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thetriumphantpanda · 3 months

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LOST IN OUR VICES | ONE

Chapter Summary | A chance encounter with a handsome stranger sets off a chain of events that could all end in disaster. It's hard to say no when it feels so good though.

Pairing | Professor!Marcus Pike x Student F!Reader

Chapter Warnings | Dubious ethical relationship between a professor & student, Marcus tells a lie, mentions of food and alcohol, mentions of academia, academic failure and strained parental relationships, gratuitous descriptions of London because I live here and I love it, some heavy making out and some heavy petting, no use of y/n.

Authors Note | WELL HERE SHE IS. I have no idea how to tell you how much I am loving this so far. Professor Pike has well and truly rotted my brain so y'all have to suffer with me okay? It's gonna be fun, I promise. I would LOVE to know what you all think about this so feel free to scream at me incumbents, reblogs and asks! As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena for reading this over and making sure it isn't utter tripe. ILY. And to @saradika for the beautiful divider.

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for writing updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s seen her there every day he’s visited the past month. Sitting on the bench, looking up at the same sculpture - a woman carved from marble - sketching into a notepad. He stands this time and watches as her finger tucks some hair behind her ear, brushing it out of her face. She looks up and tilts her head a little, eraser end of her pencil sitting between her teeth as she thinks, tracers a portion of the statue before her head is back down, looking at the page as she continues to draw.

She’s beautiful, there’s no denying it, she’s been beautiful every time he’s seen her. There’s something lonely about her too, the way she sits there on her own, artefacts and artworks for company. She’s just like him really, uprooted from a life he was no longer satisfied with, four years of a PhD and now the letters of Dr before his name. Moved to London, a new city, a fresh start as he’d coined it to his family, but he’s been here three years now, and not one thing that he wanted from his move have materialised. He knows the therapy was good for him, he knows that his haste to find someone was probably what was making him scare people off, but he doesn’t much like the other side of the coin either - a modest flat in London to himself, a small group of friends who sit around and drink beer and droll on about their academic passions, but no-one he can really call his own right now.

Dr. M Pike. Professor of Art History. That’s what his doorplate says, one of many in the small corridor at UCL. Three years and he’s still not quite sure how he made it here, or if it’s really what he wants, but it beats whatever he was doing back in D.C. that’s for sure. It had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, but when Lisbon had told him she wasn’t coming, everything about it seemed wrong, soiled somehow, by the life he’d built in his mind being torn up by someone who, looking back, had never really wanted him in the first place.

He thought about talking to her the first day he’d seen her, but then realised he was actually here to prepare for one of his teaching seminars, so squirrelled himself away to another room instead. The second time he’d seen her, she’d looked too engrossed on whatever she was working on, and then every other time, he’s convinced himself she’s here for peace, not to be bothered by some random man. But there’s something about the way she is today that makes the pull harder to resist, so he says fuck it, shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and walks over.

“You come here often?”

It’s an American accent that pulls you from your work. His voice jolts your hand, makes you press your pencil into paper too hard and at the wrong angle. You suck in a deep breath, try not to think about the hours of work he’s just ruined by startling you. You’re about to turn around and complain when he comes into your vision.

He’s tall, broad shoulders covered in a light dress shirt, two buttons undone so you can see a flash of tanned skin and a smattering of hair. It’s tucked into dark jeans, a belt keeping them tight to his trim waist. And then there’s his face - a beard, but only just and friendly brown eyes, a full mouth too. He’s handsome, there’s no way around it.

“Sorry, that was awful,” The mystery man scratches the back of his neck, “I just come here a lot and I think I’ve seen you here every time for the past month.”

You smile at that, that you’re someone he’s been picking out amongst the crowd of tourists who always come here, someone familiar to him, even if he’s not the same to you.

“I’m just working on something.” You shrug, letting your palm slyly cover the sketch you’ve been making.

The man walks in front of you slightly, takes a seat on the vacant spot on the bench and looks up at the woman carved from marble, “She’s beautiful.” He muses.

“She is.” You agree, looking over the curves of her hips, the way the marble has been carved to make it look like her clothes are wet, sticking to her breasts like she’s just climbed out of the Aegean Sea.

“You like sculpture then?”

“I do,” You nod, turning your body a little towards him, “It’s not my first artistic passion, but I’m studying for my PhD at the moment and it’s all about the female form in marble.”

“Brains as well as beauty,” He smirks a little at you, “Sounds interest though, where are you studying?”

“UCL,” You beam, because you’re proud, it wasn’t easy, you’d been rejected for your first choice research project the first time around, encouraged to choose something else from the feedback, but you were there now, and that’s what mattered, “What about you?” You ask, “What do you do that means you have to be here as much as me?”

He shrugs a little, “I teach.”

It’s vague but you don’t press, he owes you nothing, so you let it lie. You turn back to the sculpture in front of you, when your stomach grumbles. You look down at your watch. It’s 2pm and you’ve not eaten anything yet.

“Hungry?”

“Starving.” You reply meekly.

“Want to grab something to eat?” He asks, “I know a great Italian place in Soho if you fancy it?”

You look at him, eyes tightening a little. It’s been so long since anyone has shown you an ounce of interest, and now the beautiful man in a shirt and dress pants wants to take you for lunch, it all seems a bit too good to be true. But, you can hear the voice of your therapist tell you to say yes to more things, take more risks in life because not all of them are going to turn out to be bad, so you flip the front of your notepad over to cover your drawing and reach down to pick up your backpack.

“Lead the way.”

He doesn’t disappoint. Over the course of a glass of wine and a bowl of olives, you coax out his name. It’s Marcus. He’s got a PhD in Art History and moved to London from D.C. three years ago. He lives alone, near Notting Hill, he likes it because he can go searching for antiques on the weekend. He wants a dog, but he spends too much time out of the house to justify one. He likes to read and he can cook, but prefer eating out or ordering in because he’s not mastered the art of cooking for one.

When a waiter sets down your second glass of wine and your food - gnocchi with pesto and bacon for you and carbonara from Marcus, he turns the conversation back to you, sipping wine as he ask you where you live - Willesden Green, so not far from you - who you live with - myself, my dad was so proud I got into my course he pays for my rent, it’s the only way he can show he loves me - what you like to do with your free time - free time? When I have it, I read, or I walk, or I sit and draw sculptures in museums.

You don’t know whether it’s the wine or not, but the dark winter sinks in, outside cloaked in black, lights dimmed inside, and it makes him even more handsome than he was before. He makes you laugh, with his stories of his own PhD stress, how he would walk the streets of D.C. at 3am to get coffee and pancakes on his way back from the library and then collapse into bed and sleep for two hours until his alarm would wake him up and he would go all the way back to the library to do it again.

“If I ever get to that point,” You muse, stabbing a piece of gnocchi onto your fork, “I don’t think I’ll have the will to make it through.”

“You seem far too organised to me to fall into the bad habits I had.” He shrugs, looking at you over his own glass of wine as you take a bite of your food, too busy watching him to really notice the angle of your fork, green sauce smearing on the corner of your mouth as you fight it into your mouth.

Before you have a chance to reach down and grab the napkin from your lap, Marcus is reaching over the table, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the stray sauce away. It’s something that under any other circumstance would make you feel uncomfortable, but all it really makes you want to do is kiss him, especially when he apologises profusely for being so forward.

He pays for dinner, insists on it really, hidden behind the excuse that he knows how hard it is to live whilst studying. He takes you for cocktails at a bar on the end of Old Compton Street - orders himself an old fashioned whilst you opt for an amaretto sour. The bar is dark and busy, the only seats are in a corner, sat so close together your knees are touching and your shoulder is slightly leaned into his side.

“So, you said you got rejected from your first choice course?” He muses, taking a short sip of his drink.

You shrug with a nod, “I wanted to research the impressionist movement,” You start to explain, “I love Monet and Renoir but I think my research application was too broad,” Sipping your own drink you carry on talking, “There’s a great academic at UCL, Professor Pike, I was desperate to have him as my supervisor, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

You turn your head a little, watching as Marcus swallows on nothing, quickly taking another sip of his drink.

“It’s okay,” You hasten to add, “I guess if I’m not writing thousands of words about it, it won’t make me hate what I love most.”

“Smart,” Is what he says with a smirk, “You would have given him a run for his money anyway.”

“Do you know him?” You ask, “I know all of you academic types are familiar with each other.”

He swallows on nothing again, “I’ve heard of him but I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

You both order another drink, sit around talking about nothing much at all, slowly moving closer as the bar gets busier, you tell yourself it’s just so you can hear him better, but he smells good, some kind of musky cologne that suits him really well, so you don’t complain about soaking it up.

When it gets late, he offers to take you home, keep you company on the tube. You know it’s not really necessary, you’ve never felt particularly unsafe walking home from the station, but if it means spending more time with him, then you don’t really mind. He lets you take the only free seat on the tube, standing in the aisle just in front of your knees so he can keep talking to you, and when you reach the other side, he walks close to you, puts a hand on your lower back which you can feel through your jacket when a group of people walk past you a little too close. He even insists on walking you to your door.

It’s quiet in the building, like it usually is. It’s only recently been built and you think you’re one of only a few people who are currently living there. You pluck your keys from your coat pocket when you reach your door, leaning your back against it.

“This is me.”

“Nice place.”

“Yeah, although I usually prefer places with more character.”

He’s stood right in front of you, rocking on his heels, that same nervous hand on the back of his neck as this afternoon, “I know this might seem weird, but would you like to go on a date sometime?”

You can help but snort a laugh, shaking your head a little, before you meet his eyes, “This wasn’t a date?” You ask coyly.

He smirks a little, cheeks flushing a little, “Did you want it to be a date?”

“I wouldn’t have let you take me for lunch if I didn’t,” You say, “But there is one thing missing.”

“Oh yeah?” He hums, “What’s that?”

Instead of speaking, you take a step forward, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket as you press up onto your toes and plant your lips on his. It’s clumsy and it’s impulsive, but you’ve wanted to do it all day. You can feel his arms wrapping around your back, dragging your body flush to his as he opens his mouth against yours right as you do the same. He tastes like mint from the gum he’s been chewing and the whisky from his drinks - it’s all you can think about as he walks you back, presses you against the door as his tongue meets with yours.

You’re thankful no-one is around. Your arms move from his jacket to wrap around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the curls there as you tilt your head to one side, a slight smacking sound from your lips as the disconnect, only to come back together seconds later. He’s good at this, you think, as his hands drop from your back to rest in the pockets on the back of your jeans, palms warm through the material. You can feel him squeeze you there a little, and you’re so close to saying fuck it and inviting him in, because if his lips are this good against yours, you can’t imagine what they’d be like in other places.

Marcus is the one that pulls away from you, resting his forehead gently to yours. You’re both breathless and you’re itching to press your mouth back to his.

“I should go.” He breathes against your mouth, pressing his lips to your in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah,” You agree, “You should.”

He steps back, takes the warmth of his palms with him, but reaches in to his pocket and hands his phone to you, “Put your number in here and I’ll call you.”

So you do, press the eleven digits into his phone along with your name and then kiss him once more before he’s turning on his heel and walking away, leaving you with a dull ache between your thighs that you’re working on relieving within five minutes of getting inside. You’re fucked.

Marcus curses himself as he settles into the seat on the bus. It’s late enough that it’s not too busy, no-one sitting next to him as he leans his head back and runs his hand over his face. He already knows he’s fucked up. The words Professor Pike and rejected from my first choice spinning around in his brain as he watches parts of North London flash past the window on his ride home.

Why hadn’t he stopped it then? He knows the rules, knows that even though he doesn’t teach her, any kind of relationships with students, no matter how mature, are off limits. And how is he supposed to keep the facade up now? It’s only a matter of time before she puts two and two together and figures out who he really is.

You’re sweet and you’re smart and you’re fucking beautiful and the best kisser he thinks he’s ever met. You have so much in common with him that it actually hurts him a little and one stupid choice to keep lying to you and the fucking ethics policy are going to keep him from something he thinks would actually be fucking good for him.

He thinks for a second, pulling out his phone and looking at your contact card that he should probably just delete your number. It’s for the best for everyone. He could avoid the museum for a while, keep his head low on campus, he knows he can avoid you. But with his finger hovering over the delete confirmation, he finds he doesn’t have the strength to do it. Stuffs his phone back in his pocket and tries to will his mind to forget the way you’d gasped into his mouth when his hands had squeezed at the swell of your ass, or the way your lips had been soft against his when he’d kissed you.

Then, led in bed, frustrations sorted by his own hand, he picks up his phone and damns himself to hell with a single text.

How about a walk around the National Gallery and dinner this weekend?

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swallowedbymadness · 3 months

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「 ✦ so good at being bad ✦ 」

Pairing: dom!wooyoung x sub!fem!reader

Genre: ⛓️ smutty smut smuttttttt ⛓️

Summary: Wooyoung surprises you with a pretty little gift one night.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I HAVE RETURNED FROM THE DEPTHS OF COLLEGE HELL. Not really bc spring semester just started. BUT. I am here with some plotless smut for you. If you’ve read my writing before, you know I love a good romance. But honestly, this video has been rotting my brain for a solid month and it has inspired this little fic. 🫠 also I firmly believe we need more dom woo bc he gives off this vibe at times and it’s not praised enough. You cannot change my mind.

18+ content, so please, minors DNI. Enjoy! 🤍

Warnings: bdsm - restraints, collar (called a choker for the most part), pet names (fr - baby & darling), a tiny bit of throat grabbing, and jung wooyoung bc he himself is a whole warning. 😵‍💫

Proofread: Yes! But you already know…if you see a mistake, no you don’t. Proofread this at like 6am so no guarantees lol

‘How the hell did I end up here?’ You found yourself wondering as you listened intently to a story that you wouldn’t normally find interesting, but for some reason it was tonight. Probably because of who was telling it. Your eyes were lost in dark pools of chocolate as you listened to the man sitting directly across from you as he was animatedly telling you about his day. Your head was resting in your hand and your heart was slowly pounding uncomfortably in your chest as you watched the way he got so submerged in his tellings.

You were sitting prettily at the breakfast bar inside of the loft that belonged to who was supposed to be a one night stand ages ago. However, there were now candles burning, music playing lowly in the background and two almost empty wine glasses sitting in front of you under the simply lit lights that hung above the two of you.

‘Yeah…’ you thought. ‘This definitely turned into something…more.’ You tried recalling where exactly your heart took over your logic of the situation. Was it when he asked you how you liked your coffee the next morning after a quickie the night prior? Was it when he actually kept his word and called you the next day? Or maybe it was the date he asked to take you on so he could get to know you on a level more than physical. Either way, you couldn’t pinpoint the moment you started associating his eyes to milk chocolate or remembering that his hair smelled like pears. Or even when you had started adoring the mole under his eye. You had no idea, but it threw you into a mild sense of panic when you caught yourself staring at him for longer than you should, and the way his finger shocked you when he reached for your hand while walking you home after date number three.

It was a lot to take in.

You didn’t think you would ever in a million years be caught up with someone like Jung Wooyoung. He was classy and dripping with solid gold sex appeal. He carried himself so elegantly and was anything but innocent like the picture his eyes liked to paint. He was a lion, and he had sought you out as his prey one night at the rooftop bar you never attended prior to your friend’s birthday party in the spring. It was there that he showed up, and when he noticed you it was like he had a target painted on you because he would not look away. He ended up buying you a drink and how could you refuse such charm when he offered you a good time that evening?

The one lesson you learned that evening was that it was not going to be your last night moaning his name in ecstasy against his black silk sheets with the city’s skyline glowing in from his floor to ceiling windows. No…you quickly learned the one thing about Jung Wooyoung that had you baited like a fish on a hook the moment his feline eyes set in on you. The man was insatiable, and you would give him exactly what he craved — you.

He couldn’t get enough of you after that, this you convinced yourself of. And if you had any doubts prior to now, they were long gone by now. The memory of how he groaned as he licked you clean after making a mess of his face while his tongue was buried deep inside your walls. Especially when you recalled how you writhed underneath him when his fingers danced along your overstimulated clit before plunging deep inside you to make you feel so so full. It was a constant that replayed in your head like a rerun.

“Everything okay?” His teasing voice snapped you out of the memory and brought you back to the breakfast bar. You repositioned on top of your stool uncomfortably once you felt your panties damp and walls throbbing at the vivid memory.

“Oh, yeah. I’m good.” You took a sip of your drink, welcoming the bitter taste on your tongue as a temporary distraction to prevent your thoughts from wandering again.

“You sure? Thought I lost you for a minute there.” His coy smile lured a faint blush out and to dust along your cheeks.

“I’m right here.” You confirmed, swallowing as you took him all in when he nodded and stood up from his stool. You were too nervous earlier to really take a good look at him and really see him.

He looked absolutely sinful in his black skin-tight suit pants clinging to him like they were painted on. He had a gorgeous high neck black lace blouse tucked into them, leaving nothing to the imagination. The silver dangling from his ears shined in the moonlight coming in through his window with the dazzling light of the moon that was watching over you. You had to tell yourself not to stare at the birth mark on his bottom lip for too long.

An impossible task, really.

“I got you something.” He had walked over to a table just behind his couch and picked up a present wrapped to perfection. He set it down in front of you, his eyes soft but full of something dark as he watched you open the black box that was decorated with red ribbon ties around it. You could feel the desire he felt for you in the air; it was tense and your heart picked up its pace at the sight of what was in the box. “Do you like it?” He’d asked. “I thought you would look absolutely radiant in them.”

You couldn’t answer right away, your mouth going dry and the heat beginning to build in the pit of your stomach as butterflies swarmed manically in your chest.

“They’re beautiful. But what is all this for?” You definitely could not miss how the lace trimmed collar matched the blouse that adorned his chest.

“Oh I think you know.”

“Well, I know what their functionality is, but why did you-” before you could finish, Wooyoung slid the box away from you and in front of himself. With a twirl of his finger, he motioned you to turn around. You swiveled yourself around on top of the stool you sat upon, the confusion still showing across your features as you heard the faint clanking of the dainty chains in the box.

“Because,” you stared at the wall in front of you and felt the palm of his hand splay over your throat, his hand barely squeezing to get your heart pumping and the arousal in your abdomen start vibrating. Wooyoung took his other hand and placed the choker around your neck and fastened it from the back for you.

“You already look so beautiful underneath me,” he began, his hands making their way to the sleeves of your dress and pulling them down until it was halfway off. He stared down at your breasts, your nipples hardening as the heat between your legs intensified with the way his hands felt against your bare skin. That fueled the demon, it woke the beast inside, and he suddenly felt that insatiable hunger take over.

“But I just couldn’t help myself…” he yanked on the chain a bit to prompt you to turn yourself around again. “Black really is your color, darling.” His eyes locked in on the choker that was now adorning your neck and you saw his nostrils flare. “My god…You’re breathtaking.” He proclaimed under his breath, but you weren’t sure if it was said intentionally to you or if it was a break in his dominating presence.

His fingers trailed down your sternum and feather light caresses were given along the underside of your breasts. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours softly, allowing you two to get a good pace going before expertly slipping his tongue past your eager lips. The first taste of you in his tongue sent him into an animalistic frenzy, groaning into your mouth and the taste of the wine that lingered on your tongue was enough to get him drunk on you.

His hands reached your hips, pulling you flush against his chest and pressing your back into the counter as one hand began making art on your side with his nails — the scratches deep enough to cause the skin to puff and turn a slight angry shade of red, but not enough to inflict any pain.

‘Just enough to claim’ he thought, the obsessive observation not allowing him to think about anything else until he noticed your dress was still hiding you from him.

This wouldn’t do.

He pushed the remainder of the dress down until it hit the floor and you stepped out of it, flinging it out of sight with your foot. His mouth never left your body while his hand reached behind you to grab hold of the two black leather cuffs and bring them between the two of you. He broke his lips apart from yours and saw how blown out your eyes had become just from kissing him. He knew his devilish smirk wouldn’t be missed by you, no matter what state you were in mentally right now.

“Do you trust me?” His voice was barely a whisper as he looked down at the leather in his hands and then back up at you while holding the sultriest gaze. You nodded slowly, your breath beginning to pick up as you felt a spike of adrenaline kick in out of pure excitement. He grinned, taking one of your wrists delicately into his hand and securing one of the cuffs around it.

Once both were secured and your wrists were bound in front of you, he tugged gently at the chain on your choker and twirled you back around slowly, pressing your nearly naked form against the cold countertop. You felt him bend over you, pressing himself against you and completely caging you in with his arms. You heard him inhale sharply when his front pressed up against your ass, the stiffness in his trousers obvious now.

“Ready for this?” He purred into your ear, his lips ghosting your lobe teasingly while his warm breath against the shell of your ear sent a cold shiver shooting down your spine causing the pit of your stomach to feel like boiling hot magma. You clenched your legs together, hoping the dampness between them wasn’t obvious but by the way he chuckled, you knew that was no longer possible.

You felt his fingers dancing lightly across your electrified skin, dragging up and down your arms until they reached your sides. You could hear his light panting between soft pecks to your exposed shoulder blades, his tongue slowly gliding along the skin over the protruding bone, followed by a bite into the plush flesh of your shoulder. You felt the way his body was being pressed against yours more and more as his mouth worked to paint his blank canvas beautiful shades of blues and purples from every love bite he created on your back. You relished in how he felt almost needy and just as desperate to be touching you as much as humanly possible. The need to claim your body as his was evident and it sent you into a hazy spiral.

The irresistible heat that had made your heart race a million miles a minute returned when you felt his weight against you. His chest being flush with your back as he rubbed himself shamelessly against your ass left you breathless, the heated weight of him on top of you and the chill of the marble underneath was intoxicatingly delicious.

You felt as his bulge quickly became fully grown and started pulsating — awaiting to be touched and aching for your attention. You were too lost in your own pleasure to even notice that he had started slowly grinding against your ass, small whimpers falling from his swollen lips as he kept you pinned to the counter, allowing the friction from his trousers to rub him just right.

You dared not look back in fear of what you would see. He was lost in the way you made his body feel, and you knew exactly how primal his features would look if you did.

The weight of him on you soon lessened as he started running his hands down your sides and soon his hands gripped each ass cheek, squeezing them a few times before his fingers hooked into the lace at your hips. You quickly felt his hot breath against your hip bone and his teeth graze the sensitive skin. He began pulling your panties down, and you finally found the courage to look down and saw him dragging the dainty lace down with his fingers and his teeth. Once they were at the floor, you felt a rush of heat sweep over your abdomen as the warmth began to pool from within, preparing to burst at the right moment…when he decided it was time.

You heard him hum, pleased at the sight in front of him. He was now on his knees, and he tapped your leg to get your attention.

“Turn around for me, pretty baby.” He cooed. You immediately turned yourself around and were met with his hungry eyes from below. He looked at your damp pussy and licked his lips, spreading your legs just enough to fit between them a little.

You leaned back against the counter and met with the hard marble again, this time not as cold from it being warmed up by you.

“I’ve been waiting to eat you up all day.” He growled before pulling your lips apart slowly and gliding his tongue along your slit agonizingly slow. When you felt the warm plush muscle glide across your already slick folds, you felt the sharp jab of arousal slam into your core and it knocked the wind out of you.

“Oh, Woo…” you couldn’t find it in you to finish the sentence you had just lost from the fog that took over your thoughts as your only focus was the sensational pleasure his mouth was giving you. Like a kitten, he licked and licked and licked in small flicks of his tongue on every sensitive spot he made a point of memorizing.

When his dark chocolate eyes met yours again, he was melting at the way his name spilled uncontrollably, desperately and monumentally from your lips. How it was caressed by drawn out moans, and the way your back arched against the dark grey marble swirls underneath your glistening skin. He tugged at the chain attached to your collar and pulled you forward so your core was pressing against his smirking mouth as it devoured you like a starved man. His flouncy hair hung low over his eyes as he made a meal out of you, the constant slurping noises and groans of approval vibrating against your sensitive skin made you dizzy. He reached a hand up and pulled on the silver chain again when he noticed you had become silent. A small yelp escaped from your agape mouth at the small tug against your neck.

“Wanna hear you, baby.” He pleaded against your pulsating core, his voice unassuming of what he was truly capable of. Wooyoung demanded your attention in all forms — he exuded an overwhelming amount of confidence that screamed sex, which had your cunt dripping since day one.

“Wanna hear you scream my name.” He cooed with his mouth full of you, his hazy eyes looking up at you half lidded as he worked you in every single way he had learned how.

Oh…fuck,” you cursed under your breath once he had slid two fingers inside of your saturated walls. The way you swallowed his fingers with a vice grip. “Woo please.” You whined as his fingers were slowly inserted and dragged back out agonizingly slow and rubbing against your rigid walls so deliciously. He pulled them out completely before repeating and eventually began to plunge in and out of you at a rapid pace, the heat overwhelming and having you ready to burst like a volcanic eruption.

“Louder.” He instructed, his voice low and demanding. He did not look up at you as he pounded his fingers deep into you and pulled them right back out, letting your walls clench around nothing before sucking his digits right back in again.

“Woo…” you felt the tears begin to form on your lash line with the familiar pleasure peaking in your abdomen. He pulled them back out and put them back in this time but only to the first knuckle, not moving and waiting. The orgasm you begged your body to unleash on you refused to wash over you when his fingers were not inside.

“I said louder!” He commanded, his fingers rubbing around the rim of your hole teasingly before he shoved his tongue deep into your cunt and started fucking you relentlessly.

“Oh my god, WOOYOUNG!” Your legs shook as you kept your back arched as you felt the tide come crashing down on you, a series of moans forcing themselves from your slack mouth. You felt like a thousand lightning bolts jolted through your entire body as you succumbed to him and melted into his touch. You didn’t care who heard you beyond the four walls that kept you two hidden from the world. You only cared about the man with his face buried deep in your pussy as he licked every last drop of cum that leaked from your stretched hole. Your fingers curled into his hair as you pushed yourself against him to ride your orgasm out on his tongue.

