#Also don't mind quality shifts through all this if you do go looking

[lilithnoxvt]

And here's more

Misc sketches:

I still exist??? It's more likely than you think!

I just never really got in the habit of talking here, mostly just reblogging things lol.

I'm currently working on a personal project and needed a convenient place to stick a bunch of my art. So, here we go!

Finished pieces, non-commissioned:

Finished pieces, commissioned:

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Missing Matchmaker Merle

Warnings: Smut, degradation, minor alcohol consumption, unprotected p in v, NO use of (Y/N)

Summary: You and Daryl distract each other from missing Merle.

Notes: Wanted to try the idea of Daryl thinking he wants super rough sex, but he finds out he doesn't really like it that much when you indulge in it. GIF found from Pinterest from user vallie

Taking a hot shower was something you used to take for granted. But after arriving at the CDC and having the chance to not only clean, but sanitize yourself, you made every second count. You even fucking shaved. 

When you heard Jenner would also be serving dinner, you could've thrown up in excitement.

“C'mon, quit actin’ like a pussy and drink.” 

You rolled your eyes at the redneck's words, but shrugged and waved him forward anyway. He grinned in success and filled a cup with red wine, nearly spilling it on your chest with the way he shoved it towards you.

The shift in the atmosphere the last few hours had been remarkable. Not too long ago you were in the first stages of accepting your possible demise, standing behind Shane and Daryl as they fought to get Rick away from the doors. Now here you sat between Carol and Daryl, drinking some of the best wine you'd ever tasted, enough food on your plate to fill your stomach the way it was meant to be. 

You barely heard Daryl whisper beside you over the happy chatter of your group. “Watch, he's gonna turn all red, Koreans all got an allergy to alcohol.” 

You couldn't help but break into a grin at that, shaking your head in amusement. He looked too excited for you to correct him so you just chuckled, and tried not to fall from your chair when he playfully elbowed you in your side. 

The sight of Lori and Shane in the little library foiled your plans to read before bed. You only watched for a second, it looked like they were arguing, trying to keep their voices down despite their frustration. 

You rolled your eyes and turned on your heels, annoyed you'd have to settle on something in the rec room. 

As soon as you turned the corner to walk down the hall, you bumped into a chest so hard you lost your balance. Their hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, and when you heard that teasing southern accent you immediately felt your mood lifting. 

“That wine make you blind? You Korean too?” He snickered as he helped you right yourself. 

It was incredibly refreshing to see Daryl in that light. He was in a great mood, not drunk but buzzed enough to keep a grin on his face. 

“Fucking Shane and Lori's in there.” You grumbled playfully, crossing your arms in exaggerated annoyance. 

“Huh, what're they doin’?” His voice lowered to a nosey whisper and he nudged you back to peek around the corner. He immediately pulled back, bumping into you again, a look of disgust on his face. “Fuckin’ white trash. Actin’ like Rick ain't right down the hall.” 

That had you turning into a nosey busybody and you went to see what he was talking about, but he had already nudged your shoulder in the other direction to the bedroom halls. 

“C'mon, let's go do somethin’.” He didn't wait for an answer as he continued using his body to guide you down the hallway, reminding you of a sheepdog, which amused you to no end. 

“Like what?” You smirked as he shouldered you into one of the rec rooms. There were a few loveseats, bean bag chairs, a long couch and endless shelves of things. Board games, card games, sketch books and those really expensive high quality colored pencils, markers, you name it. You could spend the rest of your life in this room and die happy. 

“Hell, I don't know.” He shrugged and went to look through the shelves. You watched him in the doorway, your lip tightening at the side when you realized he was desperate to take his mind off Merle. Shit, you were too. You missed the fuck out of Merle Dixon. You'd grown extremely close to him, he wordlessly accepted your vulnerability of being the black sheep and Daryl related to it. They treated you like some weird adopted family member that one playfully flirted with and the other jerked off to. 

“Wanna play uno? I'm suspiciously good at it.” You finally shut the door and walked over to him with crossed arms, aware of the way he tensed when you got closer. 

“Uno? The fuck? Hell no.” He scoffed and aggressively flipped through the games on the shelf. “This is like some fucked up retirement center.”

“What'd you expect? An Xbox full of two player games?” You watched as he pretended to read the back of a card game box. 

“Psh. I don't know. Let's go fuck with Glenn -”

You grabbed his wrist before he could rush past you and laughed. “Leave the poor kid alone. He's gonna be so fucking sick tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Threw up on my couch.” He muttered, remembering the way he'd had to drag Glenn to the couch in his temporary bedroom. 

“Course he did. You kept pouring wine down the kids' throat.”

You had a few minutes of friendly banter, suggested uno again, he suggested strip poker, you suggested skipping the poker, and soon you were grinding against his knee behind some of the book shelves.

“I want it dirty. Want it raw.” He huffed as he feverishly unbuckled his belt. “F-fuck, you're so hot.”

You grinned and leaned in to bite his bottom lip, earning a delicious whimper from him. You dug your teeth down harder and pulled back, feeling his dick twitch obscenely against your hip. 

“Want it dirty, yeah?” You drawled and kissed down his neck, switching between biting and biting hard. 

“Yeah.” He breathed and fucked his hand, clutching onto your hair with his other. “You think,” he faltered as you bit down on his nipple, his words spilling into various curses and slang you couldn't understand. “Shhh-fuck” His voice cracked in a way that was absolutely fucking adorable to you. “Y’think, you could, on top-”

“Yeah, I can do that.” You made your way back up to his neck, reaching to unbutton the rest of his shirt, but he stopped you. You didn't question it, you just sat him down on one of the loveseats and climbed in his lap. 

You looked over your shoulder at the door, even though it was shut anyone could just walk in, but Daryl grabbed your chin and forced you back against his mouth. 

You fucking loved the way he kissed. It was so hot and sloppy, his tongue diving everywhere in your mouth, licking every spot he could reach. When you pulled back to breathe, the skin around your lips felt wet, just another thing to make your pussy wetter. Daryl Dixon being so messy and dirty drove you insane. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” you slurred, your hands sliding up your pajama shirt to grope your own breasts. “Who would've thought you were such a needy whore.”

“Can you blame me, woman? Shit.” He thrusted up against you as he admired your form over him, your lips parted and your hair in your face, you looked hotter than every single pornstar he'd ever seen. He came harder to you than Sasha Grey. 

You maneuvered out of your pajama pants and slipped back in his lap, sliding your pussy against his throbbing cock. 

“Fuckin’ goddamnit.” He sputtered and grabbed hold of your hips for dear life. He rolled up in sync with you, nearly cumming when he saw the way his head would push through your folds each time your hips slid back. 

It was easier to get him inside you with you on top, you didn't need to worry about him slamming into you like last time. You took your time, enjoying the way he curled his upper lip in frustration, his eyes locked on the way his dick disappeared up inside you. 

“Fuck.” You drew your word out as you finally sat down on him, his dick sticking you like a skewer. 

You opened your eyes when you felt him grabbing your right wrist. He brought it up to his throat with no hesitation, a new boldness filling him that you didn't expect. 

You scoffed and laughed, the sound making his hips jerk roughly up into you. You obliged though, grabbing hold of his thick throat and squeezing. 

The situation you found yourself in was something you could easily get used to. You leaned back, keeping yourself upright with your grip on his neck. You rolled your hips in a way that served you, using Daryl's dick to get off. The way you fucked him was completely foreign to him, he'd never seen anything like this in the tapes he'd steal from Merle. 

You moaned when he bucked into you, and you had to take a moment to steady yourself. You released his neck and grabbed his chin, your thumb slipping between his teeth, holding him like a hooked fish. He looked up at you through his lashes and bit down gently, his hips rolling slower now. 

“You're a fucking mess.” You hissed with a smirk, looking down at your work proudly. Now he was the one who needed to be in a filthy magazine. His cheeks and lips red, his eyes half lidded and dark, his teeth bared and biting on your thumb. He was sweating like crazy and you were impressed he hadn't come yet, must've been the wine. “God I missed your dick.”

You weren't sure how it happened but soon you were pressed against the wall, your thighs wrapped around his back and his dick rearranging your insides. You couldn't moan even if you wanted, he was so rough and fast that all you could do was gasp in each breath, your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open. 

His thrusts slowed and he pulled back from biting your neck to nip the side of your jaw, making your eyes roll back to focus. 

“Slap me.”

Your words didn't register to him for a second. He lifted his head and furrowed his brows in confusion, although his rough thrusts didn't even budge. 

“C'mon, you wanted it dirty, didn't you?” You sneered, and a book fell from the shelf next to you when your head thudded back against the wall after a deep thrust.

He went to speak, but he only let out a long breath, and that's when his thrusts started to slow. “The hell you want that for?” 

You were caught off guard by the look on his face. He looked equally confused and almost… insulted? Hurt? 

“Cause it feels really fucking good. Hey, you don't have to, alright?” Your breathing came back under your control when his thrusts stopped altogether. 

You could tell you upset him. You slid your legs from his waist until your toes touched the floor, and his dick slipped out of you. 

“Hey, it's okay, alright?” You reached to touch his chin but he tilted his head away, no longer looking confused, moreso disappointed. 

You bit your bottom lip and thought. He was in no state to make any further moves so you made it for him. You pulled your clothes back on and took him to his bedroom, making sure to close and lock the door. You turned the lights off and laid him down on the bed before climbing on top of him. 

“I just wanna make you feel good, can I do that?” You murmured softly, sitting on his lap and stroking his cheek. 

That seemed to get to him and he gave in, nodding once without meeting your gaze.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” You promised and kissed down his cheek, deciding against being rough with him the way you were before. 

“Never gonna hear me say that.” He snorted and intertwined his fingers in your hair, gentle, something you hadn't experienced with him. It was like a switch was flipped and he was a completely different man. 

Daryl melted under you as you worked him over with soft touches and kisses. You took your bottoms back off and took his dick back out, giving him a few strokes to get him hard again. You wasted no time in slipping him inside you, thankful there was little resistance with how wet you had become. 

You settled down on him, placing your hands on his chest to balance yourself, your fingers pinching the buttons on his shirt as a way to ground yourself. His dick sent you to other places. 

You fucked him slow, taking the time to feel and appreciate each time his tip rubbed against your sweet spot. He breathed noisily under you, giving the occasional grunt or quiet whine, his hands resting on your hips. 

Flipping your hair to one side over your shoulder, you leaned down and kissed him. You led this time, just moving your lips against his, slow and deep and without the use of your teeth, no matter how badly you wished to hear him whimper. 

He sat up and wrapped his arms around your back to turn you over, somehow managing to keep his lips on yours the entire time. 

You felt your muscles sigh in relief when he laid you on your back in the soft bed. You let out a soft happy breath when he slid his hands up your sides, content in just stroking your skin. He wasn't fucking you then, it was something different. If you were stupid you'd call it making love. He thrusted deep and slow, his hips moving on their own accord. Each time he plunged back in he'd exhale deeply through his nose, tickling the skin of your upper lip. 

Daryl was the one to break the kiss, he leaned back on his heels to look down at you.

“So damn pretty.” He mumbled, his eyelids struggling to stay open. If he wasn't drunk on the wine he was drunk on you and this new way of having you, a way he never even considered. This was it, he thought, this is how he wanted to have sex for the rest of his life. Swallowing each other whole, touching and caressing every inch of skin. 

His eyelids didn't feel so heavy when he saw you suck in a deep breath. Your eyes closed and you grabbed at your hair and breast, your head lolling to the side, your mouth hanging open, your face all twisted up-

You came hard around him, shuddering and gasping and whimpering as you enjoyed your sweet orgasm. It was so different, so drastically different from the last one he gave you. You didn't feel like you were on fire, clawing at your skin with your throat raw, you felt like you were being slipped into the warm black lake that was Daryl Dixon. 

“Daryl, oh my god Daryl.” Your words slurred in your mouth and he leaned down to kiss you. He wanted to swallow every little noise you made. Wanted to swallow your breaths, wanted to swallow you. 

“Ss-shh-fuck.” He bubbled against your lips as he came, forgetting to pull out again. He didn't give a shit anymore. He moaned then, such a beautiful noise that it nearly shattered your heart. So shameless, he didn't hold back at all, letting you hear all of it, all that you earned from him. 

He ground his hips into you well after you both finished, making sure every last drop of his cum filled you up. He buried his face in your neck and rolled his hips, his rough pubes grinding against your throbbing clit. You'd never come that way before, not without at least a little outside stimulation, the fact he made you cum from penetration alone changed your life for good. 

It was hard to bite back any further words. You moaned softly at the feeling of his dick still dragging against your walls, nudging against you each time in a way that was nearly too much to bear. 

You looked at him with admiration. He looked beautiful. You reached up and ran your hand over his short hair, wiping the sweat from his brows. He looked at you, something he needed great courage to do, and sighed. 

He couldn't think of anything to say. He felt ashamed, embarrassed, he'd been so deeply vulnerable that it physically hurt him. He swore he'd blow his goddamn brains out if you laughed or made fun of him. 

But you didn't, you just smiled up at him with that dangerous look on your face that had his heart racing. It should've relaxed him, but it didn't, it made the muscles in his shoulders tense. 

“Do you want me to leave?” You whispered as you stroked his cheek, fully prepared for him to go back to the same old Daryl Dixon you knew and tolerated. 

“Do whatcha want.” He breathed, finally pulling his soft dick from you. 

“Good. Then I'll stay.” You leaned up on your elbows and kissed his jaw before slipping into the bathroom. 

When you climbed back in bed he was pretending to be asleep. You scoffed quietly in amusement and pulled a thin sheet over the two of you, curling up behind him. You decided that wouldn't suit you so you turned over and wrapped your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face in the back of his neck. 

You kissed the skin there once before pressing your forehead against the same spot, closing your eyes when you felt comfortable. 

Daryl stared at the wall in front of him as he felt your fingers softly fidget with the buttons of his shirt. They soon stilled and your breathing slowed to a point where he could barely hear it anymore. Only then did he close his eyes, and secretly enjoy the way you held him. 

The next morning was awkward when you woke up and saw Glenn still passed out on the couch.

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

[lurkingshan]

Love in the Big City Drama: Episodes 1-2 Book Club Discussion

I'm so happy to be back here with all you friends discussing this excellent show and the novel that inspired it. It has surpassed my wildest dreams in terms of both quality and authenticity to the tone and spirit of the novel, and I am so excited to talk about it!

As a reminder, these are the questions we originally discussed for Part 1 of the novel, and this is the meta round up, where you can see all the brilliant things you initially wrote about it. Here are your official discussion questions for episodes 1 and 2 of Love in the Big City, courtesy of @bengiyo:

With the move to the screen, more of Go Yeong's relationships are featured in Part 1. How does this change your impression of how Mi Ae fits into his life, compared to how you originally read his relationship with Jaehee?

What new insights did you gain from the adaptation's expansion of K3 (Kia) Guy from a few background lines into a fully realized character in Kim Nam Gyu?

In the novel, we see everything through Young's rather biting and cynical internal monologue, while in the drama we see other characters through a broader lens. With this different perspective, how does Mi Ae's outing of Go Yeong and the fallout change compared to the novel?

In order to make the show more cohesive and manage screen time, Sang Young Park has moved some elements of the story around, and in this first part he withheld the health scare for Go Yeong and also brought his friends, the T-aras, forward. How do these changes and the inclusion of the wider cast in Part 1 shift your perception of Go Yeong's college years?

As a reminder, you are welcome to use any or all of these as a jumping off point for your own posts, ignore them and post your own thing, or just participate by sharing and commenting on other people's posts. Please create new posts with the questions if you want to use them rather than adding on responses to this post--it will be easier to capture everyone's content if it's all in separate posts in the tag. I will be tracking everything posted in the [#litbc book club] tag and posting the weekly round up--look for that to go up next Monday ahead of the next set of discussion questions. Feel free to also directly tag me to make sure I don't miss your posts! I have tagged the regular book club participants below the cut, but anyone is welcome to join the discussion!

@becomingabeing @belladonna-and-the-sweetpeas @blalltheway @elimstillnotgarak

@colourme-feral @doyou000me @dramacraycray @dylogpenchester @fiction-is-queer

@hyeoni-comb @littleragondin @literally-a-five-headed-dragon @loveable-sea-lemon @my-rose-tinted-glasses

@neuroticbookworm @poetry-protest-pornography @profiterole-reads @serfergs @starryalpacasstuff

@stuffnonsenseandotherthings @thewayofsubtext @troubled-mind @twig-tea @wen-kexing-apologist

[bitchlessdino]

OMFG!!! i just read that chan smut and omg. THE DUALITY!! i literally love all the smuts that you write. also my birthday is february 6th so, if you don’t mind, could you write me a smut with my bias/biases. as you know i have a daddy kink. my biases are chan, seungcheol, and hoshi. you don’t have to. love you and thank you for the dino smut i absolutely loved it!-🎧

Pairing: Fem!reader x seungcheol x chan x soonyoung

Genre: smutty smut smut

Word count: 4.7K

Tags: poly, reader wearing a dress, exhibitionism, voyeurism, pet names (princess), degradation, praise kink, brief choking, fingering, oral (rec. And giving), unprotected sex (please assume everyone is clean, don't do this w/o prepping IRL), pussy slapping, ass play, triple penetration (i know), daddy kink, mean chan, sweet Cheol

Summary: it was just a dumb little party game, gets taken too seriously in teh best way possible. Happy fucking birthday to you.

Author note: first off, happy birthday! You’re always active here and sending me ideas and I appreciate you so much. Second off the fact that your list is my exact top three made this very self-indulging. I thank you for that. Please enjoy me writing out of of my darkest fantasies 😭

“Fuck. Marry. Kill. Seungcheol, Chan, Soonyoung. Go.”

You scorn up at Mingyu, “Didn't know we were still in middle school?”

You were celebrating your birthday with a couple of close friends having some drinks and good quality takeout at your place. Somewhat small for others but what you preferred it. Having all the attention on you in a public place was not your scene. These small intimate gatherings were more your speed. Then again, it prompted dumb shit like this.

Mingyu was not many shots in, but he looked like a toddler that learned to walk for the first time, so it was fair to say he drunk out of his mind. “Don’t cop out, answer the-hic-damn question.”

Your gaze shifted from the three men, all equally waiting for a response. You take a moment to linger in each thought of each man, internally listing out any and all of their redeeming qualities. 

Seungcheol, who pretended to not care about your answer, peeks at you through his peripheral. He was the impossibly attractive guy next door, figuratively and literally. It was easy to tell he does everything with purpose and excluded this natural confidence and charisma. Not to mention he was a guy you could rely on like most people already do.

Then we have Soonyoung, the man full of life. If you could describe him in one word, it’d be ‘crazy’. This was the same guy that commits to being a tiger but calling it his ‘brand, and let’s not forget his astrology chart, which you’re not gonna get into. He’s fucking hot, don’t get it wrong, but also the strangest man you’ve ever met on planet Earth. 

Now finally Chan, the cute man sitting next to you, eyes coated in nectar-like sweetness with a soft smile on his face. He’s always has been a sweet guy since you met him. He’s amicable and seemingly harmless, which made people feel comfortable around him. You can’t go wrong with Chan.

You visibly ponder, licking your lips, before answering.

“Fuck…Soonyoung, marry…Seungcheol, and I guess kill Chan? But I can’t kill him,” you look to the man mentioned and interlock arms, “so, I’ll just have to kiss him.”

You press your lips against his cheek, laughing emitting from onlookers. A warm blush spreads across his cheeks and he looks down at his feet. His smile turns bittersweet. “Great. Nice.”

“You’ll always be my favorite buddy, Chan. I could never kill you,” you coo, a finger lightly stroking at his red cheeks before he lightly shoves you away, rolling his eyes, and grabs another beer.

