#I will not be acknowledging how this looks on any other monitor

[m-oshun]

based on Arthur Hacker’s Vale (Farewell)

[hazelfoureyes]

HAZELLLL OH BOY DO I HAVE A GOOD IDEAAAA

OKOK so what if doe! Reader is with vox and readers in heat right right????

But vox can't help reader break it (he's been trying for hours)

So he has to call alastor to help you since he's the only deer vox knows of

Oh my goddd

Hohoho good night awquar 💖

Cucking Vox

「warnings/promises: Vox x Female doe reader, Alastor x female doe reader, smut, Cucking the TV man, knotting, heat, pussy flooded, Alastor says “good girl”, hell is heaven now, you’re engaged but meh, drones were not made for this, Breeding???, humilation of the flat headed prince, Vox loves you, but your pussy love Alastor」

Minors I stg! DNI!

It had been all morning. He didn’t mind the stamina required, but his love was still suffering. Nothing was satiating your needs, even when he went out of his way to transform his typically human male prick into something more akin to the wider based cock you needed …. It was still not enough.

As you laid supine and open, the artificial knot full and stuck in you, the whines didn’t stop. It didn’t have the heat your cunt knew a proper mate would have. His load was too small, your womb quivering in need with every pathetic release he buried in you. A real knot would pulse with the heart rate of the buck claiming you. 

“Nothing?” Vox’s voice was high and worried. 

“I mean… it’s something.” Grumbled into a pillow. You ground against him but it was useless to calm your burning walls. Ever hour that passed without being properly fucked became torturous. 

“What does it feel like? Not getting, ya know,” suddenly he felt shy, voicing the thing he was lacking, “knotted.”

You considered sparing him the truth but your animal brain said it before your human one could stop it, “It hurts. It feels like my pussy is on fire. Do you know how sometimes the roof of your mouth itches and you can’t scratch it? That. For fucking hours.”

Seeing you in pain hurt him, deeper than he could handle. How could he have so much money and power and feel so worthless for you now?

Did he truly have no resources? No recourse? No remedy? 

As he watched your large doe ears press back into your skull, the solution came to him.

“One minute babe, you just…” Vox halted as you rolled on your side, fingers coming to your center to have some friction, “Keep doing that…”

· · ─────── ·📺📻· ─────── · ·

When the drone approached his patio table,  he didn’t look up. 

When Vox’s voice crackled through the small speaker, he didn’t look up.

When the question, “How much for you to fuck my fiancée?” was shouted at him, he admittedly choked a little on his coffee and finally acknowledged the device.

“Why on earth would I do that?” Alastor set the mug down to keep from breaking it in his hand.

“To humiliate me.”

A beat.

A hum.

A twirl of his staff.

“Well in that case, for free!”

Vox blinked twice as he stared at the monitor, “Wait, really?”

Alastor mulled it over seriously now. Did he want to have sex right now? No, not really. Did the idea of making Vox’s future wife scream his name sound hilarious? Yes absolutely. 

He shrugged, getting up from his chair as the drone spun around him, “Shit, I didn’t expect you to agree.”

“So you don’t want me to bed your gal?” Alastor smiled, “Then I’m definitely in.”

Vox chewed on a claw, “Fuck! Fine just get down here. And I don’t owe you any favors for this, so don’t even fucking ask.”

“Oh Vox, favors? You’re hardly the one I’d go to when in need. You’re not even the first Vee I’d approach! Ha!”

Before he could crash the drone directly into that smug face, he heard your whimpers from the bedroom down the hall and paused. 

“Just”, Vox cradled his screen in his hands, “hurry up.”

It became immediately clear why his former partner had called him of all people when Alastor exited the elevator into Vox’s personal floor.

The living quarters were swimming in the heady scent of arousal. Specifically, a doe. 

Alastor rolled his eyes, of course Vox found one of the few other deer demons in the pride ring to marry.

“Ooh, you are in a pickle, huh?” He leaned against the door frame, taking in the sight of the overlord rubbing your back as you groaned. His eyes fell immediately to the downturned tail above your bare cheeks. “Poor thing.” He cooed.

You couldn’t find the will to turn your head to look. A growled, “Voxy?”

“He’s here to help, babe.” His hands sped up their massaging swirls.

“Who, exactly?”

“Alastor! The radio demon. A plea-,” He began but couldn’t finish. 

Vox laughed nervously, “He’s a deer demon! Like you!” 

“You grabbed a random deer demon off the street to-,”

“No! Not at all! Though, admittedly, the only other deer demon I know.” As you made a noise of disapproval, he added, “He’s an overlord! An old pal, even.”

You heard the strange man guffaw. Finally, you rolled over to lay eyes on the supposed cavalry your beau had summoned.

Oh. 

“Hmm.” Something in you unspoken yet still demanding made you roll into your back and drop your knees open. 

He hadn’t anticipated a fellow deer in heat. Vox had offered him more than just fucking his girl, it turned out. Alastor had come mostly expecting to laugh in Vox’s face as a second best humiliation and head to cannibal town, but seeing how Vox was so desperately in love, well, how could he say no? What more delicious of a meal could exist than splitting open Vox’s ego while splitting open his doe with the same effort.

Still on the bed, Vox felt the air shift as he stood between Alastor and you. 

“Well, I uh, guess I’ll leave you two to it.” His screen flashed a pink haze of embarrassment.

“Oh? Abandoning her already?” With a snap and a flourish of his fingers, a plush reading chair materialized on the opposite side of the bed. “Take a seat, old chum.”

“You can’t be serious.” 

Alastor loosened his bowtie, “You’d really leave your vulnerable and needy betrothed all alone with a man? Tsk tsk.”

Vox laughed, “You’re not a man.”

“Ooh, correct.” Alastor reached the bed, undoing his belt, “I’m a buck, right little one?” When his hand reached out and slid down your calf you trembled. Even his skin on yours felt different than Vox’s. “Now take a seat.”

His flat face turned to you, who could only nod as a long claw dragged down your shin.

Vox settled into his chair and crossed his arms. He wanted to say something snotty about how he would make more money on his cell during the little romp than Alastor could dream of, but the sound of Alastor’s zipper made his throat close.

“I’ll need a little assistance to catch up to you, sweetheart. Mind lending me a hand?” Alastor rested his knees on either side of your thighs,  body hovering over you as he knelt.

You briefly considered arguing, but as his other hand pulled his still soft cock from his pants and the scent of him hit your heightened senses, you found your body sitting up. Your hand went into his as he placed it around himself. His fist around yours as he showed you how to stroke him.

“Is that really necessary?” Vox’s voice seemed to glitch.

“Of course! I’m only capable of knotting when in rut. And a rut can only be triggered by a doe in heat. I’ll need her touch and scent to … get the show started, so to speak.” Alastor’s hand left yours, index finger coming to lift your chin. The first eye contact of the evening, funnily enough coming after skin met skin. 

Deep red eyes shone down on you behind a widening smile, “Good girl. I’ll take care of you.”

“You’re obnoxious.” You slurred, a second wave of his uniquely virile musk rolling off his heated crotch. “Good girl? You just met me you….Old timey…”, the lights in your brain shut off, “fuck. Fuck.” Your mind was a blank piece of paper, the word ‘breed’ scrawled haphazardly as your hand felt the weight of his erection. 

Vox had never seen you make that face, nor your eyes lose focus and dilate quite like that either. He couldn’t help but glance at the thick appendage in your fist.

A look shot to his own lap, he hadn’t considered girth into the equation… 

Your mouth opened, saliva pooling in your cheeks as you brought him to your lips. Alastor’s hand snaked back to grab you by the hair and gently keep you off of him, not needing someone’s spit slathered on his skin. 

“Okay now-“ As Vox interjected Alastor’s hand sat still on your head.

“I’ll allow it.” The radio demon had a change of heart at the upset tone of his former friend.

Your tongue blanketed your bottom lip to welcome Alastor in, cheeks hollowing from the size of him alone. Why did he taste like that? Like someone you should only view from your knees? A power to his sweat that made your pussy clench. 

Just a few bobs of your head and he was pulling you off, the job done when Vox seemed to slouch back into the chair in resignation. Large and warm hands guided you onto your back and then onto your right side. Your line of sight was your husband-to-be, claws digging into the fabric of his summoned chair.

It was nice to be handled in your heat. To have strong hands move you around your bed as they wanted you, that alone nearly distracted you from the throbbing of your pussy now showing behind your thighs. Alastor lifted your left leg and used it to pull you to him, a wanton whimper from you when he lined up.

His chuckle was more than annoying, but you were in no position to argue. The sound of impatient tapping momentarily took your focus away; Vox’s foot hitting the tile floor. Your eyes followed up his body to meet his stare just in time for you to let out a loud, shakey gasp. Another came before you could catch your breath, the stretch burning as Alastor pressed in.

He began small incessant thrusts, your slick lubricating his intrusion with each withdrawal.

Vox watched entranced as your body seemed to melt into the bed with every snap of the deer man’s hips. You had spent the morning tense and sweating, so to see you so lax and comfortable was momentarily reassuring. But as your head lolled back with Alastor bottoming out, a flame of jealousy began to roar in sincerity. 

“Fuck,” you tried to keep the commentary down to spare your love, but you could feel your walls spreading around Alastor in a way you’d been praying for since you woke up aroused and pained. When he was fully sheathed you had to grip your pillow to keep from rolling onto your back and spreading yourself wider for him. The baser part of your brain urging you to give yourself over to the more-than-suitable mate. 

“You sweet doe, you’re burning up inside. And so swollen. Feeling better?” Alastor said it with such a clear voice you wondered how he was unaffected by your twitching pussy. 

With a nod you buried your face into the pillow clenched in your fists. His thrusts slowed. “Yes,” you ground out. The rhythm picked up again.

“Better than Vox could manage?” He side eyed Vox.

Your left foot came up and pushed at his chin, “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Hmm, afraid I can’t do both,” Alastor pulled out entirely, lower head rubbing side to side as he spread his own precum along your folds. 

Closing your eyes to not see Vox, you mumbled, “Yes.” He wrapped his arms around your left leg for leverage and thrust back into you with a single push. With a shift of his hips his cock hit against your g-spot with every entry. Your breaths quickly devolved into raspy gasps.

You felt a rush of slick as your body responded to the stimulation. The sound of Alastor’s cock sliding in and out of your arousal reached Vox despite being a ways away from the bed. The previous flame in his chest began to lower. Watching your body rock along with the obscene sounds of you being fucked was having an unexpected effect on him. With a gulp he let his hand rest on his lap, a gentle pressure as he palmed his growing erection.

The deep reach of the radio demon’s cock churning up your insides was felt by you and seen by Vox.

“You’re doing so well, dear. Look how wet you’ve gotten.” One hand came down to run past your clit, “I promise to have you dripping.” He turned his head fully to Vox now, “That’s why I’m here, after all. To breed you.” Vox opened his mouth to shout when Alastor rolled you onto your stomach. The curve of his dick resumed hitting your inner spot, wide cock dragging against every inch of your walls. A pleasured cry, your pillow lost. Bringing your legs up and out you let instincts take over.

The yell died in Vox’s throat. His hand shifted to rubbing his cock through his pants. “Are you done yet?” He saw the swelling bulge at the base of Alastor’s own cock.

You didn’t hear the question, only processing sticky flesh slapping together and your own loud moans.

“My knot needs to be bigger. I want to make sure I plug her up well.” Alastor knew he could finish now but he just needed a few more moments of fucking with the overlord. His eyes came to watch himself disappear into your seemingly too small hole, “Is that what you want? To be stuffed with my knot?” 

You vaguely registered his gaze had moved from where you two connected up to your face. A hand coming to tug at your tail and grip it from the base tore an answer from you, “Please. Please, Please.”

“Do you remember my name in that brain fog?” He took both ankles now and pushed your legs as wide open as they’d reach.

Vox could see the shine on Alastor’s growing knot as he seemed to push more and more in with each thrust. His palm felt the slight damp of his precum soaking through his pants.

He had a name? Right. Yes he had a name. You dug through the mess of your thoughts, an empty room of smoke and sensations, and found it. “Alastor. Alastor please!” Vox had entirely disappeared, it was just the thick cocked buck pounding into you in your bed now. 

“Aww, that’s a good doe. And are you ready for my knot?” Your legs struggled in his grip as you attempted to thrust back onto him to take all he had for you. He hummed, hips slowly as he fought back the pending release, “But you’re still so tight… did Vox even try to fuck you?” 

Vox cried out a small, “Oh, come on. Jackass.” It didn’t stop his hand though. He couldn’t argue Alastor was thicker than he was, even his knot seemed unfairly large.

“Fuck you,” you managed, stomach muscles tightening and drawing your body toward him as the pleasure ratcheted up by leaps and bounds. 

Alastor pulled out entirely again, releasing your legs. The whimper you let out momentarily softened Vox’s cock. “I’m sorrrrry,” you pouted, “Come baaaack.” You thought you would cry, as soon as he was out of your cunt the painful throb was creeping back in. You needed his skin on yours. His body in yours. 

You were rolled onto your stomach, his hands wrapping around to pick you up by the hips. On all fours, he sunk back in. “Shh,” big palms stroke down your back, “don’t forget to breath, sweetheart.” Your body was meant to take a knot during heat and you knew you were capable of taking it, but a small panic made you crawl up the bed as the large, throbbing bulb threatened to tear the delicate skin of your opening. Those same powerful hands you praised before now dug fingers into your hips and held you still. Bruises he hoped Vox would have to see for days. 

A small sob as he mercifully forced the rest of himself in with one harsh thrust, his crotch finally coming into contact with your ass. Again, without thinking, you pulled away and saw stars. It took just a second though for your brain to flood your body with the feel good chemicals it had been withholding all day. The pulsing knot vibrating against your puffy g-spit, wide cock head just barely breaching your cervix and flooding your womb and walls with thick cum; it was everything you needed. Your vision went white as your orgasm made your thighs give out, body going limp entirely.

Vox knew very well what it meant as your entire body trembled, hips stuck against Alastor as the rest of you went boneless.

Alastor took a deep breath. It was oddly refreshing, a form of stress relief he hadn’t considered before. Long claws made barely there lines up and down your thighs.

Pressing his chest into your back, he carefully grabbed your body and rolled you onto your side again to face Vox, him still behind you.

Vox stood up, saw the tenting of his pants and sat back down, throwing one left over the other, “Well! That’s finally done with. You can get the fuck out as soon as your freak penis goes back to normal.”

Alastor laughed, your mind entirely having checked out in your blissful state. Your stupid and content smile spread wide as his body shook slightly behind you. He propped himself up on his elbow to look at Vox.

“You went through all the trouble of finding one of the few other deer demons in hell to replace me, yet didn’t bother to learn about her biology.” His grin morphed into a smirk so wide his black gums were showing, “Heats last several days, Voxy.”

༻Masterlist༺

Added July 15th Luci x GN!Angel reader - Yes (Continuation of Lucifer x GN!AngelReader (fic based on Griftwood by ghost))

Added July 14th A Very Hazbin Happy Birthday imagine (Alastor, Luci, Angel, Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Vox, Valentino)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies ,

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @whateverlololo

, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl

, @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain ,

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby ,

@dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 ,

@star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

,

[lotus-tower]

The Swiss Cheese Model of Covid Prevention

An edited version of the swiss cheese model tailored towards the measures that you as an individual can take to minimize your risk of infection. Public health is ultimately what its name implies, public, but that doesn't mean you're powerless.

Covid prevention is not all-or-nothing. Think of it as risk reduction, rather than a binary.

Let's go through these step by step.

VACCINES

The current vaccines are meant primarily to reduce chances of severe illness, hospitalization, and death. They will reduce your chance of infection a bit--but not nearly as much as you might think. You should still get your boosters regularly, because avoiding severe illness is of course worth doing.

If you haven't gotten the updated monovalent vaccine yet, go get it. It is not a booster. Think of it as a new vaccine. It's targeted towards the XBB lineages, which are now the most common variants. Your last boosters were likely of the bivalent type, aimed at both the original Covid strain from 2020 and Omicron. The new vaccine is monovalent, meaning it targets one family in particular.

Some studies suggest that the Novavax vaccine, which is a more traditional protein-based vaccine, is more effective and safer than mRNA vaccines, and offers better protection against future variants. Of course, the data we have so far isn't 100% conclusive (the last paper I linked is a preprint). Make of these findings what you will, just something to keep in mind. The new Novavax vaccine's availability is still limited, especially outside of the US.

MASKS

Masking is one of the most effective ways to protect yourself. While it is true that masking and reducing Covid transmission protects those around you, the idea that masks can't protect the wearer is outdated information from the early days of the pandemic when medical authorities refused to acknowledge that Covid is airborne.

The key to protecting yourself is to wear a well-fitting respirator. You want to minimize any gaps where air might leak out. If your glasses get fogged up, that's a sign that air is leaking.

Headbands will always have a tighter fit than earloop masks (and therefore provide better protection). However, you can use earloop extenders to improve the fit of earloop masks. You can find these online. Your comfort in wearing a mask is important, but there are options for compromise.

The above graphic doesn't include elastomeric respirators. While some (like the Flo Mask) are expensive, they can be much more affordable than buying disposables--look for P100 respirators at your local hardware store, but make sure it fits your face well.

For more general information, see this FAQ. For mask recommendations (NA-centric, sorry!), see my list here or Mask Nerd's YouTube channel.

For situations where you need to hydrate but don't want to take your mask off, consider the SIP valve.

Not even N95s are foolproof (N95 means it filters at least 95% of particles--with the other 5% potentially reaching you). Most people will likely not have a perfect fit. There will be situations where you'll have to take your mask off. The key is risk reduction, and that's why the Swiss cheese model is crucial.

If you can't afford high-quality masks, look for a local mask bloc or other organization that gives out free masks. Project N95 has unfortunately shut down. In Canada, there's donatemask.ca.

AVOID CROWDED INDOOR SPACES

This is rather self-explanatory. Indoor transmission is much, much, much more likely than outdoor transmission. If it's possible to move an activity outdoors instead, consider doing so.

If possible, try going to places like stores or the post office during less busy hours.

Viral particles can stay in the air for a considerable amount of time even after the person who expelled them has left. Do not take off your mask just because no one is currently present, if you know that it was previously crowded.

A CO2 monitor is a decent proxy for how many viral particles may have accumulated in the air around you. The gold standard is the Aranet4, but it's expensive, so here are some more affordable alternatives.

VENTILATION AND AIR FILTERS

Ventilation is effective for the same reason that outdoors is safer than indoors. If it's warm enough, keep windows open whenever possible. If it's cold, even cracking them open occasionally is better than nothing. Try to open windows or doors on different sides of a room to maximize airflow.

HEPA air filters can significantly reduce viral transmission indoors. Make sure to find one suitable for the room size, and replace the filters regularly. You want to look for devices with HEPA-13 filters.

You can use websites like these to calculate how long it takes for a device to change all the air in a room. Remember what I said about viral particles being able to hang around even after people have left? If an air purifier provides 2 air changes per hour, that means that after 30 minutes, any potential viral particles should be gone.

If you can't afford a commercial air filter, here's a useful DIY filter you can make with relatively simple materials. The filtration capacity is great--but due to being built with duct tape, replacing filters will be a challenge.

If you have to hold meetings or meet with people at work, having a smaller filter on the desk between you will also reduce chances of infection.

As a bonus, HEPA filters will also filter out other things like dust and allergens!

REDUCE LENGTH OF EXPOSURE IF EXPOSURE IS UNAVOIDABLE

Viral load refers to the amount of virus in a person's blood. If you've been exposed to someone with Covid, how much you've been exposed matters.

You might escape infection if the viral load you've been exposed to is very small. Or, even if you get infected, there will be less virus in you overall, leading to milder illness--and crucially, a lower chance of the virus penetrating deep into your body, creating reservoirs in your organs and wreaking long-term havoc.

A low viral load is also less contagious.

This is the same reason that wearing your mask most of the time, but having to take it off for eating, is still much better than not wearing your mask at all.

RECHARGEABLE PORTABLE AIR FILTERS

You might attract some odd looks. But if you're at high risk or just want to be as protected as possible, small portable air filters can help. Try to find models small enough to take with you on public transportation, to school, or while traveling.

These devices will be far too small to clean the air in the whole room. The goal is to have it filter air in your immediate vicinity. Be sure to angle the device so that the air is blowing in your face.

Unfortunately, rechargeable devices are much rarer and harder to find than normal air filters, and many are also expensive.

The best option at the moment, apart from DIY (which is possible, but you need to know what you're doing), seems to be the SmartAir QT3. The size and shape are a bit clunky, but it fits in a backpack. Its battery life isn't long, but it can be supplemented with a power bank.

NASAL SPRAYS

There's some research that suggests that some nasal sprays may be effective in reducing risk of infection by interfering with viruses' ability to bind to your cells.

These sprays are generally affordable, easy to find, and safe. The key ingredient is carrageenan, which is extracted from seaweed. So there are no potential risks or side effects.

Be sure to follow the instructions on the packaging carefully. Here's a video on how to properly use nasal sprays if you've never used them before.

Covixyl is another type of nasal spray that uses a different key ingredient, ethyl lauroyl arginate HCI. It also aims to disrupt viruses' ability to bind to cell walls. Unfortunately, I think it's difficult to obtain outside of the US.

CONCLUSION

None of the methods listed here are foolproof on their own. But by layering them, you can drastically reduce your chances of infection.

The most important layers, by far, are masking and air quality. But you should also stay conscientious when engaging with those layers. Don't let yourself become complacent with rules of thumb, and allow yourself to assess risk and make thought out decisions when situations arise where you might have to take off your mask or enter a high-risk indoor area, such as a hospital.

Remember that the goal is risk reduction. It's impossible to live risk-free, because we live among countless other people. But you can use knowledge and tools to keep yourself as safe as possible.

[wonderjanga]

Billy Pranks Hal

Billy doesn’t know the difference between pranks and straight up crime. He doesn’t know this because Freddy’s ideas of pranks are crimes. The reason this is, is because he didn’t really grown up around any other kids his age. So, Freddy’s the best example he’s got. So, when Hal pranks him, he decides to “prank” him back. By the way, during all of this, he thinks this is just lighthearted fun.

Billy (in Marvel from) gets the most brilliant idea. Though, technically it isn’t his idea, but rather Freddy’s. He’s going to hire a hooker to give Hal herpes. Pause, and run it back. He’s going to hire a hooker, bring her to the Watchtower, have her brush her teeth with Hal’s toothbrush, and then that will him herpes. Freddy said he saw it on a Southpark episode and wanted to see if it would actually work in real life. So the two talked to Ms.Bambi to see if any of her friends had the disease and sure enough she knew someone. She was a little skeptical, but when they told her the reason, she gave in. But she did end up supervising them the whole way, including going with them to the guy they were “pranking’s” house. It’s one of Billy’s favorite memories.

