the protagonist's future treasures to earn a couple favors of high ranking eunuchs and then even the fucking emperor himself - surely the protagonist wouldn't be so stingy as to begrudge his biggest fan from helping himself to a couple items? - and that's how Shen Yuan won his brother a position as Grand Tutor (and unofficial advisor) to the Crown Prince.
Normally it was Huan Hua that held such strong ties to the imperial throne; most certainly it wasn't Cang Qiong. Thus, when the previous generation of Cang Qiong heard of all of Shen Yuan's hard efforts winning the sect such a opportunity, they were more than delighted to ship Shen Jiu off to be Grand Tutor instead. After all, there was a ready made replacement (cough Shen Yuan) for Qing Jing!
Was Shen Jiu pissed? Yes.
Did Shen Jiu feel betrayed by his twin? Yes, but only shortly because unlike Yue Qingyuan, Shen Yuan knows the importance of communicating. Well, not that Shen Yuan told the truth; instead, he told his Jiu-ge about how he thought that his very ambitious twin would appreciate the chance and influence to craft future bills and laws and maybe get the ball started on banning slavery... Shen Yuan wasn't ambitious or crafty enough to achieve such a thing, but he knew his twin had the skills!
At the end of the day, Shen Yuan is an excellent bootlicker and his bootlicking complimenting skills work on even Shen Jiu. And with Shen Jiu removed from Cang Qiong, Shen Jiu doesn't blacken further with the false promises of having a "family" of martial siblings in the form of fellow peak lords; Shen Jiu knows from the get go that the imperial government is full of vipers and the importance of reputation when it comes to influencing all the ambitious political ambitions that have awakened inside of him.
[Follow #a shen twins au where shen yuan becomes the qing jing peak lord and shen jiu becomes an imperial tutor to the crown prince for more]
#this post turned into full on rambling and i don't think i even made sense at the end of it#svsss#svsss ideas#svsss au#scum villain self saving system#shen jiu#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#proud immortal demon way#a shen twins au where shen yuan becomes the qing jing peak lord and shen jiu becomes an imperial tutor to the crown prince
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Anon wrote: Hi, I’m INFJ. I need to ask: 1) what I should improve myself to feel less put off at Ts in general, to lessen the T & F difference 2) Tips on communication w Ts, especially INTJ.
Ik you said ppl’s strength underlie their weakness & vice versa, so they have a set of advantages to offer. As much as I’d like to dismiss it, I suck at Ti (I’m improving by learning critical thinking). I need to view Ts less judgmentally.
I had personal motivations for handling immaturity, but that wasn’t the only drive. The other (great) one is my feelings for my childhood INTJ friend, who I’m having a crush on & is asking me out. I’ve had feelings for him since childhood.
I used to think we couldn’t go out because of my immaturity. I suck at handling personality setbacks/criticisms/etc. (all date back to bad Fe & Ti lol). Later, I became more honest w my feelings, better at expressing genuinely, finally more logical than before (some positive changes for my own sake). But I still feel unable to bridge the gap w the Ts (esp TJs).
I hate this state, it robs me off chance for a greater relationship w the guy I’ve loved for years. I’m better than before, but I still fear this won't work. Our friendship is great, time passed but we still share many central values like how close we are to our family, definition of independence, pet peeves, political spectrum. I used to suck at not making a disagreement a heated argument, but with time, I got better at It. We had found the way to disagree while still being able to fully understand the others’ POV. I got more grounded thanks to him, too. But our growth was platonic.
Communication challenges are still considerable. I never used to tell him my feelings and I’ve never been in relationships before. But he’s already been in a few. I’m into this possible change as much as I’m willing to stay the same, because I’m so scared whether being his girlfriend will actually be a good choice. Help :(
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You say you get the idea of everyone having strengths/weaknesses but it doesn't sound like you really do. On the surface, it's not a bad thing to want to improve upon your weaknesses, but your approach to it is problematic. You still haven't understood that the first step must be to accept and embrace weaknesses, because proper self-improvement has to come from a place of love - not hate.
You are standing in front of someone who knows your strengths and weaknesses and still loves you and wants to start a life together. Yet you cannot accept being loved by him. Why? Because you haven't yet learned to love yourself, so you can't imagine that others can, either.
It sounds to me like it is lovingkindness you need to work on. Critical thinking isn't going to help you accept and embrace all of yourself, is it? When you finally learn how to approach yourself, your life, and others with an attitude of love, the relationship problems you've described have no reason to arise.
For example: If you can accept your insecurities, own them and talk about them openly and still love yourself, who can trigger them? If you can accept and love him both for his strengths and weaknesses, why would they cause you any conflict? And when conflicts arise as they inevitably do in intimate relationships, if you approach them with a reconciliatory attitude, why wouldn't they get resolved?
At the heart of your question is not personality but your self-worth and self-esteem. Until you address those issues, your attempts at function development are at high risk of getting twisted up. Ni+Fe should allow you to envision beautiful potential for love, but you are using them to invent more ways to hate and punish yourself.