You initially don’t think much of it, it was only a dumb ice breaker after all. However, that event had his friends teasing him the rest of the night (but what’s new) and Chan was being the joke of the night, while Seungcheol was poking fun at you instead. Every chance he got, he’s saying things like he’s ‘waiting on that proposal,’ or ‘should I get started on the wedding planning?’ And Soonyoung seems to be a step behind the older gentleman, playfully suggesting what things he does make him ‘fuckable.’ He could be only cutting up limes for shots, or posing on the back of a wall asking, ‘this do anything for you?’ Attention was on you mainly, as expected, but that didn’t warrant the number of times you had gotten flustered.

Nonetheless, everything that night seemed all in good fun,  a birthday worth having. At some point in the night, Soonyoung passed out on the couch, while everyone else was preparing to leave. Seungcheol offers to help clean up, it was very neighborly of him, which you always welcome. Chan, in the midst of all this, was nowhere to be found and it caused you to worry, calling his phone with no answer. You weren’t apart from him long typically in these social situations.

“Thanks for helping out, Cheol.”

“Anything for my betrothed,” he teases.

“Shut up,” you lightly elbow, “It’s late, I’m gonna wash up to sleep. Just make sure to lock the door when you leave, okay.”

He nods off your request and lets you venture off to your room. He pays it no mind, finishing off some dishes, unable to hear anything underneath the sound of the sink’s running water.

On the other end of your closed bedroom door, you make a startled expression once you realize what, or should you say who was behind it. “Chan? I was wondering where you were.”

He softly scoffs from the mattress, slouching in his spot, looking as if he waited for your return. “Really? Didn’t seem to think you had a second thought about me.”

“Of course I did.” You walk up towards him and pull him up from the mattress by the arm, smiling at him. “I can’t help but think about you all the time.”

“But you’d kill me, hmm?” He tears his wrist away from your touch, drawing his face closer to yours, “That’s not what you said last week up against my bedroom window.”

You purse your lips in amusement, remembering that day all too clearly. It was moving day for him and out of all people, he called you. He mentioned needing a few boxes brought in and everyone else seemed busy, little did you know, he had other plans that night with you. Those plans are how many times he can get you to cum within an hour, or how pretty you look pressed up against a clean glass window. 

“But they don’t know that.” You retort.

“You embarrassed me out there, you know,” His eyes narrow at you, ignoring your attempts of pandering as you flirtatiously tease up his arm, “The friend-zoning, the familial kiss, the rejection, and in front of all our friends. I didn’t like it.”

You softly laugh, fingering through his pretty brown hair, “I’m sorry, but it'd be obvious if I said one of the other two. Could you find in your heart to forgive me?”

He turns away his eyes, feigning thought. “Well, since it’s your birthday, I could…doesn't mean I will.”

He tugs on you similarly the way you did to kiss him, only this time his lips locked on lips, and his skin was noticeably flushed from alcohol and lust. Your eyes naturally flutter shut, arms instinctively reach up for his face, cupping his warm cheeks. You melt in his touch, brazen and ruthless, your arousal basically dripping a hot stain in your underwear as his teeth pull at your bottom lip deliciously.

He strokes your sides, hands drawing the curve of your posterior and clutching in a hearty squeeze, a whimper leaving your lips. You feel the corner of his lips quirk up, eyes pressing into you with a smug expression. “Are you like this with all your ‘buddies’?”

You shake your head with a cheeky smile on your face, “No.”

He hums amused, lips drawing close to your ear, his decadent voice pricking your ear. “I want you to fall apart for me. Can you do that, hmm? Can you do that for Daddy?”

Your abdomen tenses up, a sultry moan escaping you, “Yes, daddy.”

“Such a good girl,” He draws out.

He pulls the zipper down from your dress, pulling off the straps from your shoulders, chuckling against your skin, as your outfit hits the floor. You giggle as he hoists you up, your legs locking around his waist, meeting his lips again more feverishly than the last. He runs you on top of your dresser, parting your legs to stand between them.

“Your turn,” You reach for the hem of his hoodie, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the side of the room, “That’s better. Happy birthday to me…”

Hand trailing over Chan’s chest, down his torso, tracing over every dent of his abs, making you lightheaded and giddy. You pull on the top of his jeans, meeting him in a kiss, they become the next article of clothing to come off, following his boxer briefs and grasp his length. His nose nuzzles your cheek, hot breath on your skin, and his digits press up against the fabric of your panties to dip in the wet spot and plunge into your clothed arousal. You pleasantly gasp, hips jerking in his direction, one hand combing through his hair.

“Oh, daddy…”

His smile grows wide. “You’re so wet already, sweet girl.”

He allows himself a taste, humming at the familiar flavor, and pushes past your underwear to gradually thrust them inside, watching uneven breaths escape your lips. He revels in your whimpers, pushing them deeper inside you. The airiness of your voice was additive, but what was more addictive in the look on your face when he sees you close. “That feels good, huh? You like my fingers fucking you like this?”

You were practically vibrating in your seat, and your back arches in distress, gripping the edge of the dresser, “God, yes…You’re so good to me, daddy.”

It was a matter of time before his cock would replace his fingers, swiping your taste on your tongue for you to sample. Moaning, your lips wrap around their slender length, your arousal coating the surface of your tongue and inside your mouth. You hold him by the wrist, his knuckles swallow inside you before his very eyes, sucking your neck dry from his hands as he fucks his fingers into your burning hot entrance.

You whimper into his palm before he decides to pull it away and wrap it around your throat, meanwhile, his cock finds entry in your warmth, your fluttering walls welcoming him. Your hips falling slightly below the dresser's flat surface, you gasp for air. Your vision blurs as much as your abdomen clenches, submitting to Chan’s rough touch. He leverages you by holding you up the back of your knee while your other leg hung over his shoulder, snapping his hips back into you with such ferocity, a throaty moan falling short of every thrust. He sounded scrumptious, like fresh honey oozing out of its comb, you wanted to lick every part of him.

“What do we have here?” 

Your helping hand for the party has finally found your helping hand in bed (or this case the dresser), rutting in you like two rabbits in mating season. Chan doesn’t stop his pace, only a smile growing wider on his face. “I guess the jig is up.”

“You’re just gonna keep fucking her while I’m here, kid?”

Chan only grows cockier when you show no sign of change, still moaning his name, “Why shouldn’t I, she sure likes it. Don’t you, filthy birthday girl?”

You nod, “Y-yes, daddy.”

Seungcheol looks impressed, crossing his arms together, he can’t help but enjoy the view. The times he imagined you looking a mess in front of him went on but no image in his head could do justice to the real thing, even if it was Chan’s dick inside you. Your sweat made your beautiful body glisten under the lamp lights, your pretty little pants endearing as they steadily leave your lips, and your messy hair so damn pullable that made his dick twitch.

“Need some help?” He offers nonchalantly.

Chan looks back at the older man for the first time, almost barking back a no, but instead takes a moment to consider and turns to you. His eyes flit back to you, holding you by your face, hips unbearably enthusiastic. “What do you say, huh, you want two cocks in you? Hmm, is that what you want?”

You choke up on your drool, tears already running down your faces as you respond in a hard nod, then proceed to be thrown back on the mattress to have Seungcheol witness your lewd form in its entirety. His hands go to the tent in his pants, palming himself anxiously. He knew you were beautiful beyond words, but there was no other beauty than the way you were almost naked. Your arms come up to your chest, shielding your stiff peaks but at the same time emphasizing the roundness of your breasts.

“W-what?” You ponder up at him, your pretty eyes looking back in a way that made Seungcheol want to scream. “I’m a mess, a-aren’t I?”

“A very pretty mess,” Seungcheol reiterates.

“Of course she is.” Chan sits beside you on the bed, pushing hair away from your face and pressing his lips to your ear, “How about you get his dick wet first, birthday girl?”

“Okay,” you answer back eagerly, trudging forward and pulling Seungcheol by his belt and carefully removing it from him.

Seungcheol gives a look of astonishment, a quick glance thrown to see pride written all over the younger man’s face before turning back to you, already pulling down his pants and exposing his cock slapping on your face.

“Wow.” You gasp, wrapping your hand around his girth, feeling his weight.

“Think you can take it, princess?”

Your heart pitter-patters at the name Seungcheol gives you and you let out a hearty ‘yes.’ Chan stays behind you, hands cupping your breasts, fondling your flesh, he becomes a little devil in your ear. “What are you waiting for then?”

You inch closer to Seungcheol, his angry tip on the center of your tongue. You drag your pink muscle over his shaft, tracing over every bulging vein, hearing him suck in his breath. Your other hand cradles his balls, kneading them lightly in your palm. When you push your head over his length, your mouth coats its surface area, feeling like a new, yet familiar world to him.

“S-shit.” His hips twitch forward, hands against his hips.

You bob down to the base, filling your cheeks and stretching your lips. He feels your saliva dribbling down his thigh, seeing the same scene happen over your chin, while your throat takes him with a gutty grit, taking all of him. When you gag slightly, having him almost pulls away in concern, but Chan takes initiative and combs through your hair, slamming you down on Seungcheol’s crotch, a shit-eating grin on his face. The older man almost doubles over, hand firmly planted on your shoulder in anguish.

“Mmh…god…that–”

“Look at you taking his dick like a perfect little slut,” Chan exclaims before mouthing over your neck, love bites adorning your soft skin, “you can’t wait to be fucking filled with cock, can’t you?”

You lacked the ability to be verbal, only vibrating a confirmation around Seungcheol’s cock, the man shuddering in the process. “Princess…”

Chan's hands snake around to your clit, rubbing it with his digits, his firm chest pressing into your sweaty back, the shaking in your body evident. “Take it deeper, slut.”

Tears burn your eyes, hands lifting to press behind Seungcheol, warming his cock in your mouth until you can’t breathe. The said man lets out his share of obscenities, his hands on either side of your head, fucking your mouth at a desperate man’s pace until he feels it swells well past its limit, “Fuck. Fuck!”

He cums hard, long, and deep. The trail of ivory slides down your throat with no warning, Seungcheol fills you to the brim, even overflowing to the corner of your lips. “So…good…”

“Shit, you lasted a lot shorter than I expected, old man.” Chan smugly grins.

The older man tries catching his breath, but not without letting the other man hear it. “Shut up…Chan.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

The voice resonates from the doorway, a barely awake Soonyoung blinks at the scene in front of him in confusion, adjusting to the change of lighting from the pitch-black living room. “Huh, what are you eating, y/n? A hoagie?”

“Oh, god.” Chan groans, bowing his head. 

Seungcheol couldn’t pull out of you soon enough, the remainder of his cum swallowed up by you in the process. You picked up the courage to be the first one to ask, “How long have you been standing there, Soonie?” 

“Not sure…wait. Are you guys having sex?”

Seungcheol pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly cringing. “Yes, Soonyoung.”

“Do you want to join,” you suggest, exchanging looks with both men already involved.

Their eyes initially express reluctance but eventually, they nod in agreement. Chan whispers an “alright,” in your ear before kissing the side of your face. Seungcheol being still very fresh to their current situation had no complaints, nor was he in the place to. They all redirect back to the intruder, and you ask him again. “Do you want to join us, Soonyoung?”

A pink tinge on his cheeks as your naked body slips from the bed gracefully, sliding down your underwear to the ground. “Join? Can I do that?”

His eyes locked on your prowess, your soft laughter sending off butterflies in his stomach as your hands crawls up to his face, stroking it endeared, “Yes, you can. Will you?”

“P-please…”

You guide him by the hand and bring him over to the bed, joining the rest. You slip the worn-out muscle tee over his head to toss it aside. Once you meet his lips, your hands run through his slept-in hair and melt against you like a dream. You were like taffy, sweet yet salty, no doubt from what he witnessed earlier, but he didn’t care. Forgetting the others around him, he pulls you in his lap, your wet cunt rubbing into his denim jeans as his hands take care of your body, collecting its warmth.

Seungcheol simply watches, running his hand down his body and stroking himself, feeling the tension build back up in cock. Chan joins him from across the bed. Licking his lips, he locks on the way your hips grind against Soonyoung’s, blood rushing towards his cheeks, wondering whether he was turned on imagining it was him or that it was genuinely fun watching.

Your bare skin meshes against Soonyoung, inhaling the stretch of alcohol and his expensive cologne etched into his skin, “Mmh…Soonie…”

“Shit,” the man moans, holding your bare ass in his hands, “I really wanted to do this. You have no idea.”

“You came at a good time too, Soonyoung. We were just about to fuck her together,” Chan doesn’t forget to mention, “She was ready to be filled up with two cocks, what’s one more?”

Soonyoung grins against your lips. “Three cocks in our pretty baby huh…I’m certainly glad I woke up.”

The men strip down to their birthday suits. Chan, taking less time than the others, utilizes this opportunity to retrieve the lube you kept in the drawer of your bedside table. Seungcheol kisses you for the first time that night, sensually stroking your back and parting your hair, while Soonyoung lips attach to your breasts, feeling your nipples grow hard on his tongue as he cradles them. It really hits you what’s happening when Chan squirts the cold lube on the center of your folds, rubbing it between his fingers, up in your warmth, before sliding down to prep your other entrance. 

His middle finger carefully tests the entryway, teasing the outer edge, before the lube lets him slide in and adjusts to your grip. Your moans were hard to suppress when he playfully slid them in and out and shot them deeper inside when you ask for more, to which he can’t help but laugh. “Cute little slut, taking it up your ass so well for us.”

He tucks in another digit, curling it inside you, ramming it, and preparing you for every opportunity.

You flex your fingers and toes, “Please Chan, I’m r-ready.”

“Are you sure?” He teases.

“Yes, please…”

Chan obliges, letting you go with a gentle thumb to the opening. They all position themselves, having discussed it moments ahead of time. Soonyoung has his back on the bed with your back hovering inches above his chest. He fingers the hole Chan had gotten ready and made sure it was adjusted to his liking, squeegeeing the excess lube. You twitch on top of him, finally feeling the tip of his cock circle at your entrance and slowly make its way inside you. Your jaw drops open, his member suffocates between your walls.

“Christ…” Soonyoung gasps, “You feel heavenly, Y/n.”

He holds you up from the back of your knees, spreading you wide and pretty, and taking a slow, deep stroke inside you. You let out a low growl, throwing your head back, and reveling in Soonyoung’s gentle pace. “Thats…so…good…”

Chan takes care of himself with aid of the scene, spitting in his hand, and his cock grows to his touch. “You look so fucking good stretched out.”

He approaches you, falling to his knees, and buries his face in your vacant warmth, still stroking himself. He licks stripes up your core, moistening his lips, as the tip of his nose brushes against your clit. Your stomach sucks in, ecstasy enflaming your core. “Fuck, daddy…”

Chan grows only harder and devours you faster, his tenor voices aches inside you, feeding his everlasting lust. Soonyoung takes his time with you still, hands now falling to your thighs, spreading you apart for Chan’s convenience, his hips gradually ramping up the speed. 

Seungcheol is respectful in watching, only inching forward when you beckon him closer with moans on your tongue, mouth still wide and welcoming. He takes advantage of your invite, knees meeting the bed, reuniting his length with your mouth, and seeing you take him just as hard (if not harder) as before. Hands land in your hair, straining your neck but filling out of your throat, that glorious sensation coming back to Seungcheol almost immediately. “Pretty mouth…Princess…take me good, hmm..”

“That’s so hot, fuck, what the fuck?” Soonyoung was being overwhelmed in the best way possible, bouncing you harder in his lap, leaving the man with his mouth full smiling with less work to do.

Chan smacks your center fold with the tip of his fingers, feeling you flinch under his touch, and he does it again and again. 

“Daddy hurtss…but…feels good…” You can’t help you mumble with Seungcheol’s cock pressing to your lips.

“S-shit, you’re gonna make me cum in my hand,” Chan shutters, honest to his word, “bad girl, but I don’t think I can wait anymore.”

He picks himself off the ground, his cock visibly furious. He rubs your slit with the tip, landing a lash to your clit, your sound of ache music to his ears, before he parts your folds and slides inside you, joining Soonyoung. He presses your legs back, Chan rocks in you in a steady rhythm opposite to Soonyoung. “Mm, daddy’s cock with Soonie’s, l-love so…m-much…”

“Such a—ah—cockslut. T-that good, hmm? You like me fucking you with Soonyoung inside you, hmm?”

“Y-y—Mmh..”

“Say it, fucking tell me you love our cocks splitting you open.”

“I-I love your c-cocks split-t-ting me o-open.”

You clench your body in anxiously, taking both cocks the best you can, but your body can only hold back so much cum.

“Look, who’s desperate to cum?” Chan observes, “Well, you can cum all you want, we’re not stopping.”

Chan is a man of his word. Even when your hips shake sporadically in front of them all, no one's pace falters. You were filled in all ends, an eternal loop of euphoria, the pleasant ache of your muscles easily manageable as long as you don’t lose this sensation. 

Seungcheol ruts your mouth with his eyes shut, only hearing the work your mouth puts in and pulls out when feels you’ve had enough. Your slobber prints your cheeks, a tired look in your eyes, but a manic smile on your face. He wipes some saliva away with his thumb, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I’ll be sure to be slow at first, okay?”

Heart racing, you nod at his message, eyes drifting to see him place himself between you and Chan. Knees planted in the mattress beside either side of Soonyoung, he eases his length in your entrance on top of Chan’s, and unearthly sound follows coming from all around. Not a dry eye in the room, Seungcheol takes your calves and pressed them against his shoulders, squeezing with Chan in an uneven rhythm. 

“FUCK!” He bites into your leg, muffling his groans, filling you deep, “take me too, you can handle it. I believe in you.”

You scream in pleasure, your holes being fucked and filled, nodding your head forth and back. “Fuck, yes, like that, please…so full…”

The way it feels like everything at once, you can help but be overfilled with pride. You couldn’t describe in words how it felt, only process the event enough to scream and moan.

“That’s it, take us. Never have three cocks fuck your hole like this,” Chan points out through his sweaty pants.

Soonyoung simply groans deeply in your ear, snaking his hand over your clit, pinching the slick skin, your moans only growing louder and louder, and he then sticks his digits in your moisture, as if you were full enough. “You’re so talented, Y/n. Should’ve fucked you sooner…”

The sounds echoing in the room were like a broken record, waves of euphoria played over and over. It didn’t matter how long it took or how many positions were involved, you felt your heart rate taking ups and downs up they eventually grew tired.

“I’m gonna cum in you, that okay,” Seungcheol requests.

“Y-yes, d-daddy…” A blush deepens the surface of Seungcheol’s cheeks upon hearing that.

On the other hand, hearing his title being misused, Chan gets ticked off. He fuck harder with remorse, reminding you only one person can hold such a title, all while Seungcheol drops his load inside, coating you in snow white, grunting in you as his full length pushed the cum deep inside you until he finally pulls away. You open your mouth again, nonverbally asking to finish him off where he has before and he lets you, stroking what's left against your tongue.

Soonyoung follows soon after, his hips losing patience, “C-cum, in your ass, baby?” 

“Yes, please, Soonyoung…” You answer sweetly and he wastes no time, holding his cum deep in your ass after shooting hot cum in your backside until it’s dripping out of the edge.

“Good little cumslut, should I give you my gift too?”

Chan doesn’t even let you answer, encouraged by your startled, shrieks. Finally, his cum spurts from his cock, mixing itself with Seungcheol remnants and pulling out to spray on your torso and fall against your flushed skin, showing you once again he never planned on giving you any mercy. You fall limp against the mattress, ivory honey trailing on your chest, stomach, cunt, and ass. The two of the older men lay beside you, fatigued as you were. Chan tears away from the scene at the moment to come back with wet towels. He tosses one to each of the men before coming to sit at the edge of your feet, wiping away the mess like he always does.

“Should’ve let you lick it up, but fuck it. It’s your birthday,” Chan jesters with a soft grin.