So, Billy approaches her as Marvel and asks her her to do it. She briefly remarks about how this is the second time she’s had to do this, but agrees as long as he pays her fare. He scrounges up the few dollars he has, pays her, and he takes her to the Watchtower. He obviously gets weird looks because why did Captain Marvel of all people come to the Watchtower with someone who looks(they didn’t want to assume) like a hooker? Meanwhile, Marvel and Ms.Hooker are chatting about being broke, ignoring the looks. Eventually they get to Hal’s room and just as they’re about to find a way in, John leaves the room next to them.

John: “Hey, Cap.” *waves, then does a double take at Ms.Hooker* “Who’s this?”

Marvel: “Hmm? Oh, this is Ms.Foxy.”

Ms.Foxy: “Hey.” *waves*

John: “Okay… Cool. Cool… Why’re you trying to get into Green Lantern’s room?”

Ms.Foxy: “Aren’t you Green Lantern?”

Marvel: “There’s like four of them actually.” *looks over to Ms.Foxy while holding up 4 fingers*

John: “There’s actually more- Never mind, you didn’t answer my question, Cap.”

Marvel: “Oh right! I’m pranking him. Ms.Foxy is going to help me.” *gestures to Ms.Foxy*

John: “Huh. Really? What’re you going to do?”

Marvel: “She’s gonna give him herpes.”

*loud silence*

John: “…What?”

Marvel: “She’s gonna give him herpes.”

John: “…okay. I thought I heard you correctly. YOU’RE GOING TO DO WHAT?!”

Marvel: *surprised by the sudden yelling* “She’s going to give him herpes- why is that so surprising?”

Ms.Foxy: “No offense, big man, but that’s not necessarily something you do just as a prank.” *Pats Marvel’s arm* “This is more getting revenge for someone hitting your dog with a car type of shit.”

John: “YES! She’s right! What did he do to you? How bad was the prank??”

Marvel: “Nothing that bad? All he did was leave a tack on my chair when we switched for monitor duty. It didn’t really do anything though except bend since it couldn’t prick me.”

John: “Okay???? Then what did he do to warrant this??” *sounds extremely distressed and confused*

Marvel: “Well, he pranked me. I’m just pranking him back.”

Ms.Foxy: “I don’t think you get what he’s trying to tell you. This isn’t really a prank, bud. It’s more like chemical warfare.”

Marvel: “Really…? I had no idea. I thought this was normal.” *sighs*

John: “Why would this be normal?”

Ms.Foxy: *ignores him* “Do you want your money back since we aren’t going to do it?”

John: “Money?”

Marvel: *also ignores him* “No, it’s fine, Ms.Foxy. Keep it.” *gives her sunny smile*

John: *takes deep breath* “Captain. Is this woman a hooker?”

Ms.Foxy: *looks over to start acknowledging him again* “I prefer the term prostitute.”

Marvel: *also starts acknowledging him again* “Yeah GL, she prefers the term prostitute. But yes, she’s a hooker.”

John: *takes a few minutes to process his words* “Captain… why is a hooker in the Watchtower?”

Marvel: “Again, prostitute. Also, she’s the one who has herpes. She was kind of needed for this entire prank to happen.”

John: “Prostitute, hooker, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that she’s a civilian. Also stop calling it a prank.”

Ms.Foxy: “He is right, you really should stop calling it that.” *nods head*

John: “Look, just get her outta here. Civilians aren’t allowed up here. Bats is gonna glare at you the same way he did to Flash when he brought someone up here.”

Marvel: “Alright alright. Noted. I won’t bring anyone else up here.” *looks over to Ms.Foxy* “Let’s head back then.”

*They leave while John is still processing everything that just went down*

[simplygojo]

I Like Your Tie...

A/n: OMG ONE OF MY FAVS REQUESTED! I loved this request; thats why it took SO LONG I’m sorry my friend I hope you enjoyyyy!! <3 I needed another Nanami request so bad so you did me a favour with this one, LOLLL.

Request: “Your last Toji fic got me frothing like a rabid dog. Lol. in all ways it was very uniquely him indeed ! The same for Gojo and Witch!Reader. Could I shy request a fic with the song 'Talk' by Hozier paired up with Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader ? Something sensual steamy but ever so romantic for the blonde? I can practically see him saying or thinking such lyric quotes as "I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we'd do... So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you. Imagine being loved by me". May she's a fellow Special Grade sorcerer, and their friendship keeps building up, but neither wants to cross the line ? So they dance around it, until something happens ? Idk. >\\\\\\\\\\\\\\< I'll leave it to your artistic hands and imagination what to do with this? If you feel inspired to. In any case, please delete if this seems rubbish. Anyway, thank you for your stories ! Thank you so much. ♡” - @erebus-et-eigengrau (lurvv uu)

My requests are always open :)

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f/reader

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: 18+ Content, SMUT!, intercourse, light choking, control kink(ish), pet name

The late-night quiet of Jujutsu High was comforting in a way—no students rushing through the halls, no teachers around to monitor. You had been grateful for the peace, retreating to your room after a long day.

But as you reached your door, you stopped in your tracks.

There he was. Nanami Kento stood in front of your door, leaning casually against the wall. 

—

You and Nanami had been friends for what felt like a lifetime, though it all began back in high school. Back then, you had a bit of a crush on him—not that you’d ever admit it. He wasn’t the type to flirt or give much attention to relationships, but there was something about him that always caught your eye. 

You had your moments, too—shared laughter, and private conversations late into the night, when the walls between friends almost seemed to blur. 

But Nanami never made a move, and neither did you. You knew how seriously he took his role as a sorcerer, and you didn’t want to complicate your friendship with feelings that you weren’t sure were mutual.

As you both graduated and eventually became high-level sorcerers, those moments of potential intimacy became even more distant. You grew into your own roles, taking on increasingly dangerous missions and fighting curses that most could barely comprehend. Nanami was often assigned to the same missions as you, his calm, steady presence a source of reassurance when things got chaotic.

There were times when his professionalism would slip, just for a moment. A fleeting look, a brush of his fingers against yours, his voice dropping an octave when he spoke your name. You always wondered if he felt it too—that same tension you tried so hard to ignore. But you never dared to ask, afraid of what it might mean if the answer was yes.

And now, standing in front of him in the quiet after everything that had just happened, you realized just how deeply those old feelings still ran.

There were times, though, when your old crush resurfaced. 

Sometimes, it was the way he’d look at you across the battlefield, silently checking to see if you were okay, his eyes filled with a concern that was more than just professional. Other times, it was the rare, gentle touch when he’d help you after a fight—his hand brushing your arm or waist as he steadied you after a particularly tough encounter.

But you always pushed those feelings down, refusing to acknowledge them for the sake of professionalism. 

The sorcery world didn’t leave much room for distractions, and you knew that Nanami was as dedicated as ever. He was the picture of control, never letting emotions dictate his actions, always focused on the mission at hand. You convinced yourself that whatever crush you had on him was just remnants of your high school days, a fleeting fantasy that had no place in your current life.

—

His arms were crossed, his tie long loosened, and the top buttons of his shirt undone. The dim lighting of the hallway cast a shadow over his sharp features, making the intensity in his eyes even more pronounced. He looked every bit the composed man he always was, but something about the way his gaze followed your every movement made your heart stutter.

“Nanami…” His name left your lips in a quiet murmur, not expecting to see him there, not like this.

“You’re out late,” he observed, his voice steady but lower than usual, as if the stillness of the night demanded it.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. “Well, one of the first-years wanted some late-night training…What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away, eyes flicking down to your lips before settling back on yours. 

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable, making it hard to think clearly. His usual restraint seemed to falter, just slightly, but enough to make your pulse race.

“I was waiting for you.” His voice was steady, but the words made your breath hitch.

Your heart pounded in your chest. 

“Waiting for me?” You said quietly, a heat beginning to pool between your thighs.

Nanami pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer to you, his movements deliberate. The space between you closed as his tall figure made its way toward you—the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks finally came to a boil. 

“Why were you waiting for me..?” You questioned, “I need to talk,” He responded, his voice barely above a whisper.

He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“I used to try to talk so refined, in fear of you finding out…” He admitted, his voice lower now, almost rough around the edges. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. 

“Finding out what, Nanami.” You breathed, watching how his lips parted just slightly while he paused. “How I’ve been imagining you." 

The air between you was thick with tension, so heavy you could almost taste it. Nanami stood inches away, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His normally professional demeanour had cracked, revealing something raw, something primal. The careful distance you both had maintained was no longer there.

"Imagining me…?" You repeated, your voice barely more than a whisper. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were certain he could hear it.

Nanami’s eyes darkened, and his gaze roamed over you in a way that left your body practically squirming under his scrutiny. His jaw clenched for a moment as though fighting some internal battle, but when he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse, filled with a desire he was no longer trying to hide.

“Every time I look at you,” he confessed, his hands flexing at his sides, like he was resisting the urge to touch you, “I think about how you’d feel under my touch… under me.”

Your breath caught, your throat suddenly dry as his words sank in. The image of his hands on your skin, the weight of him pressing against you, the feeling of him between your legs—it sent a wave of heat through your body, leaving you borderline trembling with anticipation.

“Nanami…” you whispered his name, your voice trembling with the same desire that was now coursing through you. The distance between you felt unbearable.

The professionalism you both held onto so tightly was crumbling, and the temptation to give in was overwhelming.

The hallway was too quiet, too intimate, and it felt like the rest of the world had fallen away. It was just the two of you, standing there on the precipice of something dangerous and irresistible.

“I won’t deny I’ve got in my mind now all the things we’d do,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper as his thumb traced your jawline, gently tilting your head with two fingers. His eyes darkened with want, and the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

That was all it took. The pull between you snapped, and before you could think, your hands were fisting in his dark blue shirt, pulling him down to meet your lips in a kiss that was heated, desperate—inevitable.

His hand swiftly opened your door before pushing you into it, causing both of you to stumble into the dimly lit room. With a loud thud, Nanami kicked the door shut before pushing you back up against your entryway wall.

Nanami groaned softly into your mouth—your pussy practically throbbing at the sound—and his hands immediately wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer as if he couldn’t stand the idea of any space between you. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that you hadn’t expected, and it left you breathless.

You gasped when his hands gripped your hips firmly, pushing more firmly against the wall. The cool surface against your back was a stark contrast to the heat that radiated from him as he pressed himself closer, his lips never leaving yours.

His kisses were deliberate, slow—but rough—as if he wanted to savour every moment of this. 

"Mmf…Nanami," you breathed, pulling back just enough to look at him, your lips swollen from the kiss, breathless. "What are we doing?"

His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged as he looked down at you. There was something raw, unguarded in his expression. “What I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and before you could say anything else, he was kissing you again, deeper this time. “Now be a good girl for me, y/n.” He practically purred against your lips, as he lifed you so your legs wrapped around his waist. 

His hands moved with more confidence now, sliding up your sides while you were pinned against the wall, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You tugged at his hair, your fingers desperate to feel more of him.

His hands, rough from battle and years of work, were surprisingly gentle as they slid beneath your shirt, fingers brushing over your painfully hard nipples, teasing you. You arched into him, your body responding to every touch.

He made quick work of your jacket—and that tiny tank top you wore underneath it, his hands roughly reaching for every bit of exposed skin.

Nanami growled softly with your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips trailed down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that had you moaning his name.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, his breath hot against your neck, but the fire in his eyes told you stopping was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Don’t," you whispered—pleading with him for more, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. "Don’t stop."

Nanami’s eyes darkened further at your words, and a slow, subtle smirk spread across his lips. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. 

His hand moved up to the tie hanging loosely around his neck, fingers working quickly to loosen it even further. Before you could register what he was doing, he slid the tie off entirely, his movements deliberate and slow as he looped the fabric around your neck.

The silk felt cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body. His eyes never left yours as he gently tugged at the tie, pulling you closer, the pressure on your throat light but enough to send a thrill through you that went straight to your now-soaked pussy.

“There,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over the side of your neck as he admired how the tie looked wrapped around you, it falling on your bare chest. In a moment, his lips were back on your skin, trailing lower this time as his free hand continued to explore your body. He kissed a path down to your chest, the tie around your neck tightening just slightly as he pulled you even closer.

He brought you to the couch in your small room with one hand while the other held the back of your head as his tongue explored your mouth.

“You look so beautiful like this, do you know that, y/n? With my tie around your pretty little neck…” He murmured against your skin, his voice laced with raw, unfiltered need. 

Hoisting you up onto the back of the couch, his hand slipped beneath the waistband of your skirt, fingers brushing against the wetness between your thighs, and the contact made you gasp. 

With one swift but gentle movement, Nanami slid your skirt and tights down your legs, and now you sat in front of him—completely vulnerable.

“Nanami—” Your words were cut off by a moan as his fingers returned, pressing more firmly, the slow, torturous circles he drew making your entire body tremble. The tie tightened just a fraction more as he leaned back to look at you, his thumb brushing against your clit in a way that had your heart racing even faster.

“You’re so responsive for me,” he growled softly, his fingers entering your dripping cunt slowly, making sure to feel every inch of your interior. “It’s driving me insane.”

You could barely breathe, the combination of his fingers between your legs and the light pressure of the tie around your neck leaving you a trembling mess in his arms. You clung to him, your hands gripping his broad shoulders as you fought to hold on, your body betraying you with every ragged breath and every desperate moan.

"Nanami, please..." You barely recognized your own voice, hoarse and breathless as you begged for him.

He smirked against your skin, clearly pleased by your reaction. “You want more, don’t you?” He asked, his voice thick with amusement, but the tension in his body told you he was just as desperate as you were.

You nodded, your head falling back as your body arched into his touch. “Please…”

The sound of your begging seemed to snap something in him. With one swift motion, he lifted you up with one arm and spun you around before setting you on your feet in front of him, your ass pressing up against his bulge as the cool leather from the couch pressed against your lower abdomen. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as his fingers slipped inside you again, making you gasp loudly at the sudden (welcomed) intrusion. 

“I want to hear you beg for me again,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin as his fingers moved with agonizing slowness, teasing you, driving you to the brink of insanity. His other hand subtly undid his belt, lowering his pants just enough to expose his desperate cock.

You moaned, arching into his hand, your body betraying you as it responded to every touch, every whisper of his breath on your skin. “Nanami...hmmf…please...I-I need you in me.” You managed to get out between moans.

“That’s it,” he growled, his fingers exiting you, but they were quickly replaced by his dick as he inserted himself into you—feeling you stretch around him caused him to throw his head back in pleasure, and he gave a little yank on the tie, your head jerking backwards as your stomach pressed harder into the couch, provoking a pornographic moan to exit your lips.

“Fuck,” he growled, his breath hot against your skin as he buried himself inside you, again and again, each stroke thrusting deeper into your gummy walls, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You feel so good.”

His pace quickened, and the slow, deliberate rhythm gave way to something more primal and desperate. His control was slipping, and you could feel it in every rough thrust, every growl that rumbled from his chest as he claimed you completely.

The tie tightened again, the silk digging into your skin just enough to heighten the pleasure, and the sensation sent you spiralling toward the edge. Your body trembled beneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you gasped for breath, the intensity of it all overwhelming.

He leaned forward, the new angle allowing him to go even deeper into you. He gently moved your hair off of your shoulder as his delicate fingers traced the border of his tie and your skin. “You really are such a good girl.”

His thumb pushed into clit as he thrusted into you at a dominating pace—the sensation was nearly enough to push you over the edge—but you held on a little longer. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking as his pace quickened, he tightened the feeling around your throat with the tie around your neck pulling you closer to him.

Nanami’s body moved behind you, the warmth of him pressing against your back as his hands gripped your hips. Bent over the back of your couch, with the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your flushed skin. “Mmhf–Nanami…Oh please.” You moaned out, practically begging him for more as he fucked you with a controlling pace

His breath was heavy, ragged, as he leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back, making you feel the sheer size and strength of him as he dominated you completely.

Nanami’s fingers wrapped around his tie nicely wrapped around your neck, pulling it taut. The sensation made you gasp, your head tilting back slightly as the silk tightened around your throat just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through your already overstimulated body. Suddenly he took his soaked dick out of you letting it land on your ass, rubbing his hand over the smooth skin.

“You look just perfect like this,” he growled low in your ear, his voice thick with lust as he tugged the tie just a bit tighter, your chin tilting up as he whispered in your ear. “Bent over—begging for me.”

Your legs trembled beneath you, your body quivering with anticipation, but before you could respond, he was inside you again. 

The stretch was immediate, deep, and overwhelming as he thrust into you from behind, filling you completely with a single stroke. You cried out, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk as he pulled you back against him, the tie keeping you tethered, under his controlled.

“Nanami…” You moaned his name, your voice barely more than a breathless whisper as he began to move, his hips snapping against you in a relentless rhythm. Every thrust was harder than the last, his grip on the tie tightening with every movement, pulling you back into him, forcing you to feel every inch of him.

His pace was brutal, his control slipping entirely as he watched the way your body reacted to him, the way you moaned his name with every stroke. His free hand found your hip, gripping you so tightly that you were sure there’d be marks tomorrow, but the thought only sent another wave of arousal through you.

“You feel so good, y/n,” he growled, his voice rough as he leaned over you, his lips brushing against the back of your neck. “My good girl...”

His words are what sent you over the edge, the stimulation of your orgasm turning your vision white. 

Your body was on fire, every nerve alive with pleasure as he drove into you again and again. The tie around your neck tightened even more, the pressure just enough to leave you lightheaded, completely at his mercy. You felt every inch of him inside you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, along with your breathless moans as pleasure washed over you.

Nanami's body pressed closer as you shuddered beneath him, the waves of your orgasm still coursing through you. 

But he didn’t stop. 

Even as your body trembled, oversensitive and breathless, he kept thrusting into you with the same relentless intensity. His pace didn’t falter, and each stroke seemed deeper, more demanding, as if he couldn't get enough of the way you clenched around him.

Your moans turned to gasps as pleasure mixed with the overwhelming sensation of him continuing to push you past your limit. Your fingers clutched at his back, nails digging into his skin with a painful force, but he didn't slow down. He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged.

“Look at you, taking it so well," he groaned, his voice dark and full of praise. "You feel so good, I don’t want to stop.”

Your legs shook around him, your body still pulsating from your release, and the overstimulation had you crying out, your nails leaving marks along his back. 

"Nanami... please..." you gasped, unsure if you were begging him to stop or to keep going. You felt like you were being consumed, every nerve on fire, and yet your body responded to his touch, desperate for more.

He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, his hand still pressed firmly against your clit drawing rough circles. The tie around your neck tightened just a bit more, enough to remind you of the control he had, the control you were willingly giving him.

“I’m not done with you yet," he growled, his thrusts growing rougher, faster, his body taking full control over yours. "You can come again for me, can’t you?"

You didn’t know how it was possible, but the overwhelming pleasure began to build again inside you. His touch on your clit was insistent, his hips snapping against yours in a rhythm that left you breathless, teetering on the edge of something even more intense than before.

Your body trembled beneath him, the overstimulation and pleasure merging into something maddening. Every nerve was alight, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. You were already too sensitive, your mind spinning as he pushed you closer and closer to the brink once again.

Nanami could feel it—he knew exactly how close you were, how your body tensed around him. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me again, y/n. I want to feel you fall apart around me baby.”

With that, his fingers pressed harder against your clit, and his hips slammed into you at a brutal pace, each thrust sending you spiraling further out of control. The pressure inside you coiled impossibly tight, and with a cry of his name, you shattered once more, the intensity of your second orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Your body shook uncontrollably, your moans turning to sobs of pleasure as you convulsed around him. The sensation was too much, too overwhelming, and yet you never wanted it to end. Nanami’s name fell from your lips like a prayer as he continued thrusting into you, his own breathing growing more ragged, more desperate.

"That's it," he growled, his voice thick with pleasure as he watched you unravel beneath him, his pace rapidly increasing. "So fucking beautiful."

He wasn’t far behind. The way your walls clenched around him, the way you shook with each thrust, sent him over the edge. 

His pace grew erratic, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself deep inside you one last time, groaning your name as he came. He tugged at the tie harshly, yanking you up form your bent over position so yoru back was against his sweaty chest, his hand gently holding your chin up. 

“You were so good for me,” he breathed, his voice hoarse, igniting a spark in you again. You remained silent for a few moments, breath staggered as you tried to catch it, still shaking with pleasure as he held you upright in front of him. 

Finally, you opened your mouth to speak, a cheeky smile playing on your lips, “I like your tie…”

[jaylaxies]

SUBSCRIBER BENEFITS

PAIRING: camboy!sunghoon × fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, excessive usage of nicknames, spanking, fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, breeding, slight bondage, mentions of obsession, just smut overall.

WC: 2865 words

SYNOPSIS: sunghoon is the prettiest boy you had ever laid your eyes on and you’d do anything to have him all to (in) yourself.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, angels! I'm back with another fic! it’s just a really messy thought i’ve tried to put into words! i hope y'all will enjoy this! :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all <33

He’s beautiful. Soft pink lips which stretched into the sweetest smile a man could provide you with. Sweet nectar dripped from his honey brown eyes. His supple skin resembling porcelain as you watch the man show off his abs on the monitor of your PC screen, the lights being that of dim red colour, only accentuating his muscles, which flexed with apiece movement of him. 

It was Park Sunghoon—your favourite and the only camboy that piqued your interest. He was truly a work of art, displaying his perfectly sculpted body for everyone to see. 

As for you, you’re the textbook definition of a spoiled rich girl who paid Sunghoon more than anyone in their sane mind would in just a single livestream, which didn’t even provide you with a visual of anything other than his face and torso. 

Despite him stroking his cock smugly, he made sure to hide it from the view of the camera, which drove you insane to the point you were ready to throw all your money his way, becoming his top subscriber.  

A moan left your lips, hearing him breathe out filthy words which were always effective in getting you off, the phallic shoved deep in your cunt only being a help to you. Sending him another big tip in hopes of him acknowledging you, you waited to see him smirk at the notification, not caring about the other comments flooding through his window. 

“That’s a generous sum you’ve sent me, kitten,” he chuckled, the nickname making your pussy flutter, “no requests from your side, darling?” He asked, smirking subtle enough for it to look attractive. 

That’s what you oh so obsessively want—his attention on you. 

So you type out as fast as you can. 

yourkittenxo69: a private session with you, that’s what i want 

Your request was bold, almost being perceived as a demand, which only intrigued him. 

Sunghoon never did private shows, or gave attention to any particular person in his lives. Despite it all, he was the most popular camboy on the site, surpassing everyone by just showing them his body, paired with his dirty talk. You hated how everyone wanted him, especially when you wanted him all to yourself. 

