#did not measure properly to make sure it was even. am sure it is not even

[jamespotterismydaddy]

On the Brink

joel miller x reader smut

description: you’ve been wanting him for so long but joel can’t bring himself to give you what you want, what you deserve. a near death experience makes him realize how much he needs you

WORD COUNT: 4,2 k words

WARNINGS: smut, angst, age gap, semi-public sex, it’s also fluffy and cute at the start so no complaining about the angst

Your eyes watch him from across the yard with that same look you’ve had for the past few months. He knows what it is. Of course he knows what it is- he’s not an idiot… but that doesn’t mean he can ever acknowledge it. You’re young. Not a child by any means but for god’s sake, you’re half his age. There will be no entertaining these longing glaces you throw his way.

It was innocent at first, or at least he thinks it was. You would knock on his door, ask for his advice when it came to things like shooting and whatnot. He liked being helpful, useful. He liked that it was him that you came to, not Tommy even if he was known to be a sharpshooter. He thought that you looking up to him was the part he liked; he’s starting to realize that what he really likes is your attention.

“You need some help there, Mr. Miller?” You ask sweetly as he pulls in the planks of wood. He didn’t even see you walk over.

Joel rolls his eyes. You know he doesn’t like it when you call him that. Makes him really feel his age. “Not from you, trouble.”

He was getting the supplies together because part of his front porch was rotting and he’d be damned if he fucked his knee up some more stepping through a weak plank. He could use the help, but he just doesn’t want your help.

“You getting sick of me already?” You say, giving him that ‘kicked puppy’ look that would make any man’s heart melt. He doesn’t like how it makes him feel more than sympathy.

“Course not.” He grumbles. “I did just see you this morning though.”

“What can I say… i’m clingy.” You shrug and grin at him with a smile so bright it could light up the sky.

“Go be clingy with somebody else.” He waves you off as he picks up his pencil and ruler to start marking lines on the wood. “I’m sure any man in Jackson would appreciate it.”

You stop for a moment, like you see something underlying in his words. “That seems to imply that you don’t think my attention is purely friendly.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs but doesn’t give you any more of an answer.

“Besides, are you not a man in Jackson?” You ask teasingly, wanting to get more out of him.

He tries to keep his focus on his work so his attention doesn’t feed into your teasing. “That’s different.” He grumbles.

“Why is it different?”

He sighs, keeping his head low but letting his eyes rise up above his glasses to meet yours. “It’s different because i’m an old man in Jackson.”

You frown a little. You know what he means but you want him to explain it anyhow. “What are you saying?”

“I’m sayin’ that I can’t entertain…” He gestures with his hand. “... whatever this is that you’ve been doing for the past few weeks.”

He knows. Of course he knows; you haven’t been exactly subtle. You just never thought you would be able to make him say it out loud. “And what have I been doing?”

“Askin’ too many damn questions.” He grumbles under his breath and grabs his ruler to check his cut lines again. What is it all those carpenters say? Measure twice, cut once? That must’ve been a rule he would live by.

“What is it that i’m doing, Joel?”

He stops with his work now to look up at you properly. He seems like he’s about to speak but pauses for a moment, knowing that if he addresses this then it’s out in the open. He won’t be able to neatly pack up this conversation and put it in a safe where nobody can find it. Whatever is going on between the two of you… it’s pandora’s box.

But in the moment, he can’t find it in himself to care.

“You’re flirtin’ with me, sweetheart.”

“I am.” Is all you say in reply, looking into his eyes far too deeply.

He’s a little surprised and was half expecting you to deny it. “Well you shouldn’t.”

“How come?” Your quick little replies are irritating him now.

He rubs his forehead with his thumb, feeling frustrated. You’re not stupid and you know he’s twice your age. You know why you shouldn’t. You know it makes him feel wrong. So why act so clueless?

“It ain’t right.” He grumbles. “I’m too old for ya.”

“I don’t mind.” You say softly. “I would still like you if I was 10 years older.”

“It’s not about you liking me. It’s about what’s good for you.” He sighs. “And an old man ain’t it.”

“I hardly care about pre-outbreak morals, Joel.”

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about what you deserve. A man that can keep up with you, take care of you even 20 years from now. I can’t be that.” He looks almost nervous now. He feels the same way he did when he asked Tommy to take Ellie to the fireflies. It’s a different sense of care but he still doesn’t feel worthy for you in the same way that he didn’t feel worthy for her.

“It’s you that I want.”

He sighs.

“There’s plenty more age-appropriate men in Jackson who’d be chomping at the bit for a chance with you. You should go and take your pick of them.” He continues, trying his best to push you away. It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Christ, he really wants you. But he also cares about you and that means he’s gotta try to nudge you in the right direction.

“I took my pick. Currently, he’s being difficult.” You say and he scoffs as he tries not to think about how endearing he finds your quick wit.

“I said age-appropriate.”

“Well there’s no other man i’m interested in.” You understand why he’s trying to convince you that he’s not somebody you should spend your time on. Maybe there was a time when things like age were more important but it feels miniscule now in the great span of things and besides, you can tell when he’s being self destructive. “So it hardly matters how many there are to choose from.”

He furrows his brows. Joel can hardly understand why it would be him you would want. He originally thought whatever you were feeling was a passing fantasy due to proximity, but it’s starting to appear as if it’s more than that. You’re just so full of light; he doesn’t want to ruin that.

“Y’know I can probably finish up here on my own. I ‘preciate your help though.” It makes him uncomfortable to realize your attention isn’t going to be quite as fleeting as he thought. He doesn’t know how to react to it. It’s not that he wants to hurt you. He’s just never been a man of many words.

“Um… yeah okay. No problem.” You try not to show how upset you are but it hurts for him to brush you aside so easily. “Bye.”