Relationships aren't about being perfect and being able to handle everything perfectly. If that's what you're unconsciously aiming for, then you're imposing a very unreasonable burden on yourself. Failing to achieve false images of perfection only exacerbates self-hatred in a vicious cycle.
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Detective Mickey Pilot: Character Backstories - The Core Four
Surprise! To celebrate finishing my first fanfiction with the Detective Mickey Pilot. I thought it would be fun to share the backstories I made up for the Mickey and Friends characters as part of this version of the world I made for the Pilot. I ended up having to split it into two parts, so I will share the first part with The Core Four today and the second part with the Sensational Side Characters tomorrow.
If you haven't read my pilot yet, it is pinned to my main account, though I am hoping to post an improved version on AO3 once I get a chance.
I also want to give a shout out to these lovely people as they have been very supportive of my fanfiction and have really helped me keep going:
@local-meme-lord @mafik-sun @asritca @lordspectrus @alioks-blog @noniebella @cartoonslovers
I can't explain how much seeing all your hearts, shares, and comments to my story as it grew meant to me. You are all amazing and I can't wait to share more with you.
Well without further ado. Here are the backstories for Mickey Mouse, Minnie Mouse, Peg-Leg Pete, and the Phantom Blot.
Mickey Mouse - Estimated Age: Late 20's - Early 30's
Mickey Mouse has lived in Mouseton for almost his entire life. He had a decent relationship with his parents, though he was much closer to his older sister Felicity and family friend Captain Churchmouse. He loved to listen to Captain Churchmouse about his adventures over the sea, and imagine what kind of adventures he would go on if he ever decided to leave Mouseton. He also loved to spend time with his sister, taking pictures for her homemade articles with his trusty Ol’ Reliable and just generally being with her. As a kid, he used to be quite the troublemaker, though it came from a good-nature desire to help. Overtime he developed a more modest and mild personality, but is still the brave and curious mouse we know today. He met Minnie in kindergarten and they have been together ever since. He met Donald during a regional Junior Woodchuck camping trip where they were bunk bed buddies. Even after the camp Mickey still kept in contact with him through emails and they would visit each other in Duckburg or Mouseton as much as they could. Eventually Mickey would meet Goofy who was working as a janitor at his high school and would help him out in watching Max and Goofy would help him learn life lessons. In high school, Mickey and Minnie finally started dating, despite having a crush on eachother since middle school. They have been dating ever since and can’t even imagine a life without each other.
Mickey was inspired by his sister to become a journalist just like her. So he went to college and got a journalism degree at Mouseton University. During his time at college Mickey’s relationship with Donald and Goofy deepened as they formed a bit of a trio. When Mickey and Donald finally graduated, the group split as Donald moved back to Duckburg to new responsibilities and Goofy decided to move to Spoonerville for a “promotion”. However they all still try to keep in touch through group chat and visit each other whenever they get the chance. His relationship with Minnie was also long distance for a bit when she went to a different school and eventually Paris to study fashion. Mickey actually found Pluto around this time, which helped him feel less alone when they weren’t there. After graduating, Mickey was able to get a position at the Mouseton Argus with help from his sister. They didn’t get to work together for long as Felicity ended up leaving for a position at a national news network and the Editor in Chief who liked her and Mickey retired and was replaced with one that didn’t. This new Editor in Chief refused to let Mickey be a part of any major stories and often forced Mickey to do busy work under false pretenses that Mickey will eventually be able to move up. This led Mickey to go after his own stories in hopes that he could prove himself as a journalist. Little did Mickey know that this would result in the capture of one of the biggest criminal masterminds of the world as well as a new opportunity to work as a crime-fighting detective. However, is this the direction that Mickey wants his life to go? Has the capture of the Phantom Blot improved his life… or did it make it worse?
Fun Fact: Mickey is actually a pretty good artist. He specializes in ink drawings and uses very simple organic shapes to make beautiful designs in the whitespace. Often when his friends are down he'll make them cards with unique characters he thought of to cheer them up and a kind message. He also made comics for his sister's newspapers and for the Mouseton Argus. His comics tend to vary between being experimental and artistic or silly gags.
Minnie Mouse - Estimated Age: Late 20's - Early 30's
Minnie Mouse was born and raised in Mouseton. She has a great relationship with her mother, though unfortunately not a great one with her dad and her many half brothers. Though she ends up making up with one of her half brothers, allowing her to bond with her nieces Millie and Melody Mouse. Her mom worked as a gardener and often had her clothes torn up or damaged from working. Minnie would often patch these, which gave her a love for sewing and eventually fashion design. She first met Mickey Mouse in kindergarten and they have been close ever since. Often when her mother was away at work, she would visit Mickey’s house and they would go on adventures in their local neighborhood. She was the more organized of the two, but also not afraid to speak her mind if she felt like she or any of her friends were being disrespected. She is known for her famous or rather infamous “talks” that tend to make people regret messing with her. She had a crush on Mickey since middle school, but it wasn’t until their junior year of high school that they finally confessed their feelings at the same time and started to date. They are still in a very loving relationship and care very deeply for each other. Minnie’s love for fashion design evolved into a dream to own a boutique store in Mouseton where she can display and sell her own designs.