He licked his bottom lip while reading your comment, “Sorry, kitten. I don’t do private shows.”

yourkittenxo69: I’ll pay you

You typed out with a smirk, gasping when the dildo in you started vibrating just how you liked it, then you proceeded to type out the amount of money you were willing to pay. 

To some, it would take years to earn that amount of money but to you, it was your monthly pocket money, which you didn’t bother spending on Sunghoon. 

Naturally, the shock was evident on his face because no one in their right mind would offer someone such a huge sum for a private show. It almost felt like free money to Hoon, and so he smiled, tongue tracing his fang-like canines.

“You got yourself a deal, kitten.”

It was the first time you’d seen Sunghoon covered up, clad in white button up with the top three buttons left open. With his hair parted to the side, you could get a clear view of his face, but your eyes were focused on his arms, courtesy of him rolling up the sleeves. 

Given that you couldn’t show him your face, you resorted to typing out fast, yet you put efforts into wearing the newest addition to your lingerie set even though it wouldn’t be visible to him. 

“You have me all to yourself now,” he spoke up, tone cocky with how much you wanted his attention. 

yourkittenxo69: and that’s how it should be. Undress for me pretty boy 

He scoffed out a laugh, knowing exactly that he needs to cater to your wishes, “as your wish, kitten,” he whispered. 

Your attention was immediately captured by his slender fingers, which took their time to unbutton the shirt, providing you with the clear view of his torso, leaving him in nothing but his pants. 

The wetness in between your legs growing per second as you pleasured yourself alongside, eyes fixated on the screen. 

yourkittenxo69: your pants come off next

He grinned, “why? Wanna see how big my cock is?” He clicked his tongue, “what’s the point, baby? When you can’t even touch me from there,” his smirk was wide. 

His voice was condenscending, as if he couldn’t miss a single chance to mock you, which only fucked with your mind to an even greater extent. 

yourkittenxo69: just do as i say, you’re getting paid for it

A laugh escaped his lips as his fingers filled with the button on his jeans, opening it and sliding out of his jeans in an agonizingly slow manner, leaving him with his boxers and big imprint of his cock, a strangled moan leaving your mouth at the sight. 

“Like it, kitten?” He raised his brows, self aware of the effect his body had on people. 

You had to resort to using your vibrator for a release, but more than that, you wanted to meet Sunghoon in the flesh, to have his cock buried inside your leaking cunt. 

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was intrigued, his own mind forcing him to break rules for you. Why? Because he wanted to fuck some sense into your spoiled mind. Maybe, just maybe if you rile him enough, you’ll get exactly what you’re aiming for. 

yourkittenxo69: won't show me what’s hidden under your boxers now, pretty boy? 

“Why? Do you wanna be fucked dumb with it? Is that what you want, kitten?” He pressed, getting closer to the screen, making your heart beat out of your chest with anticipation, but you weren’t the one to give up, pushing his buttons would be the key to your success. 

His jaw clenched with each comment you posted, fists forming out of anger. 

yourkittenxo69: yeah, won’t you fuck me dumb?

yourkittenxo69: are you scared to show the world your teeny tiny lil cock? Is that why you keep it in?

yourkittenxo69: forget the distance, you can’t even make me cum by fucking me 

His voice was scary low as he scoffed, “getting ahead of ourselves now? Oh, kitten, give me your address if you dare instead of sitting behind a scene. I’ll see how you walk when I’m done with you,” he challenged, his slutry tone making you clench around your toy. 

That was your plan from the start, however you never expected him to give in this quickly, given that he wasn’t the one to make exceptions, yet he broke all the rules for you. 

With a blend of confidence and unadulterated need to have him, you swiftly typed out your address, making his lips turn into a seductive grin. 

“See you tomorrow then, kitten.”

He wasn’t sure if it was curiosity or his need to tame your brat ass which led him your way, money was only an addition to it. He spent an unconventional amount of time pondering upon the hasty choices he had made. 

He had a total of three things he knew about you, first being the fact that you were an adult, second that you were a female, and third—your address. 

Not to mention you were wealthy, his subconscious reminded him. 

It was risky, going to a stranger’s place, or in your case, a whole penthouse, yet he wanted to see the person behind the user yourkittexo69 and fuck some sense into her, even though he admit how it certainly would be better if you’d be as appealing to him as you sound bratty in general. 

That’s exactly how he found himself in front of your door, dressed in black button up and pants paired with a few chains and rings which completed his look. 

“Fuck it.” He rang the bell, waiting for the door to be opened by you, however he was greeted by a woman in what seemed to be working uniforms and hair tied up in a bun. 

“Welcome, sir. She’s been expecting you, please head up the stairs,” she acknowledged his presence, getting out of the house as you had ordered her to, for privacy's sake. 

Sunghoon thanked the women, eyes wandering around the fully decorated place of yours, each corner screaming wealth and money. 

Walking up the stairs, he noticed the big chandelier and a series of paintings lined up right before he reached your room, knocking on the big wooden door twice.

“Come in,” your voice came out muffled due to the thick door, but understandable nevertheless. 

Biting his bottom lip, he got inside your room and finally took you in for the first time—his eyes eyebrows raising in the process, a cocky expression taking over his face. 

The reason? It was you. The skimpy white lingerie set you wore didn’t leave much to the imagination, adding to that, you had done justice to your username by wearing a collar and cat ears just for the pretty boy in front of you, him noticing the tail only ignited the need to destroy your cunt even further. 

Your lips curled up into a sly smile, “didn’t think you’d actually come here, Park Sunghoon,” you mused, seeing him walk straight towards your bed, where you were spread out for him, “guess you really wanna fuck me.”

He didn’t speak a word, getting rid of his shirt as he proceeded to unbutton it. Just the action shut you up, no sign of humour on his face. Despite the spontaneity of this situation, it felt as if the pace was perfect, your desire colliding with reality for once. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, finally witnessing him in front of you.

The night held a distinct allure to it, especially when the candles that you had lit spread the aroma which only aroused you further, making you gulp your nervousness down. 

He climbed up the bed, your breath hitching with how he stopped when he was right above you, his nose touching yours as he finally chuckled, “such a pretty face with that bratty mouth, yeah?” 

You yelped when he held your wrists above your head, a whimper leaving your mouth as he tied your wrists up with his shirt, “didn’t know you were into this,” you giggled. 

In an instant, his fingers were gripping your chin, “did I give you permission to talk?” His condenscending voice sent a shiver down your spine and you felt enthralled for a second before chuckling in his hold. 

“Since when do I need your permission—”

The next second, his slender fingers were wrapped around your neck, applying just enough pressure to put his point forward. 

“You’re not allowed to fucking talk unless I ask you to,” he seethed out, not missing the excitement in your eyes, “is that clear?” 

You looked at him with hooded eyes, a slutry expression taking over your face, “yes, daddy.”

He chuckled, stroking your hair and reaching to play with your cat ears, “y’know what, kitten?” He rasped, scanning your features, “you should be punished for being such a bratty kitten.”

You squealed when he roughly switched up the positions so that you were bent over his lap with his hand groping your ass, the air around you thickening. 

Driven by a primal longing, Sunghoon didn’t wait before he started spanking your ass, “count,” he ordered, “this one’s for being a brat.”

“Fuck! One,” you hissed out, biting your lips to conceal a moan. 

Another slap, “this one’s for talking back.”

A string of curses left your lips, “t—two!”

The slap resonated in the room, “for cursing.”

You whimpered, pressing your thighs together when he continued his ministrations, starting from one whenever you messed up, finally soothing his large hands over your ass. 

“Fucked out already? Oh, baby, I’m just getting started,” he said, sliding his fingers down to meet your soaked panties, he clicked his tongue, “we don’t need this,” he whispered. 

“Sunghoon—”

“Shh.” He ripped your panties into two, making your eyes go wide, “that’s not what you call me, kitten,” he rasped, pushing his two fingers into your cunt, the wetness allowing him to slide in easily. 

Your head felt dizzy, especially when you couldn’t move your hands or say anything that would make sense. No one’s ever been this way with you—demanding and in control, and he was simply fucking you with his fingers. 

Yet, you didn’t want to back down now, “is that the best you can do, daddy?” You mocked him just when you felt your high nearing in hopes of him speeding up. 

It resulted in him sliding his fingers out of your pussy much to your dismay, earning a pathetic whine out of you. He easily turned you around, getting on top of you, your body shivering with anticipation as he bent down, his nose caressing your ear as he whispered, “I’d give you my best but bad kittens don’t deserve shit.”

His fingers moved even slower, brushing against your clit in an agonizingly slow pace, “tell me, doll face, do you deserve to be fucked?” 

“Y—yes, please! I’ll be good,” you cried out, squirming and bothered at the orgasm denial. 

“Doesn’t sound very convincing to me, I guess the kitten doesn’t want it after all,” he chuckled, knowing that you had given up, especially when he pushed you that deep into your sub space, his thumb rubbing featherlight circles on your cunt. 

“P—please, daddy! I swear I—oh fuck! I won’t act up anymore, I’ll listen to you, please just—just fuck me!” You whined. 

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He pulled you closer by your collar, “now, be good and take it all like a good kitten.”

You were too fucked out to notice him getting out of his pants, not once getting a look at his cock. He deliberately prolonged his actions to torment you, just when you were reaching your high with his fingers again, but that wasn’t something he’d allow. 

He was swift to remove his fingers from your cunt, his movements deliberate when he positioned himself in front of your pussy, thrusting it all in one go. 

The sensation was quite literally exquisite, as if your whole body felt how big he was, lewd voices leaving your lips, eyes rolling back, your toes curling and back arching. 

“Daddy—so, so big,” you mumbled mindlessly as he focused on snapping his hips even faster, giving you no time to adjust to his length when he bottomed out, hitting your g-spot seamlessly.

“Yeah? Too big for you, kitten? That’s not what you were saying the other day.” He held your wrists up, eyes focused on your tears of pleasure. 

“I—was so wrong, daddy, I’m sorry—” his movements didn’t give you a chance to speak. 

Your vulnerable voice only fueled his desire, his movements intensifying when he bent down to suck on your clavicle, paying attention to your neglected tits by pinching them, rolling the nub between his fingers. 

“Wanna ruin you,” he groaned, “will make sure you don’t fucking walk,” with another thrust, you found yourself blacking out with how euphoric the feeling of falling apart on his cock was. 

But he was far from done with you, not giving you a second to breathe as he striked harder with each thrust of his, making you squirm and scream, your mascara running down your cheeks with your tears and your whole body felt as if it was on fire. 

He filled you up with his cum, stuffing you full and yet again, he wasn’t done with you. 

He tapped on your cheek twice, making you look at him, “swallow,” he whispered, spitting into your mouth and observing it going down your tongue before you gulped it all. 

“Good girl,” he praised, when you reached your high for the second time, your cum turning into a creamy mix inside you. 

You felt overstimulated, yet he didn’t stop. 

“Look at me, kitten,” he said, holding your chin and you were desperate to convey your impending orgasm again. 

You looked his way with dark eyes, almost falling shut when he smashed his lips onto yours, messing up your lipstick, his thumb rubbing your clit again leaving you breathless and dishevelled, panting with need. 

You realized how true he was to his words, you knew you won’t be able to walk anymore, or stand up for that matter. 

With a mixture of ecstasy and anticipating urgency, your hips met his, your stomach tightening when you finally erupted in a cry, consumed by the intensity of your climax and the feeling of him inside you. 

With two seconds of silence, Sunghoon got up, hair messy and lipstick staining his smirking lips as he untied your wrists, “have fun walking around now, kitten.” 

He was here to prove a point, nothing more, nothing less. 

And when you tried to stand up, miserably falling down with a whine, he only chuckled, sending a wink your way before he dressed up and left. 

What he didn’t know was that it wasn’t a punishment, only a push to your obsession with him, which grew even further. 

It sure won’t be a one time thing with Park Sunghoon. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[adverbally]

Think of the Tender Things

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “‘Keep breathing, please.’” | wc: 773 | rated: T | cw: hospital, premature baby | tags: adoption, new parent anxiety, hopeful ending | title from “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Simple Minds

———

The NICU has its own window, far enough from the regular nursery to seem intentional. It makes sense to Eddie, theoretically speaking— keep the preemies and the sick babies away from the healthy ones so the comparison isn’t so startling. It just doesn’t work that well if they have to walk past the full-term nursery anyway.

They pause to observe the fat, happy newborns who will be going home in the next day or two. They’re all chubby cheeks and chunky limbs, round little tummies swaddled tightly with matching caps on their heads, just like the parenting books advertise.

Steve’s hand squeezes his, and Eddie knows he’s feeling the same thing: that’s how it should’ve been, and all of the guilt and fear and bitterness that goes along with that line of thinking.

They keep walking down the hall until they reach the door indicating the special care nursery. The glass there is smaller, since fewer babies fit in a room when they’re surrounded with incubators and ventilators and monitors galore.

The second bassinet from the right has a card with a stork that says “Baby Boy Munson” and wow, that’s going to take some time to get used to. Eddie gets closer, almost pressing his nose against the glass, to get a better look.

“He’s so small,” Steve says beside him. “I figured he would be, but…”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. It says right there on the little card: three pounds, thirteen ounces. Sixteen inches long. Not the smallest baby there but noticeably smaller than the ones they just walked past. “A lot of hair, too.”

“Yeah.”

They’re quiet after that. There’s not much they can comment on before they have to acknowledge the fact that they’ve just become adoptive parents a full two months ahead of schedule.

Their son (holy shit) seems even smaller with the tubes and wires obscuring him. Eddie identifies an oxygen cannula, a feeding tube, chest leads, an IV, and a blood pressure cuff, plus a few other lines he doesn’t know the purpose of. When you factor in a diaper that seems to dwarf half of his tiny body, there’s barely any skin visible. And from what Eddie understands, they’re lucky that more serious care isn’t necessary.

“Thirty-two weeks. That’s not… it could be worse,” Steve said after they got the call from the adoption agency that morning. The whole drive to the hospital, he rambled about lung maturity and the suck/swallow reflex and birth weight, going into one of Eddie’s ears and out the other as he tried to focus on the road.

Steve was the one who read all the books. Even the parts about premature births and what could go wrong throughout the pregnancy. “I’d just rather know and be prepared,” he explained. “Just to cover our bases.”

Eddie had skipped those chapters. It felt like bad luck, like tempting fate or something, as if avoiding it would prevent anything from happening. In retrospect, he wishes he had more of a clue about what’s going on, what their future will look like.

Any future seems far away when the present is so uncertain. Eddie watches his son squirm, with his too-long limbs and his too-big head, and he watches his chest rise and fall with each breath. His tiny lungs are working and he’s moving and none of his machines are beeping, and that has to be enough for now.

Just keep breathing, please, he thinks desperately. Keep growing and getting stronger and we’ll worry about the rest later.

When Steve breaks the silence, his voice is small. “Do you think we can hold him? Or, or touch him, at least?”

Eddie doesn’t want to. He knows it’s just his anxiety talking, but he’s terrified that he’ll pull some essential line or do something wrong. He was supposed to have another two months to prepare for this. How do people prepare for this?

“Ed, are you okay?” Steve’s voice startles him back into awareness.

“Yeah, just…” He pauses to think about how to say it without alarming Steve. He settles on, “I’m scared.”

Steve throws his arms around Eddie’s neck and pulls him into a tight hug. “I’m scared, too,” he confesses in a whisper. “I think we’re gonna keep being scared for the next eighteen years, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Eddie tucks his nose just under Steve’s ear and breathes him in, sweet shampoo and hints of spicy cologne in the collar of his jacket. They stay like that for long moments before Eddie sighs and pulls away with a decisive nod. “Okay. Let’s go meet our son.”

[aealzx]

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Even though Damian had contacted Raven before lunch they had decided to wait until the next morning for her to actually come for a visit. The hemoperfusion treatment had gone well, there didn’t seem to be any complications that Leslie and Bruce hadn’t already planned for. As expected Danny’s platelet count, blood sugar, and a few other components of his blood had ended up slightly lower than desirable. But the half donation from Danielle had been more than enough to compensate for it. They had just opted to wait the rest of the day, and only carefully monitor Danny’s condition to be 100% sure the treatment had benefited him before they wanted to do any other kinds of exams.

So, it was only within an hour after breakfast that Raven was stepping up the stairs to the manor entrance, getting let in by Damian instead of Alfred.

“Good morning, Raven,” Damian offered as a short greeting.

“Good Morning Damian,” Raven returned, not quite over being pleasantly surprised when Damian was polite with them.

 “I appreciate your assistance with our guest. Danielle and the other two are with Jon in the barn, brushing Goliath and Batcow. But I will lead you to Danny,” Damian informed, closing the front door and pausing for a moment to allow Raven to choose whether to leave her jacket on the coat hanger or not. It was chilly outside, but her jacket seemed to be more for fashion than warmth. As proven when she didn’t move to take it off.

“It’s no problem. I’m happy to help,” Raven assured. “I didn’t know Jon was going to be here too. Did Superman send him as a way to keep an eye on everyone without ignoring Bruce’s wishes?”

“No,” Damian admitted, gesturing for Raven to follow him as he began to lead her towards Danny and Jazz. “We had a pre-established overnight appointment. I simply asked him to help keep the others entertained while we took care of business. Especially since Allen returned home and left only West to follow through with monitoring Grayson and Todd.”

Ah. Jon and Damian apparently had a sleep over scheduled for that weekend, and they didn’t feel the need to cancel it. That was good to know. “I see,” Raven acknowledged, getting distracted by the ever growing presence of a sensation she had noticed when she’d reached the house. It didn’t seem malicious. Just one that she was somewhat unfamiliar with. It distracted her enough that she didn’t have more to comment before they reached the bedroom. Dick and Jason were on monitoring duty since it was easier for them to stay at the house while the Justice League thought they were Deathstroke’s targets. And while they’d managed to get everyone to start the night in their own rooms, the Phantom kids had inevitably made their way back to Danny’s room for the latter half of the night. Jazz had returned there once again after breakfast, but the others hadn’t. Opting instead to keep themselves entertained as well as aware of what was going on in the rest of the house.

When they entered the room Raven briefly glanced at Jazz before her gaze was drawn to Danny’s form in the bed. Not because of how he looked, all the tubs and machines surrounding him, but because he was the strongest source of the sensation she had been picking up on. There was still a faint residue of sorts clinging to Jazz, but Danny felt like a source of the oddity. Even if he did seem more like a nearly empty power source, he still felt like the substance was part of him instead of it simply lingering on him.

“Jazz, this is Raven, a friend of mine. Raven, Jazz is Danny and Danielle’s older sister,” Damian’s introduction broke Raven out of her slight daze, gesturing to each of the girls in turn.

“Hey Raven, thanks for coming,” Dick greeted with a wave. Jason simply raised his hand wordlessly.

“...Hi,” Jazz responded after they were introduced directly. She was a little wary, but Damian couldn’t blame her. Raven had mentioned before that people didn’t think she was an easy person to get along with, and she might look a little intimidating to some.

“You’re uncomfortable with me being here?” Raven guessed, having easily noticed Jazz’s anxiety but not finding it anything to be upset over. “I understand. I wouldn’t want strangers near someone I cared about when they were in this state either.” For that reason Raven decided to remain where she was by the entrance instead of approaching anyone closer. “I promise I won’t intentionally hurt him further. I’m here to help.”

The bluntness with which she spoke was unexpected, and while Jazz wasn’t completely calmed by her words the openness did hold a certain amount of charm to it. She was apparently a bit like Damian and Jason, who just said what they meant and didn’t try to soften words to get their way. It made it so Jazz wasn’t sure how to respond, but Damian could see her shoulders fall just a little less tense than before.

“Like I told you last night, Raven is here to see if she can locate a better source for the ectoplasm we need. It’s just easier for her to get a reading from a source rather than a substitute,”  Damian further explained, not wanting a repeat of before when Jazz thought they wanted to experiment on Danny. 

“Ectoplasm?” Raven repeated, mildly curious. “Is this what you’re calling that?”

“It’s what they’ve been calling it,” Damian clarified, nodding towards Jazz.

“Is there another name for it?” Jazz asked, curiosity starting to win over the wariness.

“...Perhaps,” Raven admitted, remaining where she was until Jazz was just a little more at ease. “I can recognize something different about you two. It’s stronger in him, but you both radiate it. I noticed it when I got close to the manor, but I’ll need to take a moment to analyze it before I can say for sure I know what it is.”

“Analyze it how?�� Jazz asked quickly, her hands lacing tightly on her lap as her lips pursed slightly. She hoped Raven would follow Bruce’s example and explain everything before she did it.

“It would take a long time to explain the exact details. My methods are not common to cultures like what predominates Earth,” Raven explained, apologetic but not wanting to delve into her personal skill set too much. She didn’t mind Jazz’s protectiveness though. She couldn’t feel any hostility from Jazz, just fear. And that was something Raven couldn’t fault her for. “I use magic, but for this you can think of it as a type of clairvoyance if that’s easier to understand. My readings are painless. I’ll only need to touch the sides of his head for a moment, and I should be able to tell if the substance in him is one that I’m familiar with,” she assured, giving Jazz a faint smile.

Jazz seemed confused  and skeptical about the process after Raven mentioned magic, but considering she lived with ghosts at home she figured she could give Raven the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t even seem to want to take anything from Danny either, so it didn’t seem like something she should decline. “...Okay…,” she finally agreed, gesturing towards Danny briefly to reinforce that she accepted.

“Thank you,” Raven nodded, finally entering the room fully, hedging towards Danny and carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. She could feel Jazz’s skepticism, but didn’t pay it any further attention. If she got them what they needed that would be proof enough that she wasn’t trying to hoax them. And even if she wasn’t of any help, she didn’t need Jazz to believe in her powers. 

Clearing her mind with a steadying breath Raven leaned forward just enough to rest her fingertips on Danny’s temples, closing her eyes. Once she had the contact it was easy to read Danny’s existence without trying to filter through the rest of the environment around them. A delicate state of being, held in perfect limbo between two sides. As she’d noticed before, while Jazz felt more like someone who was just exposed to a substance for a long time, Danny’s central being radiated it. But he definitely felt weak, and closed off. Energy burned too low and reduced to a survival mode, trying to salvage what was left to allow for him to continue to function at minimal health instead of restoring what was missing.

It was enough to confirm her suspicions, and Raven couldn’t help smiling a bit wider when she opened her eyes and pulled back. “You really are a lucky one, Damian,” she commented, her amusement just barely leaking through. “You’ve got quite the rarity in your home.”

“What do you mean?” Damian asked, brow scrunching mildly in confusion. He’d asked Raven to help locate a rare substance, but it seemed she was referring to Danny himself in her response.