When you came back down from your high that lasted an eternity, you felt him chuckle against you as he allowed you to tremble and shake around him. In the midst of your high you didn’t realize you squeezed your thighs around his face and held him in place and you reached your peak.

“What…what are you laughing at?” You asked, sounding just as spent as you felt. He stood up from in between your legs and that’s when you saw the mess you made of his face, a knowing smirk adorning it as his eyes locked with yours.

Nothing…I’m just surprised is all.” He shrugged as he walked behind the counter into the kitchen and started dampening a washcloth. You hopped up to sit on the counter and waited for him to come back around.

“Surprised at what?” You leaned back a bit and your eyebrow shot up slightly while you waited for him to reply.

“I didn’t realize I would be getting a pair of earmuffs in the middle of summer.”

“What do you-” you paused, the light visibly flicking on above your head when you understood. “Oh my god!” You felt your cheeks heat up instantly at the realization. “Are you referring to…”

“The death grip you had on my face with your thighs? Oh I absolutely am.” He smiled teasingly as he crouched back down in front of you and started running the warm washcloth along your now heated skin as he cleaned you up. He wiped away what he couldn’t get with his mouth and was so gentle.

“I am…so…so sorry.” You leaned back embarrassed, covering your face with your hands and hoping you would just evaporate on the spot.

“Why? You completely let go and…” he grabbed your wrists and undid your cuffs. He looked up at you through his lashes, and you noticed a light sheen of sweat sticking to his skin. “You liquidized right into my hands; you surrendered yourself completely to me in that moment and allowed your body to naturally react to the pleasure. If that’s not trust, then I don’t know what is.” He booped the tip of your nose with his finger and chuckled under his breath. “It’s what every dom dreams of witnessing when playing.”

“Wait- are you a dom?”

“You could say that.” He chuckled at your surprised expression, but something in you always knew he was fit for the role when his presence entered a room way before he ever did.

“Oh darling, you only got a taste of what I can do to you. For you.” He lightly caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, his feline eyes glowing with something you didn’t know but wanted to experience. His touch felt like the heat of a thousand suns against your skin as he leaned down and firmly pressed his lips to yours, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip and so you could get the faintest taste yourself on him.

You would never admit that you liked the taste of yourself on his tongue.

At least not out loud, anyway.

“But only if you want it. I know this isn’t for everyone, but I would never force you into something you aren’t comfortable with.” He stared into your eyes and held eye contact to make sure every word he just spoke registered.

“I’ve been looking for someone for a long time who matches my rhythm…someone like you.” He continued, his gaze never wavering. “Honestly, I can’t bear the thought of you with anyone but me. I’m not sure when this started, but now that it has it’s a thirst I can’t quench. It’s a hunger I can’t control. I’ve accepted this because all I know is that I need you.” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear and his smile was soft and kind and romantic in a way you were used to seeing him now. It made your heart race even more.

“However, I will respect your wishes if you’d prefer to keep this casual.” You felt your eyes widen slightly at his confession. As he waited for an answer, he reached behind you with both hands to untie your choker. You felt the fabric loosen from around your neck and fall into his hands much like you had.

“Jung Wooyoung…are you asking me if I want us to be exclusive?” You couldn’t help the way the corners of your mouth curled up as your heart grew wings in that moment.

“I am, yes.” He confirmed as he put the delicate lace back in the box that sat on the countertop still.

“Well then…” you grab the cuffs that he had discarded back into the box and dangle them in between the two of you. “you better put these back on. I don’t think I’m done being ruined by you yet.”

“I haven’t even ruined you yet...” He stated, the mole on his lip coming into view when his dashing smile reappeared and his eyes darkened when looking at you. “And no…we were only taking a short break. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” His voice was low and husky as it vibrated against his sternum, his inner lion pounding at his rib cage to be unleashed once again.

“Yes, sir.” You leaned back, eyes hooded and sultry, spreading your legs for him to see that you had already made a small mess on the counter just for him.

Because of him.

He stood up and pressed himself against you, grabbing your throat ever so lightly as he leaned in. You closed your eyes ready to feel his plush lips meet yours, only you were never met with the touch. Instead, his lips ghosted over yours so you could feel his barely-there panting as he held you in place. You could feel his aching member against your thigh as he stood against you.

“You’re so good at being bad...”

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x you #dom!wooyoung #sub!reader #wooyoung smut #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #wooyoung fic #wooyoung fanfic #forgive me father for i have sinned #this filth has been rotting my brain for a month

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ihavethedreamies · 2 months

Text

Expert | Easy to Expert (3 v7)

Lee Yongbok (Felix) & Bang Chan - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~4.6k

Felix/AFAB!Reader/Bang Chan

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Fluff, Fluffy Smut

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Lingerie, Pet Names (Love, Pumpkin, Baby Girl, etc.), Multiple Partners, Oral (M! & F! Receiving), Sixty-Nine, Threesome, Double Penetration, Anal Play, Sex Toys - Butt Plugs, Anal Sex, Bang Chan has a Monster Cock (of course), Cockbulge (hmm), Unprotected Sex (Bad Idea, Don't Do It), Daddy Kink gets awakened, this is actually really soft and fluffy believe it or not, Bromance

Disclaimer: I do have the whole cock-bulge thing in this. I understand this could be a bit offensive to some who are on the heavier side (I am in that group as well). I also have the reader being pretty short even though I am 5'7". The reason being is I have a size difference kink/fetish, mostly because I am not small, and so I put it into a lot of my stories. Sorry if this doesn't align with your body type, but I also imagine a character in my place for these, so I don't sometimes take into account what others do.

Author's Note: This is the last one I am writing in this series, so let's see what absolute nonsense shows up here. I'm going to TRY and tone it down…

PS. I wrote the first not before I wrote the story, and this is after. This went a COMPLETELY different direction than I thought it would. Get ready for tooth rotting fluff AND smut.

PPS. Bang Chan is my bias and Felix my bias wrecker so that is why this one ended up like this…

-> Part 1 <-

-> Part 2 <-

-> Ver. I.N. <-

-> Ver. Seungmin <-

-> Ver. Hyunjin <-

-> Ver. Han <-

-> Ver. Lee Know <-

-> Ver. Changbin <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

"What?" Chan stopped dead in his tracks, Felix continuing past him. He thought for a second that he was hearing things, or someone else's conversation. The younger man stopped as well, turning back to his best friend.

"(Y/N) wants a threesome, you in?"

"Why are you asking me?" Chan sputtered and Felix shrugged casually.

"She asked for you specifically so…"

"She asked for ME?"

"Yes?" Chan's head was swimming. He had to admit, ever since he found out a few months ago you couldn't cum, he was looping in his head. It wasn't romantic intentions behind him trying to figure out what he could do for you…Not at all. He had been trying to convince himself he no longer had romantic feelings for you, especially since you started dating Felix. It was obvious to the others, even Felix, but he appreciated that his hyung denied it even to himself.

"Are you sure?" The eldest of the group asked your boyfriend.

"I wouldn't be asking you if I wasn’t. She picked you like a month and half ago, I've had time to think about it." Felix huffed, amused. Chan was getting flustered, and the younger man knew why.

"Are you thinking tonight?" They were already on their way to your apartment for movie night.

"Well…yeah. We can move it though."

"You really think I can just sit and watch a movie with you two now?" Chan shook his head, but continued walking. Felix fell into stride next to him and they continued to your place.

Felix messaged you when they were about fifteen minutes out, and you scrambled off the couch to get ready. To say you were excited was an understatement. But you were also lowkey terrified. It was not a hidden fact among the friend group what Chan was packing. You had even heard from other girls on campus. Not a traditional player by any means, he had been around the block. He was an incredibly sweet gentleman, but a lot of girls just wanted to fuck him to say they conquered the beast. That was literally what they said. The thought made you shiver as you prepared. Stepping out of the bathroom, you looked yourself over in the mirror. Felix had gotten you a set of wolf cosplay lingerie, fitting for Chan. It was more or less a bikini lined with gray fur. The silicone plug he got you a month ago now had a grey furry tail attached; the texture tickled the backs of your thighs. A matching headband with grey ears sat on your head, it was a little too big though, so you hoped it stayed on. Furry cuffs surrounded your ankles and wrists as well. The bottoms of the set were more like shorts than panties, but there was a hole cut out of the crotch which gave access to your cunt as well as let the tail plug sitting in your ass. You shook your arms to get rid of some of the nerves. Though, they just came back two-fold when you heard your boyfriend and his friend arrive. Your shaking increased as you padded to stand at the foot of your bed, waiting for them to remove their coats and shoes and meet you in the bedroom.

"Go on, bro." Felix told Chan, his accented English hitting your ears. Were they going to speak like that the whole night? Fuck yeah.

"Oh, baby girl!" Chan was floored as he entered your room. You looked so fucking cute, his heart thumped hard, and he felt his pulse in his cock too. The pet-name did stuff to your insides, and you nervously wiggled, the tail wagging a bit from the momentum. To be honest, before you and Felix hooked up, you were tempted to go to Chan. With his reputation, you were sure he could have managed, but you in no way regretted that it was Felix. Your boyfriend followed him in and came to admire you as well. You turned toward him as he settled only a foot away from you.

"Good job, love." He praised and you both turned back to Chan. He was still gaping, and you were still too nervous to look him over completely. He just had grey sweatpants on and a black sweatshirt. You desperately wanted him to take it off so you could get a better look at him. You had seen his perfect body many times, but you wanted to touch it. Your fingers fidgeted with themselves, the black painting nails at the ends catching Chan's eye.

"Rules?" You prompted Felix and he looked at you, back to his friend then shook his head.

"Just tell him no if you want." he told you and you blinked, then again. Seriously? He would let his friend kiss you? Fuck your holes and fill you with his cum? That was four of the rules out the window. Plus, if he wasn't going to lead Chan through this, then the final one was trashed as well. The thought made your core clench as you finally looked back to the other Australian.

"Go on." Felix assured you and you took a hesitant step forward, then trotted over to Chan who was still looking at you in awe. His hair was brushed up and back some, framing his forehead. You would have been fine just looking over every detail of his handsome face, but you needed even more. Your small hands went to the zipper of his hoodie, and he let you pull it down. He huffed at your pout when you saw he had a t-shirt underneath.

"It's below freezing out there, baby girl." He told you, amused by your reaction. You mumbled something incoherent, and he laughed. The sound pierced you, made you let out a small whimper, pushing his sweatshirt off. He continued to watch, amused, casting a glance at Felix who looked just as entertained by you. You took a deep breath, sneaking your hands under his shirt and mewling as your warm fingertips brushed over the ridges of his abs. With his assistance, you removed the shirt completely and Felix saw your thighs clench. While he wasn't thrilled by how turned on you were already, he wasn't too surprised either. You were honest with him and admitted you almost went to the eldest for assistance before you and Felix got together. He appreciated your honesty, and therefore trusted you. Didn't mean his pride wasn't a little hurt.

"Oh, my god." You gasped out, your touch tickling Chan some. He laughed, his gorgeous smile distracting you for a second.

"Can I kiss her, 'Lix?" Chan asked politely and you leaned in some more.

"Yeah, I guess." Your boyfriend allowed and you let him kiss you. He was rough, more so than you expected. Chan knew better, he was there to fuck you, not make love to you. He would leave the sensual kisses to Felix. He tilted his head, his hand going to the back of yours and his slid his tongue in your mouth. You keened at the feeling. He was good. Too good. You pulled back a trail of saliva connecting your mouths.

"D-don't do that again." You muttered, your face red. He nodded, humming in agreement. Felix snorted playfully. His trust was well placed. Not wanting to step over the line, Chan stayed mostly still as you sank to your knees before him. Seeing him shirtless in the grey sweatpants was already sinfully attractive, you wondered what he would be like fully naked. An adonis carved out of marble for sure. There was already a bulge from his hardening cock, but it was mostly hidden by the thick material. He laughed at your eagerness as you hastily pulled the waist band away. Your eyes widened as he stepped out of his pants. He was nowhere near being fully hard, but his black briefs were already straining.

"Fuck." You wheezed. You were salivating like the wolf you were dressed as. You fiddled with the tag on the black choker you had on, Felix's name engraved into it. As long as you only fell for Chan's cock, it was fine. You turned to look back at your boyfriend anyway and he gave you a reassuring smile. He had looped over every possible scenario in his head over the last month, knowing to almost a T at that point what would make you react in what way. So far, no surprises. Even though to some you hadn't been dating long, you spent as much time together as possible, so he knew you well. You had been friends for years before then too.

"C-Can you…" You drifted off, wanting to get a good view of Chan's briefs coming off. He smiled and did as you wordlessly requested. He felt a little sheepish under your gaze, honestly, as you ogled him. Adonis indeed. You literally watched his cock harden further under your appreciating gaze. You licked your lips, desperate to wrap them around him. Felix ended up not speaking the rule you had first decided on, but you were a bit worried about what it would do to you to let Chan cum down your throat.

"Can we do something?" Chan suggested, snapping you out of your daze. He also looked at Felix.

"Sixty-nine?" He finished the request and Felix stiffened a bit. Knowing Chan, he might be able to make you cum from that and your boyfriend wasn't sure if he was okay with that. The eldest was definitely the expert of the group and mastered the art of sex like the instruments he could play. But, when he looked into your big, pleading eyes, he couldn't say no. With a slow nod you hopped to your feet giddily and Chan chuckled, following you to the bed. He nodded for you to climb over him once he was on his back. Straddling his face, he wrapped the tail around his hand just to hold it out of the way. The panties gave him perfect access, the fur ticking his cheeks a bit though.

"Sit on me, baby girl." He urged and you lowered your hips. You weren't expecting the immediate pleasure you got from his tongue. He immediately swirling it around your clit, sucking hard. You gasped, falling forward, finding the head of his now fully hard cock in front of you. Once again, your eyes met Felix's and he nodded. Eagerly, you wrapped your hand around Chan's cock, your fingers not even able to touch. You wrapped your eager lips around the head, your jaw protesting some at the stretch. Chan rumbled under you; his strong arms surrounded your thighs to hold you where he wanted you. Your moan vibrated through his dick as you got as much as him as you could in your mouth. It would be too dangerous for you to let him into your throat, you had to center yourself by finding Felix again. He loved that you kept thinking of him throughout. It was also more arousing than he thought it would be, seeing your mouth full of his best friend's fat cock. Chan ate you like a man starved and your boyfriend could see the characteristic twitch in your hips that meant you were close. You were more shocked than Felix that the other man was getting you to the edge so fast. His hand twisted in the tail again, tugging it slightly, and took your clit between his teeth, rolling it and you fell forward as you came, swallowing his cock deeper. Chan grinned as your cunt dripped on his tongue and he let the tail go, letting your orgasm ride out. When you came down, you pulled him out of your mouth, panting for breath.

"Okay, baby girl." Chan eased you to roll off of him, you landed on your back, still breathing harshly. Tears pricked your eyes and Felix instantly came to your side, petting your head softly, shushing you. You looked at him, so pitifully, ready to cry.

"Hey, shh, love." His heart broke seeing you like that and Chan got up on his knees next to you. He could tell you were crying from emotions, not physical feelings, but he still felt bad. At the same time, he was extremely proud of himself for making you cum like that. He had satisfied the goal he set in the past, not ever thinking to dust it off and complete it. Chan's heart thudded again, this time in sorrow. You were too precious.

"I'm sorry, Felix." Your breath hitched and he leaned down to kiss your forehead, petting your hair. Instantly he felt bad for feeling jealous.

"Love, (Y/N), its fine. I'm not mad." He chuckled a bit to reassure you.

"Really?"

"Yes, sweet. I just want you to feel good, okay?" He hummed and you nodded, sniffling. Chan finally saw the relationship dynamic you two really had. It was a dominance and submissive one, but Felix played the role so softly. And you were so cute with it, not a hint of being a brat.

"You want to keep going, baby girl?" Chan made sure and you nodded shyly. He smiled warmly and helped you sit up, removing the loose headband so you could stop fiddling with it.

"Can I take all this off her?" Chan asked and Felix nodded. You sat there like a good girl as Chan gently undid and removed everything from you but the black choker. He even took the tail off the plug, leaving the silicone toy inside you. The other man also took the tie from your hair, letting it fall over your shoulders. The way he looked at you actually warmed Felix's heart. He also knew if you asked him, he would be open to letting Chan in on your relationship. If it was him…he could share you. That was something to bring up later though. You shivered a bit, now a tad chilly and Felix smiled, climbing on the bed to hug you from behind.

"Good girl." He soothed and helped Chan maneuver you to sit on his lap, back to him. Felix placed a soft kiss to your lips, and you whined at the feeling of Chan's cock wedged in the cleft of your ass. Felix had decided not to turn the vibrations on, planning it as a surprise. The encounter turned out to be softer than he originally thought it would be.

"What're you thinking, 'Lix?" Chan knew him too well, could see the gears turning. His eyes met the eldest's and you looked up at him too. His eyes cast to yours. It wasn't a secret that you had a huge crush on Chan about a year ago, but you never pursued it. Little did you know, Chan had liked you too, for a while. He didn't even piece together, that's what it was at first, but Felix knew. Even when Chan would deny it to himself, Felix knew. Felix could still sense your love for himself, but he also saw how you looked at his best friend.

"You want him too?" Felix asked and you didn't understand the question at first. Wasn't that why he was there? The other man figured it out immediately though.

"Felix-"

"I'm not stupid, hyung." He huffed playfully and his true meaning registered.

"Felix?" you asked him, implying your question in your tone. Are you sure?

"We can discuss it after, but don't feel guilty." Your boyfriend kissed you softly on your cheek under your eye.

"Want him here?" Felix continued, helping you settle on Chan's lap, stroking his fingers through your soaked folds. You nodded softly, letting the man behind you hold you in his arms. You felt so secure, even more so with Felix there too.

"Think you can make her cum again?" Felix challenged and the other man smirked.

"Let's see." He nuzzled behind your ear, one of his hands sliding down your stomach till his fingers hit your clit. You whimpered as he swirled over it, then slid both fingers home. You sighed as his fingers filled you. They were thicker and longer than Felix's, but just as talented it seemed. His palm rubbed hard over your clit as he scissored the digits in you, the pad of one finding the rough spot on your back wall. You twitched when he rubbed over it and Felix watched the gears turn in Chan's head. His fingers left your core, rubbing back up to your clit, and he exposed the little nub further. He was an expert, Felix decided. He learned your reactions instantly, knowing just what to do next. Chan then fucked three fingers into you, harshly pressed against your further exposed clit with his palm. His fingers crooked hard and up, his palm swirling your clit and you shivered hard, head tossed back to land on his shoulder. You were close. Once again removing his fingers, he took your button between two fingers, pinched hard and pulled your nub, and Felix watched your cunt spasm as you came. The slight bit of jealousy he still felt dissipated when he saw the way Chan looked at you. He nuzzled your temple with his nose as you trembled, kissing the crest of your ear. As you shuddered, coming down again, your head rolled so you could look at him.

"Fill her up, hyung." Felix allowed, smiling as your eyes widened.

"'Lix~" You reached out for him, Chan still loosely hugging you to him. The eldest smiled fondly as Felix came to you, the smile on the other’s face was so warm. Chan could tell how much you two loved each other, and he was honored you both were willing to let him wiggle his way in. When he was within reach, your hands stroked over your boyfriend's pretty freckle covered cheekbones.

"Let’s have Channie fuck you, hm?" He cooed, the words racier than his tone implied. You whined with a nod and Chan chuckled softly at your cuteness. You both were so cute.

"Okay, baby girl. Tell me if it’s too much." The man behind your spoke into your ear, his arms holding you closer, his right hand coming to cup your left breast. You never got much sensation there, but you did flinch a bit when he pinched your nipple. Chan loosened his hold, moving his hands to rest at your hips, and Felix's moved to your waist. You let them move you around like you were a ragdoll till you were kneeling, cunt hovering over Chan's cock.

"Good girl." Felix praised, kissing the corner of your mouth as they both led you to sink on the eldest's dick. The feeling knocked the air out of you, he was so fucking big. You couldn't help but ponder how much bigger he could be if he was taller. He whispered soothing words in your ear, Felix kissing over your collarbone. You breathed, using the same technique as when your boyfriend fucked into your ass. Chan groaned, your cunt was so hot and tight, and he could feel your slick gummy walls perfectly. It made you all the more addicting. He could also feel the bump of the plug in your ass through the walls of your cunt. When Chan felt your cervix kiss the head of his cock, he halted your descent, a good inch or two left.

"M-more." You pressed and Chan rubbed circles over your lower stomach. He smirked, he could feel the bulge of his cock already, and you mewled when he pressed down.

"You sure, baby girl?" Chan's voice had gotten huskier somehow, deeper, rumbling through you. Felix smirked and lowered his voice himself, bringing his mouth to your other ear. What your boyfriend planned on saying next would probably earn him a playful smack later, but he was so eager to see your unfiltered reaction. Your eyes were already blank, nothing but cock on the brain.

"Tell daddy how you want his cock." Felix ordered you and Chan gasped as your cunt squeezed him hard. He huffed, thinking he misheard what Felix whispered to you at first.

"Want daddy deeper~" You whimpered and the men both groaned at your plea.

"Yeah?" Felix teased you further.

"Yes, sir~" You pled to him instead and he smiled. You were too fucking cute. There was a very specific reason Felix preferred you called him sir during sex, and that reason was splitting you open on his cock. At first, he didn't want to use 'daddy' because he was jealous, thinking it might make you think of Chan. Especially since you jokingly called the eldest that all the time. But now…everything worked out perfectly.

"Okay, pumpkin." Your boyfriend's pet name for you changed and the new word made your core pulse around the other's dick. Chan knew that you both went full into roleplay mode at that.

"Daddy~" You whined, and he laughed, acquiescing. You yelped when his hips shifted under him better, letting him thrust up hard, burying his cock all the way in you. Words escaped you, only a string of babbles left you. Felix smiled and shuffled down the bed more. Chan watched, curious, and almost protested as the other man moved. He just let Felix do whatever though. Your legs were spread to sling over Chan's, holding them open. Felix's hands came to your inner thighs, spreading you further and he marveled at your folds straining to take Chan's massive cock. Your entire body jerked when he flicked his tongue at your swollen clit, his tongue lightly brushing over the other's dick. The man's arms tightened a bit around you as you slumped into him further, and with one more flick of Felix's tongue, you fell apart again. At this point, your cunt was burning from the overstimulation, but your boyfriend knew if you got over the crest of pain, you could just keep on going. After your spasms went away, he sat back to just watch again, nodding to Chan.

"Ready, baby girl? Want daddy to fuck ya good?" His hand came to rest under your jaw, putting just enough pressure for you to feel it but not restricting your airway.

"Please!" You mewled, head lolling back and forth. His other hand was still on your stomach, and Felix put his hands on your hips to help, lifting you slightly and pressing you back down as Chan fucked up. You gasped, your cunt stung from the friction, but the pain was so good as the man behind you railed you. It was a good thing Felix was okay with Chan joining, you thought on later, because you didn't think you could live never taking him again. You were definitely a size queen and Felix marveled at you taking his friend like a champ.

"Ah, fuck, (Y/N)~" Chan was getting close, and he looked to your boyfriend, asking permission. Felix looked at your fucked out expression.

"Cum in her." he told Chan, and he got as deep as he could and let go. Your stinging core piqued, the pain burning into pleasure, and you weren't sure if Chan filling you with his sticky cum was what put you over or Felix's voice.

"Oh, good girl~ Fuck!" The man moaned himself as he felt his cum overflow from your cunt and drip down past his balls and onto the bedding. Felix was still rock hard, not having came or been touched at all that night, but he was fine dealing with himself in the shower if you were too tired.

"Felix!" You reached for him again and he came back to you.

"What do you need, pumpkin?"

"You…" You pouted and he smiled bright.

"I don’t think your cute little cunt can handle more." He cooed and Chan huffed playfully. He was still hard and really didn't want to pull out anyway.

"Let’s turn her around." He suggested to the younger man. You keened a bit when they moved you around. When your chest met Chan's, he sunk back into you, the new position and angle let him sink deeper. You shivered, falling into him and he laughed.

"You're so cute." He praised. He was content to let you warm his cock, watching Felix scooch forward. His fingers wrapped around the plug, and you breathed as if through muscle memory as he pulled it out. It clattered onto the floor from his tossing it. Could your body handle him filling your ass with Chan in your pussy? Guess you all would find out soon enough. Your breathing shifted when you felt Felix's cock at your pucker, he barely pressed the tip in as he took the lube Chan had reached for on the nightstand. Drizzling more onto himself, he started to ease inside you. You shivered, your back hole welcoming the familiar intrusion.

"So good, pumpkin." Your boyfriend praised. To get in you best, he had to swing his leg over Chan’s, but he didn't mind. Chan helped him adjust you some and they both let you adjust to being completely full. Each breath you pressed out carried a slight moan and your little noises brought grins to both of the men's faces. After witnessing everything, as well as your even-tighter-than-usual canal clenching his cock, Felix knew he wouldn't last long. Might be for the best anyway considering your physical and mental state. Your nails weekly dug into the skin of Chan's chest where you laid as Felix pumped his hips. His thrusts were short and deep, and your body rocking slightly brushed your sensitive clit against the skin of Chan's pelvis. A defined vein that led down to his cock gave just enough of a differing pressure as you rocked.

"Okay, love, I'll fill you good than you can take a bath. Daddy and I will take care of you tonight and tomorrow." Felix picked the pace of his thrusts up and Chan hissed some as your cunt clenched hard and your nails carved crescents into his skin.