You walk off, regretting trying to push his hand, regretting the conversation in general… and most definitely regretting that you agreed to fill in for Tommy on his patrol shift with Joel in the morning.

~~~~~

When he walks into the stables the next day, Joel’s ready to grumble to his brother about how he has no damn coffee left and slept like shit, but is stopped in his tracks when he finds you tacking up Bellard.

You don’t turn around to look at him, you already recognize the sound of his heavy footsteps and besides, who else would be in the stables at 8am?

“I promise i’m not trying to stalk you. I already agreed to cover Tommy’s shift. Ben’s still not feeling well.” You tighten the cinch on the horse, not wanting to have any more whoopsies involving your saddle half slipping off like when you were just learning to ride.

“Didn’t think you were.” He says, already able to tell how your voice is colder. You’re more closed off to him now.

You put your foot into the stirrup and swing your leg over so you’re sat on the saddle. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Joel.” It’s ironic really, they way you sound so vulnerable when you speak even though you are literally sitting up on your high horse.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable, sweetheart.” He says as he gets up onto his horse as well, giving her a light nudge with his heel to get her moving. “You could never make me uncomfortable.”

His false mirror words don’t fool you, the illusion shattered like glass by his nervous mannerisms. You know your conversation with him yesterday made things weird and you’re starting to wish you’d just ignored the whole thing like a normal person. You’d just really felt the need to defend yourself, never wanting to chase a man who doesn’t want you. Even if you have a feeling that he does.

But he ignores it. For the whole patrol he ignores it. The slight crack you saw in his demeanor has melded itself back together and he is back to the gruff man he usually is.

What you don’t see is his watchful eye, ever on you, protectively. You don’t know that it’s the same way that he watches Ellie and Tommy. The only people he would risk everything for, the only people that he makes sure are safe before himself. But it isn’t quite the same, is it? There’s something more in his gaze as it’s cast upon you, a hint of the same longing you have when your eyes fall on him.

“Did you hear that?” Your question puts him on alert right away. He tries to listen and he thinks his old ears are failing him before he hears the crash. It’s coming from a cabin east of Jackson, one that’s been checked through multiple times, even by Joel himself. While patrol routes are changed often, buildings are still checked regularly for anyone that might be hiding out. Clickers are of course dangerous but thinking, intelligent humans are much worse.

“Stay here. I’ll get closer and see if it’s anything to worry about.” He says, like it’s a command.

“I’m your partner, not your sidekick. I won’t let you go in there alone just because you don’t think I make good backup.”

“Jesus, woman ya really think that’s why I want you to stay behind?” You give him a look that says that’s exactly what you think but he doesn’t have time to validate you when there’s a chance that something dangerous is in that cabin right now. “Just follow at a distance then at the very least.”

That’s enough for you so you nod and the both of you hop off your horses and tie them up, not wanting them to spook at the first sign of whatever is in that cabin.

The two of you approach slowly and you try not to flinch at the crashing sounds so you can hold your gun straight. You also don’t want Joel to sense your fear. It’s not helpful for him to be worrying about you. You won’t be a distraction. He moves around the side of the cabin to look through the window and mouths the word ‘infected’ to you, holding up three fingers. You nod to show your understanding and he starts to make his way back, likely to come up with an action plan.

Though he barely makes it two feet when one of the horses whinnies. You both freeze. It wasn’t that loud, right? How good could an infected’s hearing possibly be?

Your answer comes moments later when they burst through the front door, but they don’t hear Joel. You’re the one who is in direct line of the horses.

“Shit.” You breathe out as you aim your gun and make a shot for the one in front, missing the head but hitting it in the shoulder. A shoulder shot doesn’t stop a runner.

“Goddamn it.” Joel acts quick, putting a bullet through the one closest to him with easy precision. The infected drops to the ground.

The one closest to you is still moving fast and you know you need to make this shot because if Joel misses, the last one will be on you before you can even think. You keep your hands steady, too pumped full of adrenaline to shake like you were before, and you pull the trigger.

You hear a gunshot, but it isn’t yours as Joel takes down the other runner. Your gun never fired.

Because your gun is jammed.

You pull the trigger again, and again, frantic now.

It’s no use so you drop the useless weapon. You look down for a moment to draw your knife but it’s too late as the infected tackles you to the ground.

“Joel!” The call rips out from your throat and Joel is sure he’s never heard such terror in anyone’s voice before. Well… not so sure.

You hold the infected back as well as you can, knowing that it’s over if you’re bitten, but you don’t have to push it back for long.

Joel’s gun fires and the shot rings true as the mindless flesh creature falls off next to you. A headshot taken from just the right position so the bullet wouldn’t graze you.

“Are you hurt?” The fear in his eyes matches your own as he kneels in front of you and seems to check you for injury over anything else.

Then he pauses.

“Are you bit?”

The thought comes to you at the same time. You were so dazed during the attack that it’s something you actually have to think about.

“I um… no.” You stumble over your words for a moment before speaking more confidently. “No, it didn't bite me.”

“Good.” He nods and moves on quickly, helping you to your feet.

He starts to move around, checking the infected, checking the house. He’s not focused on you anymore, like he wants to be distracted from the thought.

“One of them probably got bit a day or two back. Didn’t tell his friends and then…” He trails off, gesturing to the bodies. “This happened. Don’t think it’s something to worry about too much though. Probably an isolated event.”

He explains, but he’s rambling. Joel Miller doesn’t ramble. The near death experience is brushed under the rug, but you won’t have that.

“Joel.” You start but he cuts you off.

“I can write up the report for it. I know that’s something you’re not a fan of.” It’s idle talk, nothing of value.

“Joel.” You say his name more firmly now and he looks up at you. “I almost died.”

He clenches his jaw, the tenseness in the conversation now unavoidable. You walk closer and it takes everything in him to not step away. He wants to leave, wants to push it down, but you almost died. He can hardly wrap his mind around it. If he had shot that runner a second later, it would have bitten you, at the very least, and his next bullet would’ve been in your head.

“I know.” He grumbles.

“Do you? Because you won’t look me in the eye.” There’s desperation in the way you look up at him and it’s like he’s staring through you instead of at you.

He lets out a breath and it kills you because you can’t tell what he’s feeling. There’s emotion in his eyes but you just don’t know which one.

“Please don’t shut down on me.” Your hand rises to touch his shoulder and he feels warmth bloom in his chest. He hasn’t felt that in a long time.