She is a huge advocate for bow-centric fashion and believes that she can bring bows back into style. She went to a fashion school outside of Mouseton for a couple of years, but then ended up getting a chance to study abroad in Paris for the rest of her education. Despite showing great skills and taste, Minnie struggled with many of her peers making fun of her designs claiming that bow fashion will never make a return. Thankfully she had the support of her friends and her long distance boyfriend to keep going. She eventually graduated and moved back to Mouseton, sharing an apartment with Clarabelle Cow and Lilly Lamb. She started her own online store called “Minnie’s Bowtique” and hired Lilly Lamb as well as another friend Penny Pooch as employees. Lilly helps with whatever is needed, but later becomes the marketing and social media manager. Penny is temporarily working here as she applies and interviews to get a job in graphic design. Minnie met Daisy Duck online on a forum for small business owners and they’ve been best friends ever since. They often provided each other support for their business and once it was revealed that Daisy’s new boyfriend was Donald, Mickey’s best friend, they started to hang out more as a friend group. The site has been doing decently, gaining meaningful albeit slow growth. But Minnie hopes that once she makes enough profit, she can fully complete her dream and open her own physical store. Can she truly be able to accomplish her dreams as it feels far away from becoming a reality? Would it even matter if the love of her life doesn’t survive his new much more dangerous job? Can she truly get what she wants in life?
Fun Fact: Minnie loves to play softball. She has been a part of a softball team since she was in middle school and even today still plays on the Mouseton Mousers team at the Mouseton Community Center. She is often the pitcher for the teams that she is on with very powerful and tricky throws, though she could still improve on accuracy. Mickey of course tries to make every single game and practice he can, cheering for her on the stands.
Peg-Leg Pete (Percy P. Pete/Percival) - Estimated Age: Mid 40's - Late 40's
Pete grew up in a very large criminal family in a rough part of Mouseton at the edge of town. While Pete had ups and downs with many of his family members, he was close to his mother Maw Pete (Parry) and his sisters Petunia Pete, the mother of Pierino & Pieretto and Petula Pete. But the one person he was the absolute closest to was his cousin Portis Egmont who was practically a brother to him. They bonded due to both being considered the “runts” of their generation and Portis even made him his prosthetic foot. The family Matriarch, Great Grammaw Pete (Patty), owned a settlement of townhouses that have been passed down their family for generations. It was common for members of the Pete family to drop out of high school and join one of the many criminal branches of the family. The family as a whole was never too wealthy, but supported each other through the money they made from their misdeeds. Pete dropped out of high school in his senior year so that he could join the Robbery and Theft branch of the family. He hoped to one day run the branch, but unfortunately his runt status often made that difficult. No matter how many schemes he shared and how many times he tried to prove himself, they either didn’t work or no one would listen to him. Eventually he got fed up and decided to break off from the family to start his own gang with Portis called “Pete’s Gang”.
The two did fine on their own, but decided to hire more members for their gang. They ended up hiring Scuttle and Trudy and together they committed some of the best crimes in all of their careers and formed a sort of family, both figuratively and literally as Pete proposed to and married Trudy after a couple months of working with each other. They even got to work with the Phantom Blot a couple of times just as he was skyrocketing to fame. However, this didn’t last long as Pete decided to take a risky but rewarding job for the Wind Willows Weasel gang. The job ended up failing, and when Pete got arrested he ratted out the weasels to reduce his sentence. But this ended up affecting not just the weasels, but also the rest of Pete's Gang as Scuttle and Trudy also got arrested because of this. Ashamed, he took the reduced sentence. When he got out, he did attempt a prison rescue, but was unable to find where the rest of his team went, leaving him all alone.
This caused Pete to go into another depression as he wandered around Spoonerville, the town next to the prison he was let out of, not knowing what to do. He ended up accidentally stopping a crook from stealing from a poor woman and gained her gratitude. This woman was Peg Percival who decided to take Pete out to lunch as a thank you. When she learned about how lost he was, she decided to take him in as a project. She let him rent a room at her house and got him a job as a used car salesman. Eventually they got married, he took her last name, and had Pete Junior or PJ. Though Pete likes his new family, he still thinks about Trudy and what could have been. He ended up becoming the owner of the dealership he worked at, and when she retired she made Pete the new owner and even let him change the name. Things were going great, until Pete realized that there were quite a few unpaid bills from the previous owner and that the dealership was not doing as well as he thought. It didn’t help that Peg was also pregnant with another child, Pistol. To make matters worse some of the members from the Wind Willows Weasel gang stopped by the dealership to get some getaway cars and instantly recognized him. When they questioned him, Pete quickly came up with the explanation that the dealership is a front for future criminal activity and was hoping to work with them again. He also gave them some free getaway cars, and helped them forge documents for them, in hopes of getting their good graces and to take suspicion off of him ratting them out. It works and he ends up working alongside them and makes quite a bit of money, enough to save the dealership and support his new growing family, without Peg knowing a thing. Scuttle even ended up dropping by from who knows where to help and Pete was introduced to the corrupt lawyer Sylvester Shyster who worked for the weasels and now helps Pete narrowly avoid any legal trouble. Pete even got back in contact with Portis, though he was too busy running his own criminal business to join in. Pete was so successful that he even started to impress his family, when they heard. He decided to open another “dealership” in Mouseton and move his family there so that he could work closer with them and expand his growing criminal empire. He has been in Mouseton for about a year and has been able to make massive amounts of money without the police suspecting a thing. But how can Pete keep this up? And could the new detective provide more trouble than he expected?