"(Y/N), be a good girl for daddy and cum." Chan's words were all you needed, and you came one more time, Felix spraying your insides white. From the tight clench and the wait, Chan was sensitive himself and you cumming made him fall apart with you two. Even more jizz spurted out from where your body met Chan's and more of the sticky goo leaked from where Felix was inside you. You were a complete mess and Felix wouldn't have it any other way. Your consciousnesses faded, your eyes slipping closed, and the two men praised you for doing such a good job for them. Deciding to just clean you up with a towel for now, Felix helped you rest on your side as you slept, leaving the blanket off you, your skin still hot. Your boyfriend petted your hair as Chan took a quick shower and then they switched places.

"Are you sure?" the eldest asked, stroking your hair softly when Felix sat on the bed behind you.

"You love her, right?"

"I-I…" Chan swallowed hard.

"Hyung?"

"…yes."

"I didn't want to admit it before, but she likes you a lot. I know though that she loves me too…I think she deserves the world, but why not throw the moon in along with it?" Felix meant every word. He loved you so much that he wanted you to be loved twice as much, if not more.

"Well, guess I should change my name to Moon, huh?" Chan huffed and Felix rolled his eyes at the horrible pun.

"Just promise me when you two get married that I can be the best man." The eldest continued and your boyfriend smiled down at you.

"Of course. Wouldn't have anyone else."

-> Ver. I.N. <-

-> Ver. Seungmin <-

-> Ver. Hyunjin <-

-> Ver. Han <-

-> Ver. Lee Know <-

-> Ver. Changbin <-

-> Part 1 <-

-> Part 2 <-

Masterlist

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artofchira · 6 months

Note

As someone else who's in the process of burning out just surviving, and has lost sight of why I enjoyed art in the first place, would you be willing to share some of the things you've tried to get back on your feet? Super glad that you're doing so much better, btw.

First: It's actually become a job for me to help artists reconnect to their art through my mentorship workshop with everything I have learned, and I consider myself very good at it. I've been doing it for about 4 years now. If you or any other artist would like direct help with recovering from burn out please check out the service page of my website and testimonials from previous clients.

To answer your question:

A lot of my own personal stabilization just came as a result of wanting the experience of making art to be comfortable. It wasn't a choice anymore. After my father passed I relaxed for about 3 months -- longest I went without drawing in my life since I started freelancing -- and when I sat back at my desk I just couldn't make myself work under the same pressure. I'd try to force myself to draw and it made me want to cry instead. I quickly learned I could only create if I felt comfortable and drawing felt gentle, so I had to accept moving forward if I wanted to continue being as productive as before I needed to find a way of working that eliminated stress or using will power, which means working in a way that was renovated from the ground up. I couldn't go back. How I was making art was over. I needed it to be repaired. I had no idea what that looked like, so it was truly trial and error.

A fact about me is I have a very high sensory/pain threshold naturally (I also recently learned I was autistic over the pandemic, imagine that has something to do with it) so I've always been historically bad at ignoring my physical limitations because I rarely felt them unless my body broke down on me, and when it did I treated myself with annoyance and forced myself to work through it. I'm talking like no sleeping for 3-4 days straight, or coming home after a kidney stone to finish a comic page still shaky on pain and morphine and then feeling bad at myself for being lazy. To say my old work habits were highly self abusive is an understatement. So when I started addressing everything that was an inconvenience and uncomfortable, it ended up correcting everything I was ignoring or failed to consider a problem until it was past due.

To cut a long story short, a list of material changes to my life that improved my health:

I got medicated, finally. I'm extremely bipolar. Always have been. Drawing between periods of oscillating between feeling divinely invincible vs ideating suicide every waking moment vastly became easier to manage.

I got glasses. I'm farsighted, but it was never a problem for me since I could see fine -- ooor so I thought. Turns out when you're farsighted you're focusing constantly without even realizing it. Turns out getting glasses gave me 80% of my mental space back so I suddenly had more energy, generally more awake, and more focused. No one talks about farsightedness so I had absolutely no idea I was burning myself out physically just being able to see. Worth mentioning!

Started seeing a massage therapist and a chiropractor regularly. I always thought of those things as luxuries, not necessities. Which was extremely stupid. Maintaining my physical body through directly working out kinks in it became something like brushing my teeth or showering -- it's just something you do to make sure health and hygiene isn't making you dysfunctional and rotting you. My body no longer breaks down.

For the same reasons as above, maintained seeing my therapist regularly even if I felt fine or had no issues to work out. I realized I was always quick to end support as soon as I felt I didn't need it anymore (again treating it as a luxury) so making the space in my life for mental/emotional check ins kept my head organized. My therapist is bewildered by me and has no idea what to do with me because she feels she's not doing anything. I just tell her by me making the space for me to explain myself at all, even if all I was doing was describing how I was fine, was the help. She's great.

Got a cappuccino machine. May seem stupid but being able to make gourmet coffees from my kitchen every morning really genuinely improved my life and mind more than getting medicated.

Got a dog. He's amazing. I love him. Very warm and loving companion, and such a gentle soul. He keeps me out of my head and gets me prioritizing walks every day, so my vitamin D intake increased massively. I don't have the luxury of staying in bed for 3 days straight in my depressive episodes anymore. I have to make the effort to leave it at least twice a day to walk and feed him and play with him. Like most people, I'm terrible at prioritizing for myself but will move worlds for those I love no matter where I'm at.

For personal habits I just reflected a lot on why I felt I had to will myself to draw when drawing is something I love doing most. It made no sense to resent doing what you devote yourself to doing. I changed -- and still changing -- my mental framing in how I think of working on art for it to be something I'm eager to do, not obligated to.

Hope this was educational.

#ask box answers #Personal

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biscuitbox23 · 4 months

Text

Dead weight.

summary: you run into the woods to get away from the group, you were reaching the end of your life as you suffer from aplastic anemia, only to get stopped by Rick.

A/n: I’m not a medical expert, i have no familiarity with the field of medicine I am just an idiot who is a sucker for terribly made sad stories. This may be a very long opening to the actual climax so im sorry for that :( please do DM me for advice on how i can make my fanfictions better!

Warnings: inaccurate depictions of the illness, non-established relationship (rick and reader), mentions of death, angst, cursing. (Not much due to me being a minor.) somewhat bad grammar since English isn’t my second language.

words: 1.3K

It has been a while, well, a while since you had a good stock of medicine. You had been in an abandoned cabin a few months after the outbreak. During it, you got stuck in a pharmacy in Atlanta. The law was gone now, so you hoarded a ton of antibiotics, capsules, injections, and anything you could get your grubby hands on.

When Rick and Daryl saved you from a trio of men who were trying to take advantage of you, you joined them and did not stay inside forever, especially when blood stained the floors of your shelter. It was a mistake.

You wanted to stay with yourself, isolated from the horrors and sacrifices that the world has offered now. It was harder to find medication now that most stores were stripped clean. It was easier for you to catch minor fevers, and you tended to have more rest than the others in the group. The only reason you were there is because you knew how to survive.

In the woods, in the apocalypse, no problem. Whatever your dad knew your dad would teach you, he was an outdoor person and loved to forage different shrooms and plants. God knows what happened to him.

You grew closer to the group, helping them find food and clean water, scavenging what you can find in abandoned retail stores (even if it does not have much importance.)

Now you find yourself walking out of Alexandria by attempting to climb the steel borders to the outside of the wall, your head spinning as drowsiness has consumed you to your very core, yet you still have the urge to continue. Or else you are just dead weight. You had a few foot slips —you swear, Enid makes it look easy— but managed to get out. You can sense your muscles aching as if you did not even have the strength to pull yourself up despite climbing trees more than a million times when you were a teen. You needed to disappear

from the people, the group. Rick.

Rick was a leader, for sure. He had all the correct morals and cunningness and looked up to him for it. You were no longer the person of any use to him and his group. You could not even defend yourself without stumbling down to the ground.

You were around when T-dog and Lori passed away. You

remembered falling for Rick when you first saw him, only to discover he had a pregnant wife and a kid. It started like a rocky road. You were so used to the isolation that it took a lot of convincing to get you to come with them to the prison.

You took a liking to his daughter Judith. You loved babies. It was a surprise. You thought that you would never find a baby in this world again. Carl was the closest to you. You tell him stories about your life and would do the same, reminiscing about the world that used to be. He praised his father a lot and got a good idea of what Rick was like as a father. Hershel would check up on your health while Rick would stand beside the old sport as Hershel examines you.

Making your way into the woods, you stopped by a tree to take a breather. Your hands were on your knees as you stared down to the ground, crinkles of the leaves crushing on the bottom of your shoes. The night was cold and airy. The chill on the tip of your nose was evident as you took one more glance at the haven that shielded the real outside world from its inhabitants. The sour stench of rotting meat was not detectable and gave some fresh air — It is not like you cannot get fresh air in Alexandria. You want to be alone most of the time.

“thought I'd find you here." A voice called out, the voice echoing in your ears sounding familiar as the crunching of leaves has gotten closer and closer.

“fuck” you curse under your breath, “how did you find me?”

“Carl saw you tryin’ to climb the walls.”

“huh,” you playfully scoffed but was met with a chill and a cough, “thought I was being sneaky…”

“what're you doin’ out here?” Rick asks out of the blue, staring you up and down as you lean back into the tree.

“Rick," you sighed heavily, “go back.”

“I'm not goin’ back till you tell me what happened, y‘know that, don’t you?” Rick asked with a twinge of concern mixed with his southern drawl.

You paused.

“I'm leaving, Alexandria,” You rubbed your forehead as your stomach grumbled. Sliding down to sit as your back leaned onto the tree further.

“If this is about your illness we can make—“Before Rick could finish his sentence you interrupted.

“Make it work? Yeah, I don’t think so…” You retorted, “You don’t understand, Rick. I have a condition where my bone marrow doesn't produce enough blood cells, and I have no meds to help me, what are the chances of finding a pharmacy? A pharmacy where it has all the things I need to survive?” You spat, frustration filling your mind like hot liquid.

“Denise can help you, Y/n, you have seen her efforts in helping you,” You can sense Rick’s desperation to get you back to Alexandria’s infirmary. His voice remained gentle but firm.

“Why, Rick?” Your eyes stared into Rick's ocean blue orbs, frustration, and confusion, “I’m not strong, anymore. I can’t go on runs, anymore. I can’t protect anyone.”

“Because we still need you—“

“Maybe it’s you who still needs me, Rick…” You spat, leaning your head on the wood as you got the strength to finally stand up, with the support of the tree, of course.

“Y/n we can discuss this once we get back,” Rick sighed, coming closer to you as he held both your arms gently.

A rush of adrenaline painfully scours into your veins as you push him away with all the remaining strength you have.

“GODDAMNIT RICK, WHY CANT YOU JUST LET ME DIE OUT THERE!” You yelled at him. “YOU KNEW I WAS GOING TO BE A BURDEN AND YOU SAW HOW MANY PILLS I HAD ON THE TABLE!”

Rick scoffed, “You're giving up now? After all that has happened? The prison, terminus… and you decide to end it all here? Where we’re finally safe?” His tone wasn’t as gentle but it was now harsher, deeper.

“if you think more treatments, will change anything, it won’t. I'm done and I won't let you guilt me into continuing this charade.”

“then what’re you gon’ tell Carl, hm? That you’re sick of bein’ alive so now you’re gonna leave?”

“This isn’t about Carl, Rick it’s about you keeping me to fill in the gap of what Lori gave you,” you glare with poison in your very eyes. “Leaving you to care for a child that was never yours.”

Rick went quiet, as you realized what you had said, “i-I’m sorry… Rick…” you pleaded, holding his hands.

Rick sighed, “Maybe you're right."

You nodded, your breath becoming shorter as your legs finally give in. You feel your body starting to shut down. Rick helped you sit down comfortably on the ground. You were paler and had many bruises on your arms and legs. You were heating up again.

“I'm sorry, Rick,” you breathed heavily, clutching the hand he gave you.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Rick comforted you, kissing her knuckles as her legs trembled. Rick’s voice was shaky, almost labored.

“I don’t wanna turn, you can ask Daryl to keep my gun, you’ll need it,” You softly chuckled. Rick looked at you, taking his revolver from his holster.

“Get back to Alexandria, to Judith…” you smiled as you felt bile in your throat, blocking your airway and your heartbeat becoming more abnormal.

Rick gives you a final kiss on the head as an act of kindness and comfort on the edge of a quick and painless death.

—————————————————————

a/n: Hello everyone! This is my very first Fanfic and I thought about it on the spot 😭 Reading it for me makes me kinda cringe but don’t we all? Anyways hope you guys enjoyed it (cuz I didn’t but I’m a sucker for tragic love)

#rick grimes #the walking dead #twd #twd x reader #rick grimes x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #andrew lincoln #first fanfic #the walking dead universe #BiscuitWrites #twd oneshot

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moonlight-prose · 7 months

Text

FOR THE LOVE OF DANGER

╰┈➤ #01: ONE LAST TIME

a/n: so i finally FINALLY saw the movie and even though it's really late since it came out, i'm happy to write for him at last. this is partial brain rot and a partially thought out plot that has been in the works for months. i'd heard of spidey 2099 before, but never thought i'd fall in love with him to this extent. this fic was also supposed to come out last month, but i'm always behind on everything. so i hope y'all enjoy this wild ride.

note: a massive huge fucking THANK YOU to @soulores for being the best beta reader a girl could have. seriously i couldn't have finished this without you.

dedicated to: @sunflowersteves for listening to me rant about how pretty he is and for being the first person to ever hear about this plot. thank you for being one of the best person here babes.

summary: when things go awry in your life you find yourself back at el nido - a comfort spot in the darker parts of the city - in need of peace. only to run into him.

word count: 8.5k+ (somehow???)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, angst, alcohol consumption, one night stands, p in v sex, rough sex, cumeating if you squint, cumplay if you really really squint, my awful attempts at dirty talk, soft miguel, the start of chaos.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

NUEVA YORK 2099; EARTH-298

Let’s do this one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara… and I’m scared.

You couldn’t breathe, the speed of your heart rate nearly caused you to believe you were going into cardiac arrest. Some small part of your brain wanted to actually check. It wasn’t hard to simply waltz right into the nearest hospital. Although dealing with the disbelief on doctors and nurses faces as you asked them to check if you were dying pushed you away from the idea altogether.

Another day at a job that didn’t allow you to have anything, left you seeking out the only thing you knew would help. An old dive bar still resided in the lower part of the city—The Nest, or as the owner called it El Nido—as local folk often referred to it. Although you were more than happy to call it a safe haven.

Everything was so pristine where you worked, so perfect. But The Nest was simply a small hole in the wall that helped people find a spot to feel safe for an hour or two. You tended to avoid going there on weekdays, but seeing as how you were about to be fired from your job…you felt it was necessary.

Sighing, you hitched your bag up higher on your shoulder, the weariness from the day finally settling its weight over you. What you wouldn’t give to be asleep right now, curled up in bed. Except you couldn’t go home. Not when all that remained was the dreaded time spent waiting for tomorrow. The day they would more than likely—officially—ask you to leave.

“Sorry,” you muttered, accidentally slamming into a woman walking hand in hand with her partner. The man glared at you, the gaze enough for you to quicken your step towards your destination.

The smell of the bar was exactly the same. Ricky always loved incense, and while you claimed it would drive customers away, he somehow made it work. Letting out a calming breath, you headed right towards your stool at the bar. The worn in leather a comfort after sitting in a stiff backed office chair all day. It was partially ripped and practically ruined, but you could already feel the stress melt off your body.

“Mi florita!” Ricky shouted, handing off a drink to an older man with white hair.

“Hey Ricky—oof—” He leaned across the bar, dragged you closer, and planted a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His breath was tinged with cinnamon and a hint of mint—letting you know he’d been drinking his favorite tea all day.

Nonetheless you smiled at his kind gesture. Ricky was like the cousin you had never had, but always wanted. Standing at around six feet with tattoos going up and down his tanned arms and his hair chopped into a mess of wild curls, he was your favorite person. The one you always sought out in times of trouble, if anything just to laugh. Unfortunately he couldn’t say the same for you. He loved his boyfriend too much to put you higher up on the scale—or so he claimed.

“How’s the job?” He poured you a martini, extra dry, extra dirty. “Are you playing nice with all the fancy folk?”

You chuckled, taking a sip and letting the alcohol burn its way down. “The fancy folk are slowly driving me insane.”

“Uh oh.”

Another sip caused yet another part of your stress to fade. “I don’t understand why it’s so hard for them to give me the same leniency they offer to other employees.” You sighed, dragging a hand down your face. “I mean it won’t matter anyways tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ricky slid a drink to the person sitting a stool away from you, taking the small amount of cash he offered.

“The day I’m probably gonna get fired.”

“What?” he exclaimed, nearly causing the glass of whiskey in front of him to spill over.

You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I can just…find a new place to work at. I mean there has to be other labs in need of a biochemist. Right?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering to the bottle in his hands. “Florita…” Your stomach dropped, the severity of the situation finally dawning on you—turning your once rose hued glasses clear.

They were going to ask you to leave and because it was Alchemax, there was no other option but for you to beg for forgiveness. An act you had sworn to yourself that you’d never do. You were a good scientist. Hell you were the best in that fucking lab, yet they couldn’t see past the fact that you wanted to go your own way. To carve your own path in a company that was adamant on placing you in a box. Keeping you perfectly pristine for those on the outside—those that might wish to give you freedom.

Holding up your hand, you stopped him from saying anything else. If shit was meant to go sideways tomorrow, then so be it. You’d go out like a champion, worthy of whatever came next. Downing the remainder of your drink you slid the empty glass towards Ricky, nodding at him to fill it up. At least with that he didn’t hesitate, knowing you needed something to take the edge off—your night already taking a turn for the worst.

“Just gotta keep going,” you muttered, staring at the liquid in the hopes that it would magically fix everything.

“You got this chica.” Words that seemed empty at a time like this somehow brought a small smile to your lips.

Taking another sip you thanked him softly and watched him wander off to the other side of the bar, his eyes set on a group of men that were most likely there to buy out the bar. It happened every once in a while, but you couldn’t exactly fault them. They were here to have fun, to make an otherwise regular night memorable. They certainly weren’t here to wallow in their drinks, swallowing down their misery in the hopes of finding something good to take away.

“Shit,” you muttered when you came to the bottom of the glass again, your finger tracing the rim.

“Firing a biochemist is the stupidest thing a lab could do.”

You jumped when someone’s voice came from beside you—the man a stool away now focusing the entirety of his attention on you. Perhaps it was the vodka or the low neon lights of the bar, but you could have sworn his eyes were red. The color so striking it sent a chill down your spine—as if he was analyzing you with one simple glance. For a second you forgot he even said anything—too busy taking in his soft brown hair and strong jaw—until his lips quirked up into a grin.

One that made your heart flip in your chest, heat rising beneath your cheeks.

“Eavesdropping?” you inquired, gathering enough courage to confront him about his blatant behavior.

His lips pulled up on one side, something glimmering in his eyes that had you hooked the longer he looked at you. “Lo siento,” he said softly—his voice slightly mumbled. “Didn’t mean to. I just heard you talking about something that interests me.”

“Ah.” You glanced away to escape his penetrating stare, if for a chance to catch the breath in your lungs. “So you’re a scientist.”

Pride bloomed in your chest when he was caught off guard. His glass halfway to his mouth when the statement left your mouth. Once again that mysterious light flickered to life again, a soft chuckle leaving his lips and causing your heart to erratically beat in your chest. Taking a sip, he gently set the now empty glass back on the bar. The tension was so thick you swore you could slice it in half, heat spilling into your body.

“You’re observant.”

Shrugging, you took your own sip—the alcohol no longer burning your throat. “It wasn’t hard to figure out. What else from that conversation would interest you?”

“You.”

The words were out of his mouth before you could even finish the question, your breath catching at the sound of them. Your day had been shit. Enough to rival doomsday itself, but there you were sitting at a bar with him. A man who’s name you didn’t know. The smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, your eyes roving down his figure in an attempt to make him feel half of what he stirred in you.

“Let me buy you a drink?” you asked, pointing to his empty glass.

“I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Your smile widened. “Then ask me.”

For the second time that night he was caught off guard, his eyes widening slightly. The song behind you shifted, a low tune you could feel reverberating through you as he changed seats, taking the stool directly beside you. He moved silently, his thighs pressed tightly against yours as he got comfortable in the spot—his arm brushing yours.

The first thing you noticed was how warm he was—as if his body was a personal heater. But that was pushed out of your mind, replaced by the second thing. He looked at you clearly, hair falling onto his forehead slightly until you finally saw it. The actual color of his eyes. Crimson irises caught you in their hold, keeping you until he was satisfied—drinking you in, he trailed his gaze over the entirety of your body.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your face, body unconsciously leaning in.

You inhaled sharply, watching as his eyes lit up at your reaction to his proximity, his hand sliding closer until his fingers brushed against your wrist. Suddenly your shitty day was but a mere memory in the back of your mind. Entirely forgotten in favor of him. He was so large you swore he blocked everything else, filling your eyesight with nothing else but his frame. The breadth of his shoulders, the length of his torso and how he had to hunch over slightly to get close to you.

“What’s your name?” you inquired finally, your words breathy and dazed.

He grinned, hand curving around your wrist and pulling your hand towards him. “What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

Leaning in so close until you felt his chest brush your shoulder, his lips met your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Miguel,” he breathed, smiling at the way you practically melted into him.

For a brief moment you forgot you were sitting in the middle of a bar, people surrounding the two of you. When in fact it felt like nothing remained except you and him and the song playing behind you. Your exhale was shaky, representing the way you felt on the inside. As if he’d pulled you apart with a single word, his body heat affecting your brain—turning it to mush.

“Miguel…” Your hand curved around the front of his jacket, eyes meeting his as he moved, brushing his lips across your cheek.

“Hm?”

Something heady built in your chest, solidifying the truth you knew the second you started talking to him. You wouldn’t be leaving this bar alone. You simply hoped he was on the same page as you, but the way he hooked his arm around your waist, thighs bracketing your frame told you everything you needed to know. He was not only on the same page; he was flipping forward, reading a future that had yet to occur.

You almost wanted to ask him if he liked what he saw. If—by some odd chance—there was something more than this fiery electricity between the two of you.

“You still want that drink bebita?”

Words evaded you the longer he sat there, filling the space with nothing but him. How he smelled, how he sounded, fuck even the way his lips felt dragging against your skin as he spoke. You wanted to ask where he came from. How you’d never seen him in this bar before—your life now altered because of something so small. Simply a conversation. Yet now you couldn’t see yourself ending the night without him.

“No,” you sighed, shifting until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his. “You?”

He shook his head.

“I…” Your teeth dug into your bottom lip. “I don’t usually do this.”

Grinning, he raised your chin slightly with his knuckle, eyes catching you once more in their web, snaring you in a trap so saccharine you could taste it on your tongue. “Your pace.”

And with two simple words you were his. Captured happily in something you never wanted to be rid of. You smiled, your other hand sliding up into his hair, and finally the weight of your day lifted entirely off your shoulders. The question of whether or not he wanted to kiss you was on the tip of your tongue, but like before…he was miles ahead of you. With a small grin, he tipped your face towards his, catching your lips in a kiss you felt down to your fingertips.

He didn’t kiss you gently, languidly taking his time as if you were both here until the sun went up. No, that was nothing like what you expected. He devoured you. Stole every gasp, sound, and sigh you could have let out; his hand holding you exactly where he wanted you. Miguel kissed you like you were his only source of oxygen. And you let him. You bent to his will with ease, giving into every touch.

Whining softly, you tugged sharply on his hair when his tongue swept across your bottom lip. The taste of his drink now seeping into your mouth. You didn’t even question letting him in, desperate to know what he tasted like—what his tongue felt like licking deeply into you. Shivers ran down your spine when his hand gripped your hip tightly, pulling you closer until you sat on the very edge of the stool.

“Fuck,” he rumbled, pulling away and sliding his lips along your jaw.

“Oh…” Your breath was a sharp gasp when his fingers trailed down your throat, cupping it so quickly you could have sworn you imagined it. But the heat that spilled into your stomach told you otherwise.

His lips were heaven on your skin, nipping and licking until you were sure that certain spots would be tender tomorrow morning. You didn’t care. He could have sunk his teeth directly into your neck and you’d still ask for more. Somewhere in between talking and the tension, you lost any sense of worry. Those feelings went out the window the second he moved closer.

“I um—” Pushing at his chest, you reluctantly parted with the realization that you were still in public, and fucking against the bar would certainly make Ricky ban you for life. So he fell back, his lips swollen and spit slicked—pupils blown wide until the black began to bleed into the red. A swirl of brilliant color.

He smirked, taking in your disheveled appearance, all thanks to him. You had half a mind to drag him back to the bathroom, but the burning glare of Ricky was currently being seared into the side of your head. Without a doubt you knew it said: “You fuck in my bar you’re not coming back.” So you gathered whatever control you had over yourself and downed the remainder of your now tepid drink.

“My apartment is two blocks from here,” you began, exhaling a shaky breath as you finally took the leap for what you wanted. “We can be there in five minutes.”

Miguel nodded, yanking out his wallet and tossing down enough cash to cover not only his drinks, but yours as well. Which was your sign to grab your things. No words had to be said, because the intent was clear to the both of you. He was here to find the same relief you were—something to take his mind off of life for a little while.

Waving a quick goodbye towards Ricky, you followed Miguel out of the bar into the cool night air of the city. You were beneath the depths of the main part, where people didn’t necessarily travel to. But you’d grown up there. It remained a place where you still felt like you belonged. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. Not when the intentions for the night were clear to both of you. But that didn’t stop him from reaching down and slipping your hand into his, clasping your fingers together as you walked down the street.