“Do you recognize what he needs?” Dick asked, having remained quiet until now since Raven seemed to have been handling the situation well on her own. His curiosity about what she’d found won over his decision to let them handle it though.

“Yes,” Raven confirmed, answering Dick first since it was easier. “The term ‘ectoplasm’ has been used for other substances before, so I wasn’t certain I was thinking of the same thing you were. But, this is indeed true ectoplasm from the Liminal Realm.”

“The Liminal Realm?” Jason repeated, face scrunching in confusion at the unfamiliar name. He’d heard of liminal spaces before, and that made sense considering those were usually associated with being haunted. But he’d never heard of an entire realm before.

“That is the most common name I’ve heard used for it in my studies, but it’s known by many other names as well. The Realm Between. Infinite Realm. The Lingering Space. Median Realm,” Raven confirmed, adding further explanation.

No one missed how Jazz flinched and stiffened when Raven mentioned ‘Infinite Realm’, but they didn’t comment on it just yet.

“Can you access this realm and get what we need?” Damian asked, ready to get moving as soon as Raven confirmed she had a way to get them to the realm she mentioned. They could discuss realm studies at a later time, after they had a steady supply of the nutrient Danny needed to live.

“Perhaps,” Raven admitted, stilling Damian’s haste with a single word. “But it will be difficult, and I can’t guarantee what comes of it will be pure,” she persisted, continuing when the others remained quiet to allow her to explain further. “The Liminal Realm isn’t one that likes outsiders accessing it. Those who try to open a gateway to it without having a prior connection usually end up destroying themselves, or corrupting the outcome.”

“Excuse me?” Dick raised a brow, suddenly a lot more concerned about their next mission.

“I’m not joking,” Raven reinforced. “Throughout my time as a student we were allowed to travel between other realms at will once we learned how. But we were forbidden from attempting to access the Liminal Realm without adopting it as a lifetime study. Because no one I knew had ever successfully created a gateway to it, but there were plenty of records of potential gateways exploding, imploding, or more often simply failing. And those who attempted to pull something from the Liminal Realm instead of going there instead ended up with vile substances that caused people to go mad. It was only through studying these samples that people realized there was a pure form. And from that we were able to recognize certain beings who had close ties to the Liminal Realm.”

“Yeesh,” Dick grimaced.

“That sounds oddly coincidental considering these kids got in trouble for stealing Lazarus water because it was the closest thing they were looking for,” Jason pointed out, eyes narrowing in discomfort both about the topic and because it seemed this wasn’t going to be as easy as they thought. “Is that one of the ‘corrupted outcomes’ you know of?”

“I believe so, yes,” Raven confirmed with a nod.

“So… how do we get in there? Sounds like trying to just find ectoplasm floating around somewhere isn’t a promising idea,” Jason prodded, following Dick and Damian’s gaze to look at Jazz this time instead of Raven. It seemed they all agreed that now was a good time to address her reaction earlier.

Jazz did her best to act like she couldn’t understand why they were addressing her. “What are you looking at me for? I don't know anything about this interdimensional realm stuff,” she sputtered, waving her hand.

There wasn’t anyone in the room that couldn’t tell she was hiding something.

“What about the Infinite Realm then?” Jason prodded with a mildly amused smile.

Jazz flinched again at the call out, and one look between them was enough for her to realize they already knew she knew that particular name. Her demeanor stilled significantly, and her smile fell. But she maintained her stance of not answering. “...Nothing,” she openly lied.

“You do realize this may be the only way we have to help Danny,” Damian pointed out, folding his arms and falling more into an interrogation mode than maintaining friendship.

Jazz’s mood fell significantly, but her resolve remained. Even if it upset her to do so. “...I can’t.”

This time Dick held his hand up to stop his brothers from answering, realizing they were getting a little too aggressive with their questions. “...Why not?” his own voice came a lot more gently than the others. More concerned about the situation than irritated with the secrets being held. It caused Jazz to lower her gaze to her own hands, unable to answer, but trying to think of how to without telling them anything.

“Probably because that realm is arguably the most catastrophic one if damaged,” Raven spoke up in Jazz’s stead, raising her hand to pause questions while she continued to explain. “You’re familiar with the concept of realms almost like isolated spheres that certain people are able to draw power from, or travel between. If one of those spheres is destroyed the others may lose certain abilities or traits, but will continue to exist. But the Liminal Realm isn’t another one of those spheres, it’s the space between them. All realms are connected to the Liminal Realm, and all travel passes through it temporarily. It’s the structure that holds all realms together, and if it’s damaged, or even destroyed, then all realms will probably be lost as well. That’s most likely the main reason it’s so hard for people to access, and why so few people even know about it. It’s easier to protect something when everyone is oblivious of it… right?”

As Raven explained the risk tampering with the Infinite Realm had, and even accurately guessed the reason Jazz was being so adamant with her silence, Jazz’s mental barrier around the topic fell. Everything Raven had said was true as far as Jazz knew, so there probably wasn’t any reason to remain ignorant. And therefore, Jazz nodded when Raven spoke to her at the end of her explanation.

The revelation was enough to make the boys take time to reorient their minds back to being investigative instead of interrogative. Damian’s demeanor didn’t outwardly change other than a subtle relaxation of his brow. But Jason averted his gaze after a moment and breathed a calming breath. “Right… That makes sense,” he agreed, then added a quick ‘my bad’ in apology for his earlier intensity.

As the room calmed back to a more conversational tone, Dick brought them back to the question they still hadn’t been able to answer. “So… any ideas on how we get some ectoplasm from such a closed off realm?”

It seemed like a question that they would have to take some extensive time to answer, but to their surprise Raven spoke up easily enough. “Ask it for permission,” she said simply, the faint smile returning as she pointed at Danny.

“.... You lost me there, Raven,” Dick admitted with a slight huff chuckle. “Are you implying that Danny is some sort of personification of an entire realm?”

This time Raven gave a tiny laugh, and shook her head once. “No. But he is the perfect catalyst between the Liminal Realm and any other realm, being what he is.”

“.... Which iiiis…?” Dick prodded when Raven didn’t automatically continue this time.

It earned another small laugh from Raven before she obliged and continued. “Danny is what scholars from Azarath came to call a perfect liminal being. As you’re aware, different realms sometimes have entities that originate from or are otherwise tied to them, and the Liminal Realm is one of those realms. I think the most common names given to beings tied to the Liminal Realm are ghosts or spirits.”

“That’s what Dani and the others said they were. Or, more specifically they said she and Danny were ‘half ghost’,” Dick added, connecting the older information with what was just given to him. “So the Liminal Realm is the realm of the dead?”

“Somewhat. But not quite,” Raven shook her head once. “The Liminal Realm is where people go who, for one reason or another, did not want to die, and are unwilling to accept it. Most beings who die pass through the Liminal Realm and continue on to one of the afterlife realms. Hell, Heaven, Paradise, Field of Aaru, Valhalla, and the like. But those with a strong enough reason to refuse death, despite being unable to stay alive, end up in an in-between state stuck in the realm between realms.”

“Okay… I think I’m following,” Dick confirmed when Raven paused, and Jason and Damian nodded to agree. “So Danny and Danielle are… half dead people clinging to life?”

The question earned a slight smile from Raven. “Maybe,” she half agreed. “They are not fully like the beings that dwell in the Liminal Realm. But they are also not like anyone that is in the dead realms, or living realms. It helps if you remember that life is a spectrum, not a single state that switches into death. People on the living side of that spectrum are what you’re more used to; those who have bodies, age, physically grow, and such. But there are some people who are just closer to the side of death than others. Diseases, illness, critical injuries and other similar ailments are things that would be easy for most people to understand. Those who are dead no longer have those traits and, like I said before, most of them pass on to an afterlife realm with very few lingering in the Liminal Realm. All beings who are part of the Liminal realm or any of the dead realms are on the Death side of the life spectrum. In general, entities are usually on one side or the other, dead or alive to varying degrees,” she explained, raising one hand to one side, and then the other hand to the other side as she did so.

“But if there’s two sides, then there’s a middle point. And if people exist on either side of that point, then there’s the possibility of something existing exactly in the middle.” Dick added, following Raven’s lecture and also realizing where she was leading to.

“That’s right,” Raven nodded again, placing her hands together. “It’s an almost impossible feat. If a decimal number was naturally generated between zero and one hundred, the chances of it being exactly fifty is extremely small. And with Liminal Realm entities being rare already, a perfect fifty percent was something no one I knew had ever seen before…. Until now,” she finished by looking back at Danny, still smiling and wondering what the scholars back in Azarath would do if they met him. “Danny, and his sister, are rare beings that exist in that perfect state between realms, and therefore are more easily accepted by other realms when trying to travel between them. If one of them was present when I attempt to extract some ectoplasm, I believe I may be given some allowance, and obtain a pure sample.”

“..... Like bumming off your friend’s membership card to a club,” Jason commented, making his own connection to be able to understand what Raven was suggesting.

It earned a small snort from Jazz even as she was considering what Raven was saying. Raven appeared to know so much more about the Infinite Realm than Jazz did, and also held just as much concern over the safety of it and the others. Taking so much time to explain whatever they had questions to, and remaining patient with them when they had misunderstandings. So Jazz only had two more questions before she allowed Raven to have Danielle help her try to get some ectoplasm. “If I let Dani help you, she won’t be doing anything dangerous, right? You’ll keep her safe?”

“Of course,” Raven promised without hesitation. “I expect just her presence will be enough, and I would prefer for her and everyone else to remain at a safe distance.”

Even if it was a half lie, Jazz wouldn’t have been able to tell with the way Raven responded to her. She decided that she wanted to trust Raven though, both because of their time just now but also because she was the one Bruce and his family had called to help. So she nodded. “Okay. You can ask her to help you then.”

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Biiiig info dump of headcanons for this story that made sense in my brain based on the concepts I had been given and found. I'm also basing Raven off of the only movie I've seen of her X'D (Justice League vs Teen Titans) So I'm writing her as more of a subtle/reserved/subdued emotions girl and not a completely apathetic girl.

I also had to rewrite this part like 3 times before it had a coherent flow X'D

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@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep

[marksbear2]

Hey bear I have a request if you don’t mind but how about Steven with a gamer bf. So bf has been playing a lot and Steven wants some attention which leads to Steven trying to talk dirty into his ears. Which leads to him grinding on his legs to still gets his attention which then leads to him riding riding reader and overstimulating himself in the process.-🐻‍❄️(50%)

STEVEN GRANT X GAMER MALE READER

Heyy, And no I don’t mind at all thank you for requesting!! I missed writing for Steven so I’m back to my roots.

⚠️Warnings!! PRETTY LONG Overstimulation, riding, jerking off, blowjob, multiple orgasms, needy Steven, dirty talk, making a mess, detailed sex. And etc.⚠️

Steven hated the constant loop of his distracted boyfriend. He didn’t know if he was either being dramatic or clingy. Y/n always in the corner of the room at his gaming set up playing video games with his friends.

Steven could even wake up from a nap and his boyfriend would still be playing. The only time Y/n wasn’t playing was when he was at work or on the phone with the said friends.

The Brit craved for Y/n’s touch and attention again. Every time Steven made a attempt to grab Y/n’a attention it was the same. “After I finish this match,” or “In ten more minutes.” It was excuse after excuse and Steven was so tired of it.

Today Steven came back from work it was a real hard day at the museum and he wanted nothing more then just to be in his boyfriend’s arms.

He came through the apartment just about to announce himself but once he reached the bed, he only saw Y/n sitting in his gaming chair with his headphone mic on playing some popular game as he talked and laughed with them. Steven really hated seeming clingy, but he hated those friends. They would all playfully flirt with one another and make dirty jokes. Steven even saw once Y/n using his character to kiss his friend’s own character.

Steven walked over to Y/n and tugged on the sleeve of his shirt. “Y/n…hey i-I’m home.” Y/n looked at Steven and smiled before softly pressing his lips to Steven’s cheek as an small greeting. But that small bit of affection wasn’t enough for Steven. He craved and desired more.

Steven walked over to Y/n’s desk and stood behind him, Y/n, who was focused intently on his computer. They had been a couple for a few months now and Steven loved Y/n with all of his heart, but sometimes, he felt like he came in second place to those Y/n’s online friends and video games. "Hey honey," he spoke softly, wrapping his arms around Y/n’s neck. Y/n hummed a bit in acknowledgment, but his eyes were glued to the monitor.

“But it was thinking we could have a little cuddle…?” Steven mumbled not letting go of Y/n’s sleeve. Y/n just ignored Steven and went back to playing the game. Steven slightly huffed at his attempt being ignored so bluntly. 

Steven hugged him wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Steven held Y/n tightly laying his head against him wanting to get his boyfriend’s.

After an moment of Steven trying to get Y/n’s attention Steven decided to step it up a notch. He was determined to get his boyfriend’s attention.

Steven moved Y/n’s headset and moved close to his ear. “Y/n…Y/n darling please…I miss you…I’ve been so lonely.” Steven whispered in his ear. Y/n merely glanced at him before looking back towards his computer. Steven had to suppress himself from letting out a pout. 

“Y/n please…I need you so bad. I want your eyes on me.” Steven said in another whisper, Steven pressed himself against Y/n wanting to get closer and closer.

 Steven could tell this was affecting Y/n. The way Y/n was slowly moving his mice around trying to listen to Steven’s words as he also tried to listen to his friends words that was in his other ear.

“Don’t tell me you choosing them over me…they don’t give you any pleasure like I do, I’m the one who’s in your bed every night not them…you love me don’t you?

Steven whisperd kissing and breathing into Y/n’s ear as he slowly began to move his crotch against Y/n’s own. Steven use one of his hands to hold Y/n’s cheek holding him close.

“I want you…I need you….I missed being in your arms so much.” Steven said as he rubbed his crotch against. Steven  whispered continuing to grind against Y/n legs.

While grinding himself onto Y/n, Steven hand traveled from Y/n’s shoulders down to Y/n’s sweats, he moved his hand inside and into Y/n’s boxers touching and stroking Y/n’s cock. Y/n let out a soft gasp as he kept his eyes on the computer. The Brit stared into Y/n’s eyes wanting to make eye contact with his boyfriend. Steven pulled the sweats and boxers down so Y/n’s cock was on full display. 

Steven leaned down and began to lick and suck onto Y/n’s cock. He swirled his tongue around licked the base until Y/n’s hard cock was wet.

Steven put one hand onto the base of Y/n’s cock as he gave a long lick onto the cock licking and kissing under the cock striding his tongue to the balls all the way to the tip. He moved his tongue around the silt of the cock. He gave teasing and affectionate licks to both sides of his cock making sure no place is untouched before finally wrapping his lips around it.

Since Steven didn’t want to start off to fast he sucked around the tip and used his hand to jerk off the rest of Y/n’s cock that he didn’t have his lips around. He pushed the cock around his cheeks and swirled it around his tongue as he looked up at Y/n.

Steven pulled his mouth away and used his hand to jerk off the now wet cock as he pulled down his own pants and boxers. As Y/n finally looked away from the screen he brought his fingers to Steven’s mouth carefully pushing them inside to get them all wet and soaked so he could prep his boyfriend. Steven licked and sucked around Y/n’s fingers coating the and making the wet.

Once Y/n decided it’s enough he pulled his fingers away and reached down in between Steven’s legs until he was met with his hole and slowly pushing one finger inside stretching out his boyfriends hole. Steven’s breath hitched as he moaned softly holding Y/n’s shoulders. Y/n moved and entered another finger fingering his boyfriend’s hole. Steven was bent over Y/n’s legs as he was getting fingered.

Steven was letting out heavy and cracky moans, with Y/n using his free hand to be in his computer and talking to his friends.

Steven lost track of time, the only thing he was making attention to was Y/n and the pleasure his boyfriend was causing him. 

After once Steven was prepared enough Y/n pulled his fingers out, Steven quickly crawled into Y/n’s lap and aligned himself to Y/n’s tip.

Steven lowered himself down on the cock himself. Steven started out slow breathing heavy and letting out a few moans under his breath as he went down on his cock. Y/n held his hips to keep him steady. With a deep breath Steven wanted to get it out the way and pushed himself down onto Y/n’s full cock at once causing him to let out a loud moan.

Y/n covered Steven’s mouth quickly praying quietly that his friends didn’t hear. “Sorry about that guys, I was watching a video on my phone.” Y/n said into his mic trying to laugh it off as Steven bounced on his cock.

Once Steven got used to it he raised his hips up before pushing himself back down. He did it in a slow motion, his ass jiggled with every moment. Steven was breathing heavy as he began to pick up his movements.

Steven bounced up and down onto Y/n’s cock holding onto Y/n’s desk as support as he rode it. Lince started to mumble under his breath probably about how thick and big Y/n’s size was.

Y/n sat back and held Steven’s hips making sure he won’t fall back. His cock was throbbing with each movement. Steven’s own cock was moving up and down as well as he rode him. Steven’s cock was leaking precum as he rode Y/n’s cock like some bunny in heat.

Steven used one of his hand’s and jerked himself off as he began to moan louder as Y/n’s cock began to hit and brush against his prostate. Y/n muted himself on his computer as he held Steven’s waist pushing Steven up and down.

Steven continued to bounce and ride on his cock faster and faster as if Y/n’s tip was glued to Y/n’s prostate. Lince felt like he was on cloud nine has he rode his cock jerking and stroking himself faster and faster as he felt his climax nearing. He loved how he felt so full and stuff with Y/n’s cock. Both men were in too much bliss and pleasure to not be focused on what’s going on whatever that was going outside of the room. 

With a few more bounces Y/n watched his boyfriend shoot his long white streaks of cum onto his desk and laptop. Y/n reached his hand out and covered Steven’s mouth helping him stay quiet.

Y/n pulled out and softly guided Steven off his cock and off his lap making Steven stand up. Steven’s mind was still cloudy from pleasure but Y/n just pushed Steven against the desk and thrusted his full cock back inside. Steven was moaning as his cock was dripping cum.

Holding Steven’s hips Y/n thrusted fast and deep inside his boyfriend. Steven gripped back held the desk as he was getting pounded into.

With Y/n’s cock pushing and hitting his prostate Steven came for 2nd time, Steven shot his load again on Y/n’s keyboard and some landing onto the computer. After a few more thrust and deep grunts and groans Y/n cums deep inside Steven’s walls. Y/n kept thrusting to burry his deep seed inside of Steven.

Steven leaned back into Y/n breathing heavy and moaning, Y/n reached down and began to jerk Steven’s cock overstimulating him more.

“Since you wanted my attention so badly here you go…let’s see how many times can you cum until you can’t no more.”

THE END

[s7-evermore]

To Love You Once More [Time Travel! AU]

Vil Schoenheit x Fem! Artist!Yuu (/reader)

This is just a concept I got in mind. Not sure if I’ll keep continuing it. This was just the result of some daydreams caused by Bruno Mars’ and Lady Gaga’s new song lol

“Um…Vil, we’re ready now.”

The young man slowly lifts his head upon hearing the sound of his name. Weary eyes shifts to the figure past the bed in front of him where the new head of STYX, Idia Shroud, stands.

“It’s time to push through with the mission. We’ll take care of her from here.”

Vil Schoenheit gazes longingly at the woman on the bed. A year passed when she went missing, and another since she’d been asleep. He misses the way those eyes perceived the world, how they looked at him with so much love and care.

His thumb brushes against the back of her hand as he held her. He remembers how these hands of hers would hold a brush and paint to her heart’s desire. How she would squeeze his hand to reassure him that she was there.

He lifts his free hand and places them on her abdomen. He feels her breathing, and the loss of the life they had been anticipating together.

Noticing the gesture, Idia clears his throat to speak.

“…We uh, we couldn’t find anything on the baby,” he said slowly, “we checked all the human test subjects they’ve preserved. None of them were newborns. We— we don’t know where they…they dispose of them either— uh, yet, at least.”

“And Grim?” Vil asked.

“Nothing on him either.”

“…I see,” Vil’s voice was no more than a whisper. 

Vil stands from his seat and leaves her with three kisses. One on her wedding ring, a second on the back of her hand, and another on her forehead. 

Vil feels his heart breaking with every second she remained asleep. They said she wasn’t dead, but she didn’t look alive either. She was breathing, but he could barely hear it unless he held his own.

With heavy reluctance, he lets go of her hand and leaves the room with Idia.

“Since we used a bit of her power to run the Trackback machine, it can only work on one person and once,” Idia explains as they walk down the hallway. “Once you’re back there, you can’t return here. Our present now will change depending on how much you change the past.”

Idia halts in front of a door and faces Vil, “This whole mission is dependent on your success. She’s already weak, so we can’t use any more of her power.”

“I understand,” Vil’s expression hardens.

Idia nods in acknowledgement as he pulls out a keycard and scans it on the side of the door. The door opens as an artificial voice acknowledges his position.

The laboratory they enter is completely busy. Technicians were checking the diagnostics of the machine while other scientists were setting the systems up. Ortho, who had been assisting someone, notices them.

“Brother! We’ve done the final system tests on the Trackback machine, everything’s ready for the operation,” Ortho says as he approached.

“Good, keep it running. It’s time.”

Idia walks over to his station as he instructs some of the staff members.

“Vil Schoenheit, are you ready?” Ortho’s voice was softer this time.

“Yes. Is there anything I have to do before I enter the machine?” He asks as he looks over at the Trackback. It was a pod-like machine that was fit for only one person.

“Aside from the previous trials we’ve done, there’s nothing else. Have you said goodbye to Yuu yet?”

Vil’s face softens slightly at the sound of her name, “Yes… I have. Please take care of her for me.”

“Don’t worry, you can count on us!” Ortho exclaims.

Vil nods solemnly before letting the humanoid boy lead him towards the Trackback.

“We’ll be monitoring your vitals, so make sure to stay calm. You have to be in good condition for this to work since we can’t risk you getting hurt,” Ortho explains.

Although the interior was comfortable, Vil feels like he is being laid into a cold coffin.

“Don’t worry, Vil…“

Ortho’s face was the only thing Vil could see through the pod’s window.

“You’ll see her again soon. It won’t be the same, but… I’m sure it will be better next time.”

Vil knew better than to hope for good things. To him, it was better to work towards it rather than relying on luck to get there. However…

Ortho returns to his brother’s side.

“All systems are operational. Time displacement parameters set for 9 years into the past. September of 20XX.“

…this time, he really wished all his hard work would pay off.

The Trackback hums to life. Vil feels the soft vibrations reverberating through his body.

“Coordinates locked to Night Raven College, the morning of the Xth Entrance Ceremony.”

“Thanks Ortho. Give me a full system diagnostic before activation.”