Fun Fact: Pete was actually part of his football team at the high school he went to. He initially joined as part of a scheme, but ended up liking it enough to stay on. He even teased the idea of going into professional football. Of course this never ended up happening, as he ended up being part of the reason why the football team lost the playoffs that would have taken them to the state championships. Though it wasn’t entirely his fault as there was a “goofy” cheerleader that got into the way. He actually still uses what he learned from football on some of his robberies.
The Phantom Blot (Full Name: N/A) - Estimated Age: Mid 40's - Late 40's
The Phantom Blot grew up in a very wealthy family. His father was a top executive at Wright & Thwaites, the largest producer of high quality ink in the world. His mother was a theater actress who had a decent career in supporting roles, but was mostly known for hosting incredible parties for the wealthy to meet and do business. The Phantom Blot was never really close with them as they were more focused on their own goals than him. However, he impressed everyone else around him and quickly gained a reputation as a child prodigy as he won nearly every competition he was in and aced all of his tests. Despite this, he was still as sneaky and manipulative as ever. Easily able to avoid getting in trouble, no matter what he did. Eventually, he decided to get into acting. He had some assistance from his mother but mostly had to guide the rest of his acting career by himself. At the private school he attended, he practically ran the entire drama department with the teacher. Being the director, lead actor, props and special effects manager, head of the costuming department, etc. After he graduated he went to Goosliard to study, while still performing whenever he could. He showed so much talent and promise that he was getting multiple offers begging him to star in their shows before he even finished college. The Phantom Blot's future seemed so bright, but also so empty.
One day, an acquaintance asked if the Phantom Blot would help them on a robbery, to pay off a big favor the Blot asked of him. The Phantom Blot, so disillusioned and bored with his life, agreed and they set off to rob a bank. However this heist ended up changing the Phantom Blot’s life as he realized how much he loved the heist and how effectively he was able to avoid the police during a chase. As the Phantom Blot still worked to finish school, he started to be a part of more and more thefts and realized he enjoyed being a thief more than he enjoyed acting. So he abandoned his previous life and started a new life as the “Phantom Blot”. As the Phantom Blot he accomplished some of the most incredible feats in criminal history and raking in billions of dollars. He gained a massive reputation around the world for being an unstoppable criminal genius who has never been caught and has always left the police befuddled in his wake. He even got a request by F.O.W.L to work as a top agent with one of the best salary and benefit packages they have ever offered. But his refusal ended up creating a rift between him and the organization. He continues to go on bigger and badder heists to prove himself. He prefers to work alone, but will hire others if it is required to complete a heist. One of the first groups he hired was Pete’s Gang and he continued to work with them a couple of times before they broke apart. Though he still works with Portis every once in a while. Except for an odd three to four month break, The Phantom Blot has been a frightening force that no one has been able to stop and most doubt that he even can be. Or at least he was, until a little mouse got into the way. Regardless, the Phantom Blot has achieved fame, power, and riches beyond anyone’s wildest dreams including his own and yet he still hungers for more. Can his greed ever be satisfied? And with a new mouse causing problems for him, is it possible that the Phantom Blot has finally reached his limit?
Fun Fact: The Phantom Blot is a fantastic singer. He was professionally taught by a private tutor while he was young and trained himself to have perfect pitch. His voice has a very operatic element to it that is both haunting and alluring. He typically doesn’t like to sing for others, unless he is performing, but he will often sing for himself in places he assumes are abandoned. However, if a place isn’t as abandoned as he thought, some others may catch his singing, though they never find out where it is coming from. This accidentally led to the creation of many urban legends about these locations being haunted by a musical ghost.
#disney#mickey mouse#minnie mouse#mouseverse#phantom blot#the phantom blot#peg leg pete#pete#mickey and friends#mickey mouse and friends#detective mickey#detective mickey pilot idea#disney comics#disney fanfiction
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Damon Gant scares the hell out of me.
This man. This. Sodding. Demon. It's been a few weeks since I beat Rise From the Ashes, but the events of that case and the actions of this character have made the name "Gant" borderline blasphemous. For how far I have gotten into Ace Attorney, he's probably the most terrifying of the villains so far. Yes, that includes Manfred.