Such a small act of tenderness—barely noticeable to anyone walking past—but meant so much more.

“What brought you to El Nido?” you asked, leading him down the street where your apartment building resided. It wasn’t a drastic question, but you couldn’t help your curiosity.

You were a scientist after all.

He shrugged, thumb running along your knuckles. “Needed a night out.”

“Let me guess…” You turned—walking backwards the best you could—regarding him with a suspicious expression. The small smile on his lips caused your heart to thump a little faster. “You’re getting fired tomorrow too?”

For the first time that night you heard him laugh. The sound, soft and low and by all means something you wanted to hear over and over again.

“No.” He took in a breath, his crimson eyes searching the dark streets for nothing in particular—the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing up. “I’m…trying to figure out something.”

“A problem?”

He sighed. “You could say that.”

“Well I think—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence, his arm jerking you forward until you fell into his chest, wrapped tightly to him as a horn echoed loudly behind you. A car sped past, turning rapidly onto the street and disappearing around the corner—leaving the both of you in silence. Your breath came in quickly, eyes wide as fear ran streaked your body, turning you cold. And Miguel watched after the car, his eyes narrowed and body tensed—as if he was ready to take off after them.

That is until he felt your hands press against his chest softly, drawing his attention back to you.

“T-Thank you,” you gasped, trying to calm the adrenaline that rushed through you.

There was no mistaking what would have happened if he hadn’t pulled you close; if his reflexes hadn’t kicked in so quickly. You wanted to ask him how he did it. How he knew the car was coming, but the words were trapped in the back of your throat. The shock had started to flood your system. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along your jaw in a soothing motion that seemed to slow the panic filtering through your body. You wondered if he even knew he was doing it—the touch yet another reflex to slow the racing of your heart.

To bring you back down to Earth.

“Okay?” he murmured, his eyes tracing the curve of your face, watching your eyelids flutter for a moment as you met his gaze once more.

You nodded, lightly gripping his wrist simply for the sake of comfort. “I’m okay.”

The night was no doubt effectively altered. Not necessarily ruined, but you couldn’t go on the way you were before. No teasing words, no light conversation. Instead you walked in silence. His hand clasped in yours and guard up in case of something else happening until you reached your place.

You were surprised to find that you enjoyed the silence while you walked. As if Miguel offered you a sense of safety and comfort you never had before; your body responding differently than you expected. Sure, you were attracted to him, but you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him when it came to this. To needing safety in the midst of possible danger.

“This is me,” you said, pulling out your key from your pocket—the hallway light dim and nearly extinguished. You had to remember to speak to the building manager about it tomorrow.

He grinned slightly, waiting patiently for the door to swing open with a soft creak as you entered. While you wouldn't call your small and rather overpriced apartment perfect, it felt more like a home than even he expected it to be. A small kitchen gave way into a bigger living room. Your record player was placed on top of an aged wooden table—piles of books stacked haphazardly through the place.

Miguel eyed the various plants you’d managed to keep alive—each of them pointed towards the one large window on the opposite wall. A place where sunlight no doubt streamed in on early mornings.

He originally believed it would look modern; more like the outside city and world as a whole. Yet your home resembled something old. A place that stood still against the ravages of time—as if it were merely a museum and he was there to admire its antiques.

“I know it’s not much.” You shifted a small pile of clean clothes off the chair, moving it towards an empty laundry basket in the hallway.

“It’s nice,” he said, and he actually meant it. “Es acogedor.”

You could see the truth in his eyes, the flicker of something familiar coming through the crimson. As if he’d known a life like this once. You wanted to ask him. See if he’d tell you more than just his name—perhaps why his eyes were that color—but you knew tonight wasn’t about making this more than it was. In reality you both needed this. No strings, no commitment. Merely two people looking to release themselves from the heaviness of the day.

He turned, catching you staring blatantly at him. “You want me to make you a drink?”

The question threw you off and your expression must have given you away—his lips curling into a grin. “I thought I was supposed to ask you that?”

Heat curled low in your stomach, spreading with every step he took until the tips of his shoes met yours. He bent down, hand curling around the nape of your neck, fingers digging in slightly. Chills spread down your spine, goosebumps rising along your arms, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this. To remain oblivious to everything happening around you.

Everything except him.

He brought his lips closer, his breath washing across your cheek. “So ask me,” he breathed.

“Do you want me to—”

Cutting you off he dragged you closer, practically hauling you up to his chest as his lips covered yours. It sent your mind reeling, your hands digging into his hair as if on instinct. As if you knew exactly what he wanted. As if…you’d done this before. Something intoxicating built up in your body, turning your brain foggy when his hands slid down, cupping your ass and dragging a moan from your throat.

He met your sound with one of his own—a ragged grunt that came from low in his chest. The echo of it reverberating through your body. You knew what this was. What it wouldn’t become. Yet you couldn’t stop the longing in your heart—the yearning that refused to be locked away in your mind. You wondered what it would be like if this was more. Would it always feel this…electric?

Something pulled you together and you couldn’t determine what it was. Except at that moment you couldn’t even determine your own name.

His tongue swept in your mouth, shoving all your thoughts aside and bringing forth something new. A feeling so strong you found yourself grasping for him tighter, pulling him closer as he licked deeply into you—tasting the alcohol on your tongue.

“Bedroom,” you gasped, yanking on the strands of his hair and earning another delicious grunt.

“Donde—”

“Down the hall.”

Stumbling back you felt his hand hitch your leg over his hip, nearly dragging you with him. Yet you could hardly complain. You were pretty sure that if he let you go you’d go falling to the ground from his touch alone. He moved your head where he wanted, lips slotting over yours and spit nearly trailing down your chin. A rush of slick poured into your panties, your nails scratching along his scalp as he nearly hit the wall, pressing you against it and hitching your other leg up.

“Fuck.”

You tried to tell him that you needed more, that you wanted him inside of you, but all that came out was a breathy moan. His hips grinded into yours, a soft moan being pressed to the shell of your ear, and that alone nudged you towards something earth-shattering.

His lips slid back along yours, hands grasping for any skin he could reach as you practically shoved your hips against his. The desperation practically seeped into the air—permeating your tongue with its cloying flavor. Words were exchanged for moans, tender moments now shifting into something quicker and faster. You wanted to feel him against you as fast as humanly possible, but Miguel was eager to remain here. Holding you up against the wall and kissing you until you ran out of oxygen.

“So I take it that’s a no on the drink?” you breathed, smiling at the small frustrated sound echoed in the back of his throat.

“Cállate,” he grunted, hiking you up and grinning at the yelp that was muffled into his mouth.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt him begin to move—heading towards your bedroom. The door remained open from earlier and you thanked yourself for making sure to keep the place tidy before leaving for work today. Before you could detach yourself from him and lead him to your bed, he turned and sat down. Taking you with him until you were sprawled on his lap.

“Tú eres hermoso,” you mumbled against his lips, watching in delight as his expression shifted. Surprise spreading across his chiseled features.

“I’m supposed to say that to you,” he replied, a small grin playing on his lips.

You shrugged, pressing your lips to his jaw. “Guess we’re doing tonight backwards.”

He chuckled, sliding his hands beneath your shirt until it was clear that he wanted it off. You complied with ease. Allowing him to drop the fabric to the floor as his eyes fell to your chest, taking in the pretty lace of your bra. The crimson you’d come to admire darkened to something you’d call a burgundy—lust clouding his gaze. He wanted to take you apart. To see the inner workings of your body—your mind. Anything he could get his hands on. And you’d let him.

There was no doubt that Miguel had gotten beneath your skin in such a short amount of time. He filled your home with a feeling you hadn’t had before. Something tangible and real. Something you wanted to keep.

“Guapísima,” he murmured, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over the spot where your nipples poked through the fabric. A soft jolt rolled down your spine at the feeling.

Warmth clung to your chest, filling you to the brim with a sensation you’d only had once before in your life. Only this was different. This didn’t feel new or like you were just discovering it. No, this felt familiar. As if it had been hiding away in your heart, biding its time until you crossed his path—until you found one another. You wanted to wrap yourself in it, sink into its comfort, and you wondered if he felt it too.

The strange way all of this felt right.

Like coming home after being away for so long.

“Miguel,” you gasped when his mouth trailed down to your chest. The heat of his lips sticking to your already burning skin—his tongue trailing along the tops of your breasts.

He pulled down the fabric, taking your nipple into his mouth—practically lighting up on the inside when you cried out softly. Your hand dug into his hair, tugging on the strands as he scraped his teeth against you. Drawing out every sound he could find hidden in the depths of your chest. Your hips ground against him, clit pulsing with a need that would only be satiated by his touch.

For a moment you worried that he wouldn’t continue his path. That he’d ignore the way you were practically panting for him—the pleas falling from your lips with ease. But then his hand dipped beneath your waistband, fingers trailing along the edge of your panties. Your eyes nearly rolled back, hips canting up as you tried to get him to go further—to release you of this agony. But he held still. Entirely focused on driving you to the very brink of insanity; continuing the path with his teeth and tongue along your chest until the skin was tender.

“Impatient are we?” he mused, nose brushing against your jaw—the grin prominent in his voice.

You huffed, gripping tightly onto his hair and dragging his head up. “A tease are we?”

A moan ripped from his throat, his hips jolting up into yours at the slight sting of pain that bloomed in his head. His eyes were heavy, mouth parted as he took in a deep breath, and you could have sworn that you’d never see a prettier sight again. He looked at you as one would a statue in a museum. Tracing the curves and dips of your body with eyes that resembled the color of blood. Eyes that would never leave your mind again.

His tongue swept across his bottom lip, teeth protruding outwards slightly and you had half a mind to ask him about it. To question how exactly he had fangs, but your desire won out on the logical part of your mind. Leaning forward you licked your tongue along them, feeling how he shivered beneath your touch—how his body sang a tune you could match.

“Careful,” he rumbled, his hand pressing against your back and bringing you even closer. “I might bite.”

You smiled, sliding your palms beneath the collar of his shirt, the hot skin beneath warming your cold fingers instantly. “Sounds like a promise to me.”

“I’m not good with promises.” He let you pull his shirt up, raising his arms and helping where you couldn’t reach.

Even you couldn’t deny there was something so domestic about this. How he carefully shifted you so that you were now pressed into the mattress. His large frame looming over you—hair falling into his eyes as he looked down. It felt natural; the fluid movements were almost instinctive. Like your bodies knew what to do before you could even comprehend anything happening. You wanted to blame the alcohol—or hell perhaps it was the lust that was making you slightly lose it—but you saw it beneath the surface of his slightly guarded expression.

He felt it too.

Perhaps even more.

“Come here,” you breathed, cupping the back of his neck and bringing his lips back where they belonged—where they felt the most right.

You felt his hands fall to the waistband of your pants, popping open the button and you were quick to raise your hips, helping him push them down. There was a swiftness to his movements. Like he knew what you wanted before you did—something telling him that you were ready to keep going. But that would be scientifically impossible. No one could predict things that way. Yet you couldn’t help but go back to the color of his eyes—the fangs that now scraped along your throat and down your shoulder.

He seemed to be a scientific marvel. Something unknown.

“Your tur—oh—” Your head fell back, lips falling open when his hand dipped even lower, fingers sliding into your soaked panties.

A groan echoed in the room, his lips finding yours again as he gathered the slick that pooled at your entrance and dragged it back to your clit. Setting a slow and maddening pace that had you grasping for his shoulders. Your nails pricked the skin so hard you knew there would be marks later. He pressed down, sparks scorching your body, and grinned at your reaction. How your eyes squeezed shut, leg kicking out and hips pushing into his hand.

“So wet for me.” He sunk one finger into you, tearing a whine from your throat.

“Mig—” The breath caught in your lungs. “I want—fuck—please…”

He shushed you gently, lips sliding against yours messily as he worked you open, slipping another finger into you with ease. “I know amorcito. I’ve gotta open you up for me.”

Something pulled at your stomach, tightening slowly as he continued to pump his fingers into you—the wet squelch of your slick echoing in the room. You knew you were dripping down his hand, that he was able to slip in a third finger as he went. But that didn’t mean he would stop. No Miguel had become hooked on the sounds coming from your lips—the moans that you didn’t try to stifle. He curled his fingers and struck against the spongy part of your walls that made you practically curl up into him.

A surprised cry fell from your lips, eyes flying open to see his lips curl into a small grin, before he doubled down. Shifting the angle, he made sure to press the pads of his fingers in the same spot each time, his thumb swiping along your clit. And you felt that building pressure shift. It clawed its way up your throat, settling in your chest as he murmured soft words of praise.

“Dámelo,” he breathed against your lips. “Give it to me bebita.”

As if your body was following his request, you shattered. A choked cry of his name was swallowed by his kiss, his tongue licking deeply into your mouth—fingers rapidly moving to prolong your pleasure. It was too much, yet not enough. The hunger—the desire—screamed in your chest, begging for him to keep going, for this to be more than just one night. Yet you couldn’t speak.

You gulped in air, legs shaking when the pleasure slowly began to fade into a slight pain. But Miguel wasn’t done. He was far from it. Your heart pounded in your chest when he slipped his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of your release—the shiny stickiness on his palm letting you know how wet you really were.

“Sabes deliciosa,” he murmured, pressing his tongue back into your mouth and sharing the taste of you.

Your hand fell to his pants, pulling at the buckle of his belt as he shifted—making room between your legs to lay over you. His hand pressing into the mattress above your head. The all encompassing feeling of him surrounded you; pressed you into the small haven he created with his body. Keeping you from the rest of the world as you lost yourselves in each other.

“Your belt is being difficult,” you huffed, head falling back against the pillow.

He laughed, opening it with ease and effectively earning a glare from you.

Miguel had to admit there was an ease to being around you. The weight he usually felt hanging atop his shoulders had been lifted—his mind suddenly clearer and mood better. He wanted to figure out why that was, but you were looking at him with a gaze that caused his heart to stutter. The urge to remain close to you seemed to overtake every other thought that ran through his mind. He rid himself of his pants, helping you pull down the lacy fabric—his lips sliding along your inner calf as he did so.

The light touch of your palm grasping on his hand brought his gaze back up—your small smirk rendering him speechless. Miguel had only been this way a few times in his life. All instances he could count on one hand, but this—you—were bringing out an emotion he would have rather kept locked away. Nervousness.

Leaning up on your elbows, you met him halfway, your arm going around his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss you. It was by all means…sweet. The passion remained, lingering beneath the surface and searing through your veins, but something else took over. A feeling he wanted to keep.

“Since we’re doing this backwards,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his and cupping his cheek.

Locking your leg around his hip, you used the leverage of his surprise to send him into the mattress, your hands falling to his chest as you perched yourself in his lap. Your lips formed around a smile when he grunted. The feeling of your bare pussy now spread along his cock—your slick dripping down and coating his length—was divine.

“Mierda.” His hands grasped your hips, grinding you forward a bit until the head of cock brushed your clit, ripping a gasp from your chest.

“F-fuck—” Your head fell forward, teeth digging into your lip.

“You’re gonna fuck me amorcito?” he asked, a flash of something dangerous echoing in his eyes. “Gonna ride me?”

You nodded, mouth falling open when he pressed against your entrance. Whatever comment you had died in the back of your throat when he began to sink into you—a slight sting of pain streaking up your spine as you took him slowly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to open you up, but still it was a stretch. A soft whisper of praise echoed in your ear, his thumb circling your clit to counteract the pain. Even still you dug your nails into his chest, no doubt leaving marks that would bruise later on.

“You can take it,” he murmured, thumb curling around your chin. “You can take it like a good girl.”

A whine caught in your throat, your hips canting down with each small thrust until you were seated in his lap again. His cock filling you completely—the stuffed sensation nearly too much for you. Miguel leaned up, catching your lips in a soft kiss; giving you time to adjust. Yet you felt the sharp need of desire work its way through your body, begging for you to keep going, to take everything he would give you.

“How do you feel?” He pulled at your bottom lip with his thumb, his other hand cupping your ass.

“F-Full,” you whimpered.

“Go ahead,” he said softly, allowing you to lift yourself off his cock slowly—slick coating him down to the coarse hair at his base.

The pace was lazy, barely even there, and he watched. His eyes tracked each movement you made, each time your hips shifted forward to change the angle. He burned the image of you fucking yourself on his cock into his brain—watching as you did exactly what you said you were going do. Ride him.

Scraping your nails down his stomach, you heard him groan, his hips thrusting up slightly and forcing a cry from your throat. You wanted more. Wanted to feel him fuck you into the mattress, but the familiar pressure was already forming again. Building in your stomach with each stunted thrust—the head of his cock brushing against the spot he’d found earlier.

“I’m—” Your head fell back, hips shifting forward to catch it perfectly—eyes squeezing shut. “‘M gonna—o-oh…”

“That’s it,” he rasped, guiding your hips and slamming you down onto him with a strength that made you sob, your hands grasping for any part of him you could reach. “Cum on my cock amorcito. Wanna see you—ah fuck—”

Your hips stuttered, eyes rolling back as the wave crashed over you, nearly pulling you under. A cry echoed in the room, your walls clamping down, and for a moment you felt nothing but bliss. You went blind with it, your body tipping forward into him as he continued to move you in short thrusts, dragging it on even more. Miguel grunted against your throat, sitting up fully and holding you close as you rode out your release, your body practically falling limp against him.

Eventually you felt yourself come back, your hands dragging through his hair as he placed kisses up and down your neck, arms tightening around you. Your legs barely worked, head still fuzzy with the intensity of your orgasm. But the desire still remained, stroking the fire slowly until it once again began to seep through your system. Warming your body.

He was still hard, throbbing against your fluttering walls. That alone caused you to moan softly, your hips shifting down and lips pressing against his jaw.

“You didn’t finish,” you murmured, nails scraping against the back of his neck. The small goosebumps that appeared had a lazy smile curling on your lips.

He ached for that sweet release, wanted to flip you over and chase it, but he didn’t want to leave. At least not yet. There was something about taking his time with you that called to the part of him that had always wanted more. A part he’d crushed over and over again. Claiming it wasn’t necessary. There was no room in his life for that irritating emotion people referred to as love—no space in his heart.

Until a space began to slowly open up. He could barely find it, barely even see the small gash you’d made in the armor around his heart. But he’d discover it eventually.

“I want to see you cum,” you said softly, eyes glimmering with need.

“Bebita—”

Licking along his bottom lip you felt his cock twitch, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass a little harder. “Want to feel it, Miguel. Need it.”

“Shit.” He felt the breath get punched from his lungs, your words sending a streak of heat down his spine. “Yeah? You want it that bad?”

You nodded, lifting yourself on shaky legs only to drop back down, impaling yourself on his cock. He spit out another broken curse, his head falling back briefly before you were tossed back—your body slamming against the mattress. You yelped, eyes going wide when he shifted over you, body covering yours in a way that had a haze settling in your mind. He grinned, fangs digging into his bottom lip as he spread your thighs—hooking them over his forearms and nearly bending you in half.

“All you had to do was ask,” he purred, guiding himself back into your dripping pussy and sinking in with ease.

Gasping, you clawed at his shoulders when he hit so much deeper, the angle changing everything. You wanted to shout his name, to tell him how good it felt, but he’d already started to pull back, shoving himself into you with a strength that sent you up the bed. A ragged sound was pulled from your chest, eyes rolling back when he brushed against that spot so much easier—grinding against it in a way that had your body going numb with pleasure.

“Look at you taking me so well,” he muttered, curling over your body and sending your knees up near your head.

“O-Oh…god!”

“Cosita linda.” His body was tense, teeth baring as he continued to pound into you at a pace that built your release so quick it burned through you. “Pretty fucking thing. Letting me fuck you like this. Perfecta—”

You cried out, nails breaking the skin of his back—leaving deep marks. Tears streamed down your temples, spit falling down your chin when he leaned in to kiss you. He was everywhere. His scent permeated your senses, taste now permanently etched on your tongue, and yet that still wasn’t enough. There was something about him that made you want to crack open your heart and give it to him. Offer yourself up entirely in the hopes he’d accept. He surrounded you, filled your entire being with nothing but him, and you loved it.

Your body went taut, eyes flying open to see him staring down where you were connected, how his cock disappeared into your leaking pussy.

He smiled, hands digging into your hips so tight it sparked a delicious pain when you sobbed incoherently. “I can feel you.” His breath stuttered when your walls clamped down—brows pulling tight and mouth falling open in a silent shout. “That’s it. C’mon—” He gasped, fingers falling to your aching clit and circling it quickly. “Cum on my fucking cock. Soak me.”

This time the release wasn’t built steadily to give you time to prepare. You could barely breathe, your lungs screaming for some small amount of air. Yet your body seemed to be solely focused on one thing. A broken shout of his name left your lips, echoing in the room, combining sinfully with the sound of skin against skin and your slick. His thumb found your clit, pinching it between his fingers and something in you broke.

It slammed into you unexpectedly, dragging out a loud keening wail—white flashing behind your tightly closed eyes as it rushed through you. Flooded every sense you had until all you could comprehend was him chasing his own release. He fucked into you with short stunted thrusts until he fell forward, his lips colliding with yours—a ragged cry being pressed into your mouth.

He spurted into your already dripping pussy, filling you deliciously and sending another flicker of warmth down to the tips of your fingers. His chest heaved, lips swollen and eyes dazed, and you wanted to solidify the sight in your mind. Except the reality of what this was would eventually come crashing back down. Reminding you that he was not yours to have. That you were simply two passing stars in a tangled web of this universe, meant to part ways.

He let your legs fall back to the bed, slipping out of you with a hiss before he flopped onto his back, dragging you with him. His cum dripped down your inner thigh, smearing against the skin. But for now you let it happen. Content to remain right there, feeling his chest rise and fall as he attempted to catch his breath. His fingers traced lightly along your spine, line after line until you realized what it was that he was drawing.

A web.

Or at least…that’s what it felt like.

“I don’t think I can move,” you mumbled, smiling into his skin when he laughed—the sound low and rough.

“That’s a good thing I hope,” he replied, glancing down at you—eyes tracing the curve of your hip and breast that pressed into his side.

You placed a kiss on his shoulder, hand splaying across his stomach. “Definitely.”

Silence enveloped the both of you like a comfortable blanket, filling the space with a soft feeling. It lulled you into a state of peace. Sleep nearly overtaking you. Yet you fought against it. Too busy taking in what he looked like—attempting to commit him to memory lest you never see him again. You wanted him burned into your brain, each memory tattooed into place permanently. But that’s not how life went.

This wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t yours.

So you settled against his body, soaking in the warmth he emanated and allowed your eyes to flutter shut. His breath came in slower, arm curling around you as he fell asleep gradually—his heart a steady thrum in his chest. An echo that allowed sleep to drag you beneath the surface, giving way to something peaceful.

The loud angry beep of your alarm clock jolted you awake, your eyes flying open and body aching as you sat up quickly. There was a mess of blankets on your floor, obviously kicked off in the middle of the night. It seemed that with the heat of the outside world and his body, you were content to sleep with a thin sheet wrapped around you. Yet where you expected to find clothes left haphazardly around the room, you found nothing.

Your clothes that had been stripped off now lay in a pile on your chair, shoes placed by the end of your bed. Last night was clear to you now. The all consuming bliss, the way he had felt buried inside of you—how he had touched you. And while you understood it was merely a one night stand. You couldn’t stop the disappointment from seeping into your chest.

The sight of him completely erased from your apartment put a damper on an otherwise good morning.

Sighing, you swung yourself into a sitting position at the end of your bed. A throbbing headache began to spread along your skull. No doubt the cause of waking up too fast. Either that or the alcohol had actually decided to give you a bitch of a hangover. You’d have to figure that out later. The reminder of what the day held for you flickered bright and blaring in your mind—killing whatever joy you had left in your chest.

“Fuck,” you spit, dropping your head in your hands as you finally settled on one conclusion. You were about to be fired.

You had about an hour before you had to rush out the door. Giving you enough time to find out how to stop the delicious ache in between your thighs from going away. The echo of the outside world drifted up through your somehow open window and you raised your eyes, gazing at the spot where he had been only a few hours ago.

Only to catch sight of a glass of water placed on your nightstand—a ripped piece of paper beneath it. You practically lunged for it, hands carefully sliding the paper out and eyes tracing the messy scribble of what you assumed to be his writing. The message was short. Direct. It could barely even be considered sweet, but you saw the tenderness through the short sentence—the care in his action of leaving you with something to remember him by.

I had a lot of fun.

So we can do things the right way next time.

— Miguel

Beneath the message a phone number was scrawled, as if he’d been hesitant to even put it there in the first place. But it seemed that you weren’t the only one to feel that strange connection. That lingering sensation of familiarity whenever you thought about him. There was something to uncover between you. Perhaps the something more that you were aching for last night.

You had no clue.

Yet that didn’t stop you from grabbing your phone and inputting the numbers carefully. Glancing back at each one to make sure that the message wouldn’t disappear before your very eyes. You typed his name at the top, smiling at the contact before sticking a web right beside it. The memory of what he’d traced along your skin coming back to you.

A thrill of joy went through your body, lips pulling up into a wide smile as you pressed the button to send a text. While it may have been too soon—perhaps a bit fast if you were looking at it properly—the warmth in your chest won the battle in the end.

How could something that felt this right be messed up with speed?

How could it go wrong?

#miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara #my writing

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Text

Drink Up Chapter One

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x female!reader

TW: mentions of drinking

Summary: You're a new bartender at the Hard Deck and you're more than willing to fill a certain blonde pilot in on the newest drink on the menu.