“I would’ve enjoyed it though,” you butt in.

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, but I like taking care of you.”

Soonyoung and Seungcheol grin upon hearing that, finding their younger friend endearing even after such an unfathomable event, both glancing to see you smile at his words. The intimacy piques both men’s curiosity, erupting all kinds of questions.

Seungcheol shifts his gaze from both you and Chan, smiling knowingly, “You two do this a lot?” 

“And you've been hiding this from us for how long?” Soonyoung chimes in with a cheeky grin, ready to tease you both.

“How did this even happen?”

“Chan’s meaner than I thought, Y/n, did you know that? Is that what you like about him?”

“Chan? Chan? When I lived next door?”

“Seriously, how long was I asleep?”

“I’ve never cummed so much in my life. How the fucked did you do that?”

“Can you guys call me about the next orgy?”

The opposing duo laughs, finding the situation amusing already. Chan squeezes himself between you and Seungcheol, nuzzling his face in your neck as he cuddles you, “Well, ‘buddy’ are you gonna answer their questions?”

You roll your eyes and clear your throat, taking your time in answering, still breathless, “I’m definitely calling you both over again.”

[nieceeee]

"DATE NIGHT"

P/S: "So how was the date" babydaddy!eren x reader once she makes it home from her night out.

W/C: 1388

A/N: Okay this is so fluffy and emotional, Rennie is such a freaking sweetheart and reader is a roller-coaster of emotions, y'all asked or part two so here we go! if I do a part 3 it may be from Eren's point of view and what happens when he makes it home to his girlfriend after staying all night at his baby mama's house...

today will definitely be a double drop day for all the love because we love sweet Rennie but daddy Rennie is a whole different vibe!

also I usually write from first person POV so if you see and I or ME that's what that is, let me know if y'all care about that and if y'all want to read in that POV.

Previous Fic: Let Me Help

Part One: Its Better This Way

All throughout the night, you try your best to focus on the man sitting in front of you but you mind refuses to think about anything other than the father of your child. You hope that the nice man who invited you to dinner wouldn't notice the way your eyes shifted. The way you lose interest in the fact that his eyes weren’t that emerald green you loved so much. “So yes, what about you?” his voice cut in. Your eyes widened slightly as you registered the question. “Oh, I’m just testing the waters on life.” you responded smoothly. He smiled and continued talking, unaware of your lack of interest. 

“Thank you again for tonight. It was very nice.” you muster the strength to say to your date as he walks you to your car. “You’re welcome. Hopefully, we can get together again some time.” He questions hopefully. Not likely you think to yourself but you smile anyway. “One day.” You shrug slightly. He opens the driver side door for you and allows you to step inside. “Goodnight.” you say unable to bring yourself to give him a gentle peck on the cheek of appreciation or even a simple hug. Thankfully he doesn't press the matter, simply providing you a small nod  of gratitude as he steps out of your way. You  pull out of the parking lot and turn onto the road.

 “Hey Siri, call Rennie.” you say as you pull up to a red light. He picks up on the second ring. “Yeah?” His sleepy voice vibrates through the speaker of the phone sending an unnecessary chill down your spine. You clear your throat slightly, hoping to relieve the tension. “I’m headed home. You still there?” you ask. You try your best to mask the hopefulness in your voice as you ask the question. “Yeah, I’m here. Just got little man down and I guess I dozed off with him.” He answered quietly. A small smile tugged at your lips as the image popped into your head. “Okay be there soon.” A little cry sounded in the background. “I think he heard your voice.” Eren said, chuckling softly. You hear him shuffling to standing and the gentle hitch in his breath as he leans down to pick up your child. “It’s okay little man. Daddy’s got you. Mommy will be home soon.” He whispered to him. “I’ll be there in 10.” you say before disconnecting the call. You rush as fast as you can back to your apartment. 

Turning into the driveway, you cut the engine and locked your doors. Your mother’s car wasn’t here anymore. You quickly make your way to the front door, unlocking it and stepping inside. Quietly shutting it behind you and making sure it was locked, you clack your way up the steps to your bedroom. The nursery door is open when you get up there. You peek in to see Eren slowly rocking your son, smiling down at him. Your heart lurches slightly in your chest at the sight. You take a slow step back to collect yourself but he looks up and sees you, those eyes you had been dreaming about on your date meeting yours, before you could turn around and go to your room. “Hey.” He smiles. “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your quality time.” you say. “All good. I was just laying him back down. You need to go get changed and everything? I don't mind waiting on you to finish up.” He offers. He leans over and places your child gently back into his crib. “Yeah, I won't be long.” you say. He follows you into your room, closing the door gently behind him. 

“So how was the date?’ He asks leaning against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. Two pulses shoot down through your core but you shift your eyes away slowly. You plop down on the bed in a huff. “That good, huh?” He teases, walking over to kneel in front of you. The image of him on his knees before you bringing up long lost memories as you swallow hard. You take a slow breath to focus on the current moment. “You don’t have to do that.” you say softly. “Yeah, I know.” He responds. His warm hands wrap around your ankle as he carefully slips your heels off, placing them down by the foot of the bed. Then he gently holds your foot in his hand, massaging the swollen parts. You sigh quietly at the relief of his fingers working into the aches of your arches. He carefully rubbed the knots from both feet before releasing you. “Thank you.” you whisper. A gentle smile tugs at his lips. “Go, take a bath, get changed. I’ll be here when you get out.” He says standing back up and going back to the nursery.

You grab some clothes and make your way into the bathroom, trying not to think too much about what just happened, the warmth of his hands still lingering against your skin as you turn the water on and step inside. After you have cleaned yourself up and done your nighttime routine, you walk back towards your bedroom. He is sitting on the bed, your child in his arms waiting patiently. “He must be hungry.” you say walking to the bed. Eren stands as you toss the covers aside and scoot onto the mattress. You prop yourself up against the pillows and Eren hands you your nursing pillow. You press it into place and Eren reaches down and lays your child on top. He turns away towards the wall to allow you to unsnap your bra and let c/n latch. 

“All good.” You clear your throat, alerting him to turn back and face you. “So, the date?” He asks again, taking that same spot in front of you on the bed. “I don't know. I mean he seemed nice but…” you pause, not able to tell him that the real reason you couldn't enjoy your date was that he was on your mind the entire time. “I just don't think I’m ready. Not now anyway.” you say shifting your gaze down to the bundle you held in your arm. “Understandable.” he reaches over and gives your knee a gentle squeeze. “It will happen in time. Don’t rush yourself. But also, give yourself grace. It’s okay to get back out there.” He encourages you. Your chest tightens with emotions but you mask it with a soft smile. You both sit in each other's company, the soft fan and the suckling of a child the only noises being made.

After c/n is done feeding, you burp and change him and Eren lays him back down in the crib. He places a gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering something slightly to him.  You stand at the doorway, waiting to walk him out.  You both walk to the living room in silence but he pauses at the door. “Babydoll...” he calls softly. “Yeah?" Eren turns to you, a longing glossy look in his eyes. Your heartbeat speeds up and a lump forms in your throat. “Do you think?” he pauses, trying to figure out if he should ask but he chooses to push through the anxiousness. “Do you think one day this would have worked?” He asks. You are at a loss for words. You hadn’t really discussed how things ended with you since that day you left him standing in the mall with her. “E, I-..” You didn't know how to respond. He drops his head slowly and a sharp pain hits your chest. “I get it.” He responds, voice barely above a whisper. You open your mouth to speak again but he simply pulls you into a hug. You rest your head against his chest, finding solace in his warmth and steadiness in the rhythm of his heartbeat. After what felt like seconds, he reluctantly pulls back and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Ren…” you start. “Goodnight my sweet babydoll.” He whispers before turning and walking out the door. You lock the door behind him before leaning back against it. You don't realize the tears are falling until you feel your butt hitting the floor and drops sliding from your face down to your arms.

[liillyliilly]

Alamort - half dead from exhaustion

yaku morisuke x reader words; 1117 synopsis; it's been way too long since Yaku's stretched properly, and who else better to help him than the girl he's been teasing relentlessly for months?

Yaku rolled his shoulders and groaned slightly, it had been way too long since he had stretched out any of his muscles. But how could he when Nekoma hardly had a break from all of the practice matches?

The libero had been through the ringer, bouncing on and off the court more than twice of what was usual for him. While holding his arm over his head and stretching out to touch his opposite shoulder, he caught her staring at him before turning her head quickly.

Yaku licked his lips slightly, his tongue just barely peeking out from his teeth to wet his bottom lip. Even though he is noted as a mature and respectable senpai, that never stopped him from going out of his way to flirt with the second-year manager. How could he not? Whenever he approached her, she always did that timid smile, holding her hands behind her back and shifting her feet, and he loved it. He loved that he made her nervous.

Whenever he teased Y/n or made remarks about her, she always turned to look at him with that deer-in-headlights look. Yaku swore he would one day be the object of her affection, but for the time being, he was satisfied with her being the object of his affections. As she started picking up water bottles and cleaning up the Nekoma bench for the day, Yaku made his move.

Like a cat on the prowl, he approached this mouse. She never squeaked, but she did scurry. He had to measure out his approach for the maximal benefit and yield from his approach.

Just like last year, with the introduction of her to the team in the first place. She and Yaku had shared homeroom, but she was in the more advanced classes for her core subjects. Yaku had sat behind her, in the back far corner. Her desk was also so organized and perfect, his was messy but for him it had a dysfunctional functionality.

Yaku almost lost his mind when she bit her pen. Her pen was a bright yellow, with dark yellow spots around it, just like a block of cheddar cheese but in pen form. That was where the mouse comparison began.

"We need a manager, I'm close to dead." Kuroo rubbed his eyes after he and Yaku had just spent the last thirty minutes tidying up the gym. Kuroo has flitting through the various paperwork. "I don't even know how to sort some of this stuff."

"So we need someone organized?" Yaku stated, beginning to list off the ideal qualities for their manager.

"Obviously."

"We need someone who is a first year, so they'll have to stick around."

Kuroo shrugs, "A first year would be nice, we just need someone."

"Preferably a girl."

"Yes, preferably." Kuroo finished sorting papers, with a miscellaneous pile that was a majority of the documents. "It sounds like you have someone in mind Yaku?"

"Hell yeah I do."

He slipped the application form into her cubby after school the next day. Her filled out application was turned into Coach Nekomata before the end of the day. Yaku never knew exactly why she just accepted the form, why she filled it out, and why she so quickly turned it in. All he knew was that from then on, she was apart of his life a little more deeply.

His approach to her was timed to perfection, she had just begun digging her shoe into the linoleum floor. He pounced.

“Are you busy?” Yaku knew she wasn’t. She tucked her hands into her pockets and shook her head. “Okay, can you help me stretch then?”

Yaku grabbed a hold of her forearm lightly and tugged her over to the cool-down area, where Lev and Kuroo were already sitting on the floor and touching their toes. When Kuroo caught sight of Yaku pulling their manager along, he smirked to himself before pulling Lev away, telling him to help clean up the gym.

“Um, what do I do?” She pulled her hands out of her pockets, wiggling her fingers lightly. Yaku froze for a moment before sitting down.

“You just need to push on my back, so I can stretch it out.” She hummed an affirmative noise. She set her hands in the middle of his back and pushed down lightly. “Put your hands up more, on my shoulders. You can also put more pressure.” Yaku could hear her swallow thickly, gulping lightly as she slid her hands up to rest on his shoulders.

Yaku reached forward past his feet, she leaned her weight on his shoulders. Just to mess with her, Yaku flexed his back and shoulder muscles slightly, causing her to gasp before quickly closing her mouth. Yaku stood up and turned to face his manager again.

“Next stretch, I’m going to lay down on the mat and then you're going to need to hold my thighs down as I do a few sit ups.”

“Hold your thighs down?” She raised her eyebrows lightly. Yaku was sure if her touched her cheek it would be burning hot.

If she wanted to question his unique stretching methodology, she kept it to herself. In fact, none of her athletic study books ever mentioned a stretch quite like this one that Yaku was proposing. But if he was one of the top liberos in all of Tokyo, then of course his stretch had a form of validity to her.

Yaku could tell that she was thinking just deeply enough, but skimming the surface of it. He thanked her trust in him mentally.

“Or you can sit on my thighs? Whichever works for you.” Yaku shrugged, a grin dancing on his lips.

She shook her head and held her hands out, “I can hold them, no need to sit down.”

Yaku leaned in, not holding back the smile on his face. “Even if I asked you to?” She looked like she could faint any moment.

“Well, I mean, if that would be effecti-” She mumbled, her words crumpled like a balled-up piece of paper.

“Then yes.”

Soon, Yaku was laying down, and she was straddled over his thighs. Yaku spoke up, “Hey?”

“Yeah?”

If there was ever a time for Yaku to be bold, it was going to be now. The gym’s final occupiers had finally left, leaving him and his favorite person alone. “Can I kiss you?” He leaned up, holding her waist, he slightly raised his legs, causing her to fall into him. Their bodies pressed up against each other.

She was stunned, her entire body going slightly rigid. Before exhaling the tight breath held in her chest, giving Yaku her answer, “Yes please.”

[fayes-fics]

Call Me

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: When you are parted from Benedict, he guides you through pleasuring yourself....

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, use of sex toy.

Word Count: 3.5k

Authors Note: this is a very belated request fill for the talented and lovely @broooookiecrisp from her ask HERE, where Benedict guides the reader through masturbation. She also chose the pic above, which looks very modern Benedict in Tuscany :) I hope you enjoy this story, my lovely. Thanks to @colettebronte for reading this through & @eleanor-bradstreet for the title. Enjoy! <3

The Facetime call connects as you recline, wearing your noise-cancelling wireless headset.

“Hello darling,” that familiar smooth voice greets, “I've missed you.” His sigh is deep and heartfelt. With the volume up, it sounds like he is lying right with you, but then it's in both ears; the stereo effect makes your tummy feel warm. 

“I've missed you too,” you hum, toying with the corner of the duvet you lay under. You are so happy he secured an artist retreat residency in Tuscany for the week, but you miss him terribly. He's only been gone a few days, but it feels like forever.

“I'm sorry this has to be an audio call; the wifi here is shockingly slow and the phone reception non-existent; I thought it better to sacrifice a blocky video for crystal clear audio,” he explains. “You will just have to imagine my face,” he adds with a soft laugh.

Indeed, your mind fills with images of his handsome face; you can even picture the gentle, lopsided grin you can hear in his tone.

“Are you somewhere private?” you ask, a little nervous.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” his question shifting into that lower cadence that fires all the butterflies.

“I miss you,” you offer again, hoping perhaps he can intuit what you are asking for, drawing your knees up, the cotton sheet catching on your heels as you do so.

“I miss you too,” he echoes again, “but I don't think that needs to be said in private,” his tone laconic. 

He knows exactly where your thoughts have slid, but he's playing innocent. He always goads you into pushing to speak your mind, to voice your desires, and tonight is no different—gently coaxing you to profess what you want.

“I want you to talk to me,” your voice with a slight waver that betrays a hidden meaning in the words.

“I am,” the timbre makes the little earphones in your ear almost vibrate, and a frisson runs down your spine.

“No…” you hesitate, “talk to me,” emphasising the word.

“If you want something from me, darling, all you have to do is ask,” his tone a dark lilting tease now.

“Talk to me like you do when we are intimate,” you rush out on an exhale.

His rich chuckle makes your nipples pebble without so much as a touch. “Now we are getting somewhere….” he buzzes. “Are you going to touch yourself for me while I do, hmm?”

You bite your lip but can't disguise the whimper that escapes. You close your eyes and flick the volume up two notches on your phone, throwing it aside so both hands are available. 

“I want you to tell me what to do,” you breathe, pushing the duvet down your body, feeling heated.

You hear the noise that catches deep in his throat; it's thick and desirous, and you thank the technology gods for headsets with this level of quality.

“What are you wearing?” he rumbles.

“Nothing…” you confess, knowing it's breathy and wanton.

“Oh god, yes,” his rushed response, a reflex that makes you clench your thighs together, loving how affected he is just by that simple statement. “Where are you?”

“In our bed.”

“Under the covers?”

“I was, but now I'm feeling hot, so I've pushed them aside. It's just me… naked… uncovered… alone… resting on your pillow…”

With each little phase, you can hear his breathing getting more pronounced. “Why my pillow?”

“It smells like you,” you answer.

“Does that turn you on?” his voice going tight.

“Yes, oh god, Ben, yes, it does.”

He growls lightly when you say his name, the noise in your ears so loud it makes you squeak, a hand straying to your breast.

“Guide me, please; I need to imagine it's your hands on me. “Draw me a mental picture as clear and evocative as one of your beautiful paintings.”

“Hmmmm,” his thoughtful hum runs right through your body with the volume up. “How about we take this slow, build to something? I have a painting I worked on earlier today. Would you like me to describe it to you? Describe how I would paint you into it?” 

“Yes! Yes, please,” you enthuse quickly, desperate for his artistry in all senses of the word.

“It's Tuscany, a sun-drenched summer’s day,” his storytelling is always spellbinding, so you settle back into the pillows as if listening to a private audiobook made just for you. “The sky is azure blue; the fields are bright, verdant green. Olive trees dot the rolling hills all around. Right in the middle is a small vineyard. A gentle slope of neatly rowed vines, the leaves canopying bunches of ripened grapes, drooping heavily, ready for harvest.”

As he speaks, you spider your fingertips over your collarbone, imagining the heat of the sun on your skin. 

“The grass between the vine rows is lush and thick, a balm from the heat,” his sonorous voice continues at a lush pace. “That is where I would paint you, lying on that hillside. The cool blades tickling your back as the sun bakes your skin.”

“What am I wearing, Benedict?” you inquire, gently biting your lip as your hands stray lower onto the swell of your breast, so enchanted by the picture he paints.

“Exactly what you are right now,” he responds with a slight hitch.

“Nothing?” you gasp, the idea suddenly so risque but more beguiling.

“That's right,” he rumbles. “I would paint you utterly nude.”

You brush lightly around your own areola, writhing gently under your own touch.

“Are you with me, Benedict? In this vineyard?” your breath quickening.

“How else am I going to paint you unless I am there too?” he teases gently. “And guess what I would be doing while I'm painting?” 

“What?” goosebumps on your arms with anticipation, your fingers moving concentric circles.

“I would tell you to touch yourself, just as I am now. There is nothing I want to paint more than you in the throes of ecstasy,” he exhales raggedly. “You are beautiful, wild, glorious….”

“I want that too,” you rush out. “Why have you never done it before?” 

He chuckles richly; the sound feels like a shimmer over your body. “Because it would be impossible to be near you when you are naked and not to touch you,” his admission is almost rueful. 

“I wish you were with me,” it’s wistful.

“I am,” he assures. “just remember hmm? Sunny hillside, naked, the sun on your skin and me there with you. Now, darling, I can tell you are already doing something; I can hear the quirk in your breath. Tell me, tell me in detail.”

“I’m..” you hesitate, “...I’m touching my nipples,” you rush out, finally letting your fingers trail over the nub, pebbling hard as he moans lightly.

“Oh yes,” he stutters, “don’t stop. Give them a gentle pinch for me. Between your finger and thumb…” he waits for your little hiss, and then he hums, “Mmm, does that feel good?”

“Yessss,” you hiss.

“Imagine it’s my fingers, darling,” he requests, and you do. 

You think of how it feels when his hands cup your breast, as you do now, and tease your nipples until you beg him to stop. You hear his breath catching in his throat as you make tiny little needy noises and tilt up a fraction off the bed, teasing yourself as he does.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Now wet your fingers, suck on them…” 

You know he can hear the wet, suckling noise right in his earpiece as you do as commanded, returning your fingers and painting the dampness over your skin as it puckers heavily under the sensation.