“Initiation system diagnostic… Energy levels stable. Temporal field generators at full capacity. Quantum tether is synchronized with present time. All safety protocols are active.”

“And the displacement window? We need that at 100%.”

Vil knows full well that she wasn’t going to wake up any time soon. All he could do now is to continue to forge ahead. He has to be strong enough to fulfill this mission, to achieve a better future…

“Displacement window integrity is at 98.7%. An acceptable margin for human travel. Estimated arrival time: 15 seconds after activation.”

“15 seconds? We calculated 10 seconds in the earlier trials.”

“This discrepancy is due to the minor fluctuations in the temporal field density. No risk of deviation outside acceptable limits.”

Idia sighs, “Alright, this is as good as it gets. Everyone get ready. Ortho, initiate the countdown.”

…For him. For her. For their child… And for all the people who had been affected by the catastrophe…

“Affirmative. Beginning countdown: 10….9….8….”

The air in the room starts to ripple, and the lights dim as the machine hums louder.

Vil thinks back to the woman on the bed. He feels his wedding ring with his thumb. He had her initials carved into them, and his on her ring.

Something beeps in the background. A technician’s muffled voice reaches Vil’s ears.

“We’re getting some interference on the energy output.”

“Ortho, can you stabilize it?” Idia asks.

“Interference detected, compensating… field stabilized.”

He wants to see her paint again, he wants to tell her how much he loves her…

“7…6…5…” 

He wants to hold her in his arms...

“4…3…”

Even if he has to go through everything again, Vil was sure of one thing…

“…2…1…”

He wants to be with her. Forever.

“Time travel initiation. Displacement commencing.”

They will never be apart ever again.

[slowcatsworld]

Blue Lock Master Striker Headcanons

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

France’s PXG: Julian Loki

My sweet

Julian definitely is an older sibling (literally made a 3 post long argument on how he is one so TRUST he is). His favorite memory of his little sibling is when they first said his name. The small ‘Julian’ mumbled in multiple breaths (ju..julian yk) made him pause his homework and look them straight in the eye. They stared back with a big, innocent smile. Julian broke out into a smile of his own and grabbed the little guy for a hug.

Julian has such a carefree relationship with his mom, he gives off such mama’s boy vibes. They are a duo that would stay up late watching tv shows even though he has school in the morning and his mom has work. When his mother would cook something Julian was always her taste tester. He lost count the amount of times he would go back for seconds just to “get a better taste” and receive a wooden spoon to the hand. Julian’s mother would adore his girlfriend, especially since she can tell what a good impact you have on her son.

Julian would work well with someone who has a lot of energy but doesn’t need to be monitored or babysat. For example, say he is out at an amusement park with his friends and significant other. His girlfriend sees a game stand that piques her interest and hurls away from the group to investigate with determined steps. Julian isn’t worried about her getting lost or in an altercation with someone. he knows she’ll be back soon and give everyone a detailed report of the stand, the game set up, and the prizes offered. Whether or not she will ask him to spot her some cash to play the game is a whole other story. (Brother is loaded just from playing football)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

England’s Manshine City: Chris Prince

I hate him

Pathetic man baby vibes

Chris is very aware of his personal hygiene and is ridiculously active in taking care of his body. He has a personal massager, esthetician, chiropractor, waxer, the works. He loves his physicality too much to let himself rust in any capacity. He almost never skips brushing his teeth or washing his face. If he isn’t fueled with a type of passion or desperate enough, he won’t kiss you in the morning until you both at least have some mouth wash. He carries two different deodorant scents in his practice bag. This is nice because you know he won’t ever smell bad, but sometimes he becomes cologne nose blind (especially on high end dates).

He has a beef with Americans. (I don’t know if he’s confirmed English but he is today) He doesn’t mock them or become outwardly rude to them, but he’s thankful to be in the European League and not the North American League (is that a real league? Google isn’t helping and I don’t know shit abt professional soccer leagues-) Chris goes bonkers when someone jokingly calls him an American; as he will be whining and waving his arms about how he’s so much better than them and how it insults his legacy to be compared to an American and not be acknowledged as an English man.

When his hair isn’t cooperating with him he cries out of frustration.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Spain’s FC Barcha: Lavinho

Lavinho loves the feeling of dancing with his partner. It’s intimate and free, no matter what style nor if there was music or not. Lavinho is so fond of holding your hips and gently swaying the two of you in the silent hours of the night that he has a pep in his step when he walks home from practice. Your scent filling his nostrils, the heat he can feel coming from your neck and shoulder as he rests his head there, it’s all too perfect as he begins to hum a song to himself.

Lavinho would want to get a tattoo reminiscent of you. If yall ever were that serious. At first he was thinking of your name, but you shot that down quickly. Something more primal and colorful was more his style. He wants something that represents you, though. Y’all compromise on a couple things that fit both of your wishes. Your favorite flower, a kiss mark, and a woman dancing with a pair of wings emerging from her back. (Picture this omg. The woman could be bowing, in the middle of a dance move or smth and the wings are halfway out of her back. Or something like the woman looking up and outstretched and welcoming to the feeling around her. With the wings spread out powerful and graceful. Okay I’m done I’m done)

Lavinho loves being barefoot. If he can’t be barefoot, Lavinho is wearing open toed shoes. Chanclas, flip flops, Birkenstocks, doesn’t matter. He grew up like this, and doesn’t quite want to conform his freedom and customs to the world of Europe yet. Even if he has been living there for years. He gets so happy at feeling sand under his feet as well, it reminds him of his younger childhood days in the best way. (This is prolly canon bc the first time we see him he’s barefoot right?)

Am I becoming a Lavinho girl..?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Italy’s Ubers: Marc Snuffy

I don’t like him but I don’t hate him-

He says ‘shitty brats’ too much in the same breath at the end of the Ubers vs BM match I think he unlocked his previous degradation kink or smth idek maybe that’s why

Okay focus

Mick Moon’s death still haunts Snuffy. He hasn’t truly let it go, and even though he seems to make progress during the Ubers vs BM match, he has a long way to go to fully come to peace with his best friend’s death. Most times Snuffy can’t drink alcohol without thinking of Mick and becoming guilty. All the thoughts of how he could have saved Mick from his fate, how he did try but it wasn’t enough, how he allowed for his best friend to ruin his own life- even though that meant Mick stayed true to his philosophy. It hurts Snuffy. It’s the main reason why Snuffy cares so deeply for his teammates now, and why he goes out of his way to make sure they are okay mentally in his own way.

Snuffy wasn’t that interested in the luxury of lust that came from women when he first started out on his dream to being a professional footballer. It wasn’t until Mick that he started indulging in being a lady’s man. While it was almost always lustful and physical, the women that tugged at his heartstrings were the ones that would compliment Snuffy’s nose. The ones that would hold his face to their chest and give him slow, loving kisses to his nose while their hands moved further up into his hair. The ones that knew his eyes were actually orange and not brown and how those women looked into his sharp, big eyes like he was the reason for all their happiness was surreal. Those instances it would become all too real for Snuffy. The lines between lust and something more would get blurred and blurred until he got scared and backed away and moved to the next lady in the next club with a smaller smile than before.

Snuffy is very proud of his black belt in Jujitsu. Especially with the way it helps him on the football field. His understanding of his own body and abilities mean more to him than the average person too. Also because of Mick and how Mick ignored his body both before and after getting let go as a footballer.

Okay, Snuffy isn’t that bad I guess-

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Germany’s Bastard Munchen: Noel Noa

My man my man my man

Let me give you a big smooch

Noel sunburns so easily. He never tans, he always burns a hot pink. He has but an ounce of melanin in his skin that prevents him from being totally albino. Because of this, he is very serious and methodical about applying sunscreen. He applies daily, especially when he knows he’ll be outside for practice or a game. He also isn’t that fond of costal activities because of the sun exposure, even more so because he can’t swim that well. (OMG I read a little blurb about Noel not being able to swim but his wife loved to I don’t know who wrote it but it was so cute I’ll try to find the writer)

He does interviews for football, but finds them rather bland and not that important. He likes to discuss football strategies and profile analysis he’s done of other players, but most of the time reporters aren’t that interested in his words. They always want to know more intimate details about him, it feels like to Noel. Just not his exact cup of tea, but he knows other players are always willing to talk in an interview so he leaves the chitter to them if he can. He likes for his actions on the field to speak for him.

Noel makes an effort to acknowledge stray animals if he can. The cat sitting on the restaurant sill? He gave it some head scratches before continuing his walk. The dog that always lays in the same sunny spot of concrete on the sidewalk? Noel has given him some water just yesterday. It feels as though he’s paying homage to their sacrifices by giving them small acts of domesticity as he was once a stray too. He still feels like one sometimes. At night when he’s awake in his bed thinking, he ponders the possibility of taking one of the many strays home with him. He won’t allow himself to though. He can’t stoop so low as to take an animal into a home that he knows he’ll be absent enough from them (his football commitment sigh) to not properly take care of them, his head reasons, even if his heart wants him to act so unrationally.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This biscuit is just for you, mwah 😽

8.6.24

[neptuneiris]

Behind the Scenes (03/05)

Behind the Negotiation

pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader

summary: knowing that you can't run away from your past forever, you receive unexpected visitors in your home that make you fear for your son's future.

word counter: 8.9k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

warnings: angst, arguments, language,mention of abortion.

guys, I'm sorry for the delay, with this chapter a lot of unexpected things came across my way, but I've finally finished it and I'm satisfied with the result, although I'm not sure if you will like it, it might bore you but I don't know, please let me know :)

without more to say, enjoy it and thanks for all the support, really! let me know your comments too, I'll be waiting for them!

You still remember it all too well.

You remember how you accepted Aemond's terms, the terms of his agent Criston and also of his entire team.

You agreed to keep the existence of your child a secret, to hide in the shadows with him and to keep a low profile until it was "safe" for Aemond's career to publicly and legally acknowledge the baby.

But you only accepted to take that worry off everyone's mind and especially his, so you could run away. Although the reality is that you were scared.

At first, Aemond's power, influence and connections kept you paralyzed, thinking about the consequences of breaking all ties with him.

And running away from him, disappearing from his life along with your son was a decision you had to make carefully and then had to live with in fear and dread of being found someday.

And the fear of possible legal reprisals for your escape and uncertainty about the consequences were present at every turn. But you did everything to live in freedom, not to destroy Aemond's career and to protect your son from all public exposure.

You always knew that Aemond with his celebrity status possesses power, not only in the entertainment industry, but also in the media and social sphere, that was obvious, just like any other celebrity.

So finding you could be as easy as snapping his fingers.

So to prevent Aemond from tracking your movements so he could find you, you began by discarding any means of transportation that could be easily monitored or tracked.

You avoided airports and bus terminals, opting instead for small train stations and local buses, always paying with cash. You left King's Landing and the entire state, going all the way to the Iron Islands.

In Pike, with the money you had left over, you were able to rent a room to yourself in a cheap hotel, then quickly began to look around for a job in the surrounding area in search of an opportunity that could provide you with support and stability.

You knew you couldn't get a job like the one you had before, on a recording set with a big salary. So downtown, you found a job at a beauty salon.

Not only does she own a beauty salon, she also owns a few small apartments in the city and offered you one of them at a lower price, considering you were just starting out with a new job.

The owner of the place, Becca Waters, a kind and understanding woman, saw potential and also the need in you.

Knowing your condition and that you practically came to live in a place where you knew nothing and no one, she also offered you a place to live and be safe.

Mrs. Waters became a fundamental support for you, providing guidance, encouragement, flexibility and stability in your financial need and also in your pregnancy.

With her you felt completely safe and supported at a time when you needed it most. After all you had gone through to get here, leaving your life behind and pregnant, she was your reward.

But still nothing was easy after that.

Your pregnancy process was a roller coaster of emotions, challenges and moments. Facing motherhood as a single mom was an overwhelming reality.

On the one hand, even though the baby was unplanned, you were excited to know that you would soon be holding him in your arms, but on the other hand, you also felt fear and anxiety at the responsibility of raising a child alone with no knowledge of anything really.

The first few months of pregnancy were especially difficult.

You experienced pain, symptoms and discomforts that you had no idea about and had to endure, as well as a slight state of depression and anxiety about dealing with all of this on your own.

But through it all, Becca was your pillar of support at all times, who became your confidant, giving you comfort and encouragement in difficult times. And she was the one who helped you throughout your pregnancy and also the one who was by your side when you gave birth to your child.

And even though you didn't want to, being in a very vulnerable state, you couldn't help but feel lonely and miss Aemond, just as you missed everything you once used to be.

But remembering everything that happened the last time you saw him, even though the feeling disappeared, you also couldn't help but start crying.

And to protect yourself emotionally, you decided to stay away from news about Aemond.

You avoided social media and any content that could remind you of your past with him. Your determination was great to be able to raise your child alone, without relying on Aemond's presence or acknowledgement.

And the day your son finally came into the world, it was a moment of joy and wonder that could not be compared to any other moment in life, filling your heart with indescribable happiness.

However, the birth also brought with it a torrent of new worries and challenges.

Childbirth was exhausting and intense. Nothing you've ever experienced before. And in the days that followed, the constant care of the newborn, the lack of sleep and the adjustment to your new life were heavy challenges that pushed you to the limit many times.

But in spite of that, every smile, every little gesture of your son filled your world with immense love, as well as Mrs. James' help in guiding you in practical aspects of motherhood increased your unwavering determination to go forward for him, being your driving force.

Although also the arrival of your son into the world increased your fear in you.

The fear that Aemond and his team might find you and take your son away from you was a constant worry. But despite this, there were moments of uncertainty when you thought too much about it.

You wondered why Aemond would bother looking for you and your child. Clearly the baby was a risk to his career and he didn't even want to support you from the start, only accepting it later because that was your decision.

You knew he wouldn't but you were still afraid.

Would Aemond really seek you out after he initially supported the idea of abortion?

Would he really seek you out after he supported your decision even if he didn't want to but in the shadows, avoiding any public acknowledgement and hiding you and your son?

But just when you had gotten used to it, had found stability with a job and a permanent refuge in the beauty salon with Mrs. Waters, a few months after the birth of your son, Mrs. Waters was forced to close the salon due to unforeseen financial problems.

That place that had been your refuge and where you found support and friendship, suddenly disappeared, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness, uncertainty and nostalgia.

Mrs. Waters would have to leave town and although you didn't want to, you also decided to do the same, convinced that you would be safer with your son in a place you knew well, avoiding at all times the places you used to go with Aemond and where you knew you could meet him.

So after looking for a job, with your resume and previous excellent references, in the city where the entire film industry resides, you got a job as a makeup artist in a different recording studio than the one you had worked in before.

There was no way you could meet Aemond, or so you thought.

Previously the TV network was BBC, now it was HBO for whom you would be working on a new TV show, so you really had nothing to worry about, especially since the pay was very good and you could survive just fine on that for you and your child.

But right on your first day of work, life decided to surprise you.

And now you are here, in your new apartment where you were planning to live temporarily until you find a better one, but now with you running away on your first day it means definite dismissal for sure, so you have no idea how you are going to pay for a better one or how you are going to pay for this one next month so you won't get kicked to the street.

But you can't even think straight as you are still shaking, your emotions are running high, you have no idea what really happened, it was all very fast between talking and remembering the past.

And the only thing that gives you some peace in the midst of your own thoughts and everything you're feeling, are the sounds of Aenar's toys and babbling in the living room, playing on the floor and touching everything he can.

His silver hair shines from the sunlight coming through the windows and he giggles as his colorful toys bump into each other, showing a world of happiness and innocent curiosity, completely filling your heart but you still feel that sharp ache in your chest.

You move towards him with a soft sigh and take a seat next to him, keeping a small genuine smile on your lips but with some melancholy, when he starts showing you all his toys and asks you between babbling and giggles to play with him.

You move the toys back and forth, ask him questions in honeyed tones and he laughs, making you laugh too, but you continue with the tumult of your overwhelming thoughts.

You think about what you will do now, that you should probably look for a job at a new beauty salon, which is what you should have done as soon as you got back, find a subtle job instead of going back to what you were doing before so suddenly.

However the paycheck was what made you take it and you need it too much, so you'll have to look for other alternatives.

You find yourself thinking about it when you suddenly hear the sound of the door completely interrupting your thoughts and also your game with Aenar.

You look towards the entrance, confused, with a strange feeling growing in your chest, immediately giving you a bad feeling. For who would come knocking at your door?

No one knows you're back… except Aemond.

Oh Gods.

The thought makes you paralyzed, feeling your whole body tense up, your heart starts beating fast and fear invades you completely.

Could it be him?

You wonder, struggling to stay calm, even though there's no way he could have figured out so quickly where you're living.

Or has he?

The thought leaves you completely paralyzed, with a mixture of anxiety and fear flowing inside you.

The knocking on the door becomes more insistent and you carefully get up and leave Aenar still amused in his game on the floor, then walk towards the door feeling a lump in your throat and a growing uneasiness.

You reach for the doorknob and as you turn it to open, your heart skips a beat when you find Aemond's agent standing in front of you, Criston Cole.

A trace of surprise and confusion flashes across your face, feeling your body tighten further and the fear linger.

How did he know where you were?

What is he doing here?

Criston returns you a serious but understanding look, beginning to feel the tension between the two of you, while you feel the fear invade you again because of the old memories and being him one of the main reasons why you decided to run away.

His mere presence triggers a series of emotions that take you by surprise. With no trace of Aemond or anyone else around you, yet your mind races.

Nervousness invades every fiber of your being, while your heart beats faster and stronger than usual. A sense of discomfort invades you and you also feel alert, afraid, unable to control it.

"Y/N."

He pronounces your name with a slight nod. His tone tries to be reassuring, but confusion and bewilderment wash over you.

You say nothing for a few seconds, feeling unable to speak and unable to formulate any words, barely trying at that moment to process the situation. Anxiety creeps through your chest, as he gives you and respects your space, aware of your unease.

"I understand that you're surprised by my visit and I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I really don't. But we need to talk."

The confusion inside you increases and so does the fear, to watch him completely bewildered and on the verge of collapse.

"H-how—

You try to ask with your voice cracking in the midst of all your emotions, but he interrupts you in response, knowing what you're going to ask.

"My team," he lets you know, "They handled finding you."

He tells you seriously and with that touch of professionalism in his tone, but his response only surprises and puzzles you more, to which Criston notices.

You feel the questions pile up in your head, but you barely manage to articulate a word, besides all the emotions you're feeling, fear mainly.

"Aemond informed us of your return," he adds, "After he didn't find you again, he asked us to look for you," he tells you calmly, trying to make his eyes convey an attempt at empathy for you.

But you don't believe that one bit. Not after what happened the last time you saw him and his entire team.

You feel a surge of vulnerability wash over you, leaving you suddenly helpless before him. You don't have the slightest idea how you will be able to cope with that situation, how to get away from them again now that they have found you, especially him.

"What have you really come for?" you question, not hiding your distrust.

Criston keeps a serene attitude and look, seeking to soften the tension, but notices your demeanor and posture, of fear and alertness altogether.

"Just to talk," he tells you softly, "Believe me the last thing I want and Aemond too is to cause you trouble. We just want to talk and nothing more," he explains, but you are having none of it, "He was going to come himself, but he had to film some scenes. But he'll come as soon as he can."

This just adds more weight to the anxiety and nervousness you're already feeling, so it triggers an alert in you that makes you feel completely freaked out, definitely not wanting that.

"No," you try to retort with a firm tone, but your vulnerability shows in your trembling voice and nervous expression, "Please leave."

Concern flashes across Criston's face for an instant, unconsciously taking a step towards you.

"Y/N–

"Please," you plead, "Just go away and don't come back, none of you, not even him."

"Y/N, please, just let me—

"No," you interrupt him again, more desperate than before, "Please," you repeat.

The atmosphere is filled with a silence full of tension, where your words, full of desperation and longing to get away from the situation, float in the air, also asking for urgent distance and tranquility.

And Criston lets out a sigh.

"Just a few minutes," he says, struggling to find some control in the situation, "Just-let us talk to you, Aemond and me."

"If it's to talk about his career and his son, I'm not interested," you say firmly, but your trembling voice gives away your emotions, "We've talked about that before," you say with some bitterness and sadness in your tone, "You can go now. I don't plan on staying anyway."

Without having let go of the door frame, you try to close the door, ending all of this, but he instantly speaks again, stopping you.

"Please Y/N, Aemond is very worried and wishes to speak with you," he insists, "He hasn't been the same since you left, you should know that," he adds in a persuasive tone.

You let out a snort in disbelief and with some bitterness, as you look away from his gaze for a moment.

"I highly doubt that."

"Y/N—

The sound of Aenar's innocent laughter while playing with his toys catches Criston's attention, stopping his words, who unconsciously catches a glimpse inside your living room where Aenar is playing and also catches a glimpse of his small figure on the floor with his characteristic silver hair.

This immediately triggers your concern and increases your protective mode and you quickly close the door a little behind you, blocking his view, while your heart is pounding.

This is what you meant.

You don't want anything bad to happen to your son, in any way. And you will do anything to protect him, because they decided everything except to protect you and now you will not allow them to intervene in your son's life now that they know he is here.

"Y/N," he calls to you in a softer voice, watching you completely intently and desperately asking you with his gaze for a moment.

"Please don't," you plead with him, at the point of collapsing from worry and frustration.

Again you enter the apartment as you hold the door frame tightly to close it, but Criston stops you again.

"You must understand the gravity of what happened," he tells you seriously, "Your disappearance put Aemond's relationship with his son in danger. There are legal implications for you to consider, such as custody," he says and your heart flips, "I can explain all of this to you and resolve it in the best way possible," he looks at you in insistence, "But only if you let me in so we can talk."

And there they are again. Your greatest fears.

The word 'custody' repeats over and over in your mind, like a loop, causing you greater fear, worry and pressure than before, the gravity of the situation and the looming legal implications being clear.

The air weighs on you, heavy with uncertainty and intense tension, as well as you are overcome with the urge to cry because of your doubts and fear.

"Wh-what-" you try to speak in a whisper, your voice cracking and your heart in a fist, "Custody?" you repeat under your breath.

Criston watches you with some pity and understanding, then lowers his gaze, lets out a sigh and watches you with that sympathy and also a little expectant.

"May I come in?"

Try one more time and maybe it's because of his words that your mind is in a state of alarm that makes you recognize that you can't run away again or else things will get worse. And you don't want that. You are afraid for yourself and Aenar.

Feeling more of your anxiety, you finally allow him to enter and Criston at this thanks you with his gaze and moves carefully, noticing your visible discomfort and also your fear, not wanting to alter you any further with absolutely nothing.