Word Count:1k

A/N: part two maybe?? This has been rotting my brain for three weeks and I finally got it written

It's Saturday night at the hard deck and you're slammed. You've only been in North Island for a month and it's your second week as a bartender here. You roll your eyes as you hear someone clear their throat loudly to get your attention and take your time finishing up the drink order you're working on before turning around to see who's so impatient.

Your eyebrow quirks as you come face to face with a blonde man leaning over the bar with a commercial-worthy smile. Your eyes rake over him slowly and he smirks as you blatantly check him out.

You'd be lying if you said the man isn't hot enough to lick chocolate sauce off of. You can tell through his service khakis that he's very fit but your admiration quickly turns to annoyance when he speaks.

"Like what you see darlin'?" He swirls a toothpick in his mouth and you notice a slight twang in his voice. You scoff and cross your arms with a bored expression. "Hardly. What can I get you?"

You watch his eyes twinkle at your attitude and your irritation only grows. You've already met plenty like him in your time here. The type to take your disinterest as a challenge and get a semi at the idea of a woman with a backbone. Usually, the women here are all over the sailors, so it's a game to them when they have to actually earn your attention.

He ignores your question and leans in further. "What's your name? Haven't seen you around here before." He seems genuinely intrigued and your eyes narrow. You could easily tell him your name, it's not like it's a secret. But you'd rather have a little fun.

You lean against the bar only keeping a few inches between the two of you and smile seductively. Your eyes shoot to his lapel and you notice the wings pinned neatly to the fabric. His eyes widen ever so slightly and he glances down at your lips. You have him just where you want him. "Doesn't matter. You won't be using it, flyboy."

You retreat just as quickly as you had advanced and you watch the realization that you played him set in on his face. Jake always wants what he can't have and right now, you're looking like forbidden fruit wrapped in a pretty little bow.

"That was mean." He teases and you smirk. "Who said I was nice? Are you ordering or not? I'm busy." You say while gesturing to the chaos around you. He shakes his head slightly and stands up straight. "Three beers. Please and thank you."

You turn around without a word and grab the drinks, quickly popping the tops off. When you spin back around you see him frowning at the drink menu and set the beers down to get his attention. His eyes shoot up to you and he points at the laminated piece of paper.

"What the hell is a hurricane shot?" He asks and you look at him amused. "Why don't you order it and find out?" You snark and he swears you might be his future wife.

"Whatever you say, Red." You frown at the name and he nods toward your shirt. It's a crimson red cutoff tank top and you resist the urge to smirk.

"Coming right up, Ken Doll." You feel butterflies in your stomach as excitement courses through you. He has no idea what he just signed up for and you're thrilled you get to be the one to fill him in.

You pour him a shot of tequila and fill a glass with water before climbing up to sit on the counter in front of him. He's standing between your legs and he looks at you with a shit-eating grin.

A few of the other bar patrons have witnessed the new menu item over the past two weeks and gather around to watch. The small crowd grabs the attention of his friends and they look over confused.

You've already met the tall man, Rooster you think, and explained the drink to him. He turns to the rest of the pilots and almost squeals with glee. "You're gonna want to see this." He exclaims and leads them all over to where you're at.

You hand the pilot his shot and hold onto the cup of water. "Drink up G.I Joe." You smile and he winks at you before throwing the clear liquid back. What comes next takes him by surprise. As soon as he sets the shot glass down, you throw the water in his face and smack him across the cheek.

His head jerks to the side at the force and he blinks a few times trying to process what the hell just happened. He slowly turns back to look at you and the look in your eyes almost makes him order another one despite the burning sensation slowly spreading across his face.

The bar erupts in cheers and Rooster looks like he might pass out from laughing so hard. Neither of you says anything as you stare each other down and Jake feels electricity shoot through him. You have a mischievous glint in your eyes and your pupils are dilated looking at the man in front of you.

You never break eye contact, even after the rest of the bar goes back to what they were doing before. Your eyebrow shoots up in a challenging manner and Jake feels his mouth go dry.

"You good tinker bell?" You ask and he snaps out of his trance. "It's Hangman." He corrects you while plastering that annoyingly perfect grin back on his face.

You pretend to be deep in thought for a second before tsking. "Nah. Don't like it." Jake stares at you for a second and shakes his head while leaning in slightly.

"I think I love you." He blubbers and you throw your head back with a laugh before leaning down and grazing your lips against his ear. You hear his breath hitch and his body stiffens. You smile to yourself, proud of the reaction you've elicited. "That's what they all say, flyboy."

Before he can react, you're back on the other side of the bar taking orders and ignoring him. He grabs his beers and heads back to the group with a shell-shocked expression.

You're going to haunt his dreams until he can find out more about you. He sits down and ignores the taunts of his peers. He's going to find out everything he can from Penny as soon as she gets back.

Taglist:

@drakelover78

@manyfandomsfanvergent

@ssprayberrythings

@disturbedbeautywrites

@desert-fern

@one-sweet-gubler

Click here to be added!

#Jake seresin #Jake seresin imagine #jake seresin top gun #Jake seresin x reader #hangman imagine #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #hangman #top gun #top gun imagine

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lace-coffin · 4 months

Note

Hii! I hope your having a good day/night so far, but I js now thought of this and I lowkey cannot stop having brain-rots over it… so yknow how like, men are sometimes called ‘bears’? I was wondering if you could write a fic abt Asa getting his hands on a so called ‘bear’ of a dude who’s much beefier and taller than him, but still submissive asf? 👀

How would Asa Emory feel about a gay bear s/o? (Nsfw)

Asa Emory x male!bear!reader

Tw for kidnapping, power exchange/power dynamics, general Asa Emory things

Requests are open!

I was literally about to go to bed when I saw this request and I was like I NEED TO DO THIS NOW OMG. Safe to say I absolutely love this idea and loved writing it💖 hope you enjoy!

Asa didn’t think he had a type until he met you..now he’s sure he couldn’t ever go back.

You were the lecturer in the classroom next door, sure Asa knew of you but he didn’t know you personally, never caring enough to go introduce himself to other lecturers like some kind of newly moved in house warming party, he was solely interested in teaching his classes, getting out, and tending to his collection, hopefully managing to cram a few hours sleep in until he has to wake up and repeat it again.

The class had finally began to pick up as all the students had settled and the lecture was underway, until a timid knock sounded on the door. Asa was pissed. If he has to sit through his students fussing again he’s going to lose it.

That was until he pulled open the heavy wood door and revealed you, looking professional but still boyishly handsome. Your tucked shirt pulling taught where the largest part of your belly settled, folding softly over your belt. Sleeves rolled up to reveal thick arms, spattered with an ample amount of dark hair, knuckles equally hairy to match. Asa’s face heats up and he curses in his head, only making matters worse as he drags his eyes over your ample chest subtly, well as subtly as you can when your practically eye fucking the bear of a lecturer that just interrupted your class.

“-came to ask if I can borrow some empty work books…excuse me..sir?” Asa’s head snaps back up to the stranger’s face, realising he hadn’t been listening to a word the man was saying, completely lost in eyeing him up. “Ah, my apologies, I’m a little out of it today, this way.” Asa tries to recover the interaction and guides him to the empty work books, picking up a load with a grunt and placing them in your hands, not missing the way your knuckles brush his during the exchange.

You take the books from him like it’s nothing, not even a strain or flinch, fuck, that was hotter than it should’ve been. You thank him and leave, presumably back to teach your class, whatever it is you actually teach, he’d been to caught off guard to ask anything of importance.

For the rest of the day Asa can’t forget the way “sir” sounded coming from your lips.

He wants to find out more about you and he does, under the guise of bumping into you in the teachers lounge or offering you a ride back to your house. he now knows you teach English, it’s not really what you wanted to do but it pays the bills. He knows you usually wear suits apart from on Fridays when you choose something more casual for the end of the week. He knows you live alone and your daily schedule, knows when the best time to strike is. He knows no one will look for you.

It’s Months later and everything has changed, Asa has more of a spring in his step as he returns home, the weight of the day not affecting him as harshly when he knows he’s coming home to his favourite pet.

It wasn’t hard to gain your trust, easy to believe in peoples kind words and actions, it was almost laughably easy to find out where and how you live, oblivious to the turtle neck clad figure trailing a few blocks behind. You hadn’t gone down easy into the box but that’s the way he likes it, likes a bit of a struggle.

Now Asa has you at his beck and call, only needing to snap his fingers or say one word to have you scrambling to follow, eager to impress. You would think due to your large structure that you would be in control, no questions asked but it was obvious to any onlooker that wasn’t the case. Asa had you wrapped around his finger, always following his heels like a well trained attack dog willing to do anything for his masters approval.

Now Asa had you where he wanted he wasted no time in admiring you, all soft curves and dark hair, masculine and sexy. Your daily wear now mostly consisted of leather harnesses, loving the way the straps wrapped around you, making your flesh spill over them but constricting you at the same time. He could stare at the way the harness pushed forward and presented your hairy tits to him for hours, now adorned with two shiny barbells to Asa’s liking. Tugging on your harness when he needed to move you was always a plus in the design, and always and excuse to run his hands over your warm skin.

Despite what anyone may presume you actually turned out to be naturally submissive once broken down, “the bigger they are the harder they fall” as they say, Asa’s not sure that applies to kidnapping grown men but he can’t find it in himself to care. Your doe eyes look to Asa for guidance in even the simplest things, loving the attention and not having to think for yourself. Just wanting to be a mutt for your master and nothing else.

Asa thought you were perfect, the way your eyes water as you drool dumbly behind the bone shaped gag tightly in your mouth. The way your hairy thighs wrap around him as he fucks into you obscenely. The way you sit at his feet obediently and keep his cock warm in the back of your throat as he works at his desk, only making small noises of complaint when you run out of air. Nothing asa can’t fix with a sharp slap on the cheek and a kiss on the forehead.

You take well to the cage, having just enough room to stretch out and sit up but that’s it. You crawl back in when ordered, letting sir lock you in with one last kiss on the lips and a request to be good and sleep well. You’re always excited to see him again in the morning, pressed against the cage needily and wiggling your behind in a cute imitation of a dogs wagging tail.

“Bark” you let out a sound similar to a woof, not completely the same as an actual dog but you’re not completely confident in it yet, still humiliated by the action. Asa’s lips thin out into a straight line, not completely satisfied with your effort.

“Again, put your voice into it” you let out a sigh of embarrassment and close your eyes, breathing in and letting out a more solid bark. Asa smiles this time, running his gloved hand over hair, abruptly grabbing a handful and wrenching your head back so you can meet his dark eyes. “Good boy, always so eager to please master, aren’t you my mutt?” You make a weak noise at being grabbed so harshly but reply “y-yes sir” Asa tugs your hair harder causing your scalp to sting in a way that makes your thighs rub together. “Again, louder.” He orders back, not making any room for excuses. “Yes sir! I love being a stupid mutt for you! Love following orders and making you proud!” You pant back, a lot louder and more desperate this time.

A satisfied smile slips onto Asa’s face as he releases your hair from his grasp, easing the pain in your scalp. Your master tugs the ring of your collar, pulling your chin up with it to look at him.

A moment passes and looks are exchanged, yours of need and Asa’s of smugness. Your lips meet in the middle for a searing kiss, lips and teeth clashing. “Good dog” Asa mutters in between kisses.

#slashers #slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #asa emory #asa emory x reader #the collection #writing #my writing

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ghostlythunderbird · 7 months

Text

I am coming to offer this thot to anyone who wants it because I have no brain juice to even write this.

But my mind has been on some Werewolf!Ghost action for a bit now, not just the regular giant wolf that walks in two legs no no. I'm talking about the Twilight big ass doggos type of werewolves. But only only that; the werewolf’s human form also has ears and a tail (kind of like a hybrid).

ANYWAYS I had a thot about how Price and Laswell could be were keepers parse a and they would recently capture another werewolf (I think of them being a female were because I do a lot of self inserting over here don't mind me lol) that they could potentially pair Ghost with; or whoever your thinking of babe it could be Gaz, Soap, Keegan, or even König the possibilities are endless in the spooky month.

As for you my dear sweet reader, your story is quite different; you were a lone wolf for a long time and you've never really been in a werewolf friendly place. People are fearful of your kind as most think your a mindless creature lingering for their flesh; well soon your found out to be a werewolf and are captured by a “Rehabilitation project” specifically for your kind. Your time there was actually pretty nice, you had shelter, food and you felt safe. The environment itself reminded you of your birth pack’s old hunting grounds.

Well soon after your feeling well and the veterinarian team clears you are in good health, your soon ready to be paired with the boys. But who could be a perfect fit? You needed someone to be strong and quite dominant, they also needed some pretty good genes is you know what I mean *aggressive eyebrow wiggles*

But at the same time could you IMAGINE all the trial and errors of being paired with these boys who have NO idea on how to court you properly. Ghost does show interest but doesn't even know where to start much less make a conversation with you, Gaz and Soap are beyond excited of finally having another werewolf (can guarantee soap will be too head over heels where his brain don't work much), Keegan might become too standoffish and poor König tries his best and you end up being gifted a whole ass moose.

Thanks for coming to my 12 am ADHD Ted talk (I have so much brain rot for this I just had to get it out there for you all to suffer with me please send help)

#mystic speaks #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod #keegan p russ #keegan russ #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod konig #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #john price #cod modern warfare #kate laswell #werewolf #this some real ADHD hours yall #enjoy the brainrot

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spotsupstuff · 10 months

Note

you've mentioned that sparrows would have reincarnated as a slugcat?

would you mind elaborating on that?

also would they have met caper again after becoming all scuggy?

heehee

hoohoo hee :)c of course i'll elaborate! it is Her ✨ Fish's little best animal friend

wonderfully enough, Sparrows and the Tinkerer were developed completely removed from each other in my head, so Tinkerer still feels like a rather separate character from Sparrows even though they somehow wound up havin a lot of similiarities. exactly how the reincarnation stuff should feel like

the Tinkerer is Sparrows! and no character in-universe will ever find out. it isn't important. nobody but Tinkerer is affected by this, and Tinktink doesn't really have the means to speak about it. but for us behind the screens that know about this it will make Tinktink's interactions with the world just a lil bit more juicy

you've sent this at a good time, too! the day ur question came in i was actually pondering how to somehow make use of this reincarnation fact and not just let it float about as a lil bonus for the people that would know about this lil tiny ultimately unimportant connection

so, the idea: as we (probably) all know, Euros is going to end up developing the Rot. this is distressing for a large amount of reasons, but the main point rn is that Euros is also a secret archive of folklore of the lower circles in the Eo group, plus maybe even a little bit over the range's borders to the east (after all, there's two more groups right next door to him n he's a phone operator chief). Euros is going to die a slow painful death and he won't be able to care for or save his collection of knowledge, which somehow manages to hurt him more than the reality of his impending doom

maybe not so surprising, considering that in his archive are the stories, the history, the spirit of his late lover's home- a place he clung to for as long as he could, the one he spent the most time in with his overseers, the one that held people he constantly wished could be his citizens instead of the vile and fake *things* soiling the streets of Ales

so one day after the Fish has properly reconnected to the Eo group, is caught up on current events and trying his *damnest* to revive Mission Self-preservation even though it is guaranteed to be useless, Euros mentions the nightmare that he's living through

"I'm a dead man walking, carrying precious treasures of people that were never heard crying out. I've held them close and safely within myself for over two thousand years. And now, when I'm fated to rot through and splatter on the ground, I fear all this time will be for nought. That I will kill what I've been protecting for so long."

"Even if nobody ever reads these- learns of them, hears them out from above their graves- I can't bear the thought of losing them."

and well Fish DOES have a lot of beef with Euros, but at this point this bitterness is starting to give away to desperation and horror of the terrible torment waiting for them in the future. he might be stubbornly still trying with the Mission, but he would go against what makes him himself if he didn't acknowledge that they are all damned for good no matter what he tries. so he gives in to the pity and hails Tinkerer to his chamber

he explains to her what he needs her to do and tells Euros about the plan. Tinktink has to travel all of this distance

to get to Euros (basically walk through the whole Europe), but dammit, she helped one Iterator that became her closest friend, she will help another one (a different Gen 2 that she loved and dedicated her whole life to in a different life)

Fish sends her on her way with a hug and a plead to keep herself safe

it takes her over a month to get there even with the help of vehicles like the barely working trains and a remshackle sky-sail that Fish guided her through fixing in their free time together. when she gets on top of Euros' structure, the dejavus start to hit. she visits the Mechanics' home, her feet carrying her to the bedroom as if it was just another end of the workshift. she looks in the cupboards she- opened millions of times- never even touched. she walks outside and then down the path to the entrance into the Iterator she's- taken countless times- never set a foot on

she saw these halls so many times she can pin point where every screw is- she's never been here, she can't understand these giant beings, they are too complex for her animal brain. that specific rhythm of beeps and pumps and water rushing through metal veins has haunted- comforted- her in many of her dreams. the Tinkerer makes it to the chamber almost like on an auto-pilot

when she enters the chamber, the slugcat finds itself disappointed, scared, confused- this isn't what this place is supposed to look like (but how does she know what it is supposed to look like-?), this isn't how she left it (this is the first time she stands here, what are these thoughts). it's supposed to be brighter. warmer. why is the puppet's plating and skin damaged by time, where is it its vibrancy, why are its eyes so tired? there are panels missing from the walls ("it's got to be the results of that Fever i once made a proj- i can fix thi-! what?"), glowing artificial bronze robins fly about or sleeping on his shoulders, tiny Rot cysts pulsate from the cracks in the umbilical arm. where has the firebird in that halo gone off to?

Euros greets her joyfully ("oh what are you trying to play at, you goof. i've known you for so long, i can tell when something's wrong. what's hurting? why are you tired? i'll get you back into shape, doncha worry love.")

"Ah, you made it! Welcome to my chamber, adroit little thing."

"Please. Your journey was a long one. I hold no doubt a very dangerous one, too. I won't march you into the job immediately. Rest up."

Tinkerer thinks he's strange. but her legs are indeed hurting, the bag strapped to her is heavy. she curls up in the corner of the room and tries to get some shut eye. she almost falls asleep when Euros starts mumbling under his breath, shooting nervous glances towards the birds. five fingered hands tremble so badly the joints rattle like a child's toy. he's scary, when his shoulders hunch up like that and those tired eyes turn frantic. but it hurts so much to see him like that for some reason, more so than it is scary. so against the better judgement of a survivor, she softly coos at him

the puppet's head snaps to her, gaze cold. the mumbles increase in volume, allowing her to understand

"...I'll tell you what. I have another mission for you, little messenger. But it has to stay a secret between the two of us. Nobody would approve, especially not the one you belong to now."

something whispers that the puppet closing in is supposed to be a comfort. the larger part of the Tinkerer instead finds itself wishing to run away

"Are you aware of the Memory Crypts that lie beneath all of us City Bearers?"

cautious nod, back pressed against the wall

"Good."

#Spot says stuff #rw #oc tag #oc: the tinkerer #oc: caper of euros #euros has fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun at the end of his liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife

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infoglitch · 4 months

Text

Enough.

... I hate that I'm pissed because I have a fuckin au idea and this time unlike all the ones I haven't posted yet, this one is... Arkos... SHIT.

Ok my own gripe with arkos and pyrrha aside I should probably explain my idea. So basically me being me aka a fuckin thief I decided to say, "let's give jaune a yuta deal from jjk." Because... I'm sorry I've been in jjk brain rot for the last month.. that and writing branded dogma but we aren't discussing that.

So basically after pyrrha dies to cinder it's not ruby who sees Pyrrha's death but it's actually jaune, and jaune unknowingly unlocked his semblance due to this and, well I have a little theory about semblances or at least I would like them to be handled, semblances manifest when a person has reached the peak of a desire, that semblance thus grants that desire. So basically once Pyrrha's dead jaune's semblance is released and it's a little different, I dub his new semblance, "spectral", basically how it works is he can imbue his aura into a anything and forces it to live, or if someone dies he could force their souls into his service. Anyway that's the idea now for some skits.

/////

Jaune found himself walking with Nora, Ren, and ruby as he watched Ruby looking over the map as she seemed frustrated. Jaune sped up and was next to her as they kept walking.

Jaune: h-hey ruby you alright?

Ruby mumbled something before looking at jaune as she jumped back slightly.

Ruby: dear oum! O-oh jaune! I didn't notice you were beside me, w-what were you saying again?

Jaune: o-oh I was just checking in on you is all.

Ruby: oh well I'm doing great, just annoyed with this stinking map.

Jaune nodded as he hesitantly put a hand on her shoulder and said something but ruby didn't hear as her face went pale with a shiver running down her spine with everything around her just vanishing.

Ruby looked around unnerved before seeing a suit of Spartan armor as a green flame burned from inside of it.

Ruby stepped back as she felt her breathing quicken as the suit of armor stared at her, it didn't have a face but Ruby could feel its stare.

???: jaune... Leave... Jaune... ALONE!

The suit of armor dashed towards summoning a spear as Ruby screamed-

Jaune: RUBY!

Ruby snapped out of it as jaune, Ren and Nora all stare at her in concern. With jaune holding her shoulders as he seemed the most concerned.

Jaune: ruby are you alright, you just f-froze and-

SMACK

Everyone stood in shock as a hand print had found itself across jaunes cheek as Ruby stared at him with her right hand raised to the other side of her head, her eyes wide with fear as she trembled in terror.

Ruby: d-dont.. don't touch me.

Jaune: ruby...

Jaune looked at her his eyes filled with confusion. Ruby stepped away from him as Ren looked at Ruby's demeanor closely.

Ruby: just.. d-dont touch me.. ok?

Jaune looked at her still confused but soon nodded.

Ruby and jaune didn't talk to each the rest of the day.

/////

Everyone had found themselves staring down cinders team as everyone had their weapons at the ready but lowered as cinder glanced at each of them with a smug expression before her attention was focused on the strange blonde fool, she didn't know why but the air around him... It felt... Cursed.

Jaune: you... How dare you act like this...

Cinder raised an eyebrow at the fool as her seemed to shake slightly.

Jaune: walking in here.. acting like this.. wearing all the atrocities you've done... LIKE A BADGE OF HONOR!

Everyone in the area could feel the air get.. cold. Extremely cold, as if the bashful fall had let in the apathetic winter.... No, the hateful freezing cold.

Cinder could feel it.. all of this presence.. where was it coming from?

Jaune: I'm going to make you pay... For everything you've done.

Jaune suddenly bolted towards her his sword at the ready.

Jaune: YOU. PIECE. OF. SHIT!

/////

That's all I got.. so far. If y'all got any questions just fire away in my asks and if you got an idea for the au just tell me.

I am desperately craving someone to hit up my asks so.. yeah.

Without anything else.

Rock on till ya drop. Tata mothafuckers 🤘

Cheers 🍻

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby au #pyrrha nikos #jaune x pyrrha #rwby pyrrha #pyrrha x jaune #rwby arkos #arkos #kinda..

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bippot · 26 days

Text

Summary: Thanks to his attempt at total domination over the population of Evergreen spectacularly failing, Jeffrey was forced to be confined in his room. The only interaction he gets is annoying David whenever he brings his meals in.

That is until another face appears. A familiar face. A face of someone he presumed had perished in the apocalypse.

Additional Tags: Pinching, Handcuffs, Eventual Smut, Love at First Sight, Post-Apocalypse, Isolation, Post-Canon

Full Masterlist - here

(I have no idea whether people are interested in Jeffrey or not but this has been in my drafts since I listened to Hidden Signal: Evergreen and I thought why not finish it?)

Fin Gorale didn't like to be wrong. He built his career on the belief that he was five steps ahead of everyone else and only paid attention to the data that proved his case. He knew the world was going to end. He'd tracked the asteroid that wiped out most of the earth for an entire decade and didn't tell anyone because he wanted that information in his back pocket, and only his back pocket.

But he was wrong. Because Fin forgot that he might've been one of the richest men in the entire world but there were other rich men that were just as neurotic and focused on an apocalyptic future as he was. The above ground panic rooms of the elite had been wiped out in an instant. Underground bunkers, on the other hand, had a much higher success rate.

Y/N was alive thanks to pure luck. She'd been at a party at her manager's house in Hawaii and was ushered into his doomsday prepped bunker as soon as the sky turned dark. One minute they were sipping on cocktails, the next everyone was huddled as bangs and crashes sounded over their heads. Civilisation was coming to a very violent and scorchingly hot end, and all Y/N could do was listen.

They found out how truly warm the earth was when one unlucky and very stupid socialite that shall go unnamed climbed up out of the exit hatch in search of a phone signal. Her skin melted off her bone structure with every step she took, revealing the flesh beneath it in all its gruesome glory. Her scream rang through the thick metal as the nearest person slammed the door shut. There was no way to save her. She was a goner the second she went out there. They needed to preserve themselves and doing idiotic shit like that wouldn't help.

While Fin had collected some of the most intelligent and capable people from across the globe, the bunker squad was mostly filled with people from the entertainment business. They were mostly actors rather than survivalists and scientists, so they may have pretended to have a useful job once upon a time yet didn't have the actual knowledge and experience to actually be useful.

As time went on, their numbers did decrease. People sustained injuries that they didn't have the proper equipment to care for. Some gave up. There had been 3 purposeful fatalities, and 8 accidental. It came to the point when there were only 4 people left standing - Y/N, married country singers named Betsy and Jon-Bon, and a mechanic called Cal who'd come to fix the hot tub all those weeks ago.

Whenever someone died, they were thrown out of the hatch and, thanks to that, they deduced that the temperature of the outside world had decreased after a few months since there was no more melt-y-ness. The bodies stayed intact until they decomposed normally. But by then the survivors were too tired or hungry or traumatised to give them actual funerals and so, they simply left them there in rotting piles.

On the bright side, all the flies in existence had been burnt to a crisp so that disgusting visual was nowhere to be seen, and would probably never be seen again.