“Now pinch yourself just a little harder; imagine it’s my tongue and teeth; I know how much you like it when I suck hard and just a gentle bite….”

“Ben…” you murmur his name as you move, your head rolling on the pillow, eyes fluttering.

“Fuckkk,” you hear him mutter, losing his composure. It makes something inside you catch fire, a tingle between your legs buzzing harder. 

“What next?” you beseech, wanting this to go quicker but at the same time to never stop.

“Slide your fingers down over your ribs, my love,” he stumbles a little, and you hear a squeak as if he is changing position.

“Tickles,” you giggle, and Benedict laughs softly with you.

“I know. I love to run the tip of my nose there,” he divulges, “or I may use a firmer touch. Do that, darling. Sweep your whole palm down, and feel the rise and fall with your breathing as you go.”

You do as asked, the heavier touch centring you somehow as your hand slips onto your tummy.

“Take your time, but don’t stop moving lower, darling,” he lectures. “You know I never do.”

It is so low it echoes around your whole being. Your thighs fall open, a trickle escaping your body.

“Oh god, I’m burning for you, Ben,” it’s out before you can stop it.

“Where?”

“You know where,” you obfuscate.

“I'm not there, remember? I need you to paint me a picture. I know you can do it. Don’t worry. No one can hear us; it’s just you and me. Missing each other.” His gentle, loving reassurance is the push you need.

“Between my legs,” you stutter under his coaxing.

“Are you wet for me?” he queries, panting a little.

“Yes,” you disclose quietly.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Not yet,” you swirl your fingers through the patch of hair, almost as if waiting for his permission to touch.

“You want me to tell you exactly what to do, don’t you?” He intuits.

“Please,” you croak.

“Okay. I just have one condition…” he tapers off, temptingly, knowing he has you on tenterhooks.

“What?” the question is breathy, impatient.

“You have to be loud for me,” he petitions. “Don’t you dare hold back; I want to hear it all.”

“Okay, I promise,” you whisper, your clit pulsing, aching to be touched.

“Alright….” He begins as you hear more sounds like he is getting into position in bed himself, a slight rustle of cotton. “Bend your legs, bring your heels up high right near your bottom…”

You do as instructed.

“Now, splay your knees out wide.”

Again you follow to the letter, feeling the cool air swirling around your exposed, damp slit. 

“Reach behind your head and then slide my pillow under your hips…,” he continues in that sinful tone.

“Why?” You check even as you do as asked.

“Because I want my pillow to smell like your pussy when I get home,” he snarls. The untamed way he says it, so loud in your ears, makes you squeak. He has no shame in being explicit, even if you often flounder to do the same. 

Now, with your hips raised, it’s easier to touch yourself; likely, he thought about that, too.

“Mmm, are you comfortable again?” he checks.

“Yes,” you confirm, hand slipping to where it was before.

“Good, now take your middle finger and slide it lower,” he instructs. “Keep going until you find that little clit of yours,” you swear he has entered an even throatier register now, each word like dark silk cloaking you.

As your finger pad slides over that spot, you can’t help the little ohhhh that escapes your lips.

“Oh yes, you’ve found it, haven’t you? Now slide a little lower, hook that finger, and pull back up.”

You do as told and moan as your finger immediately snags the most sensitive spot.

“Oh fuck yes,” you can hear the shudder in his tone, how affected he is, making you fizz too. The self-consciousness melts away as his precise instructions root you into your body, letting your mind shut off all the thoughts and worries—just focussed on the present.

“Swirl that finger gently for me, baby,” he compels, “anticlockwise.”

Instantly, your body responds as if it were his touch. You breathe deep as you keep moving, the slickness of your desire easing your motions.

“Are you swelling just a little?” he sounds more urgent now.

“Yes,” you confirm, your clit swelling under your touch as you picture him, his face hovering over you, imagining his fingers teasing you as his lips slid hot over your neck.

“Oh god, I love when you get all swollen and puffy and flushed right there for me,” he groans lewdly, and it’s a beeline straight to your pussy. It convulses around nothing, leaking over your bottom cheeks and onto his pillow. You call his name louder, squirming bodily, something tugging inside. Your body craves him—to be fucked, invaded, pushed open, pounded until it aches from that delicious stretch.

“Fuck I need you, Ben,” you moan as your fingers move faster, sliding over that little pearl. “I need you to fuck me so hard.”

“I want that, but not yet,” he grits out, your declaration seeming to fuel him. “Imagine it’s my tongue, darling, lathing against your clit, drinking up all that beautiful juice. You always taste divine, like a slightly tart peach, sweet but sharp.” 

Your mind supplies images of just that, his slightly stubbled jaw rubbing against the sensitive skin of your labia as he has to use both hands to hold you open to his onslaught, your legs reflexively wanting to close up around his head at the powerful sensations you feel, your fingers running into his lush head of hair, nails scraping along his warn scalp, praising his skill.

“When I tell you to, you grab your vibrator, baby.” he interrupts your reverie.

“Yes,” you comply, knowing it is tucked safely under your pillow beside you. 

“For now, keep rubbing for me; go faster,” he implores. “Let me hear you, your beautiful voice….”

You speed up, changing motions as he guides you to do so. Softly chanting his name as you notch higher up that invisible ladder. But he knows your body so well—knows with absolute precision when to shake things up, as he does now.

“STOP!!!” he instructs harshly. 

You instantly halt ministrations, whining, hearing his laboured breaths loud in your ear, your fingers frozen inches above your folds.

“Oh, are you pulsing baby? Are you so close to coming?” he sounds proud, almost smug.

“Yesssss…  please let me continue,” you plead, lungs heaving.

“No,” he menaces as your hand wanders over your thighs to stop the temptation to defy him, feeling the quiver in your muscles.

“Where has your other hand been?” he quizzes.

“Gripping the sheets,” you admit as he huffs a laugh about your honesty.

“Now swap. Touch your clit with that hand,” he tutors.

“What about my other hand? It's soaked,” you confess abashed.

“I know, baby, we are going to put it to good use. Slide two of those soaked fingers inside your pussy for me,” he instructs, so low that every word buzzes in your bones.

You call out his name as you slide two fingers deep into your own soaked pussy, rippling around your touch, a lewd, squelching sound as you do so.

“Oh fuck… I think I heard that,” he inhales sharply.

“You,” you assert, “you did this to me.”

He makes a feral noise in response, breathing in harsh gusts.

“Fuck yourself,” he growls, “fuck yourself with your fingers.”

Your movements are instinctual now, following his words to the letter. Shame melted away under the heat of desire. For him, for this. To come so damn hard you scream the walls down. Plunging your fingers as deep as you can reach, over and over. Your hips are pushed high off the bed, shoulder blades and feet taking your weight as you race greedily towards your peak, forehead and the back of your neck dewy from the exertion. Thinking of his fingers buried inside, of how, when it’s him, he holds you down with a solid quad muscle over your thigh, doesn’t let you buck up as you are now. 

“Please, Ben. I need your cock,” you bumble, uncensored, whimpering that you can’t quite reach as deep as he can, reach that spot that makes you babble utter nonsense and white out with pleasure.

“Grab that vibrator y/n. Fuck yourself properly,” he orders gruffly.

You release your clit and fumble under your pillow for it, a slight sound of victory catching in your throat as you do so. 

Without preamble, you thrust it inside yourself, just as he would with his cock when he knows you are this mindless. The stretch isn’t as good as him, not the same weight and heat, but it still feels like a heavenly sensation in your heightened state. Your noises staccato as you take it all on board, pausing slightly to get used to the invasion.

“Did I say you could stop?” he interrogates.

Without riposte, you scramble to obey, withdrawing the vibe then sinking it back in, attempting to ape one of his rhythms, the sense memory of him moving inside you making you moan loudly.

“That’s it. Does that feel good?” his voice practically a purr.

“Yes, but not as good as you,” you answer, missing the feel of him surrounding you when you are fucking. Skin, sweat, scent,  weight, the feeling of another body covering or moving under yours. 

“I know, darling. I promise it will be me soon. I’ll be home in a few days,” he pledges, breathing hard.

“Will you fuck me as soon as you are home?” you implore, wanting nothing more in this moment.

“Yes, baby. I’ll take you in the hallway if you want,” he vows, his cadence desperate.

“Please…” that word is all you can stutter as the hand controlling the vibe becomes a frenzy, your pussy clinging to its mass as if it were his cock.

“Don’t forget that engorged clit,” he reminds. “I need you to rub it as hard as you can with that other hand,” his voice is becoming more broken. “Im fucking you right now,” he avows roughly, “It's me, darling, fucking you so hard. And you feel so so good clenching around my cock…” 

You belatedly realise he may be touching himself, may have his cock in his hand as he walks you to orgasm. It makes your thighs tremble and clamp around your hands.

“Are you touching yourself too, Ben?”

“Yessss”, he hisses. Below the sound of your joint panting, you can hear the faint sound of skin slapping lightly as he fucks his fist.

It’s that image in your mind - him sprawled naked on a bed, skin sunkissed against the crisp white sheets, in a thick stone-walled Tuscan villa, the scent of wildflowers and the lush sound of crickets wafting through the open shutters - that hurtles you towards completion. Imagining yourself right there with him, gripping the wrought iron bed frame as he fucks so deep you can’t help but scream his name and shudder as it is his fingers snagging over your clit rather than your own.

The next few moments are a frenzied blur as, after some last gasps, you emit a long, loud scream as you come so hard, convulsing around the facsimile of his cock, your clit jumping under your touch, dimly aware he is still streaming filthy, needy encouragements that descend into gruff noises as he follows you over, the tell-tale sound of that final moment when he comes so loud against your eardrums as if he is right there slumped around you, his lips hot on your neck.

There is nothing but gulping breaths as both recover, feeling no shame, just a bone-deep satisfaction that makes you languid and heavy, not wanting to move, just curl up and sleep, a t-shirt of his you grabbed earlier your companion in his absence.

“Fuck I came so hard,” he sounds almost sheepish as it sounds as if he is cleaning up his torso.

“Me too,” you concur, little ripples of fire still running down your legs and arms, oversensitive to any stimuli; even the bedding feels almost too much.

“I want you to come again, but you sound sleepy,” he assesses correctly, and you hum in agreement.

“Too sleepy,” you slur the words as you turn onto your side and fling away the toy to be dealt with another time.

His amused sound is rich and warm. “Curl up, my love,” you once again find yourself carrying out his bidding without conscious thought.

“How long until you are home, Ben?” you mumble after a stifled yawn.

“Thirty-three hours,” you can hear the affectionate, lazy smile as he says it.

“Too long,” you lament gently into his t-shirt, the citrus-woodsy scent of him a comfort.

“Next time, come with me; it's beautiful here,” he murmurs ardently.

“I may love it there too much,” you jest, “I may never want to leave.”

“If you were here with me, I may never want to either,” he imparts softly.

You just hum contentedly. “Will you stay on with me?” you ask quietly, “until we fall asleep?”

“I never planned for anything but,” he responds fondly, a warmth blooming behind your ribs at his words.

And that is how you drift off, whispering sweet nothings as you slip into a restful slumber. The call only disconnects hours later when your batteries run out as you both sleep soundly.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @0x1harmonia0x1

[gffa]

I adore your batman stuff very much. I recently read the Wayne Family Adventures, and now I really want to read some more. Do you have recommendations on comic lines to follow?

Hi! I'm glad you're having fun with getting into comics and enjoying the posts around here, it's always nice to have new blood (or returning blood, in my case)! <3 I would give a gentle caution in that Wayne Family Adventures is sort of in a class of its own in a lot of ways, the characterization is much softer and fluffier, while the mainline comics are darker and messier, the characters are definitely not always as nice as they are as in WFA. That's no shade on either of them, just that I want to give a quick warning that if you're stepping from one to the other, the culture shock can sometimes be more than you're expecting. (And also keep in mind that comics are a shifting landscape, there's no one "true" version of many of the landmark moments of characters' lives, you'll see events often retold, you'll see comics that later get retconned, you'll see comics that are in different continuities/set before or after a universe-wide reboot, etc. Don't worry about it, just recognize that you're reading a story to enjoy that story, not as Hard Continuity!) That said, some of the lighter comics that I think would be fun if you're looking to come over from WFA are:

Li'l Gotham is a cute parody series that's super adorable, has some lovely art, and is nice little self-contained stories that are humorous. It's not in mainline continuity and it's even softer than WFA, but it's deeply charming and it's a fun, quick read.

Super Sons (2017) by Peter Tomasi is in mainline continuity and it's focused on Damian Wayne and Jonathan Kent becoming friends, bickering all the while, and getting into hijinks. It tends to lean more humorous and cute, so it's a nice stepping stone up to regular comics.

Robin and Batman (2022) by Jeff Lemire and Dustin Nguyen is a good litmus test for whether you might like regular comics--it's a short 3-issue mini-series focused on Dick's early days as Robin and the complicated, thorny relationship he has with Bruce about it. It's one of my favorite, it balances what a terrible gremlin he was with what a little angel he was and the emotional beats are painful in the best way.

Robin: Year One (2000) and Batgirl: Year One (2003) by Scott Beatty/Chuck Dixon and Marcos Martín/Javier Pulido are good places to start for both characters, and hold up okay considering their age. The art is a bit stylized in a way I really like, it lends it a charming old-fashioned vibe while still being pretty to look at, and there's some solid character moments in both.

Nightwing (2016) by various (starts with Tim Seeley, but it's been several authors by now) is one of my go-to recs, I think it's a great jumping on point, has a lot of really nice art, and often tells fun stories, as Dick has some of the best connections to various other characters in the universe.

Nightwing (2016) by Tom Taylor starts with issue #78 and is a great jumping-on point and Taylor's writing is just very light-hearted, action-packed, quippy, and fun. Starting here saves you from having to slog through some of the worse arcs of Dick's series, you get Bruno Redondo's fantastic art, and you can feel the affection for the character, the author and artist love this character and want to make him very cool, as well as they love his relationships with other characters, so you get good Bruce guest appearances, Babs appearances, Damian appearances, Wally appearances, Jon appearances, etc.

Robins: Being Robin by Tim Seeley and Baldemar Rivas was a fun self-contained mini-series that had all the Robins working together and I don't think it should be taken super seriously as a case story, but it had some quality banter, some hilarious moments, and a great look at these chaotic gremlins all shoved into a mini-van together to go solve a case.

Batgirls (2022) by Conrad Michael W./Becky Cloonan and Jorge Corona is focused on Babs, Cass, and Steph as a trio and being adorable together, with some humorous moments, cool art, and fun Batfam moments. It's nice that they get the spotlight and the chance to shine (it's their book, so they get the majority of the cool moments) and it's not super-long and you can jump right in.

Batman: The Knight by Chip Zdarsky and Carmine Di Giandomenico is a "Bruce travels the world to learn the skills he needs to become Batman" and I'm really in love with the way Zdarsky writes a Bruce who is deeply complicated, messy, coming from a place of loving deeply, but also this man has twenty seven different flavors of fucked up trauma going on in that hell brain of his. Zdarsky's current run on the main Batman title has been my jam, but that's a bit of a darker leap than this one, and I think this one is a great way to get to know Bruce Wayne as a character.

Batman: Urban Legends volume 5 has a story called "The Murder Club" that is basically "Thomas and Martha Wayne are time traveled into the future and see what's become of their son, they're not thrilled about it, but come around when they see the people that love him so deeply--primarily Dick, Damian, and Alfred." and was an absolute BANGER for me for feelings, gorgeous art, and some great character moments.

Batman/Superman: World's Finest (2022) by Mark Waid and Dan Mora is an absolute knock-out, it's Bruce and Clark in their early days of their friendship, where Waid is one of the best writers in the industry for how fun his stories are but also how well he knows the characters, Mora's art is often THE portrayal I think of when I think of the characters, and there's a ton of bonus guest appearances from various characters across DC's universe. Also, I am biased, Dick tags along a lot, as he's still Robin at this point in time, and it's a great dynamic between the three of them.

Batman: One Bad Day: Mr. Freeze by Gerry Duggan and Matteo Scalera was easily the standout of the "One Bad Day" stories for me, it's set in the early days of Bruce & Dick as Batman & Robin and it has ADORABLE sunshine gremlin baby Dick Grayson, a genuinely touching story about Mr. Freeze and his wife, and some beautiful art.

Year One: Batman/Scarecrow (2005) by Bruce Jones and Sean Murphy is a fun look at the early days of Scarecrow, but also has absolutely banger baby Dick Grayson content, there's a scene where Bruce literally just grabs him by the scruff of the neck to haul him out of the way of a crowd about to stampede and it's the funniest thing because that 12 year old could destroy your face with his fists but also Bruce can literally pick him up one-handed. There's some great banter in there and it's just a super fun dynamic.

As you make your way through this list, keep the author/artist and year listings in mind, as often times there are multiple series under the same title and some are more relevant to what you're looking for right now than others. Like, there have been three different volumes of "World's Finest", but I want to direct you specifically to the 2022 version because I think that'll work better for you. Similarly, Nightwing 1996 is one of my faves, but I think the 2016 version will work better at drawing you in right now. This is definitely biased in favor of my faves, but I honestly think they work for good jumping on points for someone new to comics and who's coming from WFA and might not want to get into the messier stuff of the mainline comics right away. Hopefully, you'll enjoy these and anyone else who wants to transition from WFA to reading mainline continuity comics, feel free to join us! Yeah, comics fandom can be a bit of a pill sometimes, but genuinely there's a lot of really fun moments to love and the characters are so much more fun when you're reading their stories with all the history and depth behind them!

[pedroshotwifey]

Joel Fucking Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (Can be pictured as either HBO or Video Game version)

Word Count: 8.1k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, Smut with a lil garnish of angst, kinda mean Joel, Borderline Dark!Joel, but consent is given at a point, one singular spank, rough piv sex, exhibition kink, slight humiliation/degradation, possessive behavior, enemies to lovers-ish?, reader is a menace but we love her, spit kink, anal play, this is pure filth and I'm not sorry

Summary: You and Joel Miller have been sworn enemies from the very start, both of you at each other’s other's throats since the first glance. What he can't know is that you have been harboring a stubborn crush on him this whole time---It’s not until he has you up against a wall that you realize he feels the same way.

A/N: Now that I have all of my one-shots posted, I'm going to start posting my ongoing stories as well as some new works. I'm almost finished with the Frankie Sex Pollen fic so that will be posted sometime this week. I will also be working on creating both a masterlist and a recommendation list, so hopefully that should be done soon too. Thanks for reading!

***

Today has been a shitty fucking day—no pun intended. 

Not to say every day isn’t shitty here in the QZ, but this one really takes the cake. To start your fabulous day, you woke up an hour late, making you one of the last people in line to pick up jobs. When you got to the assigning station, you found that you had been left with two options for the week: janitorial service at one of the mess halls, and sewer duty—where you literally have to shovel shit. The only card left for the mess hall was an all-day shift. You took them both.

That's why you find yourself here now, below the city, finishing up sewer duty, covered head to toe in stench and sweat even though it’s the middle of winter. You’re pretty sure you are the last one down here; it’s been a while since you saw or heard anyone else. You aren’t surprised. You’re used to being the only one who cares enough to actually finish whatever job you were tasked with that day, no matter how repulsive it may be. 

You don't take pride in much, but you are willing to admit that you admire that quality about yourself. You are a damn hard worker and you aren’t afraid to show it. You have no idea where it stems from, maybe your stubbornness, or possibly your inner perfectionist. Whatever it is, you find yourself often wishing that more people would have the same mindset. God knows it would make your life easier at the very least. In the time you have spent in the Boston QZ, you have only had the pleasure—or maybe you should say displeasure—of meeting one other like-minded person. 