His eyes finally flicker down to yours and then to your lips for just a moment. He should think about what he’s doing, he knows that. Your age should be enough to put him off, but he almost lost you only minutes ago.

He won’t deny himself any longer.

Joel’s hand lifts to your chin and your eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion as he tilts your chin up. You part your lips to speak but don’t get the chance because his mouth is now on yours. All his hunger and need and desire finally come out as he kisses you harshly. His other hand finds your waist and he pulls you against him, never breaking the kiss. It’s like he doesn’t need air to breathe as he pushes his lips against yours and walks you back until a tree stops you. His tongue pushes into your mouth and he groans when feeling yours push back.

He pulls back and you worry that he regrets it, thinking he acted irrationally or emotionally. Those worries are quelled when he focuses his attention on your neck, leaving gentle kisses and sucking on the soft skin just the right amount so it won’t leave any marks. You let out a soft moan as his fingertips graze up your thigh before gripping it firmly and lifting it up against him.

“I need you, Joel.” You whisper so softly that he’s not even sure he heard you correctly.

“Hm, honey?” He still isn’t fully focused as he trails kisses up your jawline.

“I need it.” You whine a bit and he frowns.

“No.” He murmurs against your skin, kisses so soft and featherlight that you can’t be convinced he’s even touching you. “Not here. You deserve better than here.”

“Please. I’ve been waiting for so long.” You slip your hand under the hem of his shirt. “Been so patient.”

A hint of a smile graces his face. “Patient? Sweetheart, you’re begging me to fuck you in a forest in the middle of our patrol.”

“You’re the one who kissed me.” Your hand slides up his chest. “You gotta finish the things you start, Mr. Miller.”

His hand grabs your other thigh and he lifts you up so you’re pushed against the tree. “You know I don’t like it when you call me that.”

You bite your lip, enjoying the feeling of him lifting you up with ease, like he’s got something to prove. “I know.”

“Then you should learn to watch your mouth.”

You smirk, knowing just how easy it is to rile him up. “Why don’t you watch it for me?”

He huffs as if your bratty little comments annoy him, but you know he likes it. It’s easy to tell by the way his lips find yours once again. His moves are messy and imprecise. It’s so unlike him to be so reckless but it’s you that brings it out of him.

Hands are pulling at clothes and you’re quickly at a point where your pants are off enough for him to touch you. His fingers waste no time pushing past your underwear to tease you. The movements are slow now, just enough to leave you wanting for more.

“Joel.” You try to scold but it comes out more like a breathy moan.

“Hmm?” He’s not focused on your face anymore, no matter how pretty it might be. He’s more concerned with how many fingers he can push inside you before you start to whine.

“Joel.” You pout again as he feels your wetness pooling in his palm.

Three then. He thinks to himself, calculating how long he’ll have to wait to let you adjust to his cock before he can fuck you how he wants. But he already knows he’ll be pushing your limits.

“Shh, baby. Clearly, you’re not as patient as you claim to be.”

You can’t even reply, not with how good it feels when his fingers start to curl inside you. Joel continues the motions for a minute or so but it’s not what you want. It feels so damn good but this isn’t the way you want to finish.

You start to push him away and he stops as soon as he sees the hesitation.

“Everything alright?” He asks and your heart melts at the tenderness in his voice.

“I wanna feel something a little bigger.”

He rolls his eyes. “No damn patience.” He unbuckles his belt and starts to unbutton his jeans. “I’ll give you what you want then.”

He pulls his jeans halfway down his thighs- his very nice thighs- so he can pull himself out of his boxers. There’s no more slow, teasing actions. He wants to show you what your impertinence gets you. Lifting you back up with just one hand, he uses the other to guide his cock to your entrance.

As the head pushes in, he watches your face so he can see how you struggle to take it. You won’t speak up though, not after you whined and begged for him to fuck you. He might be a lot bigger than you’ve had before but that doesn’t mean you can’t take it.

Joel doesn’t want to miss the look on your face as he pushes in but can’t help but glance down. The sight of your desperate pussy sucking him in more and more is almost enough for him to finish there and then, but he holds off. He won’t let this be something you regret.

“Fuck.” He groans as he pushes the rest of the way into you with a sharp thrust. You whimper, hiding your face in his neck. “It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your cheeks heat and he starts to pull himself back out again before you hear the slick squelch of another deep thrust.

“Shit, Joel.” The stretch stings but it’s a good hurt.

“I know. I was trying to prepare you but you never fucking listen.” His words sound sympathetic, no matter how harsh they are, but the way he punishes you with his dick seems to contrast that.

His hands hold up both your thighs as he leans you against the tree for more leverage so he can pull his hips back and fuck into you deeper and deeper.

“Mmm.” You moan, unable to form thoughts, let alone words.

The way the head of his cock hits just the right spot before slipping up to kiss your cervix makes you feel pleasure in a way you couldn’t previously fathom. You’ve never been fucked like this before and it just makes it oh so better because it’s him fucking you.

Joel’s deep brown eyes feel like they’re burrowing into your soul with the way he’s watching you. He lives for it, your reactions, every little sound you make. It all makes him harder as he slams into you rougher with each thrust.

“You feel so perfect, sweetheart. Taking me so damn well, finally learning how to listen.”

“Dick.” You grumble and he chuckles.

“I’m not the one who begged for this.” His hips push against yours. You didn’t think he’d be able to get even deeper but he does. “Fucking begged, honey.”

“I’m not the one who let go of all my morals for it though, either.”

It’s a dangerous thing for you to point out, almost threatening enough for him to stop. But it’s also another thing he likes about you. You always bite back. There is even some part, some sick part, of him deep down that enjoys how wrong it is. It enjoys that you, being so beautiful and smart and full of life… and so young still want him. You could have any man between your thighs but it’s Joel whose fucking you.

“I’m close, Joel.” You say after his fingers have crept down to rub between your legs. He needs you to finish first, needs it bad.

“Cum for me. Wanna feel you squeezing around me. Wanna know how you love it.”

His pace never falters as he leads you to the edge, drawing in and out of you with a pace that you didn’t think a man his age could hold. It just feels so good; you want it to last forever, but all good things end eventually.

“F-Fuck.” You moan and he feels it as your walls tighten around his cock. It almost makes him cum instantly but he pushes through enough to lead you through your high.

You’re panting now as he pulls out, spilling himself onto the forest floor. You look up at him as he lets you down gently. You’re scared, scared that it’s over now, scared that this was a one time thing. And he just won’t fucking look at you.

“Joel?” Your voice cracks. God, you hate how you can’t control it.