Food was running out and the water filtration system was on its last legs. They'd made their way through the shelves of canned produce. Although it was easier now there were less people to share with, the amount available was dwindling quickly and no amount of rationing would save them. Something needed to be done fast before their supplies ran dry. If Y/N's predictions were correct, they had less than two weeks.

Though it took some convincing, the squad decided to venture upstairs. Where else did they have to go? What else did they have to do? It wasn't as if they had any other options. It was either die in the bunker, die on the surface like the rest of the world had, or somehow survive on the surface and attempt to keep the human race going for as long as they could.

Cal was first out of the bunker. He looked around frantically for something - anything - that could be perceived. That's how low his expectations were. He just wanted something (other than the skeletons of his friends) to look at, and there wasn't much. Sand. The occasional tumbleweed that floated past. Nothing to indicate that this place once had a bustling life.

He held his hand out to Y/N and helped her out. She was clammy and sweaty and clearly concerned about the state of the planet they were trying to preserve, but he knew that if they kept their cool, they had a higher chance of making it through. Jon and Betsy followed out after him while Y/N brought up the rear.

Two shotguns had been locked away in a glass case for the entire time they'd been trapped down there and of course they were going to break into it to have some protection. Cal had one. Y/N had the other. What if there were mutated bugs? Or maybe this had been an alien invasion? Had others survived? And did they form Mad Max-eque tribes that were out to kill each other? What if there were zombies out there? They needed some anchor of safety in order to feel sane, and as redneck as it sounds, a weapon was the only thing that could do that.

Luckily, Cortex was back online and functional at that time. Jeffrey had programmed it to scan for signs of life and notify them when any popped up on the surface, and despite the fact he'd been handcuffed to his bed thanks to his mutiny attempt, Hannah had kept that procedure going. In an instant, the switchboard lit up like a Christmas tree. 4 life forms were detected in the Hawaii area and a retrieval team was sent out within the hour.

It was weird. After so long of seeing the same faces, Y/N thought she'd be relieved to come across people she knew or heard of. Their saviours were some of the richest and most influential people of the modern world.

Jeffrey Steinberg and Fin Gorale were both responsible for so many of the biggest developments in technology, artificial intelligence to be precise, in the last twenty years and they'd been down every business avenue possible.

Axel Garcia was competing with Bear Grylls for the Survivalist top spot, though Bear was far more focused on his TV persona than Axel was. Plus, Axel's breathing technique was frequently used as a grounding method by anyone with anxiety so everyone who'd ever been to a therapist knew of his work. It was rather odd seeing him hobbling around and holding his chest every few steps so something must've given him a good shock.

Niko Ishikawa had been plastered all over the news thanks to her experiments. Everyone knew what she did. And Y/N would later come to know that those experiments are what got her killed.

David Yeung had been featured on one of his patient's Tik Tok's - unknowingly - and the Internet had banded together to crown him the hottest doctor alive.

Ida and Dagney managed to stay out of the public eye for the most part, yet you can tell just by looking at them that they were the masters in their field. There was a confidence about each of their movements that screamed 'I survived for a reason.' Y/N and her squad of survivors didn't have a reason. They were just lucky, or unlucky depending on your opinion.

"Oh my lord, look at this place!" Jon-Bon said, gaping at the view that they were presented with.

Evergreen was beautiful, even with all of its flaws that the new arrivals had no idea about. It was sleek and clean, full of light and air and fresh plants. Their bunker had been expensive, that was obvious, but Evergreen exorbitantly more lavish. It was a 10 million vs 1 trillion difference.

No wonder more of them survived. They had everything they could ever want right here. And everything they didn't want, too. Weird clones. Billionaires in comas. A robot's vengeance. An arrogant prick playing dictator. Betas. Their surroundings may have been cushier but their experience had been far more eventful.

After being checked and prodded and examined for any irregularities, the other survivors were allowed to cohabitate. There was still a sense of distrust between the 2 groups - hell, most of the Evergreen squad still didn't trust each other - but it was getting better. Slowly, but surely, things were settling down.

Thanks to his actions, Jeffrey wasn't allowed out of his room. He had no idea that there were new arrivals until one of them entered his room. David usually came in to give him his meals and engage in surface level chatter. Other than that, he didn't have anything to do and spent his time reading books or drawing random doodles onto scraps of paper. This particular day had been slow - most were these days - and his head whipped to the door as soon as it opened.

"I've officially lost the plot," he mumbled to himself. "Am I in V-man?"

"Nope," Y/N replied, leaning against his door frame. Her eyes scanned through his room. It was similar to hers, albeit with more stuff in it, and there was a desk pushed in near the window where he'd scattered a bunch of loose papers. There was an open journal on the nightstand that was covered with scribbles.

He eyed her carefully, completely confused but not willing to show that.

"You're not real," he concluded with a shrug.

Obviously, she knew it was a lot to comprehend if he hadn't been told there were more survivors. As far as everyone else was concerned, messing with Jeffrey was something that would bring immense satisfaction so Y/N had been encouraged to do so. He made their lives hell for so long, why not return the favour?

"I'm not real?"

"You can't be."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself. Though, that's on brand for you."

The corner of Jeffrey's lips twitched upward slightly. "Well, of course, I know you're a hallucination because my mind is so bored that it's creating you to give me a little bit of excitement." He laughed bitterly. "Of course it would be you."

"I didn't know I made you excited, Steinberg."

"That's a lie, L/N. You were very aware of that fact."

Listening in, Hannah and Dagney made eye contact. Y/N hadn't disclosed that she knew Jeffrey Steinberg, or rather, that Jeffrey Steinberg knew her. Because everyone and their mother knew of the tech billionaire. Y/N was a famous actress but she was B list, known for indie movies, and as far as Hannah could remember, she used to stay as far away from social media and paparazzi as she possibly could.

"I'm aware you liked throwing money in my direction," Y/N countered.

In an instant, Jeffrey's mind went back years ago. Before he was confined to his room. Before he tried to be a dictator. Before the apocalypse. Back when he was at the top of the food chain. He'd been convinced by one of his pals that he should go to this charity gala, not because the prospect of giving a helping hand to those in need filled him with joy but because a number of hot actresses and models were auctioning off their time.

Pay $10,000 for a dinner date with that girl from that fantasy show. $20,000 to go to an art class with a playboy bunny. $50,000 and a renowned singer will feature you in his next video. Hell, $100,000 and the first lady will spit in your face and you'll like it, you filthy capitalist pig.

At the time, none of these offers seemed enticing enough to Jeffrey. He'd been on enough dates with models and even had a total of 3 songs written about him that he didn't consider raising his paddle. All these beautiful people were dressed to the 9's and looking good enough to eat, so why wasn't he hungry?

Was it because his fellow rich people were only willing to help the less fortunate if there was an incentive for them to take advantage of? That old guy in the corner who'd made his fortune in polluting the earth could pay for someone to pretend to find him interesting and attractive for an entire afternoon, and if some kid was given an insecticide-treated bed net because of that, so be it. Helping was an afterthought to most of these assholes.

Betting was an entirely self-serving action - they'd get the prize, be able to boast about how charitable they'd been, and could pay less income tax thanks to that donation - and, in this moment, Jeffrey hated himself and everything he'd gained.

He'd come into the industry to help. He'd come up with tech to reduce carbon emissions. He'd funded the development of bioplastics. Invested in a countless amount of startups to create clean energy. To more effectively manage landfill waste. To implement smart irrigation systems. He'd tried so hard to help, and people still liked Fin Gorale better.

Fin was at that gala. He bid a quarter of a million so that the unnamed socialite that would end up having her skin melted away in Y/N's bunker would cook him a steak dinner. Whether she did make it herself or if she ordered it in through postmates, it's still unknown.

Consumed by disdain for his fellow rich man, Jeffrey found himself walking out of the main hall to get a moment's peace. He arrived at a quiet balcony and let out a sigh as he leant on the balustrade, completely unaware that he wasn't the only one who decided to step outside. He was just about to take a sip of his champagne when a voice asked, "Tough night, Mr Steinberg?" and his drink slipped through his fingers as he jolted.

The glass plummeted towards the garden below and Jeffrey watched as it shattered when it hit the ground. "Shit," he cursed under his breath. He turned around, ready to give whoever had startled him a good telling off, but stopped as soon as he saw the source of the voice. "Miss L/N, hello."

Lounging back with her heels up on the chair opposite her and a cigarette between her lips, Y/N L/N looked nothing short of divine. She wore a tight red dress that clung to every curve that would ever grace her body and the low scoop neckline exposed enough of her cleavage to make a eunuch tight in the trousers. She smiled and blew smoke towards the balcony, watching as it billowed upwards to meet the warm, summer evening air.

"Let's pretend that was someone else." He pointed to the shattered remains of his drink. "If anyone asks, blame it on Musk. Everyone hates that bastard."

She huffed out a laugh, mumbled, "Yeah, he's a cunt," and held her cigarette out to him, which he accepted. Though, if he was honest, he had no idea why he did. He didn't smoke. He thought it was gross. The body is a temple so why would you pollute it with tar? Not to mention, it tasted awful. But, hey, if a pretty girl offers you a ciggy, you're going to take it. And besides, it was a small price to pay for some company.

Thankfully, he managed not to cough up a lung and handed it back to her like it was no big deal.

"This not your scene?" she questioned after taking another drag. Jeffrey shrugged and crossed his arms, leaning on the wall beside the balcony and staring at the stars twinkling above them.

It was a nice night. The stars were bright and the city lights cast a soft glow over his surroundings. It was almost peaceful, apart from the occasional cheer from the party inside, and it gave him a sense of calmness that he sorely lacked at that point. He was exhausted, stressed and fed up. There was barely any time to breathe during work, and work was a 24/7 thing these days.

Tonight technically was a networking event. It may have been disguised as a charity fundraiser but it was a chance to meet with potential investors and keep up his social profile. This was work. And he hated it.

"I don't really care for charity."

"Oh?" she replied, her curiosity overpowering any disgust she should've been feeling.

"It doesn't solve the problem. It just makes the problem more cushy, y'know?" He glanced at the side and noted a faint smile tugging at her lips as she raised her brow for him to carry on his explanation. "You can throw thousands of dollars to buy food for kids in Africa but that will soon be depleted and we'll be having another one of these in 2 years time. Throw money at creating modified crops that can withstand drought and flooding, that will last forever."

He watched as she snuffed out her cigarette and let out a hum. He didn't know whether she agreed with him or not but he continued nonetheless. "Invest in the future, not the now, that's what I always say."

"You always say?" she repeated, a hint of teasing lacing her tone. He rolled his eyes but couldn't deny the smile that appeared upon his lips at the sound of her playful voice.

"I do always say," he laughed. Jeffrey placed his palms on the underside of her ankles as he lifted her feet up and sat in the chair opposite her, and let the tip of her stiletto rest against his thigh.

Was he aware that she was only a few inches away from spearing her very pointy shoe into his prized jewels if she wanted to? Yeah. Did that turn him on? Also yeah. He enjoyed being a human footstool for her.

"Are you prostituting yourself for charity?" he joked while gently rubbing circles on her ankle with his thumb, and when she gave him a look, he felt the need to rephrase that. "Are you offering up your company in exchange for payment tonight?"

"Why? You planning to bet on me?"

"I might throw a few thousand down."

"Only a few?"

"Well," he started as he ran his hand along her bare calf and lightly grazed his fingertips against the smooth expanse of the back of her knee, "Maybe more than that. It all depends if I'm in a giving mood or not."

"And what, pray tell, do you plan to get out of this sudden act of generosity if I might ask?" Y/N replied with mock innocence, placing her chin in her palm and staring straight ahead at him as if she expected him to spill his guts right then and there.

As much as he loved to brag about being a womaniser and a ladies' man, he had never been all that focused on actually picking girls up. He could simply point to his fancy car or how he'd been on the Forbes 30 under 30 list when he was merely 20 years old or bring them to his mansion, and those would do the leg work for him. In lack of better terms, Jeffrey's flirting game was a little rusty.

So, yeah, he gulped rather thickly. His mouth went dry and he cleared his throat as a way to regain control of himself.

"Your company."

"You want to pay for something I'm willingly giving you for free right now?"

Huh. That was something to think about.

"Think of those hungry kids in Africa, Y/N. Let me waste my money for them."

"Oh, I'm a waste now, huh?"

"Wow, typical woman just twisting my words."

Just as he was about to lean forward to add more drama to whatever sarcastic thing he was going to say next, her foot came up to his chest and she pushed him backward in the chair. "So you hate charity and have misogynist tendencies? You're a catch, Mr Steinberg," Y/N said, letting out a chuckle at how obviously he took a big staggered breath.

This woman was going either going to fuck him or kill him and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. And he honestly didn't mind. After all, she was beautiful and witty and knew exactly what buttons to push to drive a man absolutely insane.

If the world ended tomorrow, she'd still have him hooked, he thought at the time and would've been surprised by how right he actually was.

They stared at each other for a moment. Jeffrey's neatly pressed incredibly expensive suit was in direct opposition to how messy he felt. His hair was slightly dishevelled due to running his hands through it too many times before coming outside and he'd undone the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing an appropriate amount of chest hair.

"Well, you seem to like me," he stated finally. "That has to count for something, right?"

"What makes you think that I like you?"

Before Jeffrey could answer, Y/N's agent rushed onto the balcony, immediately warned, "Darling," and stomped over to slap Y/N's foot off Jeffrey's chest. "I told you to play nice, remember?"

"I'm playing nice."

"She's playing very nice," Jeffrey agreed and accepted the way the agent began to swipe away any dust on his chest, ignoring how he heard the older woman scoff under her breath.

"If you'll excuse us, Mr Steinberg, it's Y/N's turn on stage." The agent nodded her head towards the door to gesture for Y/N to follow her, though it seemed Y/N was reluctant to get up and go. "We've already delayed your turn twice already, come on."

Y/N sighed dejectedly and reluctantly got to her feet and followed her agent, shooting Jeffrey a quick grin over her shoulder and mouthed, "I think I hate charity too." He responded by winking at her and followed at a leisurely pace.

Yeah, he did bid on her. And, yeah, he did win 'Y/N L/N will walk your dog for you' despite the fact he didn't own a dog. Thanks to the apocalypse, they never had the chance to take his imaginary dog on a very overpriced walk.

"I hear you've been a bad boy, Mr Steinberg," current day Y/N teased as she sat on the corner of his bed.

"I'm ambitious and it's the apocalypse, hey, why wouldn't I try to become supreme leader?" Jeffrey remarked. He leaned back against the headboard and crossed his legs at the ankles to really try to sell that he was so casual about this whole thing.

Sure, he did think he was hallucinating her. And no, he wasn't going to let Hannah and the others that were watching know that maybe it was affecting him more than he ever wanted it to.

"Why wouldn't you?" she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she eyed his dark circles underneath his eyes. Her face was painted with concern but the smile was present throughout. "Is your failed totalitarian regime why you're not getting any sleep?"

The man let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he closed his eyes and exhaled deeply. Yes, he was tired, okay? Tired of constantly thinking that he was going to wake up one day and the other survivors were going to push him out into the barren unknown. It was exhausting. Hell, it was terrifying even.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. And now, well, I'm going to spend most of my night trying to preserve whatever sanity I have left."

"There can't be much left, can there?"

"If you're here, I guess not."

It was about time to reveal the truth to him, Y/N thought. He'd been messed with enough. She held her hand out, palm outstretched towards him, and gestured for him to touch her to make sure she was real. He was reluctant at first but eventually complied when he saw the pleading look in her eyes.

His eyes widened in disbelief when his fingers gently touched her skin. "What? How is this possible?" he whispered to himself. Jeffrey clutched her hand tightly in his grasp and brought it closer until it was right in front of his face, studying it closely, almost afraid that his eyesight might fail him at some point and he would somehow be fooled by his own imagination.

An impossibly wide smile came upon his face and, without even realising what he was doing, he raised his other hand and traced the outline of Y/N's face. With careful and slow movements, he brushed along her right cheekbone down the curve of her jaw.

"Holy shit! Wait, are you a -"

"I'm not one of Niko's clones."

"This is crazy."

"You think I'm real now?" she asked, chuckling softly.

Instead of verbally answering, he did something he wanted to do since he met her. There was a reason why he bet on her. A reason why he invested in whatever movie he knew she was attached to after they met. A reason why he sent her an enormous bouquet of flowers every time he had to push back their 'dog' walking 'date' because he was tied up at work.

With far too much gusto, Jeffrey caught Y/N totally off guard with a big smooch to her lips. As soon as she realised what he'd done, she reciprocated it with just as much vigour. Her palms came to rest on his cheeks, cupping his face while he wrapped his arms around her shoulders to pull her body against him.

After what felt like eternity, he broke away for breath and rested his forehead on hers, still holding her in place. "How are you here? How are you alive?" he asked, sounding genuinely stunned and yet also quite relieved at the same time.

"Rich man's bunker."

"Oh, me too." Jeffrey smirked as he leant back in for another kiss, only to murmur "See, I knew you liked me" against her mouth.

"Don't say that too loud, I don't want to be ostracised by my new friends."

"I think the cat is out of the bag, darling," he said, once again tempting her into yet another kiss. It seemed that once he'd started, he couldn't stop.

Yet, Hannah clearly had other plans. A klaxon sounded inside of the room and they both broke apart suddenly at the noise. Cortex opened the door and waited expectantly in the frame.

"Y/N, Hannah would like to see you. If you'd follow me?" it informed in its monotone voice.

"Definitely out of the bag," Jeffrey joked as she stood up from the bed and turned to give him one last peck on the lips. Then, just before the door slid closed behind her, Y/N peered over her shoulder and winked at him with a knowing 'I'm about to get yelled at' smile on her face.

And get yelled at, she was. For the next 20 minutes, Hannah decided to tell Y/N exactly what she thought of what went down. Their relationship should've been disclosed. Jeffrey was a bad man and she should have higher standards than that. It was going to be very hard to trust her now that they knew she was in cahoots with the guy who tried to be a dictator.

That was all true. But in Y/N's defence, she had only met him once before. It had been a very important and impactful meeting for the both of them, but it still had only been 1 conversation months ago. Was that really worth bringing up?

The punishment was that Y/N had to wait an entire 2 weeks until they allowed her to see Jeffrey again and, after hearing her reasoning, Hannah reluctantly accepted to reduce it to 10 days. Once they were up, Y/N was taking over David's dinner role once again and was let into Jeffrey's room.

She was told that they were under strict surveillance and therefore should keep things PG for everyone's sake.

"Long time, Mr Steinberg."

He perked up as soon as he heard her voice and replied, "You can call me Jeffrey, you know? I think we're way past that point" as he crossed the room to stand before her.

"Maybe I will."

"Good."

His hands found themselves on either side of Y/N's hips as he scanned her appearance with curious eyes, noticing every little detail he missed the last few days. "You don't really suit this shade of blue," he commented with a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "I prefer you in red."

"I plan on wearing more blue then."

"You're insufferable."

"I aim to please."

Jeffrey snorted and placed a chaste kiss on Y/N's lips. "I'm bored. Entertain me," he whined, grabbing her hand to drag her to his bed so she would sit down beside him. His hand moved slowly over her back, caressing her spine and drawing circles on it with his thumb. "Say something horrible."

To her credit, it took her a minute or so to come up with something. She wasn't a complete asshole. Her mind had to be racked a few times for something horrible to stand out.

"Your dog is probably dead."

"My what?"

"The dog you paid so much money for me to walk?"

Another snort left Jeffrey's mouth, he couldn't help himself and burst out laughing. "I didn't own a dog, I just wanted to fuck you," he admitted shamelessly, earning a half hearted slap across his chest from her. "Hey! You're a moron if you thought I actually had a dog. I spent most of my time in the office so it would've been fucked up if I had a pet and left it alone 18 hours a day, just barking and shitting on my very expensive carpet from dust till dawn. No thank you."

He paused for a second, clearly considering whether to divulge something or not, and before he added, "I always wanted a dog when I was a kid."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm, I wanted a Jack Russell."

"They're yappy, you're yappy, it makes sense."

An incredulous look came across his face. "I am not yappy!" She gave him a pointed look. "I am not!" he repeated in a yappy sort of way.

They continued to make fun of each other for as long as they were allowed to before the solitary part of Jeffrey's solitary confinement kicked back into gear, and this arrangement happened every other day for the next couple of weeks. Jeffrey, as much as he hated to admit it out loud, eagerly awaited her visit and would start to brainstorm ideas about what they would talk about as soon as she exited in preparation for her return.

Then, she didn't turn up for one. Then another. And another. He was beginning to get worried. Not only did he miss her terribly, but he also began to grow very anxious. What if something really bad happened to her? What if she never returned? The possibility of losing the only person close to him, the only person he gave a shit about, was very scary indeed. It was the apocalypse, and maybe Y/N had been its newest victim.

David didn't quell his concerns either. The doctor was very tight-lipped about everything that was going on in Evergreen.

It got to the point Jeffrey didn't even look up when his door opened anymore.

"Why so glum?"

"Jesus fucking christ, never do that to me again!"

With two large steps, he bounded towards her, grabbed her and brought her flush against his broad chest. His arms encircled her waist tightly, keeping her in place and preventing her from getting away from him any time soon. He buried his head in the crook of her neck and let out a long suffering sigh.

Needless to say, Y/N was surprised. Her hands hovered in the air for a short moment before they finally settled at the small of his back to hug him in return. She nuzzled her nose against his hair before pressing her lips to his temple briefly and muttering, "Good to see you too, Jeffrey" against his skin.

For several long seconds, neither one of them moved; they just held onto each other for dear life and savoured the feeling of being near one another again. When he eventually pulled away, he looked directly into her eyes and demanded, "I deserve an explanation."

"Straight onto business, huh?" she teased as she gently stroked the back of his neck with her thumb.

"Spill."

"There was a minor issue with Cortex and they didn't want you to know because you'd try to leverage your skills for freedom or something -"

He nodded. "I would do that."

"They knew I'd tell you and you'd be super annoying about it." She laughed as he made a mock offended face, then shook her head. "Hannah tried to fix it. She couldn't. If anything, she made it worse."

Spitefully, he let out a laugh at Hannah's expense. "They now need you to convince me to save the day?" he asked so, so smugly. His eyes shone with mischief as they flicked down to her lips and lingered there for a while before moving back up to meet her gaze. "What's my prize if I get Cortex up and running again?"

"That's for you and your ex-subjects to argue about."

"What if you're impacted by the prize I have in mind? Would you argue with me?"

"I think you'd really enjoy arguing with me, Mr Steinberg," Y/N stated in a husky tone, smiling cheekily at him when she saw his eyes widen and a pleased smirk spread across his face. "But I think you should be smart. Use your boon selfishly. Don't waste it on something I will willingly give you."

The smirk vanished immediately, leaving behind only a frown upon his lips instead as he studied her reaction, trying to understand why exactly that sentence confounded him so much. So, she explained.

"Instead of asking me on a date that I would've said yes to, you - in your own words - 'wasted' 100 thousand dollars for me to walk your imaginary dog."

"I didn't know you'd say yes."

"You did. There was a very obvious vibe."

She smiled sweetly at him as he stared at her for a whole five seconds without saying anything, completely lost as to how to react. Her foot came out to nudge him in the knee and he seemed to snap out of whatever reverie he was having.

"I...uh..." He cleared his throat and quickly looked everywhere else but in her direction and uttered, "It does sound fucking ridiculous when you say it like that."

"You are an idiot," she whispered, her taunt making him chuckle.

If anyone else had doubted his intelligence, he would've been far more offended than amused but since it came from Y/N, it didn't really register in his brain as an insult. Instead, he was just glad that she was here, that she was alive, and that she had decided to interact with him. He didn't need a 'prize', if he was honest. Just her presence made the apocalypse a little easier to handle.

"Yeah, Hannah is the one who fucked up Cortex but I'm the idiot? Sure, let us go with that."

Y/N cackled before leaning forward to capture his lips with hers once more, kissing him passionately while placing her hands on either side of his face and tangling her fingers through his soft curls. A hand slipped under her shirt, tracing a line directly up her spine with his palm until the fabric covering her back was collected at his wrist. He pulled away and breathed heavily, a content smile forming on his lips.

"Be a good boy and fix Cortex," Y/N urged.

"Tell me how much you need my help and I'll do it."

"Jeffrey Steinberg, we really need your help."

"Nu-uh," he tutted. "Not what I asked. I don't care about 'we'."

Scoffing, Y/N shook her head and tried to hide her amused smirk. He was arrogant and demanding and stubborn and difficult and had an ego as big as the Empire State Building and yet somehow, despite all these, she couldn't deny the fact that she liked him for those exact reasons. Because, damn it all, he was the only person who'd ever matched her energy.

His wit and humour, although sometimes sarcastic and crude, were incredibly intelligent and could cut through bullshit like butter. He had an incredible eye for detail, a need to share information whenever he possibly could, and he had an unparalleled passion and curiosity for knowledge. Even though he could be frustratingly overbearing at times, he had a knack for seeing things that others couldn't, or rather wouldn't.

So, she gave him what he wanted.

"I really need your help."

"One more time? Tell me again."

Like she always did when he was around, she rolled her eyes affectionately then repeated herself and was rewarded with his adorable, lopsided grin.

"I'll go let everyone know -"

"No, no, no, they can wait," he interjected hastily. "Don't leave so soon." He placed a kiss on her jawline. "Please stay."

"I didn't know please was in your vocabulary, darling."

With that, Y/N lay back against his pillow and got comfy, watching him as he took the opportunity to climb beside her until they were nose to nose. Jeffrey reached for a lock of her hair and twirled it between his fingers lazily as he spoke what was on his mind. He talked and talked and talked until the others decided that they'd had enough.