You became acquainted with Joel Miller within the first day of being in the QZ, which was about three years ago now. The first glance you got of him was as you were being hauled through the gates, lucky enough to have not been shot on the spot when a couple of FEDRA officers caught you hiding out in the woods. Your eyes met his before they met anyone else's, and he’d held your gaze, his expression anything but welcome, as if he were trying to evaluate you with one look. 

By the looks of it, he had to be at least a couple of decades older than you, but that didn’t stop the heat that started to simmer between your legs at the first glance you got of him. When his eyes didn't leave yours, you took it as a challenge and forced yourself to keep your gaze on him until he was completely out of sight. You knew what you were doing, and so did he, both of you deciding on the spot that you would be enemies until one of you either died or left. 

Sure, you knew that it probably wasn't the best idea to piss people off before you made any allies, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. From the first second you saw that man, you knew that one way or the other—one of them being a heated feeling you chose to ignore—he would be trouble. As per usual, you were right. If you didn't know any better, you would have said that he was dead-set on following you around, bumping into you at almost every job you took. At first, you had been convinced that he had been doing just that.

 The first couple of times it happened you considered it some stupid coincidence, some twisted kind of unluckiness. Granted, it wasn't every time, but it was more often than not, and that was more than enough for you. By the fifth or sixth time out of ten, you waited until the very end of the shift, until it was only Joel and yourself left working. You kept a close eye on him, and as soon as he started wrapping up, you cornered him. That had been the first time that you had ever actually spoken to each other instead of tossing nasty glances back and forth. 

You had immediately gone to work with your rushed interrogation, demanding him to tell you why he was following you, to tell you what his problem was. The most frustrating part of the whole ordeal was the way he had sat back, leaning on one leg with his arms crossed, his expression bored as he waited for you to finish. He said nothing until he was positive that you had nothing more to say. 

“I ain't followin’ you, kid,'' he had said, his voice deep and more pleasant than you would have liked it to be. His tone was hard, as you had expected it would be, but the tangy southern drawl and depth of his voice took you off guard, an unwelcome heat suddenly forming between your legs—which only pissed you off more. 

The stone-cold look in his too-pretty eyes only worsened the feeling, and suddenly you found that you weren't able to speak; you didn't even know what you had come up to say at this point.  “Don’t fuckin’ bother me again,” he muttered and pushed past you before you could realize you had been staring.

***

“You just gonna fuckin’ stand there all day?” A much too familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts and back into reality. Speak of the fucking devil. 

“Just finishing up, Miller,” you spit, not bothering to look in his direction. You can hear him start to walk up to you but you ignore it, opting instead to actually finish what you had been doing. It only takes a few more seconds, and by that time, you can practically feel Joel staring a hole into your back, no more than a few feet behind you now. 

He doesn't move, so you continue to ignore him and start walking to the ladder so you can get out of this literal shit hole. You only make it a few steps before you realize that he is moving with you, following at the same distance he had stopped at before. Your jaw ticks as you spin around on your heel, so suddenly that Joel almost knocks into you.

“Is there something I can help you with?” you ask him as sweetly as you can manage, the fire in your eyes contradicting your tone. His own eyes narrow as he takes a step back, crossing his arms in his usual fashion. 

“Maybe you should learn how to help yourself first before you go offerin’ it to other people, princess.” He says the name as an insult, and you have to bare your teeth to keep your composure. 

“What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, old man?” You ask him, taking a step toward him. He doesn't back away this time, instead taking a step toward you in reciprocation. The two of you lock gazes and stare at each other for what could have been ten seconds or ten days before Joel breaks the trance and shoves past you instead of answering. 

You just stand there and let him climb the ladder to the street above you. You can see right through him, the asshole wants a reaction, and you're not going to grant him that satisfaction—not this time anyway. 

You wait for a few minutes until you can be sure that he's long gone before you grit your teeth and turn on your heel, walking to the ladder and hoisting yourself up. As you reach the surface you catch a whiff of yourself and scrunch your nose. You need a fucking shower.

***

The next day, you wake up in a sour mood, already dreading today's job—janitorial services. At least it's not scooping shit this time. You’re the first one there, as per usual. The hall is a mess after breakfast and you take a deep breath as you think about the fact that even after you scrub it spotless, it will be trashed again by the end of lunch and then again after dinner.

To top it all off, it's ridiculously cold in the room, the fire lit in the back of it not doing much to increase the temperature. You look down at your white cotton t-shirt under your flannel and find yourself wishing you had put a thicker undershirt on.

There aren't many people working with you on the first shift, only the usual other three this morning, not that you're complaining of course, it just means fewer people to get in your way. You keep your eyes to yourself most of the time, only looking at someone if they address you to ask for help or to comment on something. Before you know it, lunch has come and gone and you are preparing for dinner. 

You notice halfway through that time that your friend is working the second shift, and she approaches you so you can work together for the rest of the time, though she only has the after-lunch shift. Rachel is a hard worker for the most part, though she likes to slack off a lot, but you appreciate the help while you have it. The two of you gossip and joke quietly until it's time for her to leave and time for you to sit back and wait for the dinner crowd to flood in.

***

It feels like a week has passed by the time the last person clears out after dinner, and you breathe a sigh of relief—you’re so close to getting back to your apartment and into your welcoming bed. You immediately get to work on sweeping up the trash that collected underneath the tables, eager to get out of here. 

There are only two other people working with you this shift, which is weird because FEDRA usually has at least four people on each job, but you brush it off. They seemed to know each other and they blab amongst themselves as they work. At least the couple seemed like they were in the same mindset when it came to getting this job done, so you didn’t mind the fact that you are missing a crew member. 

Halfway through your sweeping, you hear the door slam open, startling you and the couple that is now busy with taking leftover dishes into the kitchen. The chill that sweeps through the large room makes you assume it was just a gust of wind, probably blowing snow into the doorway. 

Great, something else to clean, you think as you huff an annoyed breath. 

When you turn to face the sound though, you find yourself wishing that the problem had been snow, but of course, when did anything ever go your way? The supposed gust of wind is actually Joel fucking Miller.

Your mood immediately sours and you have to fight not to roll your eyes as you watch him slink into the room and follow the couple into the kitchen. You hear the girl inform him that he was late—as if he didn’t know, or care for that matter. He only grunts in response. You don’t bother to stop your eyes from rolling to the back of your head. If Joel sees it, he doesn't say anything. 

***

An hour later, Joel hasn’t bothered you, much to your relief. The only time you have to look up from your work is when the couple from earlier bids you farewell before they walk out the door. There is nothing left to do but scrub the tables, which you are doing now. 

You only have two to go, and then you’re free for the rest of the night. Now that you're the only one left, the room is almost eerily silent, the only sound being the drip of water as you dip your sponge into the bucket and wring it out. After the table you are working on is thoroughly cleaned, you move on to the last one. It sits right next to the busted window, and you shiver as you walk past it. 

“Cold, sweetheart?” The baritone voice sounding from behind you just about causes you to jump out of your skin, the bucket of water in your grasp suddenly spilling over your front. Of course, it was a huge fucking bucket, so it was enough water to coat almost your entire body. 

The white t-shirt you have on under your thick flannel is soaked through so that it’s practically transparent. Dropping the now empty tub to the floor with a loud clang, you swivel on your heel to face Joel, who is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed.

 If he sees the fire in your eyes, he ignores it as he smirks at you, obviously humored by your reaction—and likely by the fact that he can see your bra. Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly, every expletive or reprimand that comes to mind doesn’t seem to cover what you want to say. 

As you stand there soaked in dirty, soapy water, you find that you can do nothing but stare. Your gaze is stuck on the man still standing in front of you, not a twinge of empathy in his own, which he has trained on you in return. You have no idea how long the two of you stay rooted to the same spots, staring each other down, but it must have been at least a few minutes because you can feel your body start to involuntarily shiver as your drenched form begins to freeze. 

Of fucking course you had to have been standing right next to the broken, half-assed boarded-up window, and not by the fire that still rages into the chimney on the other side of the room. 

The cool air sweeping in seems to trap you in its frigid grasp, threatening to turn the grayish liquid that covers you into ice. You can't help it as you finally move, bringing your arms up to cross over your chest in a feeble attempt to warm your rapidly cooling body and cover your exposed undergarment. You flinch as your arm presses the freezing fabric closer to your skin.

The action seems to break the invisible spell that had set over the two of you because Joel takes that as his queue to take a step back off the wall and lift his chin. The movement makes him look bigger and you have to lift your own to look into his eyes again. You can only hope he sees the fury that burns on your own. If looks could kill, he would be dead on the floor right now. 

“You’re fucking joking,” you are the first to break the silence. The quiver in your voice would be embarrassing if not for the fact that it was placed there out of anger. The asshole who put it there must know it too because you can see the way he swallows as if trying to rid himself of his guilt, though if that’s what he is feeling, he doesn’t show it any other way. 

You can expect that the action will be the only sign of such a thing—if Joel Miller doesn't want to feel a certain way, he doesn’t, simple as that. You have never once met a man more rude, nor stubborn as the one currently in front of you.  

“Didn’t realize I was bein’ funny,” he says, straight-faced with that stupid southern drawl that you have come to despise. You don’t reply as you continue to stare daggers at him, and you can't tell what’s making you shake more at this point—the layer of fucking ice about to coat your body, or the unmatched rage that brews in your mind.

 Right now, you would place your bets on the rage, considering it’s actually starting to warm you up. The sight of Joel, arms crossed to mimic your own, still staring down at you like he's some fucking god, only fuels the feeling. Sighing quietly, your eyes shut as you try to calm yourself down before you say something you would really regret. It only takes a few seconds until you speak again, which might not have been long enough, truthfully speaking. 

“That was pretty fucking shitty, even for you, Miller.” You manage to get the sentence out through gritted teeth, but it sounds strained. Anyone would agree that it sounds like you are trying your best to contain yourself, though it’s obviously a task you are struggling with. He says nothing, and his body gives nothing away, so you speak again. He knew exactly what was going to happen if he snuck up on you like that, and he probably didn’t even give it a second thought.

“I mean really, how fucking immature can you be? You really thought scaring me while I was holding a tub of dirty water was the best way to get my attention?” Your mouth starts to let words out before you can even think about what threatens to escape, and there is nothing you can really do but allow it to happen. 

Your lips are moving far too quickly for your brain to comprehend at this point, your anger completely taking over. As hard as it can be to hold yourself back from an argument sometimes, you always managed—but this was the last fucking straw. 

“And why the fuck are you even here? You obviously don’t have anything left to do.” Your voice is quickly raising but you doubt you could do anything about that even if you wanted to right now. Of course, it doesn’t matter how loud you get, you could probably scream right in his face, it never seems to affect him.

“Seemed lonely,” he says simply, shrugging and shifting off of the wall. He looks at your bewildered expression and decides it would somehow make it better if he elaborated, though you both know that he only does it to dig further under your skin. 

“Never got anyone around, s’ all. Too fuckin’ stubborn n’ self-absorbed to make any friends.” His tone is condescending and nonchalant at the same time, like he is both stating a fact and trying to beat you down. You continue to stare at him as he finishes. This is a whole new level, one you wouldn’t even have assumed Joel would ever jump to. 

You’ll admit it, he’s managed to find one of your most delicate insecurities, and he knows it, too.  Even before the outbreak, you always had trouble making friends, your anxiety and general mistrust always got in the way. Every time you thought you were getting close to someone, you would push them away. It was your biggest fear, being betrayed by someone close to you—a worse fear, you decided, than being alone. 

To this day, you have only ever let one person really get to know you. When you met Rachel during your first week in the QZ, she showed you a sort of open kindness that let you know she was a good one. You knew then, and you know now, that she would never do anything to hurt you in any way. 

In the time that you've gotten to know her, she’s become the best friend you’ve ever had, and the only one you wanted. But she is only one person after all, and she can’t spend all of her time with you, so you find yourself on your own most of the time—and of course, Joel Miller, of all people, would pick up on it. 

“You are such an asshole, Joel,” you spew out after a moment. “And you have the audacity to call me lonely?” You can't help the tears that start to blur your vision, so you ignore them as you continue to rant, your hands now flying wildly. The pit of insecurity in your stomach is starting to grow to the point where you feel like it will swallow you whole. 

“You act like you’re so much fucking better than me! Who do you have?” Through your watering eyes, you can see the way Joel flinches slightly, and as much as it pleases you that you seem to have finally found a soft spot, it also eggs you on. You recognize it and think to yourself that he's a fucking idiot for pointing out the fact that you don’t have anyone in your corner when he has the same exact problem. 

“Huh? You say I'm alone, and maybe I am, but I’ve never seen you with anybody.” Your vision starts to clear as you feel hot tears begin to streak down your already-soaked cheeks, allowing you to see the deep scowl set on Joel's face. It almost scares you how mad he looks, but it's too late to back down now. 

You stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something, but it never comes. His silence only encourages you, and you know you probably seem immature as you continue to insult him, but it gets pushed to the back of your mind as you quickly realize it’s the least of your worries right now. Your tears are streaming freely at this point, your breaking point finally has been reached. The words are coming out faster than you care to stop them. 

“You have no fucking friends, Joel,” you spit out. That one definitely struck a nerve, and you watch as he takes a step towards you, his face giving you a warning expression as if he already knows what you are going to say next. You know his history, and you know it's a bad idea, you know it is, but you say it anyway.

“You have no friends…” You pause, your brain subconsciously trying to talk you out of what you’re about to do. Of course, you don't listen. “...and you have no fucking famil-” you get cut off as Joels hand makes contact with your throat, his grip crushing your windpipe as he pushes you back until you hit the wall and lifts you onto your toes so you are looking into his rage-filled eyes.

He says nothing for a moment as he lets you struggle in his firm grasp, watching you writhe and try to gulp in air. The panic that courses through your body is almost paralyzing, sending a hot flash throughout your entire body as your brain catches up with what's happening. 

You find yourself panicking even more when you realize that fear isn’t the only thing your senses seem to be overwhelmed with as his hand tightens around your neck. The wetness beginning to gather in your panties is suddenly the biggest problem you are faced with, an unwelcome feeling or arousal suddenly making itself known. 

Everything seems to be happening in slow motion as you feel your hands start to claw at the one wrapped around your neck, no doubt leaving raised scratch marks across his wrist. The man doesn't wince or falter though, as you struggle to try to pry his hand away. You can feel your mouth opening and closing, though you’re unsure of what you are trying to say. You suspect it's something along the lines of “Please”, but no sound comes out. 

Eventually, after you realize that nothing is going to come from your struggle, you let your body fall limp, the only movement left is the tears that still crawl tauntingly down your cheeks. Though some of them may still be from the anger that had overcome you before you felt his large palm on your throat, most of them are now evidence of your shame. 

Logically, you reason that there is no way for him to know what kind of response his aggressive actions pulled from you, but you can't help but feel like somehow, he can see right through you. 

Upon seeing you submit, Joel lifts you more until you are close enough to feel his hot breath fan across your face. He loosens his grip enough so that you are allowed to catch a breath, but not enough for you to fall away from him. He starts to lower his arm, letting your feet hit the ground, but he leans his body down with your own so that his face stays less than an inch away from your own the entire time. 

You know that realistically, he only had you in the air for a few seconds, but it felt like an hour with the fear—and unexpected lust—that was coursing through your veins. Though you are still trembling with the silent threat he delivered, you seem to be able to calm down a little as his hand loosens and slides around to the back of your neck, only holding you in place. 

You stare into his eyes because you have nowhere else to look, and are almost surprised to see the array of emotions on display. You see anger, impatience, annoyance, a hint of restraint, but the one that seems to dominate them all is the one that takes you aback the most. You see in his eyes, what must be a reflection of your own. 

Your mouth drops open again as you begin to place the look of longing and desire that burns in Joel's gaze as he stares you down, his mouth just centimeters from your own. You take a chance and allow yourself to look down at the way his lips almost brush yours, his own mouth parted as you both try to calm your ragged breathing. 

You have no idea why you suddenly feel this way—well, you do, you just refuse to admit it. You hate his fucking guts because he is the only man that has made you feel something since before the outbreak. Every time you look at him, it is evidence that you are still capable of letting your guard down, that you are still weak. 

You promised yourself the first time you understood what the potential problem with Joel Miller could be, that you wouldn’t allow it to become one. But this god-damned man makes it so fucking hard to keep that in check when he is staring at you like he wants to ruin you. 

You feel his hand tighten around you again, and you snap your eyes back up to his, suddenly blushing as you realize that you have been staring at his lips for far too long. For once, you are at a loss for words, you have no idea what to say that might save your ass from looking like you had been doing exactly what you had. Thankfully, you don't have to wonder for long because Joel cuts right back to the chase, seemingly shaking himself out of his own thoughts as he speaks again. 

“You want to try that again, little girl?” Fuck. How the fuck are you supposed to ignore the pit forming in your stomach when he says shit like that? You are too caught up in thinking of a response to answer him immediately, and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that as he shifts his position, pushing you back further into the wall behind you. 

When he moves, you realize that one of his legs is slotted between your own, and your eyes widen as you feel how close his thigh is to your center—one little movement and you will give yourself away. You must be dripping at this point, and if he's not close enough to feel the heat coming off your cunt from where he stands right now, he will be if he moves any closer. 

Steeling yourself, you opt not to speak as you bring your hands back up to grasp at his wrist again. Joel watches as you struggle to get a grip before he growls and uses his free hand to grab both of yours and place them on the wall above your head. Your eyes somehow widen even more and you want to shrivel up into a ball as you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.

You need to move now. You can't let this man see what he does to you, the way your body reacts to the way he so easily dominates you. You know that you have no time to plan anything out, so you do the first thing that comes to mind—you try to tug your hands out of his grip and you lunge to the side. 

You’re not sure why you even attempt it, you know that it won't get you anywhere, but you do it anyway. Of course, he overpowers you once again, and nothing changes but his grip, both of his hands tightening as he leans in even closer to you. The new position causes his thigh to crush into your throbbing clit, and before you can stop it, a whimper breaks through your lips.

Nothing is said for a moment as you stare at Joel with shame, and him at you with a newfound amusement. You can feel yourself melting on the spot, and you let your head hang in humiliation, your eyes trained on the ground next to Joel, who is now smirking as he stares back at you. You feel his thigh crush into you again, deliberately this time, and you have to bite your lip and close your eyes in concentration so as to not give away any more sounds. 

You hear Joel chuckle darkly above you, and the sound goes straight to your pussy. How are you supposed to resist this man when he sounds like that, when the rough denim of his jeans is rubbing you in all the right places as he begins to rock his thigh back and forth, making you bite your lip even harder. The hand on your neck suddenly releases its grip and you feel his thumb come to your mouth, tugging your bottom lip until it falls away from the punishing bite of your teeth. 

“C’mon now, princess,” you hear Joel speak again and you can't help but moan softly as he sets his hand on your hip, starting to guide you across his firm thigh. 

“You’ve given yourself away now, you ain’t gonna get outta this one.” His tone is taunting as he presses down on your hip, bringing you down harder against him. 

The pressure on your clit is almost overwhelming with pleasure, and you find yourself moving on your own, beginning to chase the orgasm that has suddenly come within your grasp. You can’t help it with the way your wet jeans rub you just right and the firmness of his thigh is just enough to push the seam of them onto all the right places.

“F-fuck you, Miller,” you say, opening your eyes and bringing your head back up to look into his eyes, hoping the anger is apparent in yours. He stares at you for a moment before he speaks again. 

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he moves his hand down to where your cunt meets his thigh, and places his thumb right on your clit, rubbing quick circles. The touch is all you need to send you over the edge, becoming a moaning mess under Joel’s body. He’s right of course, you want him to fucking ruin you. God, you hate it when he’s right. 

He continues the circles on your clit as you come down from your high, riding you through it. When you are finally able to catch your breath, you look him in the eye to find him staring right back at you. His gaze is intense and full of want. 