Now, coming fresh off the fourth case like me, you may have wondered given his reputation; how can they make this goofy orange funny man more paralysing than THE Manfred von Karma himself? Old Karma set the bar pretty high after all - never was there a worse feeling than catching him in the Evidence Room with a taser after all the work you put in to incriminate him and his witness.
Karma was built from Edgeworth's reputation, the way he was talked up prior to the trial, and his control over the courtroom. He was introduced on a pedestal and kept there till the very end. You are *expected* to fear this man and plays him pretty straight. No ambiguity, he's just that terrifying.
Gant? He practically comes out of nowhere. Even Edgeworth is surprised (even fearful?) when he appears. And he introduces himself by... just standing there. Not even in ellipses as Karma did - he just stares at you until bursting into friendly dialogue. He indirectly helps you connect the SL-9 incident to the current case. He scolds Edgeworth with a smug grin.
You have no idea what to expect from this man. He hits you with so many conflicting signals that you can't tell what you're supposed to think of him. He seems friendly enough, I guess? Maybe he's just like good ol' Gumshoe right? But that stare and the way he taunts Edgeworth... it makes you wonder what's going on with the guy.
Your fears may be alleviated slightly when he lets you into the evidence room. Maybe that same, cold stare he gives you only raises your eyebrows. At best he's a very eccentric fellow, at worst you have no idea why he's keeping up such a façade... if there even is one.
Then the pieces start coming together. There's a good reason why he was so protective of his office; everything you find in there ties him into both cases in a very disturbing way. The way Lana is acting, why Jake Marshall is so interested in SL-9, everything that connects him to Ema especially paints him in a very ominous light. He was involved with all their lives and how they turned out and it isn't shaping up to be a very positive influence. Even smaller details - like how he blasts organ music at officers under his watch to punish them - paint him in an ominous light.
By the time he's standing as a witness for the second time, it becomes crystal clear. Damon Gant is a ruthless, selfish and thoroughly manipulative person. Everything, from SL-9 to now, was planned and thought-out by this horrid man to ensure he gets off scott-free. No matter how many lives he ruins in the process. He frames Ema for murder. He convinces Lana to help him cover up a fake crime. He kills Marshall's brother in the process. He gave Edgeworth false evidence when he took over as prosecutor for SL-9. He did his damndest to remove everyone who investigated SL-9 from power.
Bruce Goodman died because he was getting too close seeing Gants web of lies he had spent 2 years weaving and keeping at this rate. He pulls every string he has - Lana, Edgeworth, even Ema as a scapegoat - to make sure Bruce dies with his secrets. One wrong move from Phoenix and he would have walked out a free man.
Why?
Because he was desperate. They had their serial killer - Joe Darke - but no evidence to prove it. Right or wrong, Gant wanted someone to pay for these violent murders, so he sought justice through the most vile means possible. Manfred only did what he did because he's a perfectionist. Gant did what he did because he wanted justice - or at least the next best thing.
And yet he's still incredibly goofy, mentioning swimming at the slightest chance, giving people nicknames, the whole $50 thing... Manfred doesn't have many humanising moments in Ace Attorney, especially in the first game. Gant is presented as just another eccentric dude with a kind streak and is given plenty of opportunity to look human.
Which might be the scariest part about him.
He's an old and silly police chief who did some truly terrible things for the right reasons. His ruthlessness combined with his eccentric behaviour puts him in an uncanny valley of sorts. He's so close, but yet so far from being likeable as a person (compared to Manfred, who's the textbook definition of "love to hate").
I don't blame Edgeworth for being shaken by his final words.
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Salazzle shiny hunting method USUM!
Hello! Today I am going to teach you the best way to get a shiny salazzle in Pokémon Ultra Sun and Moon! Yes I know I’m about 7 years late (dear god it doesn’t feel that long) but this method is by far my favorite even over the newest methods we have today!
Sit back, relax and let me teach you the cute charm sos method!
What you need:
A stock of adrenaline orbs
Potions
Pp restores
Antidotes
A Pokémon with cute charm
A Pokémon with false swipe
Best cute charm Pokémon
Male Milotic with cute charm
+ This is my top pick for a very good reason! It can resist all the fire attacks the Salandit will throw at you, it can dish out water type moves, and has the essential cute charm ability!
- however, the cute charm ability is hidden, so you will have to search for it a little more.
- This Pokémon does not learn false swipe which is not necessary, but highly recommended.
Male lopunny with cute charm
+ Relatively easy to find with cute charm, and you aren’t required to battle using it.
- Not very reliable for battles against Salandit
- friendship evolution
Step by step guide
Step one
Buy all the required items I at the top of this guide, do this at a poke mart.
Potions are needed to build up the Salandit kill streak. ( this will boost shiny odds )
Adrenaline orbs boost the chance they will call for “sos” aka other Salandit.
Antidotes are for curing yourself of the poison the Salandits give you.
Pp restores are used for the same reason as potions, to keep that kill streak as high as possible.
Step two
Place your male Pokémon with the cute charm ability at the front of your party. Other party positions and genders will not work.