And once the door closes, you immediately stand in front of Aenar with a weak and vulnerable posture trying to look strong, this catching his attention and feeling something warm in his chest at the presence of the little one.

But he also knows exactly why you react this way and he doesn't blame you for it, much less does it bother him because he understands you.

"I'm very honest when I tell you that we really don't want to create more trouble, Y/N," he tells you in a soft tone, "Aemond…. he really is very worried. And since he is my client, we don't want any legal implications or further conflict."

You try to keep your composure, but your thoughts are a storm of confused emotions. The very idea of dealing with legal issues, especially regarding your son, is overwhelming to you.

"Why now?" you ask in a trembling voice, your gaze searching for answers, "All this… why?"

Criston exhales slowly, trying to find the right words.

"The situation has changed, basically since you left. Aemond was wrong at the time and I admit I was too, so now he's willing to acknowledge your son, in every way possible."

You can't help but look incredulous and bitter once again.

"It's already too late for that, don't you think?" you ask him in a bitter tone.

Criston looks down for a moment, his expression one of compassion and understanding towards your perspective.

"Yes, we know," he nods to you, "And that's why we're here, trying to keep all this from becoming a bigger problem. But please Y/N, understand that Aemond doesn't want to hurt you or cause you any more trouble than he's already caused."

"And until now you say that?" you inquire sad, worried, fearful and indignant, "That's what I needed to hear before when I was scared, because I was scared too Criston, not just Aemond," you let him know, with tears in the corners of your eyes, "But you treated me like a problem you needed to get rid of, you and him."

Criston listens to your words with a gesture in his eyes that reflects the heaviness of the situation, just as you see shame and regret wash over him, suddenly seeing him as the vulnerable one and you as the strong one compared to years ago, the roles reversing for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. We didn't mean to make you feel that way," he says in a regret-laden tone.

"Sorry doesn't change anything," you say, fighting back tears.

You watch him with your hard stare and sad eyes, feeling several tears fall down your cheeks, making you remember once again.

And once again without letting it drown you, you force yourself to push those memories away, all your moments of uncertainty, fear and pain, to brush your tears away from your cheeks with a strong look of determination.

"I will accept any legal consequences if there are any," you say suddenly, trying to keep your composure, "If there are legal actions, I'm willing to face them. But for now, I just want to be left alone, please."

"Y/N," Criston calls you cautiously, "I just want you to understand that we want to do the right thing now. And what we want to do is find a solution that works for you and for Aemond regarding him," he points to Aenar with his gaze behind you, "Something that guarantees your privacy while not damaging his public image."

Then all the effect of his words completely disappear on you.

You feel a surge of frustration, annoyance and despair at the realization that still the main concern remains Aemond's career.

"Do you still think about his career?" you ask with disappointment and resentment in your tone.

"Y/N—

"The most important thing here is my son," you stand strong, "But he seems to be only one aspect of Aemond's image, doesn't he?"

"Even after all this time that has passed, Aemond's career is more successful and even promising than before, that is something that neither you, him nor I should forget, let alone ignore," he tries to explain to you, "Aemond wants to fix things but his career must also be contemplated, please understand this Y/N."

"Then why do you say you want to do things the right way now if that is not true?" you inquire.

"Yes it is true," he clarifies, "But within all of this, his career must still be contemplated."

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to believe it.

"You say a lot of things Criston, but it's clear what matters most to you," you say with no emotion in your voice, "And sure, why shouldn't his career matter most to you? After all… you don't know what it's like to get pregnant, without support and go through the whole process by yourself, and then raise a child on your own, without the support of his father."

"I don't mean to—

"Please go away," you plead once more and this again alerts him.

"Y/N—

He tries to speak but the sound of the door echoes throughout the living room, drawing your full attention and Criston's as well.

The atmosphere again becomes heavier than before, as well as all your confidence disappears, already knowing who it is and you are confirmed by the fact that the person behind the door knocks more insistently, sounding desperate.

With your fearful gaze and your whole body tense, you quickly move towards Aenar, who is still playing completely oblivious to everything that is happening on the floor and you take him in your arms with haste but also care.

You hold him tightly against your body, as a way to protect him from everything outside and also from all people especially while trying to contain all your emotions.

And Criston, who also knows who it is, rushes to the door to open it.

And there on the doorway, the figure of Aemond comes into view, with all the desperation and longing in his gaze, the worry and anguish too, as you muster the courage to be able to look him in the eye again, holding Aenar a little more firmly against your chest.

But your son's body is visible to the eye and that's what makes Aemond completely paralyzed at the sight of you with his son in your arms.

Surprise is completely reflected in his whole look, immediately followed by a bunch of emotions that start to pile up in his whole being and want to come out, as he feels his whole body tense up and a feeling in his stomach invades him.

This leaves him and you in a state of momentary restlessness, where time seems to stand still and the silence is too loud. You, with your gaze fixed on him, try to keep your composure with a mixture of fear, insecurity and some determination to protect your son at all costs.

It didn't take long for Aemond's surprise to turn into a moment of awe and a surge of overwhelming emotions. The mere sight of you with his child in your arms triggers disbelief, pent-up longing and a feeling of suppressed joy.

"Y/N," Aemond calls your name in a whisper, his tone laden with surprise and visible regret, where his gaze can't tear away from you and Aenar.

You say nothing, just watch him back without saying anything, with all your emotions reflecting in your eyes.

The moment is just the three of you, so Criston turns away completely, not interfering and saying absolutely nothing, while you continue in your protective mode and Aemond is still processing this whole moment.

With excitement clashing against the surprise in his eyes, he tries to process the reality of having his son before him for the first time.

He searches for the right words to speak, but his stuck mind won't let him, nor will the lump in his throat and stomach as he continues to watch the scene in front of him; you with his son in your arms.

He tries to say something, but his lips barely half open and the words won't come out, feeling his heart beating too fast and hard.

And you with your gaze full of expectation, fear and caution, Aemond finally looks at you again, aware of all the emotional charge you feel, just like him, as well as your fear and distrust after everything that happened.

"C-can… can I come closer?"

He finally asks cautiously, his voice with a tone of longing and nervousness barely contained.

You hesitate at that moment.

Feeling the weight of the situation and the emotions that are triggered at that moment, despite everything, you feel very vulnerable and you also feel his vulnerability, also that longing to touch Aenar and hold him.

And despite the way he acted with you almost two years ago and also the way Criston and all his team treated you, you don't feel able to be as cruel as they were with you back then.

You don't want to be like them and also aware that this day would come sooner or later, you watch Aenar for a moment, leave a soft kiss on his forehead and again watch Aemond, then nod in his direction with a barely perceptible gesture.

You allow Aemond your closeness and he with extreme care begins to approach you slowly, as if fearing that a sudden movement could fade the magical and longing moment.

Aemond's heartbeat echoes in your ears as he finally stands in front of your son.

Aenar, completely oblivious to everything, senses the nearness of someone else and raises his curious gaze to Aemond, watching him with those bright blue eyes.

And upon seeing that man with the same hair color as his own, his eyes light up with a gleam of curiosity, lightly waving his arms and also his body.

With his teary eye, he watches you for a moment, to again focus on Aenar and with a mixture of excitement and awe, he extends one of his trembling hands towards his small, delicate face.

And when the touch of his fingers against his soft skin of his cheek makes itself felt, Aemond feels an unfamiliar sensation invade him completely.

A sad but honest smile full of melancholy appears on his lips as he gently and carefully traces his face, running his hand up to his silver hair, gazing intently into those blue eyes just like his own as Aenar watches him with that playful innocence but also just as curious as his own.

You, unsure of exactly what to feel or think, watch as he carefully reaches out both arms and begins to hold his body, feeling the warmth and weight of his small body now resting in his arms.

That unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling from before comes over him even more strongly as he holds his son for the first time, when Aenar lifts one of his hands and touches his left cheek, where his scar is.

The emotion makes his breath hitch as he struggles to hold back the tears of restrained happiness that will come at any moment.

It was a moment he had imagined countless times, but had never believed possible until this instant.

Aenar, captivated by the newness and warmth in the arms of Aemond, his father, laughs innocently, his eyes dazzling a happiness as he notices the familiarity in that new face above him. And at his gesture, Aemond lets out a choked laugh, completely captivated by him.

And unable to contain himself any longer, the first sob escapes his throat and the tears fall, instantly pulling his son's face to his chest, embracing him with gentleness and that security that makes him feel so vulnerable when Aenar settles perfectly in his arms.

Guilt, sadness, joy, emotion, everything invades him in that moment.

And he lets out more tears for the comfort that Aenar gives him in his arms, that feeling of protection and even… love, that makes him feel even more vulnerable.

And you are still there, close to them but giving Aemond his space, watching everything attentively with your heart in a fist and feeling sensations you had not felt before at the scene, with tears also wanting to slide down your cheeks.

After a few more seconds, Aemond slurps his nose and looks over Aenar's small shoulder at you with all the vulnerability in his gaze.

"I-I know I don't deserve this," he says with his voice cracking, trying to control himself but he can't.

And he is about to say something else but you watching his expression, a mixture of regret and deep sadness, you step forward to speak.

"In spite of everything, he deserves to know his father," you murmur with your trembling voice and teary eyes, "Aenar deserves this," you assure him, accepting it as you watch the scene of the two of them.

Aemond nods, unable to articulate words, still feeling the lump in his throat, his face reflecting pain, regret and a sadness you have never seen in him before, as his tears continue to fall as he embraces his son.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, unable to contain the emotion, turning to him and to you. "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know how to face it…how to be there."

Silence again settles throughout the apartment, only being filled by Aemond's soft crying, as you silently weep and continue to watch the two of them.

A few minutes have passed since Aemond and your son met for the first time.

Aenar laughs with delight as Aemond plays with him with one of his toys. They are both immersed in a little world of fun where it's just the two of them, surrounded by Legos blocks, small plastic cars and puppets.

You watch everything, or almost everything, without interfering and giving them both their space, watching your son enjoy a special moment that on another occasion, could have been a daily routine with a different life.

Criston doesn't say or do anything either, he at all times stands in the corner watching the whole interaction, letting Aemond have his moment with his son, genuinely feeling happy for him.

And even though the scene makes you feel warm in your heart, being a scene you longed for before, you still still feel insecure, afraid and overwhelmed by this whole situation.

This doesn't really change anything. You have only given Aemond the opportunity to meet his son because your son deserves it, nothing more.

Inside you are still just as scared and in expectation that at any moment this whole 'beautiful' moment will fade away. And that's exactly what happens when you hear Criston's voice all over the living room.

"I wouldn't want to ruin the moment, truly," he says seriously and honestly, "But it's important that we talk about all this so we can resolve it properly."

This immediately catches your attention and also Aemond's, with whom you exchange a quick glance, again feeling your whole body tremble and out of the same nervousness you are overcome with the impulse to take your son in your arms to feel safe.

"It is important that we talk about the child, about what you are going to do now," he turns to Aemond, "Custody is important and all that goes with it."

"I don't understand why you keep talking about custody," you look at him nervously and annoyed, "I alone have cared for and raised Aenar all this time."

"I know this is complicated and sudden, Y/N," Criston tells you, "But we need to approach this whole thing responsibly."

"Responsibility?" you repeat incredulously, "What responsibility are you exactly talking about?"

"Y/N," Aemond immediately interjects, "Listen to me, please," he gets up from the floor leaving Aenar playing alone and walks towards you, "It's not my intention to take our son away from you, truly. But we must make sure we have legal rights to be in his life," he explains to you, "You were the one who ran away, who disappeared without a word. I didn't know what happened to you."

You look at him uncomprehendingly, with your hurt and desperate gaze.

"You talk about custody and rights when in the beginning that was the last thing on your mind, Aemond," you observe him incredulously, "And you keep reproaching me for running away when you know perfectly well that I did it so I could live and so I wouldn't ruin your career, which was all you were thinking about."

Regret again invades Aemond's face, as the atmosphere becomes denser, full of mixed emotions where fear and anger resurfaces with everything else.

Any trace of calm and peace, has ceased to exist, only being perceived by Aenar, who continues oblivious and innocent to all this in his games.

"I-I…" Aemond tries to speak, "I'm sorry for everything, Y/N. But back then...

His sentence hangs in suspense, not knowing what else to say, trying to find the right words without wanting to generate more tension, but that's what he involuntarily does.

"Back then," you repeat, your emotions running high, "Back then you were too busy taking care of your public image, supporting the idea of an abortion without consulting me, then supporting the idea of hiding me and my child as if we were a problem, which in fact we were and as if it was my only option, leaving me with no alternatives," you express with frustration and pain marked in every word.

Regret remains in Aemond's facial expressions, looking visibly affected by your words, grief-stricken and with a regret throughout his body that affirms to him that you are absolutely right, each word being like a dagger straight to his heart.

"Y-you don't know how much I regret and blame myself for all of that, Y/N," he tells you with vulnerability in his tone, "And I know I don't deserve it, any of this, not even that you allowed me to meet him and that I'm now in the same place as him," he says with regret, "But I want to find a solution that works for both of us," he whispers sadly.

The room is again consumed by silence, except for the sound of Aenar's toy movements, which is what catches Aemond's attention for a moment to smile a little more melancholy.

The situation becomes increasingly complex as your emotions continue to run high between anger and sadness, with the memory of past times still latent, but also with the uncertainty of the future.

And Criston, trying to keep calm, intervenes again.

"I understand that you both have different perspectives on what happened. But now we need to think about the future, of your son," he says seriously, "It's not just about custody, it's about finding a way to strike a fair balance, but… thinking about your career too, Aemond."

You let out a disbelieving, ironic snort again, shaking your head.

"His career,'" you repeat with a bitter tone, your voice a mixture of sarcasm and disappointment.

Aemond, watching you sadly and remorsefully, speaks in a calm but regret-laden voice.

"I don't want you to look at this that way, Y/N—

"That's just the way I see it," you interrupt him, serious and sad, "This is exactly why I left. This is why when I saw you again, I decided to run away again," you say hurt, "Now that you've met him, you want to be in his life, but you still prefer to hide us. This kind of life is the one you wanted to give us at the beginning and now you still do too."

Your revelations Aemond had already heard, but at that moment, again that sharp pain in his chest becomes present, as well as guilt, remorse and regret at seeing your sad face with such honest words.

"All I want is to come to an agreement, Y/N, please—

"You're not going to hide us," you interrupt him firmly.

"Aemond," he calls him seriously.

"No, that's not my intention—

He insists desperately but Criston intervenes.

"Don't," Aemond interrupts him instantly, turning serious and with an annoyed expression towards him, "We can't hide the truth anymore, Criston. Things must change."

"Look, I understand that this is difficult for you," he begins in a serious and cautious tone, "But still, we must consider the consequences. There's a lot at stake here, your career," he reminds him, "You have numerous job offers. Your show on HBO is the most famous show on the platform and the most watched show on television so far. How do you think people are going to react when they find out about your son?"

The room sinks into another silence, as you watch him with your hard, sad face, frustration, annoyance and irritation inside you, watching as Criston continues to treat your son like he's a problem.

And it hurts you.

Because Aemond doesn't even say anything.

"We can find a way to handle all this without putting at risk everything you have achieved, Aemond. And if you get a share of the custody, your son will be under your protection without harming your image," he proposes with an insistent look, seeking his approval.

You look away again, completely incredulous and with helplessness all over you.

It's not Aemond, it's Criston.

It is he who continues to manipulate Aemond to prioritize his career over his son, so that everything revolves around public image and fame, diverting attention from the well-being of your son.

And what can you really do there?

He is his agent, the person who has positioned him where he is now, making him famous, relevant, telling him what roles to take in movies or TV shows that are going to ensure one more success to his career.

"If you listen to him…" you begin to say in his direction with a trembling but firm tone, "If you do what he tells you, I swear I won't care what I have to do, even go into debt to get a good lawyer," you warn, "I will fight for the custody of Aenar and when I get it, I assure you that you will never see him again, ever."

Your words slip from your lips with a determination that completely surprises Aemond, surprise and concern visible on his face, watching you hurt for a moment, his mind a complete mess.

But it is not he who speaks, but Criston who takes the floor once more.

"If that's what you want, Y/N… that's fine," he tells you seriously, his gaze cold and calculating. "But let me warn you, we're trying to come to an agreement—

"The two of you or you specifically?" you snap at him.

"That doesn't matter, Aemond is my client and my job is to secure and protect his career," he tells you seriously, "And if you'd rather take this to fighting for full custody of Aenar, then so be it," he nods at you, "But I assure you, you're going to end up losing."

"That's enough."

Finally, Aemond's voice rises from where he stands, aimed directly at Criston, with a serious, hard stare that reveals a newfound determination.

"We are talking about our son, an issue that concerns her and me, this has nothing to do with you," he declares, his tone firm and his posture defiant.

"Your career has to do with me," he clarifies to her also serious, "You must think about what you are going to sacrifice. Your future, your career, the opportunities that await you-

"I said that's enough," he spits back at her, serious and annoyed, watching him with a hard stare, taking Criston by surprise.

And before he can say anything else, there is another knock on the door, drawing your full attention and making you feel completely alert, especially when Criston is the one who again goes to open the door, as if he knows exactly who it is.

And as you open the door, just like that day, Aemond's publicist, an assistant and the PR people enter your apartment.

Surprise flashes all over your face, watching with your eyes wide open the unexpected arrival of that group of people, whose intentions are not good.

"Thank you for coming," Criston tells them as he closes the door behind him.

"Of course."

Their eyes flick to you for a moment and then focus on Aenar, watching them back with curiosity in their gaze, while you feel confusion and fear completely take over you.

Despair, fear, your future, Aenar, everything mixes together in a horrible way that makes you want to vomit, letting out a couple of tears to quickly turn to your son and hold him in your arm, turning your back to them and starting to cry silently.

And Aemond, seeing your reaction, equally as surprised as you, quickly turns to Criston, his gaze full of confusion and annoyance.

"What is this? Why have you called them?" he inquires with his voice full of restrained anger.

And Criston, unabashed and uncaring of his actions, responds with a calm but calculated determination.

"We are not going before a jury to settle this, Aemond, it will be a waste of time and she will cause us more trouble," he says regardless, "This is necessary for your career, to address this whole issue strategically to protect your image, whether she likes it or not."

Aemond's expression transforms to one of frustration and helplessness.

But before he can intervene, his entire team begins to act.

"We need to establish an immediate plan, now," Criston says.

"Will the strategy be to minimize the impact on the media?" asks the publicity man.

"No, I want it hidden," Criston clarifies, "The approach must be careful and calculated. The priority is Aemond's reputation and career."

"I suggest we limit the exposure of Y/N and the child in public."

"We could create an alternative narrative to deflect attention by highlighting Aemond's professional accomplishments and minimizing the focus on his personal life."

"This must be handled with discretion. We cannot allow this situation to interfere with Aemond's career opportunities," Criston says firmly.

And so your entire living room fills with the sound of all those voices, each voice contributing ideas to control the situation, the problems, Aenar and you.

The tension intensifies, as everyone meticulously plans how to run the public narrative, completely ignoring Aemond's and your personal needs and concerns.

Tears slip down your cheeks silently as you hug Aenar tightly to your chest. This instantly catches the attention of Aemond, who steps worriedly towards you, placing his hand on your shoulder, positioning himself in front of you, but you abruptly pull away from him, watching him with an expression of pain and anguish amidst your tears and suffering face.

"Y/N—

"Why are you doing this? Why are you allowing this?" you ask in your broken, desperate voice.

"No, I swear to you I had no idea that he—

"I left, Aemond," you remind him with your voice cracking, "I left to save your career. And everything was fine, with you and me, our lives," you sob, "Why did you ask Criston to find me? Why do you care and insist on saying you want to be in our lives, when your career is still the most important thing?"

Pain and confusion echo in your words, lingering in the mind of Aemond, who in his gaze reflects a mixture of guilt, bewilderment, pain and sadness.

But everything hurts him more the moment you turn away from him, with a defeated gesture, turning your back to him and your whole body trembling in fear, Aenar in your arms being what gives you strength not to fall apart at that moment.

"We can prepare official statements to control the leaking information to minimize any negative impact on his public reputation."

"Rest assured that we need to maintain full control of this situation. We cannot allow any details to slip out," Aemond hears Criston's voice.

And that's when something snaps inside him.

Every repressed feeling bursts out in a whirlwind of emotions that were fighting to get out, your worry, the anger at himself and the guilt that invades him.

Everything explodes and ignites into a fury that he can no longer contain, seeing your state, causing him anger and feeling completely guilty.

Because everything is in fact his fault.

So without waiting a second longer, he walks to the center of the living room and with a hard, serious, completely annoyed look on his face and with his jaw clenched, he acts.

"Get out of here, all of you, now!" he exclaims, instantly drawing everyone's attention and yours as well.

For an instant everyone watches him and nothing else, slightly surprised and expectant, Criston too, unmoving and doing nothing, causing you a wave of despair.

"I said everyone out!" he exclaims in a firm voice and his gaze full of determination.

And it's only then that one by one the team finally leaves your apartment, except for Criston.

"What are you doing?" he inquires with a touch of disbelief in his tone, challenging Aemond.

"You get out of here too."

He orders him annoyed and with irritation, his voice charged with a frustration that has already reached its limit.

"Aemond, this is important, you can't just—

"I need to talk to Y/N alone," he interrupts her with his tone in a mixture of anger and determination, "I'm warning you, Criston. If you ever do anything else again without consulting me and interfering with this, I'm going to seriously consider firing you, which is what I should have done long ago," he shoots back at him with his defiant stare.

The pulse of the room beats with unbearable intensity as Aemond and Criston hold a duel of intense stares. However, in the face of Aemond's firmness, Criston finally resigns himself with a serious, annoyed look, full of frustration and resignation.

And finally he heads for the door, his footsteps sounding in the room as he leaves the apartment.

Aemond watches him leave with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, no longer feeling his shoulders tense. The silence expands once more as soon as the door closes and he turns to you with a gaze filled with a quiet, worried intensity.

The silence lingers for a few moments longer, a dense atmosphere charged with unspoken emotions. When he takes a step toward you, hesitantly.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice ringing with sincerity and regret, "What happened, my insistence… none of this was my intention, much less to cause you pain and hurt you," he admits with his vulnerability again reflected.

And even though it's just you and him in your apartment, your fear lingers.

"P-please don't take my son from me," you plead between sobs, your voice filled with anguish and fear.

Aemond's heart contracts in suffering and worry at your words, his gaze instantly reflecting it.

"What? No, no, Y/N… that is not what I want to do, it is not my intention to take our son from you."

He tells you instantly insistent but in a serene and sincere voice, taking a few more steps towards you, placing himself in front of you, trying to reassure you. But tears continue to slide down your cheeks.