“You want me to quit, darlin?” You can tell by the way he says it, that he asks genuinely. He would stop if you said the word. As much as you want to hate him, you know that he is respectful enough that he wouldn’t do anything to that effect without your consent.

Joel may be an asshole, but he would never put his hands on a woman in that sense if she showed any sign of resistance. Though he didn’t seem to have a problem with wrapping his palm around your throat. 

“I can give you more, all you have to do is ask,” Joel says after you don't answer him. His gaze is hungry as he waits for your consent, his eyes slowly tracing up and down your body, taking you in. When he looks back to your face, you nod slowly, watching as his already blown-out pupils seem to take over his irises. 

“I'm gonna need to hear you say it, darlin,” he says as he brings his chin up to the side of your head, nibbling your earlobe and making you shiver. 

“P-please, Joel,” you say, giving up the act. You know you want him, he knows you want him, and now you know he wants you, too. 

“I need you, please.” At your signal, he doesn't wait any longer as he starts to pull you away from the wall, his free hand traveling back to the back of your neck, the other still grasping your wrists. Before you can figure out where he’s moving you to, your chest slams onto one of the tables, the force almost enough to knock the wind out of you. You had expected him to be rough, but not this rough… not that you mind. He’s clearly done with being gentle with you now that he has free reign.

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, throwing him a look over your shoulder as much as you can with your neck still being pinned down. 

“You fucking mind?” You hear Joel chuckle behind you and feel him step closer to you, pressing himself against your ass and leaning over so that his chest is flush with your back. 

“Nope, not at all.” His breath tickles your ear as he whispers into it. 

“Now I'd be quiet if I were you, girl,” he tells you, his tone almost threatening. “Unless you want to wake the whole town, of course, cause now that I’ve started, I ain't gonna stop.” Your eyes widen and a whimper falls from your lips as he finishes his threat and pushes his top half off of you. 

“Maybe you’d like that, huh, little girl?” he pauses his sentence to rip your pants and panties down in one fluid motion, making you cry out.

“Let the whole town watch me fuck you, show everyone who you belong to, who this cunt belongs to.” He knows you too fucking well, knows that you’re thinking about it now, salivating over the thought of someone walking in on you like this, your pants around your ankles, him, balls deep inside of you, taking what he wants. 

“Dirty little girl, out here whorin’ herself out to me so quick. Slut’s just damn desperate for some good fuckin’ cock.”

You hear a sharp zip from somewhere behind you and you struggle out of instinct, pushing up on the hand holding you down. He ignores your protest and slams himself into you, sheathing himself in one fluid motion, giving you no warm-up or time to adjust. 

You expected him to be big, but you weren't expecting this. He's fucking huge, stretching you out and reaching depths you didn't even know existed. You scream out at the sudden burning intrusion and Joel moves the hand that isn't on your neck to your mouth, silencing you halfway through the outburst. 

The tears that fall from your eyes catch on the palm of his hand as he brings his cock almost all the way out before slamming himself back in, setting a brutal pace. 

“Tha’s alright baby, Ima take good care of you,” Joel assures you through gritted teeth. “Make you feel real good creamin’ all over my fat cock.”

Your fingernails scrape the surface of the table once he releases your hands, scrambling for purchase as Joel slams into you without remorse. You’re almost surprised at how quickly you feel the knot in your stomach start to build back up, the pain promptly turning to pleasure as Joel brutally shoves his cock into your already-sore pussy. 

The sounds of Joel's grunts, your muffled sobs, and the squelching of your cunt quickly fill the room, you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so cock-drunk on Joel. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is the way the head of his dick slams into your G-spot with every harsh thrust. 

The way his dick drags against your walls makes you clench with every swift pass. That combined with the way his hips slap against your ass might just be the best thing you’ve ever felt. 

Your body begins to go slack, your stomach and chest pressing harder into the table, you barely even register Joel's hand being removed from your mouth until you hear your unfiltered moans break through. 

“Jus’ wait one second, darlin,” Joel's voice is strained as he talks. You try to nod back at him but find that it's a bit hard when your bones have melted. His pace never falters as he reaches down to where he pulled his pants down just enough to free his thick cock and heavy balls. 

When his hand finds the open buckle of his belt, he tugs it through the loops and uses the edge of the table to fold it once before bringing it to your lips, pushing it toward you until you bite down on it. 

He tells you something, by his tone it sounded like a command, but you can’t seem to make out the request.  If you weren’t drooling before, you certainly are now with the taste of leather on your tongue. Joel smirks to himself as your moans quiet down with the help of the belt. 

“There ya go, such a good girl holdin’ on t’ that for me,” he runs his fingers through your hair as you keen at his praise. He can feel your cunt tighten around him as your second orgasm approaches once again and he has to steel himself so as not to come right then and there like some teenager. Instead, he brings his hand down to touch your clit again, not with his thumb, but with his middle three fingers, rubbing up and down, immediately setting a furious pace. 

The new sensation combined with the pistoning of his hips pushes you over the edge and you have to bite down on the belt so you don't scream as you receive the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had. It's like nothing you’ve ever felt before, the white-hot pleasure almost blinding you, and the force of it almost pushing him out of your cunt. 

You sob as you listen to Joel talk you through it, telling you how good you're doing for him, how you were made for him to stuff his cock into. His pace never falters as you gush around him, but he does push himself further into you so as to not be forced out of you. 

The strength of his thrust is enough to surge you forward, the table screeching on the concrete floor below you as it too is moved forward slightly. After you come down completely from your high, he grasps your hands and tugs them behind your back for leverage, fucking down into you to chase his own pleasure. 

“Goddamn, darlin, tight, young, little cunt, squeezin’ the fuckin’ life outta me.” His dirty words are almost humiliating as he throws them out, but you love every moment of it, the way you clench around his cock giving you away quickly. 

“Oh, you like that, little slut?” he almost sounds surprised as he continues rambling. 

“Filthy little thing, lettin’ some old man stuff his cock into your sweet little pussy. ‘F you didn’t take dick so good I would think you’d be a damn virgin.” You whine beneath him as much as you can with the leather between your teeth, a shameless request for him to keep talking. 

“Yeah, you like that, huh, little girl?” He grants your wish, spewing more filthy comments every few thrusts. “Like bein’ told what a f-fuckin’ whore you are f’ me?” You keep, drooling on the belt trapped between your teeth.

Suddenly, you feel the large hand that was pinning your neck disappear, only to reappear on your ass, making your eyes widen as Joel quickly slides to your other hole, his thumb right above the tight ring of muscle. 

Usually, you would want to struggle, but for some reason, the thought of Joel taking you there is something you find yourself wanting. He feels you squeeze around him again and he chuckles at your desperation. 

“Now, you’re just full of surprises, ain't ya, princess?” He says, his voice even more strangled than it was before. It almost sounds like it should be painful for him to talk. He stops talking for a moment to allow his saliva to drip down and slide down your ass crack. 

“You’d let me fuck you here, wouldn't you, little girl?” Fuck this man, you both know the answer to that. 

“Put my dick in this pretty little ass?” When you don't object, you feel him spit on top of his thumb again before pushing it into you. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes curl as he slides his thumb into you until he can’t anymore. The intrusion triggers your third orgasm, your body melting into the table as you press back into him. It’s less intense than the first two, but you are still fully consumed by the waves of pleasure that wash over you.

If you had been standing, you would have fallen to your knees. You’ve never felt so full in your life, the feeling almost overwhelming as he leans on top of you again, continuing to whisper filth into your ear. You can tell he’s getting close by the way he lets go of your wrists and tangles his fingers into your hair, slamming himself somehow even deeper inside of you.  

“Tell me who these fuckin’ holes belong to, princess,” he spews out through gritted teeth, pulling the belt away from your mouth and throwing it somewhere off to the side. 

“Who makes you feel good, makes these little holes feel good?” When you don't answer immediately, your unleashed moans and whimpers making it almost impossible, he uses the hand that’s not fingering your ass to deliver a sharp slap to your left cheek. 

“Fuck, fuck Joel it’s you,” you practically sob as you tell him what he wants to hear, what you want him to hear. 

“T-these holes are yours Joel, you make them feel so good, they belong to you, all yours,” you cry out frantically. Satisfied with your response, he rubs over the red spot on your skin before returning his hand to your neck. 

“That's right,” he praises you softly and you soak up every word. “Such a good fuckin’ girl, knowin’ who she belongs to.” He thrusts into you half a dozen more times before his pace finally starts to falter. 

“W-where do you want me, sweet thing?” As he asks you, all you can think is “fuck this man for being respectful with shit like that.”  If he hadn’t asked, you probably would have shoved him away, but instead, you make another stupid decision—why the fuck not at this point? 

“I-inside, Joel, inside me, oh my god, fucking c-come inside me,” you’re only slightly aware of how desperate you sound as you beg for his cum, but again, you can’t seem to find it in you to care. You let your cheek rest on the cool surface of the table and close your eyes, too exhausted to hold yourself up any longer. 

You hear Joel groan and start to say something above you, but he cuts himself off as he releases inside you with a strangled moan, almost like he is biting down on his lip so as not to shout. 

A stream of curses laced with your name spills from his lips as he twitches and pulses inside you. The feeling of his hot cum spilling into you is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. It seems like forever before he stills, practically collapsing on top of you, his cum dripping around his softening cock and down your thighs. 

Despite his weight on top of you, you think you could probably manage to fall asleep there. Your body has never felt so spent and tired, every muscle sore in one way or another. Joel waits only a minute before lifting himself off of you, and you attempt to lift your head to follow his movement, only for your cheek to be gently pressed back onto the table by his palm. 

“Jus' hold on a second, princess.” His tone is softer than you’ve ever heard it, and it makes your heart warm, but you can't resist the perfect opportunity to tease him as it presents itself. 

“You’re happier after you get your dick wet,” you say with a small smile as you follow his request, letting your eyes close as you bask in the feeling of euphoria that’s taken over your body. 

At your snippy comment, you expect him to scold you, or maybe to swat your behind, which is still presented for him. What you don’t expect is to feel his tongue on your spent cunt. Your body jolts and your eyes snap open at the unexpected feeling, your reflexes causing you to try to sit up again, only to be pushed down by Joel’s hand on your lower back. 

“I said to wait a second, darlin’,” he says as he pulls away from you, his tone more stern now. He waits until you nod your head to return to your pussy, dipping into your hole and lapping up your mixed release. You shudder as his tongue grazes your overstimulated clit, but do your best to hold still for him. 

After he seems to have gotten his fill, you feel him pull away again and stand up to lean over you. His hand suddenly grabs your chin, making you twist your neck slightly so that you are looking up at him. He keeps his mouth shut as he brings it to his own before squeezing your cheeks, making you open your lips, and drops his jaw open. 

You gasp as you feel the combination of his spit and your cum mixed with his own slowly spill onto your tongue. He keeps his eyes open and locked onto yours as he keeps your lips together and lets the liquid drip into your mouth. When he pulls away, he replaces his lips with his hand, forcing your mouth shut. 

“Swallow,” he commands. You obey without a second thought and let the substance slip down your throat. He smiles when he's sure you’re done and moves his hand, motioning for you to open up. You do, and he smirks as he sees every drop gone. 

“Good girl,” he mutters as he lays back down on top of you, and you let your body rest on the table again, enjoying the feel of his body on top of yours. As the two of you stay there, catching your breath, you feel Joel's chest start to vibrate against your back in silent laughter. You furrow your brows and attempt to stand and roll him off you, but only succeed in the latter, your legs failing as if they were made of jello. 

Joel stands back and tucks himself back into his jeans as you slump back down on the table, temporarily accepting defeat. You see him take a seat in the chair next to you out of the corner of your eye, his chest still rattling the slightest bit. 

“What the fuck do you find so funny, bastard?” You slur your words, your tone is a lot less fierce than you had wanted it to be. He looks at you before answering, and you feel your both heart and your cunt clench at the almost adoring look in his eyes as he meets your gaze. Maybe the asshole will try to be decent for a moment, his expression promising. 

“Looks like your gonna have t’ scrub this table again, princess,” he says, his tone toeing the line of playful. You feel your lips tug up into a smile as you recognize the fact that this is probably Joel being friendly. Or at the very least, he’s not at your throat at the moment—in a bad way anyway—so you’ll take it. Upon seeing your smile, he sits back further and allows himself a small smile of his own as he continues to watch you sink into the polished wood beneath you.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you say. You erupt into a quiet yet delirious fit of exhausted giggles, Joel following soon after with his own gentle chuckle. 

“Might have t’ give me a second for that, princess.”

*****

Pt. 2 here

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Guard Duty

I caught Shane dozing off at the security desk while working late one night. He was the night guard I hired after the building was broken into. Needless to say, I was not happy.

"Shane!" I roared.

He almost slipped out of his chair as he jerked awake.

"Napping? Is this going to be a problem?"

"No, Mr. Isaac," he jumped to his feet, "I'll walk the building right now."

My pathetic excuse for a guard scrambled to collect the flashlight and keys I issued to him, but I wasn't convinced. In my experience, guys that were unreliable once would be unreliable again. Guys that were especially young and attractive like Shane were even more likely to be slackers.

"No," I snarled.

The new hire looked at me wide-eyed, clearly afraid he was about to be fired.

"Get over here," I tapped my foot.

The young man reluctantly stepped up, standing before me with a pitiful expression.

"I'm not going to fire you, Shane."

"Thank you, sir," he sighed in relief, relaxing with a dopey grin, "It won't happen again."

"No, it won't."

I pulled a long chain out from beneath my button-up shirt, revealing a heavy ruby pendant that caught all the light in the dark building. Shane had no idea that the gem on this necklace carried a certain quality with it. People who find themselves staring at it too long left their minds open for anyone to go poking around in, and I was intent on poking around in Shane's.

The young man was wide open within seconds of gawking at my pendant. Anything I told him would be accepted by his brain as undeniable truth.

"Shane, you are going to take this job as night security very seriously," I instructed his subconscious, "This job is your identity now. You think of yourself as the security guard here, even when you're not on a shift. It is just the perfect encapsulation of everything you know about yourself. Isn't it?"

Shane's mouth drifted open as he took my words in. It wasn't long before some drool spillee out dumbly onto the uniform shirt.

"Since this job is the primary point of your life, you don't let anything get in the way of it. That means you make time to sleep 9 hours during the day so you come to work rested and alert. You're not going to doze off ever again when you're on watch, and you're not going to get distracted by anything either."

His eyes remained glazed and his body continued to hang limp, but I knew his brain was accepting every word.

"Since this is your career now, you are going to have to make some changes to better represent my company. That scruffy hair of yours will have to go. You keep your hair trimmed short and your face freshly shaven from now on. That's a better image for this position."

I began to imagine what he'd look like all cleaned up. He'd be a real guard for one thing, but he'd also be a hell of a lot more attractive: at least to me.

"You also always do what Mr. Isaac says without question. He is your boss so he tells you what to do. It doesn't matter if it's embarrassing, unpleasant, or impossible. You obey the man, and that just makes sense since you're his security guard."

I was starting to get a little worked up. The idea of this young guard obeying my every whim was giving me all sorts of fantasies. Every bone in my body was telling me to reach out and grope the dazed man through his uniform. I wanted to get to know the guy I hired a little better.

"But you prioritize your work. You love being a night guard. It gives you purpose. This is your life's calling after all, and there's no other job you'd rather have."

I can't resist any longer. My hands dart out and begin to feel his soft muscles beneath the shirt.

"But the job also turns you on. Nothing gets you more excited than protecting people: guarding them. You get hard putting on your uniform every night, knowing you're a good little security guard. You get hard the entire time you patrol the building because you are doing your job, and nobody is more passionate about it than you."

I was barely holding back anymore. My hands had migrated all the way around him to feel the ass beneath his slacks. Meanwhile, I began shamelessly kissing his parted lips. He had no idea any of this was happening, but I think he would've been happy his boss was paying this much attention to him.

"Alright, Shane," I continued between kisses, "You're going to wake up in a moment and forget everything that just happened, but the commands will stay."

I reluctantly pulled myself away from the new night guard, and tucked the pendant back into my shirt. With a snap of the fingers, Shane's eyes fluttered to life and he awkwardly wiped the drool from his lips.

"Mr. Isaac, like I said, I'm sorry about the slip up," he affirmed, "I can't tell you how important this role is to me."

"I think I get it," I answer, "Now get back to your guard duty!"

"Yes, sir!"

Glancing down I see his excited package straining against the fabric of his uniform pants. The tenting erection seems to not bother the guard as he marches down the corridor to begin his patrol.

I was looking forward to seeing a lot more of him around the building at night, now that he was so much more excited to do his job.

[audreyscribes]

(Super long bc I kinda Info dumped sorry)

If you didn’t mind could you maybe talk about what demigods look like/cryptid demigod hcs

I’m probably wording this wrong but I saw a tiktok saying that kids of gods would have cryptid features for example children of hades or underworld gods in general having vampire features, children of sea gods having scales or webbed fingers, maybe children of Zeus or wind gods get feathers,children of Athena can do 360 head turns like owls, Hecate kids having a visible functioning third eye on their forehead that shows them spirits(and probably vampire features Hecate does do necromancy stuff), Hermes kids getting winged feet, children of Apollo having glowing eyes (I think this is somewhat canon) tbh the list goes on

It’s reasonable to think that demigods look somewhat uncanny they are literally half god and it would probably be covered by the mist to mortals anyways

Even if you don’t wanna do a full series on this I’m just curious to ur opinion on it and ideas you have for other gods

Alright, here’s my own take if we’re going off the Greek demigods having uncanny features:

Zeus: The children could have feathers but also considering them being like the air and clouds. Like their presence can be loud and forceful like high winds or practically invisible like the air around us, or how they seem to float as they walk, their feet never really touching the ground. However, when they get angry, their form shifts and they become this angry grey, stormy cloud, crackling lightning and thunder, their voice distorting like booming thunder as their presence whips around you and threatens to tear you apart. Their hands when they touch you spark and electrocute you, and you can smell and taste the ozone around them. They look down at you with eyes like an eagle.

Poseidon: I would wager they have a sleek appearance to them and everything seems okay. So maybe when they smile, you see some unnervingly sharp teeth like a shark. However, when they enter the water, your eyes can't tell if the water is distorting their shape, but you swear you see something else that makes you remember that we know more about space, then our own ocean; making you both amazed and afraid at what the abyss contain…or don't allow you to see because they won't let you resurface at all.

Hecate: While a third eye is cool, that’s more of an Asian mythological feature (I.e. Hindu, Buddhism, Taoism), however, I can see them having three faces that they can change according to that face’s personality, or true to Hecate’s mythos, where Hecate changes forms from a young girl to an oldy lady according to the time of day, their children faces/personality changes according to the time of day. In a moment of peak battle or power, all three faces appear all at once. The Vampiric features also work as well in this case, but you could also go with something ghoulish or ghostly. From the distance, their appearance to you is half invisible like a rolling mist. Another trait that a child of Hecate could have is serpentine qualities, relating them to Lamia, who has a connection with the goddess. So imagine a child of Hecate with skins with the scales of a snake, a forked tongue, and limbs that move too fluidly in a way that makes you think they don’t have normal human bones. 

Hades: we already see references to it with Nico, but the ghostly, pale appearance would be made more true. Representing the domain of death, they would have cold skin, their eyes are dark like shadows, Or part of the Riches of his domain, you'll see how their eyes twinkle like jewels gold or their teeth, nails shimmer like diamonds. They seem alive to you but if you watch them carefully, you notice their skins shimmer as if their see-through or  made out of precious gems, but then you realise, you really haven't seen them breath. Not in the way of the living. Their chests don't move unconscious and almost seem forced, like they have to remember to move their chests up and down. In fact you've seen them stand way too still, with chests freezing yet they're still moving.