His head snaps back right away and when you look into his eyes… it’s not regret that you see. “It’s okay, trouble. You did good.” There is something more in the way he comforts you. “We’re good.”

It’s not much of an explanation but it relieves you. You understand him and though he didn’t speak many words, you know what lies between the lines. This isn’t the end of what’s between you.

comment to be added to taglist

@grayandthyme @littledes1re just thought I’d tag my new moots because y’all’s writing inspired me to get back into it :)

[messenger-of-babel]

The Call

Summary: One little call to each of them. One big consequence. (Batfamily x sibling!reader)

Word Count: 2.9K

Notes: IM LATE AGAIN. I hope you all know that I do stay up wildly late when this happens cause I want to edit before I submit, even if some of these were pre-written (its 1:30AM RAHH). ANWAYS. Batfamily, I tried to get as many as I could but I haven't collected runs for about half the family cause I am biased towards my boys, but I am trying to be as accurate as possible when I can be and that includes those dynamics! So rest assured I am doing my research and hopefully that'll reflect soon. As usual, enjoy your daily feed and I'll enjoy my nap. Warnings just for general description of violence.

Much Love~! xx

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When Dick got the call, he was in his civilian clothes.

Dick Grayson was suit shopping, needing something for an upcoming gala. He had put it off for so long, since he wore the Nightwing suit more than any other in his closet. He had let it ring out once while he got his measurements taken, but when they called back a second time, his lips dipped into a frown. Excusing himself, he clicked the answer call button, stating his name. He hears the voice of Bruce, but in the stern tone of Batman. He doesn’t think that he's ever left a store as fast as he had that day, feet thudding on the pavement and breath cold in his chest as he hurries to his car. He unlocks it and all but throws himself into the passenger seat, lines on his face hardening. Throwing it quickly into drive he pulls out and heads in the direction of the manor.

He tries to keep himself composed, his emotional training kicking in. His fingers are tense on the steering wheel, passing over the bridge at a speed a cop would most certainly pull him over for. Even though he tries to take a deep breath, there's a burning in his sternum. It builds until it creeps into his neck, making him click his tongue uncomfortably.

The sensation is a rage he hadn't felt in a while, a fire that hadn’t burnt that intensely since he was just a boy grieving his parents’ death. It had flickered when he had heard Bruce had adopted a boy called Jason after him, sputtering to life upon hearing about his death. Yet he had grown, he had risen above it and had become a shelter for his younger, extended family. He was dependable, uncrackable, and upbeat, that was Nightwing. Yet as he drives back with that painful fire in his chest, he felt nothing more than Dick Grayson, the boy stricken with fear at the idea of losing his family.

When Jason got the call, he had been on patrol.

Helm securely on his face, it kept the drizzly night rain of Gotham out of his eyes. It had been a rather quiet night, stopping a few minor robberies and assaults that were common down by Dixon Docks. He was eager to return home, wanting to swing by the manor quickly to take full advantage of the hot water system before heading back to his apartment in Old Gotham for a well-deserved rest. He had just finished interrogating some of Penguins' men, about to call the cave to let whoever was on tonight know that they finally had the location of the new drug den they had been chasing the past month. However, the communication device he had set on his bike was lit, screen full of notifications.

Calls, one after another filled the small holographic display and he pressed the button to call back, leg swinging over the side of the bike as he did so. He had only started the bike but already he screeched to a stop, making sure he heard the words properly. A curse and gruffly shouted questions were his only response and when he got the information he wanted, he cut the call and the bike roared to life. He leant forward as if that was going to help him get to his destination quicker, blood boiling underneath his skin. His chest ached with the urge to sputter out pants, desperate to start the sign of panic racing through his veins. Yet he was stronger than that, keeping his cool like a tightly wound coil, muscles tensed beneath the suit.

His mind buzzes with worry, anxiety gnawing at his ribcage like a feral rat.

Jason doesn't often allow himself to be emotional on the job, despite his tendency for rage.

But rage was different. Rage burned and warmed him up from the inside, was the force that he put behind every punch or kick. It was his kindling, and it served to guide him as well as any star. Of course, Bruce had tempered it somewhat, but he had just guided Jason into turning it into something else, not getting rid of entirely. He used rage to protect the people of the city, the outrage he felt when he saw them get treated badly. He used rage when coming to his family's defence, the sight of hands being laid on people he had come to care for sparking it too. Those were the rages he was used to using, although there was always a third.

The pit.

The rage that bubbled away in the back of his mind, hidden behind a tall wall and shoved into the deepest part of him. That was the rage that crept forth, green and poisonous in his veins and clouding his judgement in a fog of pain and despair and anger. When it would appear, he would often take a moment to himself to pack it back away, contain it once more in the bulletproof casing of his heart. Yet right now, he didn't want to put it back. It made him rev the bike harder, made him feel like he was getting there quicker. The bike kicked up water as he zig zagged through the back streets, his mental map of Gotham rerouting anytime the traffic was longer than five cars deep. He couldn't afford to lost time, to not be fast enough. Not now, not this time, and if he had to use the rage the pit cursed him with, he would.

Tim was at the manor, holed up in his room when he got the call.

It had been a long night the night before, tossing restlessly. Not that he would have told anyone, but the last fight with Bane had left him with a few more bruises than he had let on, cleverly hidden from the keen eyes of Alfred. He wanted to nurse them himself, carry his own weight. In fact, he had been sulking in his room going over the things that had been troubling him, knees pulled to his chest.

Dick was capable and dependable, and the first Robin, the biggest shoes to fill. Jason was tenacious but loved deeply, and he fought for what was right. His methods might be unconventional to the Bat sometimes, but he knew what he wanted to fight for. Steph had flown the nest to become Spoiler, Cass already had such a firm grasp of who she wanted to become now that she was Orphan. Barbara had even been able to turn her life around after being put into her wheelchair, her desire to help leading her to become Oracle when she had to hang up Batgirl. Even Damian, the true son of Bruce Wayne, was so confident, growing at a rate he knew Bruce was quietly proud of.

But then there was Tim, who stayed up on weekends trying to redesign his suit, to carve his own vigilante life, only to look on it and see the traces of his time as Robin printed clearly on it. The role of Robin had outgrown him, but there was the shred of doubt that whispered in his ear that just maybe, he hadn't outgrown it. The ringing of his phone snapped him out of his daze, and he let it go to voicemail. When it came again, he grabbed his phone with the desire to turn it off, but seeing the emergency signal had him picking up right away.