"This is why I left, so I wouldn't cause you any more trouble, so I could live and keep our son safe," you repeat with your voice cracking.

"I know, Y/N, I know," he tells you sympathetically and with a soft tone, "And you don't know how much I hate myself for having been the cause of you deciding to leave, for having hurt you so much to the point of having made that decision," he says sincerely, his eye beginning to tear up, "And this is not just about him, about our son," he tries to explain, "Yes, it is important, but it is also about us," he speaks with a longing, "Since you left, I never stopped thinking about you, and I-I...

He hesitates, unable to fully express his feelings, as he stands in front of you and wants to hold you, you and your son, as he faces his deepest emotions, feeling a tear run down his cheek and looks at you with all the sincerity and pain in his gaze.

"I love you," he finally says, in a completely vulnerable whisper, trembling, lowering his gaze, unable to look you in the eye, "Despite everything, despite my mistakes, despite my work, despite everything that happened…. I-I still love you," he declares in a whisper laden with longing and regret, "And our son too."

His words get stuck in your mind.

With your heart clenched by the surge of emotions, your eyes watch him back with a mixture of surprise, pain and longing. Aemond's sincerity and vulnerability... it's all too much and makes you feel completely helpless, definitely not expecting that.

You can't speak, your words get stuck in your throat, your heart fluttering with the intensity of the moment, your surprise.

And Aemond completely understands your silence.

"I understand that you don't love me anymore and that you can't love me again, I also understand that things can't go back to the way they used to be because of my job. But please… don't keep running away," he pleads quietly, "We won't fight over custody, there will be no legal repercussions, I'm not going to do any of that," he assures you, "Just…" he lets out a long breath, "Just get back to work and let's face this together."

He proposes with his voice full of fragile but hopeful determination, unexpectedly causing you to feel a relief and a warm feeling in your chest.

"I just want Aenar to be okay and let's consider his well-being as the most important thing," you say quietly, while Aemond listens attentively with his face full of longing, regret and understanding, "But we need time and patience. Also that no one else interferes."

Aemond nods, with a slightly more relieved expression, but keeping in mind that there is much to resolve, to heal and to build.

"I understand that and… I'm willing to do whatever it takes… for him and for you," he says sincerely.

You nod too, as silence takes over again, but this time it is permeated with a shared understanding and a determination to face whatever is necessary for Aenar's well-being.

And finally after so much, you feel calm and fortunately, this time with the support of Aemond, who hesitantly leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead and another on Aenar's forehead, taking him back into his arms.

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@anehkael

[moamidzyism]

dance captains (c.yj)

☆。.:*·ﾟwc 2168 smut ౨ৎ minors DNI ˚⁺。˚ // repost  ୨୧ yeonjun x fem!reader, rivals to rivals with benefits, oral [masterlist • reblogs + feedback appreciated]

if there was one thing you were certain about, it was how much dancing meant to you. you loved coming up with new choreographies and seeing how you could bend your body in new ways. you loved the way you felt on stage, and the feeling afterwards, adrenaline pulsing through your veins, was even better. and you especially loved your dance team, and how eager every single one of them was to put on a good performance, and how willing they were to stay at practice later than they needed to make sure that everything fell into place.

however, sometimes, it was easy to forget all the things you loved so much about dance when you remembered that you had to work with choi yeonjun.

in your eyes, he was lazy. he was rude. he was so deeply unprofessional. he never showed up to practice on time. and when he bothered to grace the team with his presence, he always half assed it. and you’re pretty sure the only reason he was even captain was because his last name was on the building that you practiced at.

and today, like any other, he sauntered into the practice room forty five minutes late, holding a watered down iced americano in his hand.

“look who finally decided to come into practice.” you announced as he walked to the couch in the back of the practice room. he turned to glare at you. the tension between you two was palpable and you could feel the uncomfortable stares of the other dancers who had to deal with this tension every single practice.

“guys, why don’t we take five?” you tell the rest of the team. “not you,” you say to yeonjun, who was planning his escape from the room with the other dancers who quickly fled as soon as you made your announcement.

“what is it now?” he turned to face you with a tight lipped smile.

“you’re late,” you responded bluntly. “again.”

“whatever,” he dismissed you, placing his bag on the floor.

“don’t “whatever” me, yeonjun.” you begin, standing with your hands on your hips. “you made a huge deal about wanting to be captain but you can’t even be bothered to come into practice.”

“i’m here, aren’t i?”

“yeah, almost an hour late.”

“not that it’s any of your business, but i was busy.”

“doing what?”

“like i said, it’s none of your business.”

“god, are you always this infuriating?”

“are you always this uptight?”

“fuck you.” you counter as the dancers file back into the room.

right now yeonjun was the least of your problems. your university was hosting a festival at the end of the month that you were supposed to be performing at and your team was still very much behind. you didn’t waste any time to get back to practice after your teammates filled the room. standing at the front, you instructed them to pick up from where you left off.

as the music started, the studio came alive with movement and the dancers took their places as you and yeonjun monitored them making sure that their formation was correct and they moved in sync. throughout the practice, the dancers pushed themselves, and you could see their progression and improvement with each repetition of the choreography.

“thank you guys so much.” you acknowledge after practice ends. “you guys worked really hard today. i know we’ve been pushing you but we’re almost at the finish line. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

the others make their way out of the room and you make your way to yeonjun. “we need to work on the choreography for the second verse and the last chorus.”

“yeah, about that…” his voice trailed off.

“what about it?”

“i think we should scrap it.” he admits.

you scoff in response. “you’re not serious.”

“i thought about it.”

“that must have been a lot of work for you.” you roll your eyes, rummaging through your bag in search of your water bottle.

he clears his throat to get your attention. “i thought about it and i think the song is boring.”

“oh no,” you feign upset. “yeonjun thinks the song is boring so we have to change the choreography that the entire team has been working on for the past two weeks.”

“well i’m captain so i think i have a say in what choreography we do.”

“well we’re co-captains, so no, not quite.”

“i have an idea that i’ve been working on.” he pulls his phone from his back pocket and shows you a video of him dancing. the music began to play and it became evident that dancing was not just a skill for him. his body flowed so effortlessly. his movements were mesmerizing, blending his strength and his delicacy. he moved in perfect harmony with the rhythm.

“this is what you’ve been doing while you’ve been skipping practice?” you asked when the video ended.

“it’s good, right?”

“it’s okay.” you lied.

“why is it so hard for you to compliment me?” he looks up at you, and you realize just how close you are. you take a step back and clear your throat.

“it doesn’t matter if it’s good because we’re doing the original choreography that everyone has been working on already.”

he scoffs and connects his phone to the speakers in the room. he sits on the floor and begins his stretches. you join him on the floor. “i hate you so much, you know?” you tell him.

“well that’s good because i hate you more.”

“it’s not a competition.”

“but if it was, i would hate you the most.” he sticks his tongue out at you.

“you’re so fucking immature.”

“you’re just mad that you have to work with me.”

“yeah because i had so many plans for this team and now i have to run them by a manchild who only got his position because of his parents.”

the smirk on his face falls off and is quickly replaced with a scowl. “just show me the second verse you’ve been working on.”

he plays the song and you run through the choreography from the beginning. in that moment, the world around you fades away. you don’t even notice him moving to sit on the couch as you move along to the choreography, your body guided by the years of practice and dedication that you’ve poured into your craft. for some people it comes naturally. but for you, dance is a language that you��ve had to learn. you complete the choreography, satisfied with yourself.

that satisfaction quickly vanishes when you see yeonjun staring at you blankly. “what’s wrong with it?”

“nothing.” he answers with speed.

“then why are you looking at me like that?”

“it’s just…” he pauses to think.

“can you just spit it out?”

“you’re a really good dancer.”

you laugh. “yeah, that’s kinda how i became captain of this team.”

“why thank you yeonjun. that was really kind of you.” he mocks you.

“i’m just saying, i know.”

“yeah, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you dance like this before.”

“well if you came to practice you would see me dance.” you move to sit beside him on the couch. 

“okay, fair enough.” he scoots away from you, his posture tenses up. you look him up and down, your eyes stopping at the bulge in his pants that he was trying his best (and failing) to hide. you burst out in laughter.

“oh my god! are you hard right now?” you say between laughs, clutching your stomach.

“no i’m not.” he defends himself, turning his face away from you in embarrassment.

“oh c’mon junie, look at me.” you tilt his face towards you.

“fuck you.” he pulls away from your touch.

“oh i know you want to.”

“please, go to hell.”

“why? wouldn’t you rather me stay here and help you.” his head snaps back in your direction. you try to stifle your laugh.

“you’re fucking with me.”

“so, you don’t want me to help you?”

“no,” he says a little too eagerly. “i mean, i do want you to help me.” he swallows. you cross over to sit on his lap, straddling him. his breath hitches when you lock eyes, yours conveying fascination, waiting to see who dared to make the first move. it was a battle of wills, a sort of unspoken challenge to see who would be the first to surrender to the intoxicating pull between the two of you.

“i hate you,” he finally breaks the silence. his arms tightly snake around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. “so fucking much.”

you press your lips against his. “i hate you too,” you tell him and you mean it. your lips meet in a fiery, intense kiss. as if a pipe had burst and all the years of pent-up frustration had been released. he pulls you deeper into the kiss and you respond with your fingers playing in his hair.

as your lips parted, you locked eyes again in a mix of passion and anger. your gaze was torn between the intensity of the moment and the bitterness that you let fester since the day you met him. his grip on your waist still firm, you looked at him with a mixture of frustration and yearning. “i knew you always wanted me.” a smirk plastered on his face.

“shut up.” you pulled him back into a kiss, your hands sliding from his face down his torso, your fingers tracing over the curves and planes of his body, until they found refuge on the waistband of his shorts. “tell me how much you need me.” you whisper against his lips.

“don’t play with me.” he groans.

“need you to tell me, junie.” you pepper kisses on his neck. “not gonna do anything until you do.”

“god, i need you,” he surrenders to you just like you wanted. “need you so bad.” he melts under your touch and you smile as you make your way down to your knees, slowly releasing his dick from his shorts.

“s’all i wanted to hear.” you wrap your lips around him, starting at the tip and steadily working your way down, letting your tongue wander over every part of him. he throws his head back and your name escapes his lips like a mantra.

he flips between wanting to worship your mouth and reeling in the fact that he has you here, on your knees, sucking the life out of him. his hands travel down to grasp the back of your neck, his hips thrusting upwards as you bob up and down on his length. “who would have thought? your mouth good for something other than complaining?” he breathes out between moans.

his whines are pathetic as you pick up the pace. “fuck,” he cups your face, titling your head upwards so you’re looking him in the eye. “you look so pretty with my dick in your mouth, baby.”

if the near silent moans that escaped his lips as he hung his head back weren’t enough to off of, the stutter of his hips gave away the fact that he was so close to his release. you slow down, swirling your tongue around the tip before detaching with a lewd pop. “what are you doing?” he asks, his face betrayed with confusion.

“if you think you’re going to cum in my mouth just like that, you’re sorely mistaken.” you get up. “if you want to come, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

he lays you back on the couch, scattering kisses on your stomach as he pulls your leggings down to your knees. he bites down onto the flesh of your inner thigh before placing soft kisses on your clothed cunt. “this is what you wanted, right? me between your legs?”

“just shut up and eat me out.”

with that slides your underwear down and buries his face in your pussy, his head moving up and down as he moans against you, the vibrations send chills down your spine. like a dehydrated man in search of an oasis, yeonjun’s tongue laps your pussy eagerly, his sloppy ruts causing his nose to bump against your nose. “fuck, god, you taste so fucking good.”

you tighten your grip on his hair as you inch closer to your orgasm. you feel him smile against your core. “fuck jun…” head thrown back, you cum with a breathless moan, fingers holding onto him with dear life, as if someone was about to take him away from you.

his face was covered with your arousal when he came up for air. he drew closer to kiss you. “lemme fuck you.” he asks between kisses. “wanna make you feel so good, baby.”

“we have to work on the choreography.”

“but you promised that if i made you cum, you would let me finish.”

“i said you needed to work for it.” you lightly push him off of you. “still need to work for it.”

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[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

HI OKAY SO IM THINKING LIKE VOX X READER AND VOX OWNS READERS SOUL AND THEN HE GETS JEALOUS OR ANGRY ABOUT SOMETHING SO LIKE WE RECREATE THAT SCENE WITH HUSK AND ALASTOR WHEN ALASTOR HAS HUSK ON A CHAIN BUT INSTEAD OF ALASTOR ITS VOX AND INSTEAD OF HUSK ITS READER IF U KNOW WHAT I MEANN TYYY

Guess who's baaaaaaaaack~

Lock and Key [Vox x Reader] - Part 1

It had been weeks. Three fucking weeks. Three weeks since the Radio Demon tuned back into the spotlight of Hell. Three weeks since Vox had been anything more than a vengeful shell of himself fueled by broken memories and spite. Three weeks since he'd so much as looked your way. You walk into his surveillance room, smiling softly at the sharks swimming in the inky depths far below the path. They'd made you a bit paranoid at first, but you've come to grow fond of the cyborg creatures. Your smile dims as you look up at the silhouette of Vox crouched over his dashboard, his eyes flickering as he obsessively drums his claws against sleek metal.

It had been ages since he'd even acknowledged your presence, let alone addressed you directly. His attention had been entirely consumed by his revenge fantasies and bitter recollections of the past.

“Vox, you should take a break,” you sigh, putting a hand on his shoulder as you try to get enough of his attention to at least warrant a glance. Vox's fingers pause in their drumming as he looks up at you, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face as he shrugs your hand off him.

"I don't need a break," He mutters, his tone as sharp as his clawed fingers. "I need Alastor dead."

His eyes are fixed on one of the screens displaying Alastor's image. He's been obsessively watching his every move ever since the Radio Demon's return. "Besides," he adds, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "Why would I listen to you? I didn’t take you on as a babysitter.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath as your worries are confirmed. Ever since his descent into obsession, he'd become sharp-tongued. He was always like that with the Vee's or his assistant Reef. But not you. Never you. Not until Alastor appeared.

"Vox, it's been weeks. I can watch the monitors for you if you're that worried about missing something. Just sleep. Eat. Go for a walk. Something," you plead. As you speak, Vox's jaw twitches slightly, his gaze flickering over the cameras trained on the hotel and Cannibal Town. "You don't understand, do you? This isn't a game." He taps a clawed finger against the screen, frustration growing in his voice. "You have no idea what this fucker is capable of. He's got something planned with that Morningstar bitch. I just know it.”

He turns away from the screen to fix a cold glare on you.

"And I don't need you to tell me how to handle MY business." You look to the side with a hurt frown, no longer bothering to hide the way his sharp tone makes you flinch. You'd fallen for him and there were times you wondered, hoped that he felt the same. But before you'd ever been able to find out, Alastor returned, destroying any hope you had left being crushed in the process.

"The other Vee's still need you Vox. The company still needs you."

I still need you.

Left unspoken. Because you didn't have the right to say it. You were a lowly employee he had taken an interest in and swept out from under Velvette with a deal after he grew fond of you. He kept you by his side like some sort of pet. You didn't have to work. In exchange for your soul, your only purpose was to stay by his side. 

As you bring up the subject of the company and the Vee's, a flicker of something almost akin to regret crosses his face. He knows that his current state is taking a toll on his work life.

But he shoves it down with a sneer of irritation.

"The others can manage without me for a while," he says dismissively. "And the company practically runs itself anyway. I've got everything under control."

He glances at you again, his gaze lingering on your hurt expression. Despite his efforts to push you away, a pang of guilt shoots through him. However, it's gone the second he thinks he hears a sound from one of the drones watching the hotel. His head whips around and he curses as he reviews the missed footage. The drone footage shows nothing but mundane scenes of the hotel, with no sign of Alastor or any suspicious activity. This only fuels Vox's irritation, and he slams his fist on the dash in frustration.

"Damn it!" He hisses, his gaze darkening. "I knew I shouldn't have let my guard down."

He stands up abruptly, turning to look at you with an accusatory glare.

"Out. Now." Your eyes widen and you hold up a hand as you try to calm him. "Wait. Just hang on a second, there wasn't even anything on the-" "I don't care," he snaps, interrupting you mid-sentence as his eye flares. "I told you, I can't afford to have any distractions. And you, with your endless nagging, are the biggest one of them all."

He steps closer, towering over you and giving an icy glare that cuts off any further protests.

"I said OUT. Now." You're teleported out of his lair and fall on your ass in the shared penthouse lobby of the Vee's upstairs. Valentino blinks, looking mildly surprised from where he lounges on the couch. Val watches curiously as you stumble, a sly smile spreading across his face. He rises from his place on the couch, slinking closer to you with a lazy grace.

"Looks like Voxy is getting a little bit cranky again, hm?" he teases, his voice low and sultry. "What'd you do to get on his bad side this time, darling?" "I had the audacity to suggest he take a break," you laugh dryly as you flop into the chair beside the couch. Val chuckles, settling back into the couch and taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Big mistake there," he muses. "Vox gets prickly as hell when he's on edge, and right now, he's on edge 24/7. Ever since that damn Alastor got back."

He gives you an appraising look.

"Though I gotta say, you do seem to have him in a bit of a twist."

A small chuckle would leave Valentino’s lips upon hearing that as he reached over and patted your head a few times.

“I just wish he’d get Alastor’s cane out of his ass,” you groan as you drag a hand down your face. “He’s a fucking mess.”

“Oh, you sweet summer bitch. This is nothing compared to how he was when the Radio Demon first fucked off,” He remarked as he picked up his bottle again, taking a swig of his vodka.

"He wouldn’t eat, go to work… Wouldn’t even leave that stupid bunker he made for himself back in the day. All the dude did was obsess over Alastor. I nearly ditched his ass, but then his obsession took a new turn. Being better than the old prick. Now we have the Vee's."

Valentino’s eyes softened with a distant look as he spoke. It was the most contemplative you’d seen him. But it’s gone as he takes another swig of his bottle.

"So... what? Just wait it out?" you ask as you take in his experiences, opting not to comment that instead of breakfast, Valentino was nursing Vodka like it was his morning coffee.

Valentino chuckled. “Pretty much. He’ll either run himself into the ground or eventually snap himself out of it. He won’t bend for you. He wouldn’t bend for me. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing for me… Doesn’t have to be for you, either,” He said as he frowned at his empty bottle before tossing it to the side.

“If anything, consider it as time off. Let loose. Make the most of it,” he shrugs as he snaps and Kitty brings him a new bottle. 

“If he's not giving you dick then go get some fucking dick. I can't remember the last time I saw you anywhere but at his heel."

You sigh as you lean back and consider it. You and Vox weren't exclusive... Even if you wish you were. Sure, there were the occasional moments of something more. Something real. But he's Vox. And you're... just you.

Ultimately, there's no reason for you to be so devoted to a man who probably sleeps around just as much as Valentino. Especially when he obviously cared so little for you now.

Valentino watched as the gears in your head seemed to turn, a small smirk making it’s way across his face as he watched you. He didn’t need to ask what you were thinking. He knew exactly what was going on inside that pretty little head of yours.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” He teased, the smirk on his face only growing.

"Not with you, if that's what you're hoping," you say as you stick out your tongue at him.

A small chuckle left Valentino’s lips upon hearing that as he shook his head.

“You know me so well~” He remarked before pausing for a moment, resting his head on his hand as he continued to watch you. “But seriously, do it. It’ll do you some good. Want me to set you up with one of my whores?"

"Maybe nothing that direct," you wince. It wasn't that you hated the idea. You preferred things to happen in the moment, rather than schedule getting bent in half. "Got any club recommendations, though?" -----

And that's how you found yourself in a loud club, sitting at the bar and regretting the life choice of listening to Valentino of all people. The club was loud, your skirt kept riding up your thigh, and the drinks were overpriced as fuck. This had sounded like a fun idea at the time, but now you remembered why you never really did this.

You're just about to call it a night when a sinner comes up next to you and waves down the bartender.

"Two shots for me and the pretty lady who looks like she'd rather be anywhere but here," he says before grinning at you with a wink.

You hadn’t even noticed this man’s approach to the bar, let alone that he was now sitting beside you as he called over the bartender.

As you listened to him order two shots for the two of you, your eyes rolled a little as you found yourself internally groaning at the prospect of needing to talk to someone new. You’d much rather be sulking at home, staring at the wall as you waited for your boss to finish up with his obsession. Yet, here you were.

"That obvious?" You chuckle sheepishly as the bartender puts two shot glasses down and pours a glowing blue liquid into them.

He chuckled alongside you as he watched the bartender pour the shots before turning to you, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Pretty obvious. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so unhappy in a club before and trust me, that's saying something." He commented with a wink as he picked up one of the shot glasses, offering it to you.

You hesitate for a moment before taking the shot glass with a small smile and a nod.

You both chuck back the drinks, though the stranger does it with far more ease than you. You cough and sputter as you feel an icy hot feeling rush through your chest as you put down the glass. "Oh, wow. That's..." you laugh as you try to adjust to the feeling and hit your chest.

The stranger chuckled as he watched you struggle to handle the shot, clearly amused by your reaction to the drink.

"That's a strong drink, sweetheart," he remarked. "First time in a club? You seem a little out of your element."

"Just a bit," you chuckle before sighing and turning to lean on the bar and watch all the people on the dance floor.

"An... acquaintance suggested I come here and try to get laid to get over this dick I've been pining over,” you hum. “He's too busy obsessing over someone from his past. Plus, he's my boss. Unrequited doesn't even begin to cover it."

The stranger chuckled once more as he listened, his eyes roaming over your form for a moment before resting his head in his hand on the bar. He took a moment as he watched you before speaking up again.

"Let me guess. You're the secretary to some important and well-known Overlord and you're a little too fixated on him, huh?"

Your eyes widen before you throw your head back with a groan. "Oh my god, Valentino sent you, didn't he?"

The stranger laughed as he watched your eyes widen and your head fall back in frustration, clearly entertained by your reaction.

"He didn't 'send' me, per se. He just mentioned how miserable you've been lately and how he suggested you come here and get lucky."

He paused for a moment, his eyes raking over your form once more. "Although, I can definitely see why he'd want you to get laid."

You sigh and open your mouth to reply when your phone suddenly buzzes in your pocket. You hold up a finger, asking for a moment as you pull out your phone and see who texted you.

There's a single message from Velvette that reads, "You owe me for this."

You quirk a confused brow at the lack of context, shaking your head and pocketing your phone before turning to face Valentino's employee again.

"Tell you what," you hum. "Two more of those shots, and I'm yours."

His grin widens. "Now that's something I like to hear," he remarked as he leaned in a little closer to you as he motioned over the bartender again.

"Two more shots of the good stuff. And make them both a double."