Athena: I think her kids not only can turn their necks pretty much around like an owl, but have you considered they really have good hearing, and moving practically invisible? There's a reason why owls are considered the silent hunters/death. Their grey eyes looking wide and bright at you, but as you move, you notice their eyes following you as if you're a mouse moving among a field. Their heads and neck tilting just so that makes your own neck feel severed.

Demeter: Ever heard the metaphor “Hair like corn”? Each child of demeter has qualities that reflect nature, crops, or anything to do with plant life. When they laugh, it either sounds like branches brushing against each other from the wind or the sound of wood creaking and cracking as the bark and flesh of the wood breaking. Or when you see a child of Demeter fight during the wars and you see their blood or flesh fly. When it lands on the ground, you watch as it sprouts into another version of themselves like fungi; you realise if the child of Demeter you've been talking to is the original or just another body of them with the same mind and soul?

Aphrodite: We know Aphrodite's appearance will reflect what the person's ideal version of beauty or who they love is reflected off her. Now imagine her kids having the same thing, their faces resembling everyone's love, preference, their ideal features (button nose, thin lips), but when you come to actually describing their entire face, you suddenly can't. You have an idea of their features but they're in fragments. You try to piece them together and form their face but you can't. You can't remember their faces at all. You start to think you don't know their face at all, you never have, and they're just a mirage in your mind. You don't remember their faces because you can't. You've never seen them, have you?

Ares: Out of them all, they seem the most human-like. War and violence is a part of human nature and it's reflected in them. They hold qualities that make you sweat and stiffen, the way they look at you makes you want to either fight or flight. A side of humanity you don't want to admit that is in our nature and life.   

Dionysus: There's a quality to them that seems a bit off to you, but you can't help getting drawn in. Their eyes are maniacal and don't stare in the eyes too long or you find your mind drifting off. Or how they move like a jaguar, their appearance alluring but very deadly as they stalk towards you. Nonetheless, your eyes will deceive you as you try to look at them, their forms not exactly what they seem to be and if you try to dissect what they look like, you’re not going to like what you see.

Hermes: Their feet may have wings that allow them to fly and go about speeds. However, much like the Aphrodite children, you see the faces of a traveller. They've been to places and seen things you haven't seen before, but when you try to think of their faces, you can't remember. They made an impression on you yes, but when you try to remember their features, you can't really remember and they are only a figment in your memory.  Yet you can’t forget them or their sweet, honey layered and silver tongued words, even if you know its a lie, you find yourself believing in them and take their words as the truth.

Hephaestus: The children of Hephaestus’ eyes burn and glow with hot coals, flaming hot. Their features are almost sculpted like marble statues, both soft yet rigid. Their veins underneath their skin have a thin glow of heat like the veins of a volcano as they bend the physical shape of something in something else. A limb of theirs moves rather rigidly, like it was a limp but as it moves, you are reminded of the joint of a machine, moving in a certain way that isn’t like a muscle. When their skin is reflecting the heat of the forge, you are reminded that their skin looks like stone or metal.

Apollo: We already know about the glowing eyes part, but I wanna say there’s a bit more to that. How light follows them, how they embody it. You can see them but you can’t stare directly at them for too long before your eyes start to burn like staring directly into a lightbulb. Their form seems to shimmer and bend with the light, before you realise you may not be able to touch them more than you can touch the sunlight. Then you also start to realise the shadows around them seem more darker, more of a void then you thought it could be, moving, swirling beneath their feet. As you take notice of the shadows behind them, how it seems to wrap around them like a second skin, the shadow then moves on its own, differently from it’s host, as it raises its finger over where the mouth should be, before you see it actually smile. You may not be able to touch the light and shadows, but it can certainly touch you, prying your darkest truths and secrets from your own shadow betraying you. You learn that the children of Apollo don’t naturally have shadows because they’re made out of light, so where is their darkness?

Going off a bit more of the whole concept though: It’s not the first time nor the last time someone who has those kinds of ideas as humans do. The only reason the Greek and Roman demigods have ‘human’ features is because of how the gods are perceived, where in Ancient Greek people believed the Gods looked like regular mortals, but were absolutely perfect in their appearance as they were above mortals and their features reflect peak perfection of our human appearance, and we cannot perceive their true form because it is outside of our mortal realm. I believe that’s why the gods turning into their true form is deadly to mortals for that reason. 

So the greek/roman demigods would have the godly qualities to them, that are still mortal but just a little bit different, a little out of this world. We actually see Rick Riodan reference these features in the book like Percy’s Sea Green eyes or Thalia and Jason’s Electric Blue eyes. Those weren’t metaphors or similes. They just lean more towards beyond human then cryptid realm. 

However, it wouldn’t be unusual to attach some non-human features to the gods as we constantly attach their symbols to them. Specifically the animal parts relating to the gods, it’s one of the reasons Egyptian gods are depicted with animal features; as the animal parts to represent their personalities or specific traits that were important to their purpose. For example, Anubis the God of Death is depicted with the head of a jackal as the animal was associated with death in ancient Egypt. So if these Egyptians gods had demigods, we can only assume they would have these features too. 

I believe in the Riordan verse, there are the Mayan gods and the Mayan demigods, Godborns, are the opposite of their Greek/Roman counterparts where the Godborns have a sort of physical handicap, disability, or some medical or mental issue. This is   because people believed the blood of humans and the supernaturals were never meant to be mixed.

So go have one with your ideas! Be wild! Test the realm between mortals and the supernatural.

[panandinpain0]

Could you write another Jasper Hale x ftm reader

Something angsty but it ends with fluff. For example: a bad dysphoria day?

YOU ARE DOING A REALLY GOOD JOB WITH YOUR STORIES!!!

Ruined

Honestly thank you so much for this <3

I've been really insecure about the quality of my writing lately so this makes me feel a lot better

Also, my current/longtime hyperfixation is showing (Star Wars)

@@@

Requested by: Anon

Jasper Hale x Trans!Male!Reader

---

God no, not today. Any day but today- (Y/N) could not be feeling like this on his one year anniversary with Jasper.

He knew Jasper wouldn't mind, he'd take good care of him until he was feeling better, or keep him company while he was feeling down. (Y/N) did the same for him if he was having a bad day or was feeling particularly insecure or guilty due to his past.

But Jasper had planned the most adorable picnic and (Y/N) knew he'd been spending a lot of time on his gift, but he wouldn't give away what it was. (Y/N) had made Jasper a quilt out of random materials, some bought from the fabric store and others being T-Shirts of their shared favorite band, or other things that meant a lot to them.

Everything had to be perfect, but as he brushed his teeth (Y/N) caught his reflection and knew it wasn't going to be.

Splashing his face with water, (Y/N) tried not to get visibly upset. Jasper could always tell how he was feeling, due to his powers, but also just from the way he looked. He tried to not be invasive with his powers, so he'd gotten good at being visually observant.

Taking in deep breaths, face dripping from the water, (Y/N) caught his reflection again.

And then he was crying.

Jasper was meant to be here any minute, and the second he got out of his car he would be able to hear the muffled sobs coming from the second floor bathroom- hell, maybe even sooner than that.

Not even a full minute had (Y/N) been crying before he heard gentle knocks on the bathroom door.

"(Y/N)? I let myself in, are you okay?" Jasper asked worriedly through the door. (Y/N) had given him a key to his house a couple of months ago- not that he needed one to get in, but as a symbol of his trust.

Sniffling and wiping under his eye, (Y/N) nodded, even if Jasper couldn't see him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." But his voice came out warbled, still thick with tears.

"Not to tell you how you feel, but you don't sound fine. Can I come in, so we can talk?"

(Y/N)'s breathing picked up again and he let out a quiet "yes"- so quiet that it wouldn't have been audible if not for Jasper's enhanced hearing.

Jasper crouched down in front of (Y/N)'s shaking form, hands coming to hold his upper arms gently.

"Hey, what's goin' on darlin'?" his accent came out thicker then it usually was, comforting (Y/N), who loved his accent.

"I fucked it up," (Y/N) cried to him, leaning forward to get closer to him. Jasper shifted to the wall next to (Y/N) and hugged him, running a soothing yet cold hand up and down his back.

"What did ya' fuck up?" he asked gently, rocking slowly to sooth the man next to him.

"Our anniversary. It was supposed to be perfect, but I-" he hiccupped- "I'm not feeling good about myself, and I-"

Jasper hummed comfortingly, still gently rocking from side to side.

"Honey, our anniversary isn't ruined, and definitely not by your doin'."

"But you planned all this stuff and our gifts-" (Y/N) stumbled out again, looking into Jasper's eyes with tears in his own.

"And all of that's grand, but any day with you is a perfect day, sweetheart. If our anniversary is spent right here on your bathroom floor while we work through how you're feeling, that's a perfect day in my eyes.

Don't get me wrong, I don't like seein' you upset." He wiped the tears from under (Y/N)'s eyes, that had slowly stopped flowing. "But if I get to hear you talk for hours I would never get tired of it." He cupped (Y/N)'s face.

(Y/N) let out a watery chuckle, his hands coming up to hold Jasper's wrists. "Are you sure? I was so excited for the picnic, but now I don't feel like leaving the house..."

"We have a lifetime to have a picnic, no use in forcing you to be uncomfortable when we could snuggle up in your bed and watch Star Wars?

As for the gifts, we don't have to be on a picnic to give them."

Jasper gently pulled (Y/N) up to stand, holding his hand as he led (Y/N) to his bed. A wrapped box sat on the blanket, seemingly tossed there in the panic to reassure his boyfriend.

"Open it." Jasper nodded to the package with his head.

Wiping some stray tears, (Y/N) sniffled and sat on the edge of the bed, unwrapping the box. Inside was a scrapbook.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened as he looked up at Jasper, who took a seat next to him on the bed.

"Is this what I think it is?" (Y/N) whispered with teary eyes, pulling out the book and opening it to the first page.

"If you think it's a scrapbook then yes," Jasper teased, putting his chin on (Y/N)'s shoulder as they went through it together.

Each page was covered in pictures of the two. Kissing, holding hands, their first date. They laughed at the memories and goofy pictures of them with their friends and family.

It was perfect.

When they reached the end there was a small handwritten note from Jasper.

"One year down, and hopefully many more to go,

Love you my sweet boy,

Jas."

(Y/N) laughed bashfully and turned his head to meet Jasper's lips with a kiss. Jasper's hand came to hold the back of (Y/N)'s head while (Y/N)'s hand cupped his jaw.

As they parted, they smiled at each other.

"This is amazing, Jas. Thank you so much," (Y/N) thanked his boyfriend genuinely.

"Anything for you, darlin'."

"Oh, I've got my gift too!" (Y/N) jumped up, placing his new favorite book in its spot on his bookshelf. Turning to his desk he reached under it and pulled out the folded quilt, a bow wrapped around it.

"You didn't," Jasper mumbled in amazement as he stood up and reached for the blanket. Taking off the bow and unfolding it, he laid it out on the bed and looked at each little detail.

"Do you like it?" (Y/N) asked hesitantly, second guessing everything.

"Do I like it?" Jasper repeated incredulously. "I love it!" He turned and swept (Y/N) into a hug, arms around his shoulders. (Y/N) laughed with relief and wrapped his arms around his waist.

They spent the rest of the day wrapped in Jasper's new quilt, having a Star Wars marathon.

And no, the day wasn't perfect.

But it was beautiful.

---

Yeehaw

-Author Max <3

[st4rstudent]

Following the release of the latest chapter. I think I will dwell into those little headcanons/thought pieces about the Desk Jockeys (and Brian) that I mentioned a while ago.

So here it is. My long clem ramble.

NOTE: these are mainly all just headcanons of mine. A sick and twisted look into my mind. Do not consider this as me saying "these are all CANON and if you think differently youre WRONG" because that's not true at all.

I'm going to be doing this in little sections. I'd like to begin by saying that I believe the Desk Jockeys and Brianbots are very different from each other, despite the fact that the Brianbots are just reprogrammed from the Desk Jockeys.

The main points of difference I feel are: design, personalities, and certain equipment. I'll go into the last 2 more, but as a funfact. Did you all know that the Brianbots and Desk Jockeys in the tutorial have different clothes.

(Desk Jockey vs. Brianbot)

I think it's a fun little touch that the Desk Jockeys get brighter attire, whereas Brian changed the Brianbots to more dull colors. Something something cog #society.

Ok I'm breaking the two into groups now. lalala

Desk Jockeys

Desk Jockeys are created by Professor Pete. As we all know they're just simple training dummies, and I believe that is the entirety of their existence.

They are built out of cheaper, more flimsy material, due to the lack of resources that toons can get ahold of. Luckily, this cheaper material makes them much easier to rebuild after each destruction.

I also believe this cheaper material is obvious when it comes to their voiceboxes. Higher-quality voiceboxes are usually only obtainable through companies like COGS inc (or general cog society. that's like an entire topic that can be dwelled on that I haven't given as much thought as I'd like), so the Desk Jockeys are given a more makeshift-"homemade" voice box, made by Professor Pete. As a result, their voices are usually lower and much more monotone/robotic. They also frequently have pitch shifts and will change after being rebuilt because, well, trying to rebuild something exactly is hard.

Ironically, despite their designs being brighter than the Brianbots, they don't have much of a personality. Being training dummies, they don't develop ones because a.) cheaper materials, like processing functions = no ability to retain "memories" and develop/advance and b.) idk I feel like having them with personalities would lead for some crazy self-purpose issues.

This also is a reflection of COG society and how cogs can't take jokes/are supposed to be super serious. It gives a little insight into new recruits about what cogs are supposedly like (even if it's not 100% true).

In summary: A lot of words for "they're just training dummies and lack the higher quality material to form any amount of sentience". Although this isn't inherently a bad thing.

Brianbots

Reprogrammed/hijacked by Brian. There are four of them (3 normals and an executive). While they still maintain the same attacks as the Desk Jockeys, their purpose is not to be dummies... well in the training dummy sense.

They're basically Brian's henchmen and his only cog-related company for a majority of the time.

Although their outer shells are still the same recycled, flimsy material, their internal workings have been given a bit of an upgrade. Given better processing powers, they're now able to hold memories and are able to analyze/solve situations... to an extent.

In reality, what often happens is that they hear what's being said to them, respond, and then only process about half of what's being said. Despite the updates, their processing power still can only hold so much. Out of all of them, the executive has a higher processing power and is usually given the most responsibility (much to their disappointment).

In addition to this, they did get updated voiceboxes! One's that Brian 'borrowed' from the company (because I think it's funny. And 4 missing voiceboxes can't cause that much harm... right?). They all now share the same voicebox, making it hard to tell which one is actually talking. Unless if you spend a majority of your time with them.

In terms of personality, it takes some time*. They eventually do gain more sentience/personality, however due to their limited processing power, it's not very divided. To describe them simply: They try their best. They're very curious on things, but they never can retain all the answer, leading to repetitive questions. What they do retain, they make sure to share. Unfortunately, if you're trying to keep a secret or super evil plans to overtake Toontown Central, this means they may accidentally share it (not maliciously). They're also very clumsy.

*If you know SW: think about how some droids start off very strict to their programming when they are first created, and then as the years pass and they're surrounded by more influences, they eventually develop a personality.

Basically, they're the exact opposite of a super serious businesscog. Much to the dismay of Brian's various efforts of reprogramming.

Part of this is due to their creator. Professor Pete is a toon and as a result, the Desk Jockeys/Brianbots all have a bit of toony influence. No amount of programming can remove that from them.

Despite this, they still are capable. In battles, they can follow orders well (callback to the training dummy origin) and they do listen to lectures, or at least act like they are.

In summary: They're capable of much higher functions and processes compared to the Desk Jockeys, due to better equipment. In terms of personality, they're the complete opposite of what they were reprogrammed for.

With that out of the way...

Brianbots and Brian

One thing I've noticed is that when a lot of people talk about Brian and the Brianbots, they're described in a family situation (Brian being the parent, the Brianbots being the children). And for clarity, I want to say I have no issues with this interpretation. I think it's fun!! And I think that as long as the people doing it are having fun, then YAY!!!!

With that said, my interpretation of this is a bit different. I don't believe they consciously, or intentionally, would find themself in a family-like format (such as referring to each other by familial names or thinking of each other as such).*

The Brianbots and Brian, to me, are like a Saturday morning cartoon villain and his 4 little henchmen that just keep making things unintentionally worse. Minus all the belittling that those tropes often do.

Shortly after reprogramming them, Brian is incredibly disappointed to find out they are, well, silly. After all of his hard work and skilled genius, they turn out like this? Clearly it can't be an issue on his part, so he must keep trying! (<- imagine im saying the "After ... trying" part in a deep sarcastic tone)

However, even after more reprogramming, they still don't change. They're still silly, they still mess up, and they're still clumsy. They are not cog-material. And Brian is upset by this. He was finally in a leadership position, but his employers are these things.

In short: He wanted to try to reprogram them to be the model cog (serious, listens, follows orders to a T), but he doesn't get that. And he CAN'T get that because of their origins.

However, they are also the only cog company he has.

Brian's in the middle of a Toon Playground, in a basement, a toon's basement no less. He doesn't have the joys of having other employees join his battle, he doesn't get to work in the Sellbot HQ. The most he gets is Sellbot meetings and the "keep them separated" order with Buck. For all intents and purposes, Brian is alone. Except for the Brianbots.

Eventually, he gets used to them. Their antics provide for good lecturing sessions and on the rare occasion, they do prove to be adequately useful.

The Brianbots didn't have a strong opinion of Brian at first, especially when they were still developing personalities. However, as they progressed, they became rather fond of him. In their mind, it's just him and them. There's no outside cog hierarchy structure and even if you explained it, they wouldn't understand.

They often take his words with sincerity, even if he's completely lying. And they speak highly of him, seeing as he's the "most genius cog to ever live". They have no evidence to confirm or deny this claim. It's also debatable if some of this is sincerity or part of their programming.

In reality, it's a bit of both.

However this doesn't mean they don't have their moments. In the times they do catch him in a lie or an obviously-going-to-fail-scheme, they'll shoot each other silent glances. If they're in a real mischievous mood, they can easily catch him off guard by asking him a question that seems quite easy to answer (usually one that would force him to admit he's wrong). He either doesn't answer it or stammers for a few minutes before quickly changing the subject.

After particularly bad battles or major mess ups, Brian will end up scolding them. Although his belittlement and scorns aren't meant to be malicious (tough-love type situation), the Brianbots will still end up taking them to heart or their mechanical equivalent. Luckily, they don't hold grudges and also take apologies very easily (like toons).

The Brianbots can also be kind of overbearing/overwhelming, although it's all in good nature. Brian, a cog who would scurry away on all fours at the thought of anything more than a handshake, vs the 4 Brianbots who are happy to see him after a long day of watching the basement and are now speeding at him with arms wide open.

In the times the Brianbots do have a good idea, Brian will absolutely claim it as his own. This results in either a.) them all nodding in agreement in awe or b.) they shoot looks at each other.

*Going back up to what I said about consciously being in a family-type situation. Some of this may come off as a family-type situation and in some ways, yeah. Some of the henchmen-villain tropes are also like this. But I also think the idea of Brian tucking the Brianbots into their sleeping places, reading a calculus book to them, and then they all just never mention it again and act like it never happened is funny. They would be baffled at the idea if it was ever brought up.

In summary: The Brianbots balance off of Brian. They're the inept henchmen to his comically over-the-top plans. Although they are far from being standard cogs, it works out better for everyone anyways (because who else would go along with whatever Brian tries to do).

Ok that's all I can think of. Collect my 8 rambles.

As a gift for reading (or skimming) through all of this. You can get my Desk Jockey / Brianbot voiceclaims that has notes that are just reiterations of what's above.