For the first time in months, Jeffrey Steinberg was allowed out of his room. The others were less than ecstatic when he walked around the compound waving like he was the goddamned Queen of England with his one hand. His other hand though, well wrist to be specific, was handcuffed to David as a security measure.

David wasn't happy with this at all. They knew if he had been attached to Y/N, she would've let Jeffrey run amuck for her own entertainment so David was there purely so no shenanigans could take place. And as much as Jeffrey could whine and complain, those handcuffs weren't coming off any time soon and David was determined to make sure Jeffrey understood that.

Cortex took around 6 hours to fully fix and, as expected, despite the fact he'd helped them out, the majority of Evergreen's population was counting down the minutes till he was back in his cell.

"What did he do again?" Betsy inquired, holding her palm to her stomach.

As of 2 months ago, the population of Evergreen was destined to rise by two in the coming months. Having a child was always a dangerous game but having one after the collapse of civilization? That kid was coming into a strange new world, yet, Evergreen was cushy and had the best doctor in the entire world - not that there was much competition these days - to watch their every move so maybe it wasn't as bad as it sounds on paper. Dagney and Betsy were a top priority whenever David did his rounds.

"I hear he reprogrammed that fancy robot thingamajig to try and kill everybody." Jon-Bon got a hold of his wife's hand and brought it to his lips. "That's why he's coming nowhere near you or our little one, my sweet."

"Jesus, Y/N, you really know how to pick em'," Cal vexed, shaking his head as he folded his arms across his chest disapprovingly. He clearly didn't get the response he wanted when Y/N merely shrugged since he stomped away in a huff.

Betsy sighed and rested her head against Jon-Bon's shoulder. "Go say sorry, Y/N," she instructed as if Y/N had done anything. Did Cal need an apology? For what? Y/N hadn't uttered a single word and the only gesture she'd given was a simple nonchalant shrug because why would his opinion matter?

What say did he have in her love life? Why did he care? And why should she care that he cared?

"Yeah, I'm not doing that."

"No, no, go apologise."

"You're bossy today," Y/N chuckled, kicking her feet up on the coffee table and taking a sip from her tea. "I wish I had a cigarette right about now."

Jon-Bon decided to unnecessarily weigh in too. "Cal's a good lad. He's sweet on you, ya know?"

"...So?"

"He'd be good for you, much better than that evil robot boy of yours that we hear about from the others. It would be nice to see the godparents of our scamp together, don't you think?"

Y/N cackled heartily, making a mental note to call Jeffrey an 'evil robot boy' later on just so she could see the look on his face at the new nickname that had been bestowed upon him. She didn't bother responding to that question, though. If she was honest, she didn't want to be a godparent. She didn't necessarily like these people, but she had put up with them to survive.

Almost as if they'd summoned a devil, a bouncy Jeffrey appeared around a corner with an exhausted looking David attached to him like a child barely keeping their grip on an energetic puppy on a leash. The second he saw Y/N in his peripheral vision, he was bounding towards her.

"Here comes my evil robot boy," Y/N sang merrily with her head tilted to the side and a teasing sparkle in her eyes as Jeffrey skidded to a halt right in front of her. "And look who's finally free from prison."

Jeffrey raised his handcuffed hand. "Handcuffs today. Ankle monitor tomorrow," he announced proudly and, after checking his watch, added, "It's almost dinner and I'm going to be super grumpy if my favourite delivery girl isn't going to show. You following?"

"Can I at least finish my tea?"

He snatched her cup out of her hand and downed what was left in one good swig.

"Asshole."

"Yep, that's me. Come on."

Once the mug had been carefully placed on the coffee table, Jeffrey wiggled his fingers towards Y/N in the universal sign of invitation and she stood up, smiling widely and linking arms with him without hesitation.

They were back in his room in no time. David was allowed to separate from the evil robot boy and let out a sigh of relief that he was finally free of the man's grip. Jeffrey parted from his 'other half' with a flirtatious wave and a "See you tomorrow, Davey!"

"Please don't call me that."

"Whatever, Davey! I'll be awake bright and early for my fitting."

"It won't be me. Axel volunteered for that."

Axel had been recovering when Jeffrey was first confined to his room. Everyone else had made a party out of it. They had found Finn's stash of champagne and toasted to Jeffrey's defeat, but Axel and Finn were stuck in comas in the med bay so they couldn't participate. Now, Finn was still slipping between consciousness and coma every other day, but Axel was up and walking and more than prepared for the next stage of Jeffrey's punishment.

An ankle monitor that tracked his every move and shocked him every time he was somewhere he shouldn't (or whenever whoever held the remote wanted to, really) was the compromise that Jeffrey had come to. He'd get the majority of his freedom back for the low low price of an ugly device around his ankle. That was a pretty good deal. Honestly, he had no idea why the other survivors agreed to this proposal.

Now they were alone and he was free to be as whiny as he wanted to, Jeffrey rubbed at his wrist. The skin was red and obviously sore thanks to the cuffs, and he was quick to point it out to Y/N as she placed their meals down on the nearest surface.

"Look!"

"Aw, you poor baby." Despite her mocking tone, she gently massaged his wrist in order to alleviate some of the discomfort. "Who would've thought that you'd face the repercussions of your actions?"

"I certainly didn't."

He liked being fussed over and pampered but he didn't enjoy being treated like a normal kind hearted person, which is why he liked Y/N so much. Her actions and her words were very different. She was always prepared to put him in his place and remind him that, yeah, he was a little bitch, yet she obviously cared for him in a way nobody else ever had before, and he appreciated that greatly.

Maybe he loved Y/N? Who knows? He never used to have time for feelings, and now that he did, was he going overboard? It was definitely something he was wondering about, even more so now that he was going to be allowed out of his room and interact with the other inhabitants of Evergreen more casually. But, as far as he was concerned, nobody in Evergreen was as fun or interesting to hang around as Y/N and he doubted anyone else would come close to her either.

"Stop staring into space and let's eat. Our food is getting cold," Y/N urged, her voice snapping him back to attention. She grabbed her plate from the table and moved towards the desk that they'd pushed to the middle of the room to use as a dinner table.

The chair on the one side was a lazy boy armchair that was far too heavy for what it was that Y/N always sat in. Opposite that was a gamer chair that had once looked pristine but Jeffrey had scratched away at the armrests until the leather was all ripped up, and it had an accompanying footstool that he often kicked around when he was annoyed.

Dagney had managed to grow an impressive array of produce this season so the survivors had been eating well. Jeffrey pushed his food around the plate with his fork in thought and watched Y/N while she ate.

"Spit it out, what's wrong?" Y/N asked without lifting her gaze from her plate.

"Nothing," Jeffrey replied with a grin and turned back to his food, finally getting some potato on his fork to eat.

"Uh huh, sure," Y/N retorted, unconvinced.

A beat. Then another. A third. That's all it took. "Is your bed a single or a double?" He blurted out suddenly, causing her to stop chewing.

"It's a queen. Exactly the same as yours."

"Ah," Jeffrey concluded like some big revelation had been revealed to him while taking another bite of his dinner. "Well then, you'll be as accustomed to my bed as yours."

"Who says I want to sleep in your bed?"

"Oh baby, you've been trying to get in my bed for weeks now."

She narrowed her eyes playfully at him and rested her head on her palm, elbow propped up on the dining table. "Are you suggesting that you want me to stay the night?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to it."

That was a vast understatement; he would be absolutely overjoyed if she stayed the night after pining for so long. Not that he was going to tell her anything about that. That would certainly lead to his feelings being spilled and he wasn't ready for that just yet. His thoughts must have shown on his face, because Y/N gave him a knowing smile.

"Are you under surveillance tonight?"

"Nope. Thanks to my 'selfish boon', my Truman Show treatment is no more. I'm free for the night, and every night from now on."

"Aw, I wanted an audience," she joked, earning a chuckle from Jeffrey before he took another bite.

His hand reached across the table, his palm facing up, and he wiggled his fingers expectantly, beckoning for Y/N to hold it and give it a squeeze. But Y/N didn't take it. She glanced down at it and pointed out, "I need my hand to hold cutlery. To eat."

"Just use your fork. Y'know, like I'm doing."

"Satiating my hunger or letting you kidnap my hand with yours? I think you're overestimating your importance."

With a playful glare, he opened his mouth in shock and widened his eyes. As soon as he began to pout, Y/N's resolve crumbled and, instantly, she intertwined their fingers together. Jeffrey grinned at his victory. He always liked winning, even the small battles like this one. He felt oh so smug as he brought her knuckle to his lips and kissed it tenderly.

"The couple you were with earlier, the baby, is it a boy or a girl?" he inquired.

"Betsy says it's a boy."

"How many months along?"

"Three."

He nodded slowly in approval.

"It's a good idea."

"What?"

"Raising the population."

"...Right."

"How's Dagney coming along? The baby must be popping out soon."

Y/N's brow furrowed as she stared curiously at Jeffrey. He could see the wheels turning in her head as her mind tried to comprehend why he was bringing this up.

"Dagney is due in 5 weeks," she answered.

"Great."

"Jeffrey..."

"Hmm...?"

"Slow your plans down, okay? We'll get there eventually."

Ah, she'd figured it out. He was preoccupied with the pregnancy going on and there was a reason for that. Obviously, the apocalypse accelerated a lot of emotions and processes with the goal of survival in mind.

"We should make a little army," Jeffrey suggested with a grin.

"Sure, if you figure out a way so that you can push them out instead of me, be my guest."

His smile widened impossibly further at her response and she huffed in amusement, shaking her head with a small smirk on her face.

"What's your limit? 7 babies? 15?" Jeffrey asked eagerly.

"4, if you're lucky," Y/N said with a laugh.

"Only 4? That's not an army."

"Suck it up."

They continued talking, discussing random topics, until their meal was all done and they were both ready to go nurse their food babies and lie on his bed in peace.

Instead of lying the same way, Jeffrey decided that he wanted to use her stomach as a pillow rather than his actual pillow, so Y/N took the opportunity to rest her head against his thigh when he curled his leg underneath her. Jeffrey lifted her knee up so he could hook his arm across her butt and hold her securely in place.

"You are so needy," Y/N remarked.

"You love me," he teased right back.

"I tolerate you, I suppose."

"I know that you love me."

"You're delusional," Y/N insisted, her smile never leaving her lips as she twirled one of his curls around her finger, playing with it idly.

"Not really. Just stating fact."

Silence followed as the two of them gazed lovingly at each other, not saying a word but merely allowing themselves to feel content in each others' presence and bask in the warmth and comfort of one another's company. They knew they were in love. They weren't idiots. They understood the gravity of their relationship but there wasn't a need to get all soppy about it, at least not yet.

"I like your little mole, have I told you that before, Jeff?" Y/N complimented, her forefinger tracing over his cheekbone and circling the mole with such care that it was almost as though he was fragile.

"You, uh, you haven't."

"Maybe I shouldn't have divulged that. It will inflate your ego. It's already big enough as it is."

Jeffrey couldn't help himself from cracking a sly smile, flirting, "It's not the only big thing about me," and manoeuvred himself into a sitting position against the headboard. He patted his thighs and motioned for her to sit on his lap. She didn't. Y/N tilted her head to the side and just studied him carefully for a few seconds.

"Undo your belt," she ordered in a low and sultry voice. He obeyed silently and eagerly, watching as she slipped onto her stomach and positioned herself between his thighs. She was aware that he was power-hungry - hell, everyone was very aware of that - but did it extend to other areas of life as well?

Judging by the shiver he got when she praised, "Good boy," she got her answer.

"I realised that I didn't get a say when your punishment was changed," she stated nonchalantly while her finger found the button and zipper of his trousers and slowly started undoing them. "Maybe I should come up with my own then."

Y/N nudged his shirt up with her nose and began to press her lips on the area right below his navel before sucking on the skin there and licking at the mark she'd left behind. His hands gripped at her shoulders tightly as his head dropped backwards onto his headboard because how the fuck did she guess that the skin of his stomach was sensitive? How did she know?

He whipped his shirt off to allow her to access wherever she wanted and let out a moan when she licked up his abs. "Fuck," he breathed, biting his bottom lip, and tugging at the strands of hair at the nape of her neck. He was attacked with more smooches as they drifted up his chest, over his collarbone and along his neck towards his jawline, leaving goosebumps in her wake. "How are you doing this to me?"

Tantalisingly, Y/N pulled back just enough to catch his eye. "I have you wrapped around my pinkie, that's how." She placed a kiss right on the edge of his lip, lingering for just a split second longer before she returned her attention to his neck, trailing her palm between them until her fingertips came into contact with his hardening cock through his underwear. Her nails scratched lightly against the fabric and he whimpered.

Actually whimpered.

"What was that sound, baby?"

"I didn't - What sound? That wasn't me," Jeffrey lied quickly. He hadn't meant to whine, but he had to admit it felt quite nice to have someone do all the thinking for him. He was a control freak most of the time, but when it was just him and Y/N, he liked letting her take the reins. He could just enjoy himself and forget all his responsibilities.

"Well, it wasn't me. Must've been an invisible third party that's perving on us. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that my hand is on your cock?"

"Nah, maybe Hannah pressed the mic on the CCTV system." Jeffrey snorted at his own joke but his laughter was soon replaced by another whine as Y/N wrapped her hand around his cock and squeezed lightly, causing Jeffrey to bite down on his lower lip and arch up in pleasure. "It was me, it was me! Fuck!"

If only the rest of the world could see him now, see him turned into a subby mess with one touch to his cock. Admittedly, Y/N had riled him up and it had been a lifetime since he last got some action that wasn't his own hand so it wasn't that unbelievable that he was being pathetic.

"I bet if the others knew a hand job would make you compliant, you wouldn't have been such a bad boy, huh?" she cooed teasingly, continuing to move her hand around the length of his cock and rubbing it slowly. Jeffrey let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes at the sensation, trying not to cry out too loudly, lest she'd stop.

His brows scrunched together as he stared up at her, his eyes wide and pleading. Y/N chuckled softly and leaned in closer, pressing her lips against his ear to whisper, "Don't worry, baby. I'm here to put you in your place."

"Shit, I can't think straight with you doing this to me," he panted, his hands reaching to grab onto any part of Y/N he could get a hold off. The sensations were overwhelming, and he was completely lost in the moment.

"Relax, baby," she murmured, biting the lobe of his ear. "I'm just getting started."

As soon as he seemed to be close - his legs shaking, a bead of sweat dripping down his brow, and his hips bucking - she stopped before he felt any sort of release. She left him panting and frustrated.

'WHY? Uh...why? Noooo," he whined, his body tensing up as Y/N pulled away from him. He whined out her name, begging for an explanation as she stood up from the bed. But she didn't give him any sort of answer.

All Y/N did was begin to undress herself, button by agonising buttons, until she was left in a lace bra and panties. She walked towards Jeffrey, her hips swaying seductively, and knelt between his legs.

"What was that for?"

"Punishment." Y/N's voice was low and husky as she leaned in to kiss him deeply. "And it's not over yet."

Jeffrey's eyes widened.

"How many edges do you think you'll be able to withstand without crying?" Her palms rubbed up and down his thighs. "3? I don't think you'll be able to manage 2 without bawling like a baby."

She mimicked him as he went to protest. "I'll let you cum if you're a good boy for me," she purred, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his cock. "Will you be a good boy for me, Mr Steinberg?"

At this point, he was far too gone to pretend to be the cold, logistical leader he was pretending to be. "I'll try," he gasped out, his voice barely above a whisper, and when Y/N's face indicated that she was dissatisfied with that answer, he corrected himself, "I will. I'll be good. So good. So, so good."

So, she got to it. He was edged again and again and again and again and again, the pleasure and pain mixing to make a perfect storm in his body. He was lost in the moment, completely under Y/N's control. He was sobbing, he knew that and didn't care in the slightest. The sensations were too intense to process, and he was so far gone that he didn't even care if anyone could hear him be her little bitch.

Surely, he would in the morning. Just not right now.

"Darling, I have a question for you," Y/N asked once she'd removed her mouth from his cock with a satisfying pop.

"Yes, yes, whatever you want. What, Holy fuck, yes," he said, trying to get his breath and mind back.

"How would you prefer to cum?" Y/N leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered the question. "I mean, if you were to choose between hand, mouth or pussy, which would it be?."

"Pussy. Pussy, please," Jeffrey replied, his voice a hoarse whisper.

He was wrecked, completely and utterly wrecked. His hair was a mess. He had a furious shade of pink spread out on his cheeks, ears, and chest. His lips were bitten and his eyes were teary as he watched Y/N's every move with anticipation.

"Yeah? Good choice," she purred, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "I think you've earned it."

A whole apocalypse had happened. He'd wanted to fuck her since he met her. Then, abandoned all hope when he presumed she was dead. Then, they met once again but couldn't do anything that wasn't PG 13 because all of his movements were being monitored by a slew of people that he'd tried to force into subjugation. He'd waited a really fucking long time.

After realising that he'd just been given what he wanted on a silver, no, platinum platter, Jeffrey was hurrying to take the opportunity to completely undress and prep Y/N so the inevitable moment where found his way inside of her was as soon as he could possibly manage. There was no point waiting.

The thought of waiting even 5 seconds longer was unbearable, so it wasn't long before he was buried deep within Y/N, both bodies coming together in a blissful union of flesh.

"Stay there for a bit. Jesus, Y/N, give me a second. I’m so close already, fuck."

Her hand was clamped on his chin as she forced him to look directly in her eyes. "Oh baby, you're so fucking eager," Y/N teased, smirking at his obvious lust filled gaze. Jeffrey gripped her hip tightly and yanked her in closer as their hips moved in sync to each other. "If you cum, I'll just keep going. I bet that will make you so, so whiney. Won't that be fun?"

"Don't say shit like that right now. I'm so close already."

Jeffrey clenched his jaw and groaned, gripping her waist harder as she continued to grind against him. He couldn't contain the moans or or the sounds of ecstasy emitting from his mouth with every thrust.

They fell into rhythm perfectly with the speed of their movements and soon, Jeffrey's mind became nothing more than white noise, completely devoid of any thought, any feeling, and simply focused solely on Y/N. His climax hit him hard, making him arch up as he came with a shout and his arms wrapped tighter and tighter around Y/N.

Y/N felt every inch of the shuddering man in front of her, every tremble of his muscles, every moan echoing through her veins and pulling her right to the edge because of how hot it was. All she heard was the sound of her own laboured breathing and the pounding of her heart in her ears; all she smelled was sex and sweat and blood as her body began to respond to what was happening inside her, pushing harder and faster until finally, she too reached her sweet release and her nails dug themselves deeper into Jeffrey's skin.

Afterward, they both lay still and panting on top of the bed, staring up at the ceiling with heavy hearts. Both of them were covered in sweat, with strands of hair clinging to their foreheads and falling onto their faces. It took both of them a while to calm down enough for either one to speak.

When they finally did talk, Jeffrey spoke first. "Fuck... I am so fucked." He turned onto his side to face her. "You've ruined other women for me, you know?" He gave her a soft smile, letting out a chuckle at the end, before continuing. "But, fuck you, you are something else."

"Aww, I think you've gone soft, Mr Steinberg," she giggled, pinching his shoulder teasingly. "Let's clean ourselves up."

Once they no longer smelt of sweat and sex, the pair were back in bed, curled up together beneath the covers. Neither one of them felt any desire to sleep at the moment, too occupied by the conversation they were having, but eventually, both succumbed to exhaustion and were awoken in the morning by Axel.

With his new ankle monitor, Jeffrey would be able to be a menace to everyone in Evergreen once again, yet this time he had someone to tug on the metaphorical dog leash whenever he was getting a little too out of control or too rowdy. The only person who could stop that idiot was Y/N, because she always seemed to find a way to snap out of those moods Jeffrey had, and for the rest of his life, he never had to go back into solitary confinement ever again.

There had been a couple of almosts, but as soon as his girlfriend told him to "quit it", he was done with the game, for the time being anyway.

#evergreen #hidden signal #Jeffrey Steinberg #Jeffrey Steinberg x reader #hidden signal evergreen

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licncourt · 1 year

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I just went back and read your original Louis head canons, so I have to ask: do you have any new ones? They're all so good, I could listen to you talk about him for ages !

Nasty baby boy!! Thank you for asking, I need to gnaw on him like a chew toy rn because of my IWTV reread. It's giving me even more Louis brain worms than usual. Little guy....

He is not an animal person in general, but he has a very special and very strong affinity for birds. He has bird feeders at all the windows in his favorite spots, and an assortment of little bird friends (he's had lots of different kinds) in a big aviary who are very spoiled and very well trained. He's also a big fan of the birdtok scroll hole and fighting about birdkeeping on reddit until someone is crying

Louis knows his original family name from France, but never uses or speaks about it. If anyone were to ask, he'd say he doesn't care for it because he wants """his""" achievements to speak for themselves, but in reality it kind of bothers him that his ancestry is "common" and nouveau riche

Lestat's dumbest nickname for him is Minky (because Louis' hair reminds him of those fancy mahogany mink coats, all dark, shiny and fluffywavy). He perhaps maybe possibly finds all the stupid pet names a little bit sweet

Phone game junkie. If brass buttons were that interesting to him, imagine candy crush or the businessman enrichment he would get from animal crossing. Lestat has to limit his screen time so he doesn't rot his brain

He watches Protestant televangelists and bitches at the screen like a dad watching football. Just in general he likes to look at things that make him angry and then complain about it (big fan of Facebook and the news for the same reason)

Really into modern self-help and wellness culture. He konmaris his house every two months and is a top user of the headspace app. It's really annoying for everyone else but it does seem to be working

He uses his vampire prodigy skills to do a lot of sketching outside, especially when the weather is nice. He's always been a nature enjoyer but now he can capture it easily and keep it close. He likes to take pictures too. And show them to other people whether they care or not. The oak tree in his favorite park is like a grandchild to him

Because of his poor feeding habits very early on after being turned, his fangs are just slightly smaller and duller than the average vampire. It makes his kills messier/harder to keep tidy because there's a bit of sawing and ripping involved in the feeding process instead of a clean bite

Contrary to popular belief, he does enjoy physical affection from very close people, like his siblings when he was human and Lestat now. He needs more space than his stage five clinger husband (they would be surgically attached if Lestat had his way), but he likes having someone to lean against while he reads or a lap to sit in during a movie or cuddles after a long day. It just took an acclimation period and some trust building/bonding to get there

His hatred of granulated sugar was partly financially motivated (business competition) but also because he had a massive sweet tooth as a human but it didn't fit his image. Almond mom who sneaks twinkies in the bathroom

On a somewhat related note, his disordered eating wasn't a totally new thing as a vampire. His image of himself was always very reliant on his ability to be "godly" and In Control which led to a lot of extreme monk food habits and secret binging on fat, sugar, and alcohol. It's also why he spiraled so quickly into being an actual alcoholic so quickly after Paul's death

Against all odds, he is a fancy bath guy. Hot water was obviously not super easy to get and regulate for most of his life so it wasn't really a feasible option, but now he's extremely into the idea of being up to his neck in hot water that smells like lavender. He's kind of embarrassed about it though so he takes them when he's alone like it's some kind of petty crime. Lestat knows and leaves him little bath product gifts (and eventually gets to be in included in the baths sometimes)

#also i made his original family name beaujon as a nod to the royal banker #vc #louis de pointe du lac #hc tag #answered

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lemmetreatya · 1 year

Text

In Words I struggle to Express — Bassists!Onyankopon x Singer!fem Reader

➡️ synopsis: the launch party went absolutely great and the after partys going to be even better! but somehow, it was a certain someone’s presence you were banking on in order for the night to truly be a success.

➡️ word count: 2.3k

➡️ content: no warnings

➡️ author’s note: fuck. okay. this is…very very self indulgent and basically based off our silly little mmbcu (dont ask) so ive tried to take out all the stuff that needs context so everyone can read it without too much issue. however for clarities sake: reader is in a girl group (called MMB) whilst reiner (drummer), zeke (vocalist), jean (vocals/guitar) and onyankopon (bassist) are in a band. at this point of time, Ony and reader aren’t in an established relationship.

if anything, id like to thank @pisspope for coming up with this specific idea earlier this week. i hope you know it’s rotted my brain ever since. thanks.

It was a success.

After months of constant tweaking, track ditching, debating lineups and self-doubt in your artistry — at final last: You had performed your album in full for your ceiling-packed launch party of family, friends and industry names alike.

Despite the shortcomings that came along with it, you hope the album lands well as it goes public tomorrow. Your band members have done their best in assuring you of it’s legendary status (“It literally serves cunt, you’ll be fine.”) and so there was only room for you to have faith that it’d do numbers — even if it was a diversion from your usual group's musical sound.

But even now, as the dregs of adrenaline still coarse through your veins, it’s just you left alone in the green room. You were only in the process of changing outfits, silk pink gown snuggly sat on your frame, but it was the creepinks of wallowing unfulfillment that somehow found its way into your heart.

Your band members and their other halves have graciously said that they’d set forwards on to the afterparty. Something about being ready to welcome you when you eventually do enter the venue where the after party was being held. You were okay with that — and thankful that they were thinking of you in that regard — but since it now left you alone with your own thoughts and own reflection in the mirror, you could feel your performing high start to come down and realisation kick in. That ultimately, despite the many wins you’ve received tonight, you were still alone.

“Can I come in?”

Rather than it being the knock, it was the steady voice you were oh so used to that reeled you out of your trance, your eyes finally locking back into focus. As you turn your head away from your reflection and into his direction, you could automatically feel your heart pick up pace.

“Well, doors open and you’re already halfway in so…”

A breathy excuse of a laugh leaves your throat — a sorry attempt at making yourself seem more pious for him than you actually were — but it was absolutely no help at all. Within his presence, you only ever felt more anxious than you should.