Everything becomes a blur after downing the alcohol. Hands on your body, lights flashing, music pounding in your ears as he grinds against you on the dance floor.

It's supposed to feel good. In a way, it does. But as you close your eyes, you can't help but find yourself wishing the soft fingers brushing over your skin were cool metal claws. That the sweeter smelling cologne was the sharper scent of your boss's. That it was him instead of a stranger.

The stranger's hands continued to roam your body as his lips found their way to your neck, littering your skin with kisses and small nips with his teeth. His hands grabbed your hips firmly, pulling you closer to him as he ground against you.

As you closed your eyes, your mind was filled with thoughts and memories of your boss. The way his claws felt against your skin, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the way he looked at you like you were a rare piece of art. It was a stark contrast to the current situation.

Is this really supposed to make you feel better? If so, why does your stomach feel like it's tangled in a knot? Why do you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes despite the heat pooling in your core?

Despite the pleasure you were feeling from the stranger's touch, you couldn't shake off the feeling of emptiness and disappointment. Every moment that passed felt more and more wrong. It all served as a cruel reminder that the person you truly wanted wasn't the one touching you.

Your stomach was in knots, and tears were threatening to fall as the stranger's lips trailed along your neck, leaving small marks in their wake. You clenched your fists as you fought the urge to push him away and run out of the club.

And then suddenly a hand grabs your wrist and yanks you to the side. Your eyes widen as you drunkenly stumble into arms that only take a moment for you to register as familiar. 

The stranger's eyes widen in surprise as Vox suddenly grabs your wrist and pulls you roughly towards him, his claws digging into your skin leaving small impressions in their wake. His glare towards the sinner who had just been feeling you up was sharp and deadly, his eyes fixated on the man as he held you tightly against his chest.

"Your services are no longer required. Beat it." He growled, his voice low and filled with anger.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest as you found yourself pressed against Vox's chest, the feel of his claws still digging into your skin. He held you tightly, possessively almost.

Before the sinner can reply, you and Vox suddenly disappear with a flash of cyan light. He takes you back to his office in the Vee's tower and you're only given a small moment to reorient yourself from the electric buzz in your veins.

"You," Vox's voice broke the silence, his tone filled with a mixture of anger and something else you couldn't quite place. His claws dug harshly into your arms as he forced you to look up at him.

"Ẃ̴̡ĥ̵͚a̸̗̎t̷͕͌.̶̻̐ ̶̰̃W̸̹̅e̴̡̅r̸̬͝e̷͎͘.̶̤̎ ̴̻͠Y̴͎̋ō̵͎ủ̸̯.̷̬̈́ ̷̬̾T̸̛͍ḧ̸͉́i̴̭̅n̸̞̆k̷̡͐i̶̦͝n̷͉͐g̸̱͝?̴͚͋"

Later on, you'd blame your bold honesty on the alcohol. But in the moment, there wasn't any rational thought or self-preservation left in your mind as you frowned and pulled his hand off of you despite how much you had been craving his touch.

"What does it matter to you? Shouldn't you be in your little stalking cave trying to watch the Radio Demon? It's all you ever do anymore."

Vox's eyes widened slightly in surprise as you pulled his hand away from you, his expression hardening at your words. The tone in your voice was bitter and laced with anger. But he didn't miss the underlying note of hurt underneath.

"So you go and throw yourself at a stranger instead? How is that better?" He shot back, his tone sharp and laced with irritation.

"Maybe it is!" you lie as you throw your hands up. "At least that guy looked at me. It was one thing when you would blow me off for Valentino. That was something I already knew I was getting into when whatever this started," you say as you gesture between the two of you.

"But you never so much as mentioned Alastor. The guy reappears and suddenly he's all you care about," you huff as the tension builds. "If you can't be damned to so much as look my way, then it isn't your business if I find someone else to fuck me, now is it?"

Vox's eyes darkened at your words, his jaw clenching as he took in your words. He could feel the tension between you growing, the air in the room thick with anger and hurt.

"Oh, is that what this is about? You're jealous because I've been focused on Alastor?" He questioned, his voice low and sharp. "Did it ever occur to you that this is important to me? That there's a reason I've been so preoccupied?"

"Of course it did!" you snap. "You think this is just about sex? I tried to be there for you! I tried to ask! I tried to understand! Tried to pull you away from your obsession long enough to at least sleep! But it was like I was invisible."

You pinch your brow, trying to keep yourself from crying angry tears. You didn't want to look weak. "Look. I got the message. Okay? Valentino and Alastor. You clearly have priorities and as your little fucking pet or whatever, far be it for me to get in the way of that."

You turn on your heel to walk away and to your credit, you make it a few steps before the air charges with electricity. Your breath catches in your throat as a collar made of his signature cyan plasma materializes around your neck, linked to a chain that suddenly goes taught as he pulls.

You yelp as you're spun around and forced to the ground, just barely catching yourself with your hands as he seethes above you.

He had almost felt guilty. The burning in his chest told him that he still did. But then you tried to walk away from him and he found himself unable to let you leave. As soon as you turned, something in him born of all the exhaustion and frustration of the past month made him snap. He yanked at the chain, his eyes focused and intense as he glared down at you.

"You're not going anywhere," he growled, his voice filled with a mix of anger, frustration, and something else. His hand gripped the chain tightly as he pulled you closer, forcing you to stay on the ground at his feet.

"You don't get to just walk away like that. Not after all this. I own you. He pulls on the chain, looping the excess length around his hand. “If I say you're not fucking around with other lowlifes then you're not. If I say you will sit at my heel every day for the next week to make up for this insolence, then you fucking ŵ̶͔i̵͕͛l̵̖̓l̸̩͠.̴̙̋ You whimper as he yanks harder, making you choke and stumble forward.

He continues with a feral edge to his grin as he pays you no sympathy. “Because you're mine, damn it. You don't get to vanish on me. You don't get to leave me for a dumb w̸̩̍h̵͔̕o̷̡̓r̸͍̃ȅ̷̹," he grits his teeth as he pulls the chain taught. Memories of Alastor and Valentino race through his mind. He wouldn't be second place to someone else. Not again.

"I won't allow you the luxury,” he says with a quiver in his voice as his screen dims temporarily.

He shakes his head, the light returning to his face as his grip tightens. "You're not going anywhere," he growled, his voice filled with a mix of anger, frustration, and something else.

The anger in his voice and his rough treatment of the chain around your neck surprised even him. He was possessive, that's no secret, but he had never acted like this before. The idea of you slipping away and finding comfort in someone else's arms made his blood boil.

His hand gripped the chain tightly, forcing you to look up at him as he stood over you. His eyes were intense, one spiraling with his unbridled emotions.

You instinctively crawl forward as he tugs on the electric shackles, wrapping the length of it around his other hand in a way that really shouldn't be doing things to you the way it is.

He leans down and takes your chin over his claw. "Even if my attention is pulled away temporarily, that doesn't change our contract,” he hums with an almost bored expression as he tilts your face this way and that before tightening his grip. “You're mine,” he growls as he lifts you off of your knees by your face. He ignores your yelp of pain, opting to revel in the blood blossoming across your jawline. “If I say you're to stay by my side, then you stay by my side. That is your only purpose and you'll fulfill it. Do you understand?" He hissed, his voice low and filled with two opposing fires of frustration burning away at the core of his very being.

"I tried to be by your side, but-" A scream cuts off your protests as the chain sparks to life and shocks your entire body. Your head drops down as you pant heavily, squeezing your eyes shut tight as stars dance across your vision.

Vox's eyes darken further as you try to protest again. His irritation only increases as he remembers the scolding he got from Velvette. She was the one who told him about Valentino’s plan to send you to a club to meet one of his employees. Valentino had been waiting for a way to get back at Vox for something else and he’d found it. 

It took Velvette’s lack of tolerance for his shit to finally snap him out of the dickish headspace he’d been in. She sat him down and forced him to watch the footage of his behavior the last week and to look at the business’s declining numbers. He knew he had been short with you, but he didn’t realize for how long he’d neglected and snapped at you.

He never did know how to deal with the feeling of guilt.

Without warning, he gives the chain a sharp yank, causing the chain to spark to life, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Your head drops down and your eyes squeeze shut as you cry out in surprise.

"I don't want excuses. I want you to o̵b̶e̷y̶,” He growls, pushing down the squirming shame in the depths of his synthetic chest. “You do what I say, when I say it. You will not go behind my back and do whatever the hell you want."

A grin worthy of a showman like himself spreads on his screen, displaying the nature of his rage as he uses the tip of his boot to lift your chin. "Now. Let's try that again."

to be continued...

[miguel-ohara-lover]

Stress

CW: Smut, little dialogue, gn!reader, no reader description so it should hopefully work for everyone(I hope)

A/N: I’m a bit rusty idk how good this’ll be-

As Miguel worked tirelessly on monitoring and protecting the multiverse, you couldn’t help but notice just how tense and stressed he constantly seemed. You felt the need to aid him, but any attempt to interrupt his work usually lead to a groan and some excuse for you to leave. Well, more like an order to leave disguised.

Your eyes drifted over his body, his tensed shoulders and back down to his legs where his large hand resting, fingers drumming against his thigh as he watched the screens. He didn’t notice your presence at the moment, he got used to tuning out anyone who would dare walk through, it was a waste of time acknowledging them from his platform. It wasn’t much of a surprise when he failed to realize you getting closer.

Currently his platform was only a foot off the floor, it was lunch time so it’s likely he had the fleeting thought to leave his office, long enough to lower the platform, before quickly deciding it wasn’t worth his time. He only noticed you once you stepped onto the platform, but he didn’t turn around to greet you just yet. Only when your hands landed on his shoulders did he bother to pay attention to a presence in the room.

You felt his muscles tense more at the touch, as if without words he was asking what you were doing. You answered despite not hearing a question.

“You’re very tense, Miguel. Taking a break would be very good for you.” You lean down, speaking softly into his ear. As he listened to your voice his shoulders relaxed slightly. He remained silent but allowed you to massage the stress away. Even if it was just for this moment, he’ll allow himself to relax.

The tension left his muscles, and soon filled the air. You two were no strangers, but it was more of a one night stand, years ago, but you always longed for that again. Your hands drifted down his back, then back up and over his shoulders.

Miguel leaned his head back, his red eyes meeting yours. Your hands stopped a moment and he made a ‘come here’ gesture with his finger. You could only guess what he meant, and after a moment of thinking whether sleeping with your boss was a good idea, you decided you don’t care. Slowly you walk around until you are in front of him.

His hands reach up to your hips, and before you could consider what he may do next, you’re swiftly pulling into his lap. The look on your face must have been one of surprise, his next move being some half-ass way of saying you started this. He didn’t seem angry, which is a surprise, but one you were grateful for.

The holographic suit dissolved bellow you, and you could suddenly feel what he had kept hidden underneath. The blush on your cheeks grew as you realized how impatient he seemed. His hands were fast to remove your clothes, just enough for your activities to come. He wanted to make this quick, his mind still busy with his work.

Your hands settled on his shoulders, fingers digging into his rough skin as he guided you onto his shaft. As hard as you try, you can’t keep the noises from escaping you. He, on the other hand, loved those noises. It was music to his ears, and such a shame he couldn’t hear it more often.

His hands gripped her waist as he moved you up and down, his strength not allowing you to move freely, ain’t was he used your hole like his own personal toy. His grip was strong and demanding, and it turned you on oh so much. Your fingers moved up and tangled in his hair as you leaned in for a sloppy kiss.

The pace quickened as the activity turned from transactional to more intimate. Perhaps he can let himself go for a bit, get lost in the warmth of your presence, the feeling of your lips on his, your tightness around his length. Yes, he could definitely get used to this.

As you bounced on his lap, the only sounds filling the air being your moans and skip hitting skin, you felt your release build up. You knew it would be soon, his size and speed ensured that. He had to be close too, his pace becoming for irregular, his breathing deeper, and perhaps a few noises left him as well.

You rocked your hips slightly and felt him buck under you as he spilled inside you, filling you up like he did all those years ago. It was still as amazing as it was then, and it was the final straw, the last push you needed to join him in sweet ecstasy. Your lips clashed in one final passionate kiss, both of you panting as you pulled away.

He let you sit in his lap as the two of you came down from your high, maybe even longer. Miguel seemed to grow fond of your presence, not making you leave as soon as he was done with you. His hand moved gently up and down your back as you rested your head on his shoulder. Yes, he could definitely get used to this…

[fuckmycrane]

Testing — Dr. Jonathan Crane.

— CW: 18+, smut, noncon! (DNI if uncomfortable 😴), fisting, slight spit kink, Crane using medical language? Rubber gloves! | word count: 2k!

— a/n: I don't know how to tag! This came to me before bed the other day. SUPER GRATEFUL AND FOREVER IN LOVE WITH @pictureinme for beta-reading this! I love you so much pookie 💌.

A shiver runs down your spine as Dr. Crane's camera on the tripod flashes red— an ominous light that warns your humiliation is being recorded.

Your legs are stretched out wide on the cold metal table, chained to the bars on each side, strains reserved for patients in the consulting room who refuse to be sedated. Reserved to those who will involve to be a problem to Dr. Crane, your boss. Hands above your head, your fingers curl around the wire he used to tie your wrists together. Too tight, it felt like a punishment. The blood circulation was slow, causing them to feel numb.

He had to improvise, the sedative he administrated in your morning coffee was a mild dose, enough to keep you knocked out for at least 40 minutes— enough for him to drag you to his private laboratory, undress you, and tie you up. 

Reaching inside the pocket of his pristine lab coat, Crane brings the voice recorder to his mouth, clicking the thick button and twitching in excitement at the mute sound of the tapes rolling inside the device.

“October 14th, 2001,” He speaks, looking at you from behind his thin glasses. “Test subject is awake now, they appear to be responding normally. I will be monitoring them for the next few hours to ensure continued stability. Will report any significant changes in behavior immediately.” 

Clicking the button again, Crane returns the recorder inside his pocket, approaching you with cautious steps— similar to a predator looming over its helpless, little prey; even his eyes hold that harpy gaze. Cold and relentless, your body shivers in fear. The same fear he thrives on, the same fear that makes his blood circulate and sends an excited beat to his heart. 

Your mouth opens but before a sound comes out he raises her hand in a shutting motion, to which you surprisingly obey in response. “Don’t even try,” he warns you, reaching for a tiny box on the tall desk next to your bed. “This experiment is happening either way.” 

Sliding the blue rubber glove over his right hand, Jonathan stretches it, letting it snap with a loud sound. His eyes never leave your face which is a remarkable show of professionalism, taking into consideration your lack of clothes, and the awkward, obscene position. Standing next to you, his index finger traces from your knee to your hip, relishing the way your body squirms uncomfortably. Grasping the recorder once more, he turns it on before leaving it next to the box where he retrieved the gloves from, returning his attention to you.

“Subject internally rejects light physical stimuli,” He repeats the action, going from knee to thigh over and over, the rubber sliding smoothly from the cold sweat of fear that grants your body a soft glow. “Their body appears to be affected by the fear and anxiety. Mild sweating, constant twitching.”

Crane’s finger ventures to the inside of your thigh, raising goosebumps on your skin. An eternity passes until he finally comes in contact with your mound, pressing it softly with his fingerpad. The uneasy pressure makes you choke a sob, a sob that isn’t acknowledged by the doctor. Lower, he begins to circle your clit in slow, methodical circles. The sensation makes your legs tense, instinctively try to close them but are not allowed to do so, thanks to the restraints. Crane watches you with an unamused expression, noticing how lost you are in distress to notice how his leg twitches slightly at the sight of such a pretty face denying the pleasure. The pressure over your clit increases but the pace stays the same, giving you a similar feeling of breathlessness and dizziness. He knows what he is doing, how couldn’t he? Such a brilliant mind, such skilled fingers… he knows.

Closing your eyes shut, your brain shortcuts for seconds, trying to reject the pleasure that Jonathan’s ministrations provide— you shouldn’t, succumbing isn’t an option. Tears silently trickle down your flushed cheeks, embarrassed by your own natural body response. The slick is slowly but surely building up in between your legs, and it’s just a matter of time for Crane to notice it. You wish you could scream, curse him, damn him, and send his soul to hell— but it’s difficult to even breathe. The confusing mix of fear and innate pleasure clouds your common sense.

“Patient is responding correctly to clitoral stimulation,” His deep voice snatches you from your internal battle, snapping your eyes open and finding those same blue eyes that you grew accustomed to, watching you as if you were a mere lab rat. “But, they appear to be having a moral conflict.” 

Perhaps you are. 

When he stops his circling over your clit, a sigh of relief escapes from your lips, but you are disgusted by the sting of disappointment that your body sends you; The ease doesn’t last long, as his finger slides between your folds, gathering the slick and bringing back to your clit briefly. 

He inserts a finger, unhurriedly. He has all the time in the world— it is not like you are leaving anyway. Jonathan breaks the eye contact and focuses on opening you up carefully; It’s easy to read he is not doing it because he is scared of hurting you, it is because causing you pain in this state will lower his experiments. The pace of his digit mimics the one he created before, methodical. Everything about him appears premeditated. Curling his index finger, it takes him around eight seconds to locate your G-spot, rubbing it with expertise and ease; “It appears to be a considerable amount of lubrication,” He continues speaking to the recorder, speeding up his movements slightly. “Corporeal response is positive, the experiment is going as planned”

Planned. That word strikes a cord inside your hazy mind. So he already intended to do this.

A second finger joins, spreading you, but not in a painful way. In fact, the remorse falters, as the pleasure begins to build, strong and hopeless to avoid. Repeating the same curling motion, Jonathan’s hand twitches when he hears the first moan of the evening. It’s weak, but something like that will never go unnoticed. 

“Patient is showing vocal responses after two fingers, vaginal stimulation is going as expected.” 

A wave of heat starts to crumble the last bits of your will, he knows what he is doing— the bastard fucking knows. A new set of tears swell up in your eyes, falling without you doing much to stop them. A meek sob that breaks into a choked moan catches the doctor’s attention, his rosy lips curling into a wicked smile. This is probably the first time you had ever seen Crane smile. Your cunt and his fingers work together to create an obscene wet sound, smearing it all over your labia and printing it with fire and fear in your mind.

A third finger prods outside your aching hole, threatening; When it joins the party, that same stretch comes back— once again not uncomfortable.

“Three fingers have been inserted now,” Crane says, his voice faltering at the end of the sentence. “The patient shows no signs of pain nor discomfort”

Faster, his fingers are going faster now. Three fingers plugging in and out of you without any hint of mercy or consideration. You dare to bend your neck, a sick need to watch his hand invading you, only to find his hand soaked. Involuntary, your cunt clench around his fingers, something that also was noticed.

Expecting him to talk again to the voice recorder, only to encounter a quicker pace, your back arches, the cold laboratory bed suddenly too cold for the boiling temperature of your body. A cloud of guilty pleasure numbs your brain— unable to register the fourth finger peeking at your pussy.

The intrusion hurts, the current lubrication not enough to save the painful stretch. Jonathan notices this, an expert in reading body language; “In response to the fourth finger, the patient has experienced slight pain. After a quick thought, I have come to the conclusion that the rubber gloves inhibit the vagina lubrication to be sufficient.” 

Removing your fingers from your cunt, you watch with half-lidded eyes how he practically rips the glove off his hand, almost frustrated. Returning his now bare fingers to your poor hole, a mewl escapes your lips when he returns three fingers, humming at the clear difference of sensations.

His fingers, his skin is a whole different sensation than the damn rubber. His pinky finger sneaks in again, but your pussy clenches, making the intrusion painful again. Crane huffs in annoyance, bending over and hovering over your crotch, gathering saliva in his mouth and spitting right in your pussy. The action, which perhaps holds strictly experimental intentions, is so perverted it makes your stomach flutter— erotic, that was erotic.

You find Dr. Crane spitting on your pussy erotic.

“Fucking finally,” he whispers.

In no time, and thanks to the skin-to-skin contact, the penetration is easier, for him at least. Four fingers slide in and out effortlessly, as your legs begin to shake, and the tight knot in your lower region threatens to snap.

“You are not allowed to come,'' his stern voice is like a fork scraping against a porcelain plate— dominant and authoritarian. “Hold it, or there will be consequences.”

The promise of a punishment for disobeying is even scarier than the possible consequences, causing you to nod and succumb to his wishes— although you don’t have much choice.

His other hand, which had been fidgeting around ever since his touch over your skin started, approaches your clit dangerously, pressing his thumb on the swollen nub, reminiscing of the circles he did an hour prior, this time tighter— faster.

His actions are lewd, definitely illegal— your noises are lewd, definitely unwilling. Your body thrashes over the metal, yanking the restraints with little success to lose them. The rational instinct screams at you to move, fight— but the overwhelming sensations act like a drug. His fingers curl in an odd position, and before you can react, his thumb slides in.

Fitting his whole hand inside your poor, stretched, wet hole. 

He moves his hand slowly, testing the waters. This is the crucial part of the experiment, one false move and everything will be extremely painful to you.

Torturing your clit, Jonathan uses the lubrication and his saliva to move his hand, keeping his fingers straight and still— ignoring the uncomfortable erection straining against his slacks. 

“The experiment has been a success. The patient has been able to fit my hand inside them. There are no signs of pain, discomfort, or physical rejection—” His voice shakes slightly, as if he was fighting to keep composure the same way you fought the pleasure that his unwanted touch gave you.

That's when the real thing begins.

Crane’s hand curls into a fist, making you moan louder. How can something so twisted feel so good? Lowering your watery gaze, the borderline pornographic view of being fucked by your boss’ fist sends you to a frenzied state. He keeps forcing his fist inside you, uncurling his finger lightly every now and then just to add a new sensation. 

“Good…” He pants, biting his lower lip. “Come. You can come now.”

And you do. Oh, you do. 

His hand assaults your pussy, stretching it beyond limits and giving you the most mind–blowing, earth–shattering, painful orgasm you had ever experienced in your life. Your clit burns from the rough treatment, and something whispers in the back of your drowning mind, that even if you manage to see the light of another day if Crane decided to let you go; you will never find something as pleasurable as what he just did.

To you. To your body. To your mind.

The realization, the crude reality— breaks the thin veil of lust. Crying, sobbing, screaming— the voice you seemed to have lost while he experimented with you finally came back. 

Jonathan wipes his wet hand with his lab coat, reaching for the recorder. His black shoes click on the white tiles of the consultation room as he approaches the camera, clicking the «play» button off, the red light winking at you before disappearing.

Until next time. 

Dr. Crane licks his lips, his cold blue eyes glistening with morbid excitement. His hand trembles when he brings the recorder to his lips, piercing your soul with those orbs just like he pierced your body and dignity with his fist.

“The experiment was a success.”