I was going to put together a voiceclaim video but I need to find 2 more. So have this in the meantime. you might see it again later. okbye

[headingalaxys-spicy]

I don't know if you're ask box is currently open, I couldn't really tell but I really like your yandere alpha asks and I was wondering if you could do either 2p England or 1p America, please 🥺

I think I did 1p America as an Alpha at one point so I’ll do 2p England also this post will be kinda spicy and mention gore because ya know it’s OLIVER. So read at your own risk.

⭐️🌟⭐️🌟 Enjoy🌟⭐️🌟⭐️

He eats Betas because to him they’re a versatile meat he can use when he cooks. Their blood is reserved for his teas, cakes, and soup thickener / base. He refrains from eating Omegas since the poor weak things already have a difficult time within society. They’re lower class and depending on that and the range of skills they have, looks, birth are just a few factors that contribute to one’s overall quality of life. Plus Oliver an Omegas blood is only tasty if it’s someone he’s bonded to. He will only hunt down an Alpha if he’s assigned to do so by his boss.

He’s 100% will control how his S/O will look at all times. He’s got coordinated couples outfits: sleepwear, tea-party, casual walk in the park, you name it he has an outfit for it. And yes, you better believe that it’s pink with maybe a few blue pieces here and there.

You have to be able to maneuver yourself through a ground caked in glass shards, discarded needles, and murder weapons most of which a pills or knives. What I mean by this is you have to be able to read his mood shifts. It can help you formulate sentences that won’t leave you chained to a wall or a chair for an evening. One way to see his mood shifts is that his eyes will flicker with colors. But if they turn blood red or they’re simultaneously blue and pink… that's the sign to RUN. Other colors along with the intensity and duration are other things you’d want to look out for. It aids you in dictating the severity of how he took what you said or did . So plan accordingly when you speak to him. It’s like trying to navigate a rabid mind field .

It take him about a month of obsessing over you for him to finally make his feelings known to you. He’ll intentionally sit next to you at meetings, just happen to be at the same brunch spot as you, and know exactly what to bring when it comes to your beverage you’d want from the local coffee shop. But be warned that the coffee he brings you has low dosage magic pills he’s concocted. They make you think of him more often and even have lucid dreams with him. It’s one that he will harvest for future dreams he can savor in his spare time before you decides to ensnare you. Not to mention that your psyche is no longer safe and will belong to him.

It’s 1000% too late when pastel sugary treats appear at your place of work and implores you to have tea with him. It will instruct that you wear the outfit that has been provided date and time plus he even arranges for a ride to come and fetch you on the day of. Depending on if you say yes or no to this will dictate how he treats you from there.

If you say yes

Things will be easier in the beginning. Oliver will be the kindest alpha to you albeit the staring he does at you is off putting when you go on your first date with him. “Oh poppet you’re simply just too cute not to stare at!”

He already formulated a magical contract if you seem hesitant to continue to move forward with a relationship with him. Oliver will do his best to highlight only the positives that you’ll benefit from if you become his. Things like never having to cook, spill some of his magical secrets to you and raising your overall socioeconomic status. You’ll want for nothing more. The catch will be that your freedom to do anything without him or one of his trusted magical beings hovering over you 24/7. The spells he offers are all superficial illusions and other basic things like levitation of small items etc. (Oliver is smart enough to know to not teach you anything that could give you ideas about escape or leaving him)

If you say no

You’ll be relieved when you find that he decides to be absent for a few weeks after you reject him. But that is only the calm before the storm because Oliver is PISSED that you’d dare to reject him. He’s been at home prepping a perfume that has his musk and a potion that was designed just for you. He crafts a bottle that is beautiful and can draw any eye in and masks it as one of your own bottles. Both his musk and the potion together make a poignant concoction. You will put it on the following day after it’s completion and you’ll be unaware of what’s happened to you once it hits your nostrils. You’ll be knocked out instantly. Oliver’s friends from the darkness will drag you right to him and you’ll be slapped right into having a tense conversation with him on how dare you deny him what he deserves. Oliver’s teeth will be showcased a lot through it. He wants to mark you with his hungry teeth so no one can tell him that you don’t belong to him.

He’s also going to be putting a ton of aphrodisiacs in all of what you’ll consume that night. Right down to the water you drink. You’re going to be horny out of your mind so much so that Oliver won’t be able to handle it either and he will also have to drug himself in order to keep up although he’s amazed that you are able to milk him dry. It’s highly likely he will form a knot with you on the first night.

During Rut

Oh god he’s frantic as hell and kinda helpless when he’s in rut. He will dote on you and be subtle (kinda … not really) about how much he needs tender loving. Oliver will do things he thinks are sexy but it’s either wow that’s creepy or pfffffft please calm down.

Examples:

The slightest bits of affection in terms of physical touch will make him orgasm.

When he cuddles you on the couch, you touch your foot to his under the table at tea, or if he does something as simple as kissing your hand. His face is red, he’s totally holding back a guttural moan, and his pants are tighter than they should be. So he either is trying to have sex with you for longer periods or he’s running around like a confused bat out of hell who doesn’t know what do do when they have a crush and a majorly excited. Or on the very rare occasion he’ll lock himself in his study with some suppressants and wait it out.

He’ll want to stare at you for a good 20 minutes or so before he has his way with you. Sometimes he does this while playing with a knife or making a new brew.

Or he will draw out some of your blood and he will have you watch him make a special tea with it. This according to him helps him last long while he rams himself into you.

He can be cute when he preps an entire spread of sweets for you to try (some may or may not have a poor unfortunate soul within them.) as a sweet yet intimate way to get you into bed. This normally only happens at night when the moon is full and completed with saccharine candles that put your mind at ease.

[i-like-anything-water]

okay this is rough and jumbled.

SnakeHolder!Chloe headcanons:

Sass is shown to be calm and charming, qualities that make the Kwamis look up to him and consider him as a leader figure. Chloe's tendencies to be easily driven by poor writing by her emotions, especially her self loathing and insecurities can be redeemed with continuous support, calm but firm guidance by Sass. He's also described as mature and responsible which dissuades Chloe's attempts at anything that could get her in trouble or revert her to her old ways.

Sass had doubts at first but after a near death experience where Chloe didn't seem to be fazed or had mind, he was intrigued. And maybe a bit worried.

Surprisingly, Chloe denies him at first saying that Ladybug was right and she shouldn't be trusted with another miraculous. This goes on and on until she finally bursts and all the pent up trauma comes out. Part time Kwami, full time Therapist.

Their relationship is rocky at first but they eventually became civil after they transformed (against Chloe's will) to fight off a powered up akuma. The others weren't aware as Chloe insisted they work incognito.

Chloe slowly redeems herself after acting quick and planning fast everytime she uses Second Chance. It's hard to keep up while making sure she doesn't get seen by the other heroes. It's hard at first but what does she have to lose anyway?

Her new hero persona eventually bleeds into her personal life. She's still sassy (lol), mean, and doesn't take anyone's shit but she's more aware now. Going back in time to fix things alters your brain chemistry.

Awareness is the first step to redemption. After numerous breakdowns and nights of self loathing and pity, she eventually acknowledges everything she's done wrong and sees everything in a new perspective and just freaks out.

Cue Protective Sass!

The process is slow and subtle and people don't notice it at first. Chloe thinks first now. She's able to hold in usual insults that would freely come out of her and reconsider her reaction (unless it's sudden, spooked her, etc.)

Next to awareness and acknowledgement is guilt. After realizing everything she's done, she tries everything she can do at that moment to change even some things. Apologies aren't easy for her because she's never even heard that directed to her. In sincerity and not fear. So, whenever she doesn't have to help Ladybug and Chat Noir, she practices with Sass.

"I..," a shaky breath, "I'm sorry."

She practices the phrase before and after the day.

She's hella confused. She's grateful Sass is there to assure her everytime. She stumbles through her words but she manages to get out a sincere apology to the closest person she has: Sabrina.

They talk about it and their friendship shifts. It's not perfect, but it's better than before.

She hasn't formally apologized to the others yet but she's trying.

With help from both Sabrina and Sass, she starts to apologize (but now with more confidence) to people she's hurt. Rose is open to the idea of mending bonds, the others are wary but doesn't say anything else.

The last two she apologizes to is Adrien and Marinette. Adrien is wary but his kindness overweights his doubts. They're not back to what was before and frankly Chloe is glad. She doesn't want what's in the past, she wants to create something now and for the future.

Marinette was the last.

"You shouldn't forgive me right away," she interrupts the shorter girl, "I know you're kind and such a goody two shoes but that doesn't mean you should forgive me after a week or so." She levels a determined look to shocked blue eyes, "Let me prove myself first." And softer, "please."

Well that's all I have so far. I just find it befitting for two major reasons: Sass's ability can actually help Chloe see things in more than one perspective which would help her deal and open up with all her trauma and toxic habits. The ability allows her to be more observant on where she needs to go back to fix the mistake. It takes quick thinking and concentration of the user. It requires an open mind on alternatives. And secondly, 'Second Chance' is fitting for what she needs. Not a half baked Arc where she doesn't know what she wants and needs. But something firm and continuous to keep her going. A real second chance.

That's just me and my rambling. Feel free to add or correct me about anything! (Don't be rude about it though).

[your-divine-ribs]

Ice Cold Part 15

Words: 2.4k

Lyla finds out more about Van’s past 💙

Ice Cold Masterlist Main Masterlist

"I owe you my life Lyla."

Raj's voice was filled with an appreciative kind of awe that made me squirm in my seat. I was uncomfortable enough visiting him as it was, I hated hospitals, but the praise he kept heaping on me just made things worse.

"You'd have done the same for me, any of us would have," I replied. "I just wish I'd not been distracted. As soon as I saw those fake waiters I knew something was wrong. I shouldn't have hesitated."

My mind drifted back to that fateful night in Paris and the note from Van urging me to 'GET OUT NOW'. I was sure if I'd followed that instruction I would have been at Raj's graveside now rather than his hospital bed, but still it didn't seem good enough.

Raj shifted where he lay, groaning and screwing up his face, clutching his bandaged abdomen. "Shit... I think it's time for my pain meds again."

"I'll get a nurse," I offered, rising to my feet. "I should be getting back to the office anyway."

"No!" He said hurriedly. "Don't go yet!"

I hesitated, turned to him, watched an awkward little smile emerge on his lips as he struggled to hide his discomfort. "I was thinking... erm... maybe when I get out of this place... maybe we could... errr... go and grab a drink or something?"

My heart sank as I took in his hopeful expression and I just hoped the small smile that I painted on looked genuine. "Errr... yeah sure... that'd be nice... look I really do need to get back. I'll come and visit again soon."

"I'd like that," I heard him say as I hurriedly turned and made for the exit.

Of course I had no intention on taking Raj up on his offer. He was nice enough, a real gentleman, good-looking and sweet. Someone I was that sure Jen would call 'a real catch', but those qualities didn't interest me. They didn't make my heart race and my mind spin. They didn't make me feel the same way that Van did.

In truth, my visit to Raj wasn't just as a well-meaning friend or colleague, I'd also had an ulterior motive. I wanted to find out who'd he'd been working with on the psychological profiling team. I tried to tell myself that I wanted to delve into Van's past to assist me with bringing him down, but I couldn't lie to myself anymore. I was in so deep now all I could do was tread water and try and keep my head above the surface, the dangerous current threatening to completely sweep me away.

Andrea was a small bird-like woman with sharp features and a serious demeanour, and she looked at me with something between wonder and admiration as I asked her to walk me through Van's psychological profile report.

"We've all been talking about you in this office Lyla," she said, eyes bright. "No one else has spent so much time with Van before and got away with their life. What was he like?"

Exciting... Dangerous... Intoxicating...

I batted the words out of my mind and settled on a very different adjective.

"Terrifying."

I saw Andrea visibly shudder as she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, picking up a thick file and starting to leaf through.

"You know, you're such a good agent," she said, pulling out sheets and photos. "Most field operatives don't care much about profiles and psych reports, they're straight in there all guns blazing, going for glory. They don't realise that getting inside someone's head and knowing how their mind works is key to catching them."

"Well, no matter what they've done, they're still people at the end of the day, right?" I answered.

Andrea narrowed her eyes. "Oh, we don't do this to humanise them. They're monsters... all of them... no matter what they've been through. No... we do this to find their weaknesses. That's how we bring them down."

"Oh..." I looked away quickly, taking a sip of my coffee.

Andrea carried on, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "Of course someone like Van... well that's easier said than done. He doesn't appear to have any weaknesses. Tell me... you've been the closest to him... what are your thoughts? Is there anything we can use to get to him?"

Her question caught me off guard and I froze for a moment. Of course Van had a weakness. A very obvious one. And unbeknownst to Andrea she was looking directly at it.

"Errr... no... I don't think he does have any weaknesses that I've seen... but he's just a man right? They're all weak in some way, hey?"

I nudged Andrea gently, grinning, trying for a joke to distract from the serious look on her face as she studied me intently, but it was quite obvious she wasn't the joking type. She simply sighed and turned her attention back to the files, picking up an old dog-eared crime report.

A photo slipped out of the pages and fell in front of me on the desk and I picked it up for a closer inspection. It was a small boy, he couldn't have been any older than five or six. His clothes were crumpled and torn and stained with what looked like dried blood. The pale skin of his face was streaked with it too. The haunted look in his eyes told me that he'd seen horrors no boy of his age should have seen.

"Is this... is this Van?" I stuttered.

I didn't really need to ask. I'd recognise those striking blue-green eyes anywhere. Andrea nodded.

"What happened to him?"

Andrea's expression was grim as she spoke. "This was taken when they found him, he was just six years old. His family were killed... all of them.... and he witnessed it. He'd been left in the house for five days with their bodies when they found him."

"Christ..." I breathed. "How were they killed?"

"Murdered."

The word cut through me like a knife to the heart and an image of my own dead father flashed through my mind's eye.

Andrea wasn't finished with her gruesome tale. "It was brutal, a machete attack apparently. The father was beheaded. It was a gangland style execution."

Nausea rose in me. "Who did it?"

"I'm sure you've heard of Tommy Chappell."

I nodded. Everybody had. An infamous criminal who was notorious for running all of the criminal activity in the North twenty years ago.

"Van's father was a bad man. Really bad. Rotten to the core. He used to work for Tommy, running the drug operations. He got greedy though, he was skimming money off the top, and then of course when he got found out Tommy had to make an example of him."

"What about his mum?"

Andrea had a look of distaste on her face. "She was no better. A junkie and an alcoholic. She should never have had children, those boys were neglected right from the moment they were born. They never really stood a chance."

"Boys?" I said, confused by the plural term.

She sifted through the files again, her fingers alighting on another photo. Van looked even younger here and he was with an older boy.

"Van has a brother?"

"Did," Andrea confirmed. "He was a lot older than Van. Chappell didn't spare him either."

I could picture the horrific scene in my mind, Van as a young child, forced to watch his family members meet their grisly ends. It didn't matter whether they were good or bad people, at that age family were all you had. I shook my head, trying to clear the emotion away that was threatening to surface. I had to be professional.

"So what happened to him... afterwards?"

Andrea pulled a sizeable stack of papers out of the file and placed them into my outstretched hands. "He got taken into care. He was young enough that there were plenty of families who were interested in fostering to start with... well, that was until the problems started."

I stopped sifting through the papers and looked up at Andrea, eager to hear more.

"It became apparent quite quickly that Van wasn't like other six year olds. Something was seriously wrong with him. He was... cruel, destructive, often violent. One family went so far as to say he was evil."

I scoffed disbelievingly. "That's ridiculous! He was six years old! After everything he'd been through it's not surprising he had issues!"

"Naturally," Andrea agreed. "Social care's come a long way in the last twenty years. Unfortunately Van was shipped around a lot at first. Families handed him back because they couldn't cope with him. Eventually they ran out of options, so he stayed in care homes... some of them shall we say... rather disreputable..."

She screwed up her face. She didn't need to elaborate, I'd heard enough horror stories of vulnerable children abused by those who had been trusted to care for them.

Andrea went on. "He became just another product of the system... damaged. It's a textbook classic example really. I mean, not all psychopathic behaviour stems from neglect and abuse, but the majority does. If an infant doesn't receive the love they need to form emotional bonds in the first few years of life they develop what's known as attachment disorder. Believe or not, humans have to be taught how to love!"

She allowed herself a laugh then, but I didn't find any humour in it. The ache in my heart was steadily getting stronger the more I heard.

"But his parents... they must have loved him in their own way!" My voice cracked with an emotion I wasn't expecting.

"The McCanns?" She snorted like I'd said something preposterous. "Like I said the mother was an addict and his father was a violent, abusive man. His brother was brought up in the family business and he was very much his father's son. Van was probably being taught how to load a gun when most little boys were getting their first train set. I don't think that boy ever saw anything even close to love... not even for one day of his life."

I wasn't prepared for the feelings that ripped through me, I almost felt physically winded and my unemotional facade slipped. Andrea's eyes narrowed at me.

"You look a little peaky. Do you want a glass of water?"

"No... errr no I'm fine, honestly. Carry on... please."

Andrea's eyes lingered on me just a fraction too long, and I could feel the guilt rising. I cleared my throat and let my head hang whilst I pretended to study the social services statement.

"There's not much more to tell really...." She lent forward, lowering her voice. "Don't go feeling sorry for him. He's good at what he does because he doesn't feel remorse."

"I don't feel sorry for him!" The words sprang from me forcefully, defensively. "I just know how it feels to lose a parent in such a brutal way... that's all."

"Yes I know all about that," Andrea said. "It's the age-old argument of nature versus nurture isn't it? Are people really born bad or does life just shape them that way? You can put two people through the same experience and they can react in totally different ways. Van chose this life. Your dad was murdered too but look how you turned out."

Yeah, a real upstanding and moral citizen...

"It's hardly the same is it?" I replied, knowing I sounded like I was defending him but not being able to stop myself. "He had nothing. At least I had family... my mum..."

"Like she was such a comfort to you when it happened!" Andrea's sharp and sarcastic tone cut me off and I looked at her, stunned. She looked shocked by the outburst herself, quickly back-tracking.

"Err... I didn't mean... I mean I shouldn't have said that..." She faltered, then put out a hand to rest on my arm which I hastily moved away. "I'm sorry but I read your file, your psych evaluations, your therapy sessions..."

I dropped the files on the desk, rising quickly to my feet, pushing the chair back forcefully across the floor with a screeching sound. "I suggest you do your job and read the criminals' reports, not the staff's!" I hissed.

"But... but I had to! When we had that data breach earlier in the year... all those files got accessed. It wasn't just the assignment files... they got into the personnel files too."

I'd already started to turn, but this statement stopped me in my tracks. I'd not heard of any data breach. "What are you talking about?"

Andrea's face looked stricken, like she'd said something she shouldn't have and had now been caught out. I glared at her, watched her squirm with unease.

"I'm guessing no one told you then..."

I took a step closer, my mind racing. "Told me what?"

She glanced around, uncomfortable, but I wasn't backing down. "Just tell me," I said sharply.

She sighed then, took a breath before the words tumbled out of her. "It was the worst breach we've had. Our network's supposed to have state of the art encryption too, it should be uncrackable, but somehow someone got in. They accessed all sorts, assignments, undercover agent information. It blew some of their covers wide open. Thankfully they managed to get them all out in time... but it could have cost lives. Remember that senior member of staff Eric suddenly leaving? Someone had to be made accountable. At least they didn't access too many of the personnel files..." she trailed off, eyes darting around before coming to rest on me again. "They got into your file though... they accessed the whole lot... everything. It was strange because none of the other agents were affected... it was only yours..."

I'd stopped listening at this point. Thoughts were thundering through my head as I stood motionless, mouth agape.

"Are you alright? I don't think Paul wanted to worry you..."

I ignored her, starting to back away before I quickly whirled around and made for the door, flinging it open. All I could picture in my head was Van, eyes burning into me with intensity whilst he spoke those three words.

"I know you..."