Onyankopon tries his best to force a laugh back but it doesn’t translate well. It seemed pained, even more forced than yours, and so you had to avert your eyes — Save yourself from reading into something you didn’t want to.

You had to do that more for you than for him anyways. Because it’s been iffy with Onyankopon these past few months and with how he’s been treating you.

Not that you were complaining; He was a man who treated you to nice things and valued your opinion. A man who understood when you needed to be handled or when you could handle your own. A man who also understood your craft and was more than happy to aid his own. It was all well and good between the both of you and he was a gentleman wrapped in one. Only issue is that Onyankopon has never clarified what the fuck you two were.

Which, in itself, was off-putting. But concerning he had so much creative process on your album? (Actually, most of his band did, but since you possibly liked him just a tad bit better, his efforts were well more noticed) And considering you had to stick so many unsolicited hard hours alongside him? And keeping in mind how you were practically eye fucking him from the stage half the time you were performing your album — the sultry songs all directed at him?! You figured he’d somehow get the hint that you were open, willing, waiting for him to make a move.

As he cautiously took further steps into the room, you wonder if your requested audience would result in pushing him to make that move.

“I won’t take up too much of your time.” He hums with one arm suspiciously behind his back.

He attempts to clear his throat yet he’s unable to do so the first time. It takes him several goes, a cough and a bat at his chest, before he’s able to achieve his goal. By now he just feels stupid, fumbling something as simple as this in front of you but he chooses to champion on.

You however, can’t help but find it endearing.

“No, you’re good. Still got a few minutes till we’re heading to the Ritz for the after party.”

You turn around in your chair, silk gown that crosses over the intersection of your chest one tug away from being labelled ‘provocative’. Unintentionally, but definitely welcomed.

“You coming, right?”

And you know you’ve tempted him — far more than you should be — because Onyankopon’s eyes automatically wander to the exposed skin of your chest. Stare locked on for several seconds before he’s forced to recognise his error and flick his eyes back up to meet yours.

“I…not this time.” He clears his throat again. “Which is mainly why I wanted to come see you now since I won’t see you after this.”

“Oh…”

You try your best not to look disappointed; for your shoulders not to sag and your bottom lip to stay free of being snagged between your teeth but it’s inevitable to stop the way your heart sinks halfway down your chest and your gut wretches inwards.

Right, of course. He was a busy man.

In your head, you know he probably had good reason to skip out on this big night of yours, but you can’t help the small teasing voice that reminds you that every one of his bandmates found a way to clear their schedules in order to make the party tonight. Everyone but him.

Subconsciously you tug the material of your gown over your chest.

“Maybe next time then.” You feign. Suddenly you don’t feel enthusiastic for your own event.

Onyankopon knows he’s fucked up your mood and he’s mentally kicking himself for doing so. Personally, he wasn’t going to say anything— just not show up and let you enjoy your time without him. But it’s Reiner, the drummer of their band, who nudged him to at least apologise for not coming.

Actually, Reiner nudged him to say a lot more than just his apologies for not being able to make the after party. He had berated Onyankopon in wisdolic manner about asking you out properly as opposed to keeping you exclusively on his arm. A proverb about ‘hope deferred making the heart sick’, “And you don’t want her to be sick because of you, do you?” He warned.

In all honesty, he didn’t hate what Reiner was saying. He really did want to make a move on you! And he genuinely had the intention to as well. He also thought it’d be ideal to ask you out considering he was very much planning on taking you to go meet his parents soon but…

It just wasn’t the right time.

“It’s never the right time, is it?” Says a more nihilistic voice in his head, but he ignores it for sanity’s sake.

Onyankopon shuffles his footing.

“I’m sorry. Something really important popped up and you know I’d usually be there and…Look, I just wanted to come see you and mention you were really great out there. I know we, well, more you, worked really hard on this album and all but I genuinely just want to say that I’m really, really, proud of you.”

There’s a twitch of recognition on your face but the man’s rambled words did nothing to lighten your mood. You only turn your head back to your reflection in the mirror.

“Thank you, Onyankpon.”

Okay, you’re using his full name. That’s how he knows you’re upset at him.

Now he’s regretting even coming here. Onyankopon doesn’t want to go round blaming Reiner for your lack of reaction to him but deep down, he knows that’s all him. He knows that either way, mentioned or not, his absence would have upset you. He doesn’t want to now give you even more reason to be upset so he guesses he should start wrapping this up.

“Congratulations on the album launch. That was the main thing I wanted to say. I should have started with that first…”

With an outstretched arm from behind his back, Onyankopon offers you a box of luxury chocolates and a freshly picked bouquet he could fit all in one hand. In all honesty, he would have definitely gotten you something bigger, better than you could have ever imagined!

But, he just didn’t have the time.

“You never have the time—“ “Shut up. I know.” The voice in his head is cut short.

However, contrary to the heart felt gift, it seems your attention can no longer be brought. Despite his presentation, your expression is fixed and occupied on your reflection. Onyankopon suddenly wonders whether you were always this down when he wasn’t around.

You sniff once but not because any tears were about to grace your face.

“Thanks.” You say without looking back at him. “You can put ‘em over there with the others.”

Onyankopon’s gaze follows where your eye line draws to within the mirror.

Sure enough, towards the side of the room there's a table where a mountain of gifts, flowers and congratulatory efforts lay. Onyankopon takes two steps towards it before sheepishly laying down his now rather measly looking present within the only sliver of table available.

If he didn’t feel so out of depth with you, he would have dryly laughed at how low effort his offering was in contrast to Jean’s, his band’s guitarist.

As he could see, the man had brought you an expensive bag bouquet — a gift extravagant enough to take up half the wall behind it. There was even a large bottle of champagne and a D’usse that tagged along with it and a card that had your stage name curved in beautiful calligraphy.

You and Jean didn’t share a relationship anywhere as near as efficient as you and Onyankopon’s to warrant this type of gift, but he guesses his bandmate took great pride in the help he had on your album. Onyankopon even feels a sense of irate jealousy as he remembers how the two of you danced back-to-back on stage as Jean played his guitar solo during your final song.

His throat runs dry at memory recall of the performative sight. Surely, all of that was to provoke him.

“Sorry.” You suddenly blurt out and Onyankopon’s attention is instantly brought back to you — the physical you.

“I kinda need to get ready now. Vans almost in front.” You drastically avoid his eye contact. “If I could just have these last few minutes alone that’d be great.”

With your last sentence mumbled and your hands playing at your gown, he knows you’re not telling the whole truth but he was honestly out of his depth here. All Onyankopon could do was fulfil your wishes.

“O-oh! Oh, sure! Sure, yeah I’ll let you…I’ll let you get to it.”

With almost bashful demeanour, Onyankopon backs away from the table and makes a beeline towards the door.

But it feels wrong. It feels incomplete.

It’s not like he wanted to force himself against your boundaries but he just knows that if he leaves now without saying anything — he might just wound your ebbing relationship beyond repair.

In some sort of divine intervention, Reiner’s words about not being the ‘hope deferred’ that resulted in making you sick, kicked in. As soon as the phrase comes to him, a looped smile starts to grow onto his face.

“Now's the time!” His inner head voice says and for once, he lets it speak.

Stopping in his tracks, Onyankopon mentally gears his courage up before turning on his heels and blurting out the first thing that came up his throat.

“Hey, uh…look, I really do feel bad about not being able to make tonight. I wanna make it up to you so how’s your availability for the day after tomorrow?”

You’re surprised by his offer but you don’t wholly show it. It’s the way you pretend that his preposition didn’t excite you that made Onyankopon want to burst out in laughter. You were so cute when you were trying to be aloof.

“Depends.” You shrug as your eyes actively avoid his. “I have an early morning promo interview for the album and my evenings fully booked.”

Onyankopon enthusiastically nods.

It made sense you were busy concerning the work needed to be done for your album drop but Onyankopon was determined. Onyankopon wanted to make this work!

“Okay, that’s fine. How’s lunch time for you?”

There is a look of ponder on your face and a sparkle in your eye. You roll your lips in contemplation before quote mark nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Relatively free.” You quip.

Yes!

“Great! Leave it open for me. I’ll take you out on a date.”

Onyankopon is pumped enough that he’s already heading out the green room and so you get up from your chair to shout after him.

“Wait— Ony, to where?”

The man turns round to face you, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. Not the most infectious smile but it’s his and so automatically, you’re drawn to it.

“Don’t worry about that. Just dress comfortably. I’ll pick you up from whatever studio you’re recording at.” He says before making his way out.

With a huff of disbelief, you sag back down into the chair.

It wasn’t unbelievable that within the spur of the moment, Onyankopon had thought up a date to take you to. He was like that — It was kinda his thing — but there was something about this particular mystery date that you found yourself looking forward to.

The same smile from before grew larger on your face and your reflection in the mirror relayed the same message.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel so down anymore.

#don’t expect anyone to read this but i feel it was too indulgent for the gc 😭😭#onyankopon aot #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon #attack on titan #aot #aot x black reader #aot x reader

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msfcatlover · 1 year

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@alycat76 : Can you give me the low urban fantasy AU?

YES! YES I ABSOLUTELY CAN!!! Ah, you have no idea how much I love this one!!!

Okay, so! This AU was actually born directly from my frustration with a bunch of Urban Fantasy AUs (and original stories, if we’re being real here.) Namely, that those stories will so often be like, “These magical beings are very, very rare,” and then the entire cast will be mystical beings of one sort or another. And I was like, “You can totally tell an engaging story in a world like this with an almost entirely human cast. You don’t even have to cut out the magic element or fun world building!” (And yes, that first part does accurately describe my Monster!Kids AU. Shhhhh, let me have my hypocrisy.)

I wanted to do that, and my brain is 90% Batfam brainrot right now, so here’s what I came up with.

(CW for minor mentions of sickness, canon character death, and child abuse. Bruce is not the abuser, for the record. But mentions are there. Also, Jason’s body is not restored to its pre-death state, and I do describe some of the things that would’ve been done to prep him for his funeral.)

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

Very first point: Bruce’s tie to Gotham is more than just his love & dedication to his city. The Wayne family are supposedly one of the oldest families in the city, and of those old families they’re possibly (I’m still a little unclear here) the only one not tied to the Court of Owls? They’re the ones most dedicated to improving Gotham and ending its corruption, anyway. So let’s do something with that, shall we?

The Wayne bloodline has a bond with the city. Some might call it a blessing, some might call it a curse. The eldest member of the family is a Fisher King; the health of the Lord is tied directly to that of the city. When the Lord is sick, the city suffers; when the city suffers, the Lord feels its pain. And for generations, the head of the family has near-always been ill. Bruce has vivid memories of his father retching over the toilet, or calling in sick because the trembling was too much for Thomas to risk operating on patients (they are, depressingly, some of the most vivid memories Bruce has of his father.) As a member of the family, Bruce could see the marks just under his father’s skin, from ink-black to bruise-yellow and every sickly color in between, that nobody else seemed to see (Zatanna did, and she was the only outsider to assure Bruce he wasn’t crazy over it, but there’s only so much she could do for him.) It was terrifying for a young boy to see his father so ill, but Thomas promised Bruce that even though it was a “family condition,” Thomas & Martha were working on it; Thomas promised his son that by the time Bruce had to worry about it, they’d have made enough progress that Bruce would hardly even notice it.

Of course, that’s not what happened. Thomas was actually feeling well that night, better than he had in months, and wanted to go out to celebrate. Martha chose the restaurant and Bruce chose the movie. And maybe, if Thomas had kept feeling well, if he hadn’t had to stop to catch his breath, if the family hadn’t stepped into that specific alley to avoid blocking the sidewalk... maybe things would’ve been different.

When Thomas Wayne breathed his last, his son collapsed under the weight of Gotham’s rot & suffering. Joe Chill assumed the bullet must’ve passed through one of the parents to hit the child, and fled in a panic.

The hospital could find nothing wrong with Bruce, but he saw the understanding in Alfred’s eyes when he arrived and the first thing Bruce said to Alfred was, “I think I’m dying.”

(In most legends, Fisher Kings cannot leave their homelands. The Waynes are slightly luckier, but the longer they are away, the more they... fade. Energy seeps out of them slowly, color leaves their skin, no amount of sleep is ever enough, and they eventually need to return to Gotham to recharge. Bruce’s record is 3yrs, and the doctors shipped him home basically in a coma.)

(Bruce swore he would never have children, never pass down his bloodline’s curse to an innocent child who should not have to carry it. He got a vasectomy as soon as he legally could. Needless to say, he was furious Talia would go so far as to create a clone-son for the two of them, violating both Bruce’s right to choose and cursing Damian to carry on that line of suffering.)

Bruce learned his city & body well enough that he can use it as a map. Not a map that would make sense to anyone else (street corners that are directly adjacent to eachother might be on completely different parts of him, like one on his ribs and the other behind his knee.) During the day, he uses his resources to try to treat Gotham’s suffering preventatively, going after unjust rules & systems, weaving a new security net for Gotham’s underclass, etc. At night, his methods are more surgical, cutting out the tumors & rot, while also taking the time to help as many individual citizens as he possibly can.

As the legend of the Batman grows, reality starts to bend ever so slightly under the weight of it. He jumps further & more accurately than a man of his bulk should be able to, can always find the perfect corner to hide in, always has something to grab when he falls off a building.

Despite all the suffering Gotham causes Bruce Wayne, he still loves his city. And the city loves him back.

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Second point: Dick Grayson is human, and he doesn’t exactly have any magic of his own. It’s... I’m calling it “being a conduit.” Basically, Dick resonates with any magic in his vicinity. He’s very sensitive to the presence of magic, to the point of it being basically a sixth sense, and on an instinctive level he attunes himself to any natural or environmental magic around him. To a very limited degree, he can even take on a few traits of what that magic is, but not... he can’t tune into a fire spell and burn you with a touch, but when he’s resonating with Gotham, he is slightly more resistant to poisoning.

It’s much, much rarer than being a magic user (though many magic users do eventually become conduits through sheer exposure,) but in the same way having perfect pitch is different from being able to sing.

...I’m making it sound so much more powerful than it actually is here. The main benefit Dick gets out of it is that when he attunes himself to any given city, the city will treat him as a native and most citizens just passing him in the street will assume he is too (this does not affect his ability to, say, speak the language or change his accent, it’s just his “vibes,” if that makes sense.)

As far as story goes, this means Dick can see Bruce’s curse-marks despite not being a member of his bloodline; if they’re in contact with eachother, Dick can even very faintly feel what the city is inflicting on Bruce at any given time. (This scares the absolute bejeezus out of Bruce when he realizes, as he immediately assumes he misinterpreted the curse, and “bloodline” just means “family,” or even “household,” and he’s cursed Dick as well just by offering him a home!) It also means that as soon as Robin becomes part of Batman’s legend, Dick can benefit from the city’s protections just like Bruce does.

It is, in fact, Dick who causes Bruce to realize there’s something more than just good luck happening, when Robin is thrown off a roof but fortunately finds a pole of some sort hidden by the building’s shadow to kick off from and make it to the next one over (this also triggers a rumor that Robin can fly, something Dick is more than happy to lean into with some tailoring on his cape, and yes, he does move even better & faster as a result.) The thing is, Bruce is certain there was no pole there, because he would’ve incorporated it into potential escape plans. And when he finally has the time to go back & check, after the fight is over, after Robin is safe... he’s right. The alley is empty. There’s no pole, no pipe, no nothing. But Dick definitely kicked off of something in mid-air, Dick’s not a metahuman or a magic user, he can’t double-jump or anything. Dick himself insists his foot just caught the top of a thin, flat cylinder, no more than two inches wide, just barely enough to jump from; Dick’s even pretty sure he saw the pole when he glanced behind him, sticking up out of the shadows. Nothing weird at all, except for how it doesn’t exist.

(When Jason dies, Gotham’s grief is strong enough to feel it all the way out in space. Dick doesn’t understand the heavy feeling in his heart, nor the sudden urgency to get home. He tells the other Titans to just drop him off in Gotham, but the closer they get, the worse Dick feels. When they actually break the city limits, Dick just melts into tears as Gotham’s pain howls through every inch of his body. Donna calls ahead, more than a little panicked, and nearly gives Alfred a heart attack with how worried & hesitant Donna is to just straight up say what’s wrong with Dick. She offers Dick the communicator, saying it’s Alfred on the line, and Dick snatches it out of her hand to ask the only coherent word any of them will hear from him for the rest of the day: “Who?”

When Alfred answers, Dick just... breaks. Right there in front of them. He’s trying to say something, something about that being wrong, something about having plans, but he can’t deny what he’s feeling, and he can’t seem to get the words out.

The Titans land in the Batcave, and refuse to leave. Fuck Batman’s rules, they’re not abandoning Dick... and Dick isn’t the only one who didn’t get to say goodbye.)

(Bruce & Dick still fight about it terribly once they’re finally alone. Bruce never once raises his hand to his son, but Dick tries to reach out to him, to touch Bruce’s hand and resonate, to literally share his pain, and Bruce jerks away saying, “Don’t, it’s not---”

Dick stares in shock & horror as both of them silently complete that sentence: It’s not real. If you asked Dick right in that moment, he’d say striking him would have hurt less.)

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Jason was human, fully human, with nothing special about him at all. Well, except for how Gotham loved him even more than Batman. The resonance Dick needs to wrap himself up in for Gotham to accept him, Jason has it echoing in his bones. He’s one of Gotham’s truest sons, he’s part of that city, and the city is part of him.

It’s not Superboy Prime’s reality breaking punch that brought Jason back from the dead. I... Look, I wrote a little nursery rhyme to explain it, and I’ve no idea if it’s any good (but it can’t be any worse than the Court of Owls’ rhyme, which has just a few too many syllables in certain lines for me to find whatever rhythm it’s supposed to have.)

Take me home to Gotham If I die far away Put me in her soil In a shallow grave

I don’t belong in Paris Or under London Town Don’t bury me in Tokyo Put me in Gotham ground

If you lose me out at sea In storm or dark of night I’ll swim back home to Gotham I’ll just follow the lights

Don’t send me off to Moscow Or drag me down to Rome I’m Gotham born and bred, my friend I only rest at home

Oh, take me home to Gotham If I die far away Put me in her soil In a shallow grave

I don’t need no tears or funerals Don’t miss me every day For I’ve come home to Gotham And right at home I’ll stay

(As far as most people are concerned, that’s where the rhyme ends. This next part is less well known, in-universe.)

I don’t want no fancy coffin Just put me in the ground Dig a hole on old Park Row And don’t let me be found

My soul belongs in Gotham She knows me blood and bone There is nowhere else that I may rest I’ll only toss and moan

But I’ll rest well in Gotham For two years and a day And if I’m feeling up to it I might even awake

So take me home to Gotham If I die far away You know I’ll only rest in peace In my shallow grave

...Yeah. This actually leads to a few traditions very specific to Gotham, like lighting a candle on someone’s grave on the anniversary of their death to help “lead them home,” or sitting vigil by their grave for the first 2-3 anniversaries. Lots of people don’t even know it has anything to do with this rhyme, it’s just part of Gotham’s culture.

Bruce & Dick of course know the whole rhyme and fight not to get their hopes up on the 2nd anniversary (have you seen that one post where Dick goes to smoke a cigarette for Jason on his grave, chokes on the smoke, and then Bruce shows up and they just silently share it? Yeah. Those vibes. Big those vibes.)

They made one crucial miscalculation, though: they calculated when Jason’s return would theoretically be from the time he died, not from when he was buried. Jason claws his way out of the ground just a day or two after they leave.

Now Jason’s a full-on undead revenant. In exactly the same condition they put him in the ground. He has embalming fluid in his veins, and wires holding his broken bones together. His mouth was sewn shut. But he’s not braindead, he’s fully aware, so enjoy that nightmare fuel for your near future! Additionally, people can’t seem to recognize him as being out of place; he’s walking around in his funeral suit, covered in dirt, and hardly anyone gives him a second glance. He doesn’t register to people, just a face in the crowd, just another part of Gotham, and it’s... Look, Jason’s not complaining that he’s not being arrested or having people run screaming at the sight of him. He can’t even say they’re ignoring him because people will still look up, say their greetings, whatever when he walks through a door, or grunt when they walk into him. But something about the way people brush past him, the certainty nobody will remember him after their interaction is finished, hurts.

(The only way for Jason to be remembered, to leave an impression on the people around him, is to become part of a legend once again.)

Revenants come back for a reason, and Jason’s is to kill his murderer. But he’s part of Gotham proper now, and unlike Bruce, Jason can’t leave. He tries to, he drives all the way to Arkham in a hot-wired car, but he’s still a good half mile away before the pain becomes too much and Jason’s forced to turn the car around or risk crashing when he inevitably passes out. This Jason never trains with the League of Assassins, but he doesn’t need to; no Lazarus Pit needed to fix his mind, and his undead body can take a lot more punishment than any living human could.

(I have this mental image of Jason going back to Wayne Manor, right on the edge of discomfort-not-pain outside of the city proper, and needing to spill so many identifying secrets to Alfred to get Alfred to even let him through the door. Bruce is out of the country, so Alfred calls Dick to please come help him verify their visitor’s identity. Dick has no idea who this stranger in their living room is, until he closes his eyes and focuses on the magic. Dives in deep, letting the resonance of Gotham’s soul wrap around him, and is surprised to find it so much clearer & louder than it should be this far from the city’s heart. Louder than it’s ever been since Jason---

Dick opens his eyes, and his breath catches in his throat as he finally recognizes the face staring at him with so much raw hope.)

Anyway, Bruce refuses to kill the Joker even harder when he finds out Jason is back, because he’s terrified that the moment Jason’s unfinished business is done, Jason will go back to being properly dead.

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Okay, last stop: Tim! The only member of the family to be fully supernatural, non-human from the start.

Tim is a changeling. Specifically, he’s a fae who was born without the spellcasting abilities most fae have, so he was traded for a human child. Tim has no memory of the fae courts or his home mound, but he’s a smart cookie and it wasn’t hard to do the math.

Tim can’t lie. He has to keep his promises and he can’t help but keep track of debts (the kindest people in his life will give him quick, easy ways to repay them; a cool rock Tim found, or an interesting bit of information. Tim doesn’t like to hold debts over others most of the time, and will offer similar outs or just tell himself the next nice thing they do for him makes them even.)

Tim can’t cross salt lines or thresholds with horseshoes above them.

Tim can’t touch iron or silver without burning his skin.

Eating non-iodized salt makes Tim sick.

If Tim speaks someone’s full name as part of a command, they will do what he tells them to (other people don’t usually realize this, because they aren’t forced violently; their own minds usually try to find ways to justify what they’re doing.)

If someone has a piece of Tim’s body (like hair, blood, or nail-clippings) Tim’s brain goes into panic mode as quickly as if they held a knife to his throat.

Those are the obvious giveaways that point straight to fae. Tim’s inhumanity can also be found in minute details of his physicality.

Tim’s eyes glow in the dark.

The tips of Tim’s ears are pointed.

Tim has never lost a tooth (but his parents had his eye-teeth removed when he was eight.)

Tim’s nails grow in tough & black as pitch. (He’s gotten in trouble many times at school for painting them, despite the doctor’s note explaining it.)

Hidden under Tim’s hair, his scalp grows thick, curved thorns like a rosebush. (His mother sits him down in the bathroom the day before company comes over, and meticulously removes them with a pair of nail clippers. It hurts. They bleed. Tim’s learned not to squirm or show how much he hate it. It hurts worse if anyone messes with Tim’s hair afterwards, but he’s learned not to show that either.)

And, of course, there’s the biggest giveaway of all:

In all Tim’s pictures before the single trip his parents ever took him on (a whirlwind tour of Europe just before his 2nd birthday,) Tim’s eyes were hazel-brown.

They’re blue now.

(Tim tells himself his parents leave him behind and push him away because they can sense something is off about him, but that they don’t know what. He tells himself they didn’t notice when the fae stole their son away, that the real Timothy Drake would’ve grown up doted on & treasured, traveling the world with them, seeing the sights. Tim tries not to think about how Drake Industries was spiraling before they took that trip, or how it stabilized before they even made it home.)

Tim still becomes Robin, barely resisting Name-commanding his way into the role (it wouldn’t be right, it wouldn’t be honest, he needs Bruce to trust Tim if Bruce is ever going to get better.)

Gotham itself sees Tim as an interloper, but when Tim is Robin it can’t do anything about that. When Jason comes back, Tim sets off all his red-flag alarms, and all he can see is an alien parasite trying to worm its way into his family. It won’t be until Jason saves Tim from supernatural poachers who try to torture Tim’s Name out of him (fruitless in the first place, Tim doesn’t know his own Name,) that they’ll be able to move past that. Gotham can project its suspicions & paranoia through Jason, but how Jason chooses to see Tim will also affect Gotham.

(Someday, Damian will find Tim’s eye-teeth and return them to him as a birthday gift. It will be the kindest single act anyone has ever done for him, as Tim feels safe & whole for the first time since they were taken. Nevermind that they’re in a jewelry box and not Tim’s body, he has his teeth back, and nobody can take them ever again.

Tim will struggle to tell Damian that Tim can’t even begin to express how much this means to him. In the end, Tim just tells Damian, “Thank you. I owe you.”

Dangerous words, with no limit on the debt.

Damian will blink, realize what Tim’s answer really means, and scoff. “Don’t be stupid. It’s a gift. You don’t owe me anything, that’s how gifts work.”)

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Basically everyone else has the same stories they do in canon, but with a little less dying. I’ve given dying so much more weight in this AU, so like, Steph doesn’t die, Damian doesn’t die, etc.

Damian does inherit Bruce’s curse/burden when Bruce is lost in time, though. Dick helps him learn to manage it, on top of everything else.

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