"Hello?" he called, sitting right up in bed. His eyes widened and he shelved his pity party, running out of his room.

He winds through the halls of the manor until he finds the door he's looking for. Tim's knuckles rap against the wood loudly, repeating until a disgruntled Damian comes to the door, swinging it open violently. "This better be good, Drake." he deadpans, scanning the flustered state of the older boy. Tim just turns his phone screen, showing the emergency call signal before gesturing to the direction of the grandfather clock with his head. "We've got to go." he says curtly, the young boy hot on his heels after he recovers from his shock.

Both of them head to the cave and prepare to depart immediately. Tim slips the suit over his skin like an outgrown shedding, domino mask sliding onto his face. He couldn’t recognise his own face when he caught sight of it in the glass reflection, but a mask and suit would never be enough to hide the panic that clung to him tighter than the Red Robin suit.

When Bruce got the call, he was at Wayne Enterprises.

He was making a rare appearance at the office, knowing that Lucius had something that he wanted to talk to him about. His office felt foreign and sterile, empty and unreal. The glass surfaces everywhere let him glimpse the face of Bruce Wayne, a face that he was beginning to see less and less. It felt uncanny seeing himself without the cowl, and sometimes when he was working, he could swear he saw a reflection of the bat ears in the window beside him. The night had dragged on, and he was only an hour into the meeting with Lucius when the phone in his suit pocket rang.

He and Lucius shared a sceptical look as he turned the phone screen. The call location wasn't displaying as the Batcave, the only place that could contact this phone directly outside of his children, Lucius and Alfred's personal mobile. Yet he knew Red Hood was taking the brunt of patrol tonight, and Bruce was intended to join him after the meeting. Dick was carrying out some errands downtown and everyone else had either stayed home or didn't contact him like this often. The girls preferred to call his phone as Bruce Wayne or spoke through Alfred, so who could it be?

Lucius gives a nod, silent as he sits down. Bruce's face hardens as he presses the speaker button, accepting the call.

"Who is this?" he says, lowering his voice to the gravelly timbre of Batman.

"Da...B-Batman?" comes a broken, shaky voice on the other end. Lucius's eyes widen and flick to Bruce's immediately, mouth parting. Bruce's jaw ticks, eyes widening as well when he hears your voice.

"This is the Batman. How did you get this number?" He asks, having to focus on keeping his voice low, even though the tone of Bruce threatens to creep back in.

"He-he just had it. I don't know. He just told me to speak, I-I'm not even holding the phone I can't see anything; I’m tied, my eyes are-" you begin to ramble, struggling to get through your words before you're cut off.

"Hello, Batsy." calls a voice close to the receiver, and Bruce swore that his heart fell through the floor in that moment. His fingers tighten around the phone the same way that his lungs are constricting in his chest.

"Joker."

The man on the other end cackles, if Bruce could even call him that. "Miss me?" he snickers, Bruce's mind filling with the image of a red stretched grin. "You see, this is more of a... courtesy call. You know Bruce Wayne, billionaire extraordinaire?"

Bruce's head snaps up to Lucius, who's rubbing at his face nervously.

He didn't know, did he?

"You see, I didn't make a lot of impact going after the commissioner last time, so I had to think to myself, If I wanted to really shake things up in Gotham, who else is there? Then I thought of it, who better than the playboy of the century?" he laughs, punctuated with a sharp snap of his fingers.

"Get to the point." Bruce all but growls.

"Yeah yeah, you always love to rush me, don't you?" The Joker snarks back with fake hurt, before continuing. "Regardless, I have one of his little orphan projects, thinking I might have a bit more success with this one."

He hears a thwack over the phone and a scream, making his nails dig into his palm. He steadies his breathing.

"What have you done?" he asks, low and dangerous.

Another thwack.

"Exactly what I said. But there was a rumour going around that you know Mr. Money, so I thought I'd give you a call, you know, a little gift. If you do know the richest orphan in Gotham, then I want to give you the honour of telling him I've got one of his. Better yet, I want to give you the honour of delivering their body to his doorstep. Maybe that way, you might be able to bond over losing your fake kids."

Bruce feels sick, closing his eyes to try and stop himself from making a mistake right now.

Your life was on the line. He had to play smart.

"Where are you?"

The joker tuts on the other end. "This was a courtesy call, nothing more. I don't want anyone interrupting my playtime. Tata for now~"

"Joker-" he starts but then he's cut off, line going dead. Lucius doesn't say anything, his own personal phone pulled out as he calls Alfred, studying the frozen figure of Bruce. It's almost like there's dark tendrils to the shadows on his broad body, deepening the lines on his face.

Bruce doesn't remember too much, but Batman did.

Immediately he had left the room, suit en route to him and arriving within the minute. As soon as the comfort of his cowl touched his skin, Bruce was gone, and it was Batman calling everyone at the same time. It was Dick who picked up first, a couple of rings earlier than Jason before Tim joined, the sound of Damian in the background. Oracle and Spoiler joined together, while the others were still pending. He didn’t have the time to temper his voice as he relayed the situation, immediately getting as many people on recon as possible.

There were shouts and yelling and cursing before all of their lines became inactive, replaced with trackers signalling that their suits were live. When he enters the batmobile he grips the wheel tensely. The lump in his throat doesn't seem to disappear, only growing larger with each second. His mind is filled with pictures of Jason. Pictures of Barbara. The smiling photos of you.

He might never admit it, but he had your photos front and centre in his wallet (something you did in fact know and used to your advantage frequently in 'dad loves me more' battles). He remembers the first day he ever saw you, cold and scared apart from the other kids in the orphanage. He had been investigating a potential human trafficking ring operating out of the centre, but when he saw you, the fatherly pang hit him. The way your eyes stared forward dully as he greeted children as Bruce Wayne, cameras flashing around him. He had enough wealth to buy the children anything they asked for, the other kids excitedly asking for new toys or clothes or art supplies. However, when he kneeled down in front of you and asked you want you wanted, you said only a few words, 'a family'.

And god be damned if Bruce didn't have money enough for that too.

So, he took you in, hid batman from you like he had tried to with everyone else as well. Yet he failed again, but unlike his children in the past, you never asked to join. Never asked for a suit or to stay up or to train in the cave. Never showed any interest in joining your siblings or throwing yourself in front of danger for the sake of the city. When he asked you why you had simply shrugged, giving him a soft smile.