The way cute charm works is it has a chance to infatuate the foe if it’s the opposite gender. However, it actually has a hidden effect to boost the spawns of Pokémon that have the opposite gender.
So if you have a male Pokémon with cute charm, congrats! You have now successfully boosted the chance to get a female Salandit from a measly 12.5%…. To a whopping 66.6% percent!
Step three
Travel to Wela Volcano Park and run into a saladite encounter.
Switch out of your cute charm Pokémon, and use false swipe.
Then use an adrenaline orb.
The Pokémon should call for help in a turn or two do not kill it!
When the salandit comes to respond to the sos call kill the salandit that just came to the battle. You want to keep the main one alive.
After the sos one dies, congrats! Just rinse and repeat this process by killing the responding saladit over and over again.
The only reason you should kill the calling saladit is when you eventually find your shiny, or if it’s going to run out of PP. Kill the main if it’s about to struggle, and move onto the new Pokémon it called and act like it was the first one you encountered!
You now have shiny odds of 1/273!
Good luck hunting ;)
#pokemon#pokémon#shiny pokemon#Pokémon guide#ultra sun#ultra moon#salandit#salazzle#pokémon usum#shiny hunting#shiny hint#shiny salandit#shiny salazzle#pkmn#3ds
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Do you write for owari no seraph? How about yandere Crowley Eusford and Ferid Bathory headcanons?
Thank you... Remember to rest.
I am so sorry that it takes me so long to answer those requests...
Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, manipulation, blackmailing, sabotage, isolation, degradation, threatening, sadism, violence, control, abduction, death
Yandere Owari no Seraph Hc's
Ferid Bathory
💜Ferid might as well believe that he can never find someone he truly loves since he looks down on humans and mocks the arrogance of his own kind. Immortality has become bored to him as there is nothing that he sees worthy as calling a reason to live anymore. So surely you can't be any different than others. You merely are there to amuse him and serve him for a while with your delicious blood. His growing obsession flies over the head mainly because he believes that he can never love someone. With that being said, Ferid is a shrewd person so he doesn't stay oblivious for too long. He's not even mad or anything, he's thrilled when he discovers that he actually gained a genuine romantic interest in someone. His boredom disappears as he is suddenly overly focused on you, forces you to tell him everything about you and treats you something nice in return. He quickly demands all of your time as he wants to keep you the entire day in his mansion so he knows where you are when he wants you.
💜Very possessive and manipulative. His s/o is like a little and adorable rainbow in his normally boring and gray world and since Ferid is selfish, he doesn't hesitate to keep such a miracle as close to his body as possible. His high and noble position and his overall behavior are overly manipulative as he doesn't hesitate to take advantage of his position and superiority to blackmail and sabotage you. No hesitation to lie to you if it benefits his insatiable greed as well as confronting you with the cruel truth whenever he sees it to his best advantage. Ferid has no shame to blame you for things that are not your fault and that he in fact caused or calling you out for certain traits of yours that he exhibits in a much worse fashion. The vampire tends to be clingy and overly touchy, sometimes for the sole purpose to make you uncomfortable. He's a pure mystery and unpredictable yet without a doubt nasty as he has a sadistic streak, enjoys it when he can torment you and be entertained by your horrified reaction.
💜You're his most priced possession and it should be common knowledge that you don't touch what belongs to others, right? Sure, he doesn't even follow that principle himself yet expects others to follow it, especially when it comes to his little human here. He likes to flaunt you sometimes and ruin your pride a bit in the process as he forces you to wear a collar and chooses clothes that expose the bite marks and hickies of his. It's a "look but don't touch" philosophy he uses. Less jealous but more possessive as Ferid has no intention to let you ever leave his side. When someone expresses a too keen interest in you, he tugs you closer as he is quick to hide everything behind his inoffensive smirk though his words are sharpened with the intention to hit a nerve. If his s/o seems to like someone else he humiliates your crush and you alike in front of each other, chides you later on in private for being such a bad pet before he locks you away. He can't have you like someone else, can he now?
💜He enjoys toying with people a lot, especially if he knows that it puts you on edge too. Ferid expresses little care for others so he can dispose of them quickly. Before that he likes to push them until they break though as he feels a certain joy when he feeds them with false hope before shattering them. Due to his possessive side that doesn't allow it for you to like anyone and his sadistic side, he just uses such chances to break you down on your knees as you beg to leave whoever is precious to you alone as well, willing to do anything. There is a constant risk that he will kill those dear to you and Ferid uses this macabre situation to his utmost advantage. If you misbehave and displease him, he will kill someone you love and go as far as present a detached limb of theirs to you with a hideous smile as he taunts that it's your fault for being so dumb. The only time you'll see a similar chilly smile on his face is when he confronts someone who tried to take you away from him or hurt you severely. How stupid.