"All I've ever wanted was to be part of a family. I don't need to be a superhero to be loved."

And then you beamed at him with a smile that could have lit up his world and chased the clouds away from Gotham, so pure and genuinely content. That made Bruce feel like he had finally succeeded as a father, and for once Bruce felt like a father. No Batman, no mask and cape. He didn't train with you; he went out with you to the theatre on weekends. You didn't jump from rooftop to rooftop, you liked to come study with him in his office when he had to take care of Wayne affairs. Batman may have been created to save Gotham city, but he was convinced that you were sent to save Bruce Wayne.

Now, he felt that he had failed you as both Bruce and Batman.

"Hold on sweetheart," he whispers to himself, letting his eyes close for a brief moment during his exhale. "I'll get you home. I promise."

He pressed the accelerator further, Batmobile display signaling that everyone else was suited up and across the city waiting further instruction. He just hoped, he prayed that when he brought you back, it wouldn't be in a body bag.

[svnriseblvdd]

AND FOR ONCE, YOU LET GO OF YOUR FEARS AND YOUR GHOSTS — dick grayson

hurt/comfort, slight angst (he's okay in the end), love confession, big steps in a relationship. when dick grayson stumbles through his girlfriend's window in the early hours of the morning, she's there to patch him up and listen to all that troubles him.

It’s some time after four in the morning when Dick Grayson finally steps through the window into your apartment. He shouldn’t be here. It’s not fair on you. He knows it’s not, but he can’t help himself. 

He’s silent as he moves across your living room floor, still silent as he opens your bedroom door. He hates that he has to be here. He hates even more the fact that you left your living room window open a crack so he could come in. He’s closed it now, locked it and made sure all the security measures he’d installed for you were in place how they should be. 

He doesn’t want to wake you, doesn’t want to disturb you as you look so peaceful in the comfort of sleep. He doesn’t even need to touch you. Well, he does. But he won’t. Not if it’ll wake you up. 

He just needs to see you. Needs to know you’re safe, alive, breathing, content. He needs to sit in the comfort of the sound of your breathing, the smell of everything that’s so unequivocally you. The detergent on fresh sheets, your shampoo, shower gel, the remnants of your perfume lingering. Even the underlying scent of your worn shoes that just barely creeps through everything else. 

He knows where not to step. Where floor creaks and where there’s little things hellbent on stabbing him in the foot. Not that they’d do a good job through the suit, but he won’t risk it. 

But through all his manoeuvring, he bends just slightly too far the wrong way, and he’s hissing in pain. 

You stir, and hum. He thinks for a moment that maybe it’s okay. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he hasn’t woken you up and ruined your sleep because he’s an idiot. 

But he’s wrong. “Dick?” You mumble. “You there?” 

He winces. Not at the annoying pain in his side, but because now you’re awake. It’s nearly 5:00 AM and you’re awake because he didn’t think. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay, honey, go back to sleep.” 

“What time is it?” 

He looks at the clock on your nightstand. The numbers on it glow faintly, almost accusatory. Oh, he knows. 

“4:47,” he replies. “I’m sorry for waking you, baby.” 

You push yourself up, eyes opening properly and taking in the sight of him. Your eyes are soft as you evaluate him, the redness of his cheek as a bruise begins to form, the cut above his eyebrow, the faint glow of the lenses of his mask, which he has yet to take off. “Dick-” 

“Don’t worry about me, baby. I’m okay.” 

You shake your head. “Come here.” 

“’m dirty. You just washed your sheets.” 

“I don’t care.” You stand from the bed, patting it. “Sit. Wait while I get the first aid kit.” 

He gives in, sitting on the edge of the bed and waiting for your return. It’s not a long wait, but every second without you feels like agony. It’s worse than anything that happened tonight. 

When you return, you sink onto the bed next to him, setting the kit down next to you. “Let me see those pretty eyes,” you whisper, lifting the mask from him. His beautiful blue eyes meet yours, and it hurts to see the sadness in them. 

You dab at the cut above his eyebrow with an alcohol-dipped cotton pad. You know that nights like these, he needs time before he can open up about it. So you treat the cut on his brow, the bruise on his cheek. Then you begin pushing his suit down his shoulders and torso. 

“If you wanted me out of my clothes that badly, all you had to do was ask,” he jokes, but it lacks the same tone he usually has. Dick flirts with you all the time. Even now that you’ve been together for almost a year. And he still holds the same charm that he did when you first met, when he first realised his feelings and decided he was going to ‘make a move’. But tonight, he doesn’t hold the same charm or humour in his voice. 

“Dick…” you murmur. He’d spent far too long being valued by Gotham’s social elite and their tabloids only for his looks. He was gorgeous, there was no denying that, he was the most wonderful person you’d ever laid eyes upon. But he was far too used to being a performer, even through his worst times, laying on the charm thick as possible when he had to attend a gala that fell during some of the bad days. 

You get the suit down to his waist, where you let it rest as you evaluate the bruises, cuts and scrapes on his chest and abdomen. 

You begin cleaning a cut on his chest, wondering whether or not it’ll need stitches. “What happened?” 

He shook his head. “Nothing.” At your expression, he sighs. “I just- my head wasn’t in it.” 

“Then where was your head?” You ask, threading the needle. “Hm? Tell me what’s going on, Dick.” 

“I just… don’t know if I’m enough,” he whispers. 

Your expression turns softer still. “What? Dick, of course you are. You’re more than enough. If you ask me, you’re more than most of this city deserves.” He sniffs, still trying to hold in the tears. “Do you want me to numb it before I start the stitches?” 

He shakes his head. “No. No, I can take it. It’s okay.” 

You begin to sew the cut shut, back and forth, back and forth. It’s muscle memory by now, the number of times you’d stitched him up after a rough night. Never like this, though. Usually, even when he’d taken worse beatings, he could still crack jokes easily and he’d still lay on that Dick Grayson charm. Not tonight. 

When you’re done, you lean down, placing soft kisses along the edge. You cover over a graze on his side, the one he’d irritated earlier that had led to you waking up. 

“I’m sorry for waking you,” he says, voice heavy with regret and despair. 

“It’s okay.” 

“It’s not okay. It’s not. You have work.” 

You shake your head. “No, I don’t. I’m taking the day off. Want to spend time with you.” 

“You don’t have to do that. You shouldn’t. I’m not worth it.” 

“You’re more than worth it, honey. Besides, I’ve had it booked since last week, so I can’t just take it back.” You reach up with one hand to cup his face, tilting his head to look at you. His eyes are filled with tears. “Oh, Dick, sweetheart.” 

He breaks then. The tears spill over, and he collapses into your hold, your arms wrapping around him. He smells of blood, sweat, dirt, and smoke, but you don’t care one bit. You’ll hold him forever if that’s what he needs. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He lets out a sob. “I’m sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, my love,” you assure him. “I promise you, that you’re more than enough. Do you trust me?” He nods. “Then trust that I’m telling you the truth.” 

“Sometimes, it feels like I’m falling and I won’t ever stop.” 

“I know, honey. But I’m here to catch you. I’ll always be here. You do so much for this city, for your team, your family, me. You work so hard, honey, and I know that it’s difficult. And I know you don’t feel like it’s enough sometimes but it is. You’re so good, Dick. You bring hope, safety, happiness. I know it’s a lot of responsibility, but you shoulder it so well. I just wish you didn’t feel like you had to take on everything. Sometimes you need a break, and that’s okay.” 

“But who else protects Bludhaven?” 

“That’s the problem, Dick. You take care of this all by yourself.” 

“Bruce protected Gotham by himself.” 

“Bruce hadn’t been Batman for nearly as long before you came along. Besides, he’s had help for years now. You handle Bludhaven, you still help in Gotham, you run the Titans. Hell, you help the Justice League from time to time. Even Bruce has bad times too. Even Batman struggles with his responsibilities. Both of you have yourselves convinced that you have to take on all this responsibility and pressure because if you don’t, you’re not worthy of love. But even with all that, neither of you think you’re enough. And I love you for your heroism and your courage and your goodness. I really do, but you need days off. You need time to just be Dick Grayson. Not Nightwing, not the Wayne heir, not the socialite the tabloids love. Just Dick. The same one who I fell for.” 

He stops sniffling for a few seconds, just breathing irregularly. “You love me?” He whispers then, breaking the silence. He pulls back, your arms falling loosely to his sides. You hadn’t realised you’d said it. 

“Yes,” you whisper back. “Yeah, I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he says, hands cupping your face. “So much.” 

You smile, and it’s the first time tonight that he’s smiled and it’s felt genuine. He kisses you, softly, lovingly, every inch of his soul poured into you. It’s such a simple kiss. Neither of you dare deepen it - you both know it’s not the time. It’s just ordinary, small, wet with his tears, but it’s the most wonderful, caring action. 

“Do you want something to drink?” You ask, pulling away from him. 

“No.” 

“How about a bath? Or a shower?” 

“No, I just want to hold you.” 

You smile softly, nodding. “Let me find something for you to wear. It’s colder tonight.” You stand, moving around your room to find any of his clothes that he’s left behind. You think you might’ve run out of clean things of his in his allocated drawer. “It’s getting really difficult, working with only one drawer of your clothes.” 

“Especially when you use my shirts to sleep in,” he comments. 

“True.” You hum as you find a pair of his sweatpants, folding them over your arm. 

“Maybe it would be easier if we just lived together,” he says. 

You turn to him, now holding one of your baby tees, mistaken for a shirt of his. The words “I’m too sexy for this shirt” stare at him, standing out against the white cotton. “Do you mean it?” You ask. 

“I do. I want us to live together. I love seeing our shoes next to each other when we stay together. I love seeing your things at my place. I love cooking together. I want to stay up late talking to you. I want to dance in the kitchen in the middle of the night. I want to come home to you.” 

You smile, practically attacking him with the way you hug him. “I want all of that too.” You kiss his cheeks, then his forehead, then peck him on the lips before you roll off the bed to look for a t-shirt. You throw the items at him when you’ve found them. 

When he’s changed, the two of you lay in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. And you look up at him while the first hints of the sunrise filter through the crack in the curtains. 

You look up at him, and he meets your eyes, a loving smile on his face. “I love you, Dick Grayson. And I can’t stand to see you destroy yourself.” 

“I love you too. I’ll stay together for you.” 

[lanawinterscigarettes]

hiii can I request a Kinktober JD x AFAB reader that includes: marking kink (on JD’s end), praise kink for either character, and an oral fixation/face sitting (reader receiving)? all fine if not

absolutely you can! thanks for requesting something for kinktober, I really hope you like it <3

Kinktober 2024 Day 15: marking kink, praise kink, and oral fixation/face-sitting with Jason Dean x afab reader

Warnings: smut/nsfw content, marking kink/biting, swearing, praise kink, oral fixation/face-sitting, brief hair pulling, JD gets a little subby towards the end (I regret nothing), implied/mentioned overstimulation

You weren't sure how long JD had spent with his face between your thighs, but it was certainly long enough to both infuriate you and leave you desperately wanting more.

See, the problem was he hadn't actually started eating you out like you'd initally hoped. Instead he decided to mark up the inside of your thighs first, biting and sucking the sensitive skin there until they were practically covered with hickeys.

It was almost as if he was determined to make them match the lovebites on your neck, which was kind of funny considering no one would even be able to see the inside of your thighs except him. Then again, the thought alone of only him knowing about the marks there probably got him off, the possessive bastard.

"Can you just hurry up already?" You snapped after a while, starting to get fed up with his teasing.

He lifted his head up, a taunting smirk toying with his lips as he watched you. "I'm sorry, am I keeping you from something?"

A low growl of frustration formed in the back of your throat as you reached your hand down to grab onto his hair, yanking his head up a little bit more. "You've had your fun messing with me, but I'm starting to get sick of it."

He kept smirking, trying to remain calm and collected, but you didn't miss the way his eyes narrowed somewhat in annoyance at the action of you grabbing his hair. "And just what do you suggest I do instead?"

You could've smacked the smug look off his face in that moment and not felt the slightest bit guilty. "Get up and lay down on the bed," you ordered while letting go of his hair, not being gentle about it either. "I'm in charge now, which means you're going to do as I say."

For once, he didn't protest (but that was most likely only because he thought it was really hot whenever you bossed him around). He did as you told him to, casually laying back with his hands tucked behind his head. "What, are you finally going to repay me?"

It was difficult not to roll your eyes at his question. Of course he would think the only reason you were telling him to move was so that you could give him a blowjob. After all the waiting that he put you through? Yeah, as if.

"It's cute how you always manage to find a way to make things about you, even in situations when they're very clearly not." Your words were an obvious jab straight at his ego, and while they didn't make as big of a blow to it as you'd hoped they certainly didn't miss judging from the way he removed his hands from behind his head. It was as if he was realizing you had no intent at the moment of helping him get off.

"What's your point?" He looked a bit miffed, his tone holding a snippy edge to it as he kept his eyes trained on you.

"My point is that since you've refused to get me off in the way that you were supposed to, I'm having to resort to other measures." You began moving on the bed as you spoke, shifting until you were kneeling over top of his face, your thighs on either side of his head as you stared down at him with a displeased gaze.