💜He locks his darling away whenever the hell he feels like it, though a punishment of yours include not being allowed to go outside, often when you expressed interest in someone else, tried to escape or he suspects that someone is targeting you. Don't worry, the silver chain on your ankle looks at least gorgeous on you. It's honestly up to his mood whether he wants to show everyone his darling pet or if he wants to be alone with you and play dress-up doll with you. You're not going to leave him as it is, not when he loves you so dearly as he does. Chances are that you are forced to spend hours trying on the clothes he bought for you, have to endure him smothering you hours on end or are to give him your sweet blood. He does so much for you after all, you ought to be a bit more grateful and repay his kindness somehow. He probably installs quite a bit fear into his s/o as he tells them that without him they'd be a nobody rotting away on the streets.
💜Whether he is currently doting on you or degrading you, he always cooes over you in a sickenly sweet tone. You never see him mad even if you land a hit on him or yell at him, he never yells back but chides you. The nasty smile and the excited glimmer in his eyes are the only signs that he plans something. Initially Ferid seems to be fine if you hate him as long as you don't like someone else and obey him, though he doesn't mind playing with your fire a bit. As time passes by, he starts to yearn for a more tender side of yours, one where you are more vulnerable and long for him. It sparks into something bigger with more time as he finds his jealousy growing when you express yourself more openly around others and not him as it serves to irritate him. He tries to treat you more gently afterwards in an attempt to have you soften up. The vampire enjoys to spoil his s/o as it is and even if he chains you up and smears blood of others on your clothes, he still demands that you look pretty for him.
Crowley Eusford
❤️🔥Differently from Ferid who disregards despite awareness his whole obsession. Crowley harbors some conflicted emotions. He doesn't know how to feel about falling in love with livestock, is overall unsure what to think of his emotions which dwell over inside of his heart. One of the most obvious things from the very beginning is that Crowley is very protective over his s/o. He sends Chess and Horn out so they can gather information on you and abuses his power himself to find out more about you. Livestock isn't treated the best so he most likely ends up making sure to privilege you alongside with your family, demands in return that you spend time with him though. Significantly more tame than Ferid since Crowley is more genuine with his attempts to gain your trust. He understands why you're skittish around him yet the sight bothers him. Longing for affection seems to consume him the more you are with him.
❤️🔥You are a literal witness to him growing more possessive over you the more he gets to know you and his silent need for more fuels this. Crowley becomes unusually strict when it comes to you potentially liking someone else, a displeased look on his face as he grows more intimidating. Not quite as forceful but still ready to abuse his position and remind you that he's the one who allows your family a better life if you act up. At one point he eventually wants to taste your blood, something you dreaded yet there is no choice. Never allows any other vampire to taste your blood afterwards. If there isn't someone annoying him or you are disobeying him, the vampire is quite laid-back and lenient with you, you dare to say soft and gentle. His confusion eventually vanishes as he learns to embrace the warm feeling inside his chest, something he didn't expect to feel ever again.
❤️🔥His lenience shines through as he allows you to spend time with family and friends even if he at one point doesn't let you go alone anymore. Chess and/or Horn accompany you all the time though they don't necessarily are in the same room as you. He respects your own boundaries as good as he can as he acknowledges that you have people who are important in your life. Your family is probably terrified for you since you're essentially a vampire's personal pet at this point, even if they get the better treatment in return. Any sane person stays away from you when you are permitted to walk outside due to the girls or Crowley himself being with you. He doesn't isolate you after all though he expects you to know that he doesn't like you having feelings for someone else. His calm presence alone is enough to intimidate humans as it is and if someone is still overly persistent with you, he has no problem grabbing the person by the neck and nearly strangling them in the process. Maybe you can stop him.
❤️🔥Crowley isn't unnecessarily cruel nor sadistic like Ferid is even with his growing possessive behavior towards you and his expectations for you to show him your affection. That said every fool who believes that they can woo you in front of him or take you away from him will be personally drained of blood by him or simply strangled, he halts when it comes to your family and maybe your friends but will punish them somehow nevertheless. Whilst he has a soft spot for you, that doesn't mean that he's completely harmless either. Crowley isn't one to play mind games either, he's just brutal and maybe swift when he gets rid of someone. At least he doesn't rub it into your face that it's your fault until you break down in tears.
❤️🔥It's more like slowly being caged in as Crowley expects you to be with him in the mansion more and more, even if he has to leave to fulfill his duty as the Thirteenth Progenitor. You're still allowed to go outside and visit family and friends as long as you inform him about it and he gives his permission since Chess and Horn won't let you leave as long as he hasn't told them that it's fine. You can exchange alternatively letters with your loved ones. He respects privacy as good as he can, gives you time alone if you want it. He tends to space out anyways when he thinks of you. There is a limit though as he wants to spend time with you, suspects that you don't want him near you in which case he turns more forceful. As much as he tries to be mindful, at one point he ends up forcing his love on you, blackmails you by reminding you that he's the one who guards your family and he only does this because he loves you.
❤️🔥He won't hesitate to punish you even if he is reasonable. Depending on how far you went, he will either either drink your blood until you pass out, leave bruises or even break your bones. He's frightening since the soft shimmer in his eyes is gone, he even threatens you to throw your parents and friends under vampires to let them do as they want since they're just livestock, nothing more without his protection. If his s/o returns his love and indulges him in his desire, Crowley is fairly pleasant. He's playfully teasing you to embarrass you and fluster you and spoils you with whatever you want, reassures you that you don't have to worry about your family since they're under his protection. He is even as gentle as he can to not hurt you when he takes your blood though he sometimes loses himself in the sweet taste and takes a bit too much. Coaxes you into his arms or places you into his lap whenever he can.
#yandere owari no seraph#yandere seraph of the end#yandere ferid#yandere ferid bathory#yandere crowley#yandere crowley eusford
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Statistics is ethical in a way that I think almost universally goes unacknowledged. I'm not talking here about whether you use the median or mean income, for example. Things like that are probably more important than what I'm talking about but more spoken about. I'm talking about how you even go about estimating a statistic in the first place - they don't come from nowhere.
Let's take an example: Suppose you are tasked with estimating the prevalence of some disease - the flu maybe - and this statistic is going to be used for health policy decisions. Let's further suppose that everything about epidemiology is understood, so there aren't any ethical disagreements about which scientific assumptions are built into the way you produce your data. Everyone agrees about how the world works, and your only task is to compute an estimator in terms of observable variables.
How do you go about doing that? Maybe you pick some loss function and - knowing perfectly how the world works - compute which estimator minimizes the loss function. But which loss function? The prevalence of a strain of flu may vary orders of magnitude, so if you minimize MSE, it matters a huge amount if you take MSE in the log prevalence or prevalence itself.
In the latter case, the vast majority of error comes from the scenarios with a high prevalence, and estimators that perform badly when there is a low prevalence aren't punished much. Maybe this is desirable - the high prevalence scenario is presumably the more concerning one, so it's the one that's more important to get right.
But there are reasons to be concerned about getting the low prevalence scenario wrong too. If you're constantly going into emergency mode because of false positives, that's going to be draining on all sorts of resources: finances, doctors' morale, the mental health of disabled people asked to stay home when there is no need. How do you weigh up how important it is to not overreact vs. not underreact? There's no objective way, it's an ethical call.
Now suppose there are some rare scenarios in which your conventional estimators would perform very badly - some mutation that means the strain no longer shows up in the tests you're using. Suppose there are other ways to test for the mutant strain, but they're much less reliable - they might throw up false positives a lot.
Do you try to take account of these unorthodox measures? If you do, you will be a lot more wrong, a lot of the time. But you stand a much better chance of being right in unlikely scenarios that might be highly important. You have to balance preparation for unlikely, extreme scenarios with minimizing disruption in normal times. And that ethical balancing act is all baked into the formula for the statistic you ultimately choose. It's not just something for policymakers to worry about, not something where you can just be neutral and present both sides. What picture of reality 'the data supports depends on your ethical inclinations.
The fundamental issue is that statistics are always for something, and when we have a policy which is some function of the statistics computed P=f(x^), choosing which inaccuracies in the statistics to trade off against each other always amounts to trading off inaccuracies in policies - you need to decide which policies are easy you can most afford to get wrong.
This is something that tends to wash out with large sample sizes - all statistics will generally converge to approximately the same answer with enough data. But much of the difficulty of statistics is that you don't have enough data - and in practice, the data you have will always be less than you would like, and unreliable in myriad ways.
So I just think statistics classes should talk about this.
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Also I feel it should be noted that the "fact" going around saying opossums CAN'T get rabies is false. Yes, it's RARE compared to other mammals for them to contract rabies, but that's still very much a non-zero chance for a 99.99% death sentence disease.
Don't play with the wildlife, folks, you don't know where its been.
I'm pretty confident there's no such thing as a mammal that CAN'T have rabies. Opossums have a low body temperature that actually makes it difficult for the virus to survive, so it's extremely extremely uncommon for one to actually make it to symptoms. I don't know if there's any recorded incidents of someone contracting rabies from a opossum. I found an article about someone getting bitten but a opossum that tested positive for rabies, but they didn't say anything about him dying so I assume he got treated in time...
The most common animals people get rabies from are dogs, foxes, bats, raccoons and skunks. Rabies deaths are highest in southeast Asia, Africa, and India. Rabies is extinct in Australia. Dogs are super risky for rabies in countries with low vax rates and high numbers of strays. Wild monkeys can have rabies too. Well, probably not more than other animals but monkeys bite, kind of a lot. Bats are especially risky because bats have incredibly powerful immune systems, but most importantly, bats can have super duper tiny teeth, so you might not even know you were bit! If you were asleep near a bat and it bit you, you might not even wake up, and it's totally possible to have no visible signs of a bite at all.
It's better safe than sorry with rabies. If you get bitten by a wild animal go to the emergency room immediately!! There IS a post exposure prophylaxis!!!once you have symptoms it is too late, but if you seek treatment immediately you will most likely be fine- but you can't wait!!
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