He didn't seem at all upset by the sudden turn of events, and in fact appeared delighted to have you on top of him like that, but his pride still hurt a little from the way you so casually dismissed the idea of giving him a blowjob as a reward for helping you get off (something that he hadn't even properly done yet). "So this is your plan, then? Suffocating me as a punishment for not doing what you wanted?"

"If I wanted to suffocate you, I wouldn't bother with using my thighs. I'd just grab a pillow instead. Much easier."

Your direct manner of answering his snarky question caused him to let out an amused chuckle in response, once again reminding him why he loved you. "Fair enough."

"Now, shut up and do the job you were supposed to have done in the first place," you ordered in a stern tone as you lowered yourself down until your wet pussy made contact with his mouth, a soft groan of pleasure exiting your lips as you finally got some of the friction you so desperately needed.

He let out a soft hum, his tongue darting out almost immediately to lick a stripe along your folds. As much as you hated to admit it, he knew what he was doing when eating you out and was really good at driving you crazy because of it. If only he wasn't such a brat all the time.

You let out a breathy moan, slowing grinding yourself down onto his face. The feeling of his tongue lapping at your wet hole while his nose brushed against your throbbing clit made your back involuntarily arch in pleasure.

His hands gripped onto your thighs as you sat on his face, just tight enough to keep your balance steady. You had no idea whether he could breathe properly or not in his current position, but he didn't seem to care much either way.

"That's it, good boy." The words left your mouth before you could stop them. You always felt the need to praise him for doing a good job, even if he didn't deserve it. "Just like that."

Your words spurned him on further, his hands tightening on your thighs as he pulled you closer to his mouth, if that was possible. He seemed determined to please you, if only to hear those words again. He was so self-centered.

Still, you chose to reward his current good behavior regardless. "You're doing so good, just like that- You can be so well-behaved when you want go be, can't you?"

He responded with a muffled hum, one that seemed to shake you to your very core (in a good way). "Oh, God-" Your hands moved to grab onto the headboard as your eyes fluttered shut. It was getting a little hard for you to keep your current balance, which made you grateful for the firm grip he had on your thighs. "If you can make me cum right now, I'll be so proud of you."

That really did the trick of getting him motivated to get you to your "happy ending". As much of an ego he had, your reassurance that you were proud of him was enough to make him forget all about it, if only for the time being.

Swirling his tongue, he began to eat you out fervently, as if his whole life depended on it. Even after your legs began to tremble worse than before, even after a series of pants and moans escaped you in the heat of your climax, even after you all but collapsed on top of him, he kept going until told him to stop.

"Alright, baby. I think that's it for now," you announced while moving off his face, an action that elicited a needy whine from him.

"I wasn't done yet," he insisted with a pathetic looking pout, his hands instinctively reaching for you again as you laid back on the bed, trying to catch your breath.

"You can get so pitiful sometimes, did you know that?" You lightly teased as you watched him plant soft kisses along the hickeys he'd left behind earlier on your thighs. It was hard to stay mad at him when he was acting like a lovesick puppy.

"Can I keep going?" He begged, lifting his head up just enough to be able to catch your gaze, his face resting on your thigh as he watched you.

"Well, since you did so good for me I suppose I can let your little attitude from earlier slide."

No sooner had those words left your mouth did he shove his face right back to between your thighs, lapping eagerly at your aching folds and clit. Your hand moved to gently grip onto his hair, your head tilting back against the pillows behind you as you got comfortable. Something told you he wouldn't let up until you were an even bigger moaning and pleading mess than before, and of course you ended up being right.

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[your-nanas-house]

hi!! for your cillian requests what about jonathan crane w/ aphrodisiac :3

Hello! Sure thing, dear!!

The Conference

◇ Pairing: professor!Jonathan Crane x student fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, dark, creampie, handjob, protected and raw sex, mean and sub Jonathan, Dom and sub Y/n, dub-con. (there's a lot of things in this fic)

◇ Summary: Dr.Jonathan Crane uses an aphrodisiac on himself and his poor favourite student has to help him.

◇ Note: This really may be one of the longest fic I ever written. It's also an amazing collaboration with @mrkdvidal1989. Well..Enjoy.

Darkness enveloped his surroundings as he moved closer towards the chemistry labs. The clicking of his shoes was the only sound he could hear, his footsteps echoing through the long corridor. He moved slowly and gracefully, his every move being a careful measure in an otherwise dim location.

As he got closer to the chemistry lab, the door appeared open, lights lit up the room inside, and he wondered if his favourite student was still working. 

His icy eyes moved down as his slender fingers pulled slightly up the sleeve of his suit so that he could check the time, 2:00 am he read silently before something quickly caught his attention.

There she was, in all her glory, his little pet, his favourite student, busy with her phone. All the materials and objects she had used were still scattered on the table, she was also still wearing the white lab coat even though her focus was clearly elsewhere.

Crane tutted silently, a mischievous grin stretched on his pink lips. Y/N had her back towards the door, oblivious to the fact that she wasn't alone in the lab anymore. Jonathan watched her carefully, noticing the light swaying and slumped shoulders caused by her tiredness. Perfect

After a moment he stalked closer, his perfectly polished black shoes moved soundlessly against the concrete floor without attracting her attention. Her small, fragile frame allowed him to easily peak over her shoulder, watching the compounds scattered on the table. A quick glance was enough to make him smirk again, as he recognized the familiar, violet but alluring  mixture.

”So hardworking.” He suddenly spoke up right by her ear, causing her to squeak, startled. Y/N turned around, eyes wide in surprise as she put hand on her chest in an attempt to calm down her pounding heart. 

”Professor Crane” She breathed out with relief, looking at him. For a moment the only sound filling the air was her deep breathing, before she straightened her back, looking up at him. ”I lost track of time and… and I'm almost finished with my project.” She explained with flushed pink, slightly ashamed that she overused his kindness staying in his lab for so long. Crane just nodded with understanding before he gestured towards the mixture, focusing back on her face. 

”Have you checked the clearance?” His voice was low, serious tone echoing through the room accompanying his emotionless expression. Distracted by his face, she blinked a couple times. ”a… a clearance?” Y/N repeated foolishly, completely not knowing what he was talking about.

Did I miss something? She wondered, as the sudden wave of anxiety tightened the knot in her stomach. 

”Yes. Have you checked it yet?” His blue eyes gazed into hers so intensely, that she couldn't focus properly. Shifting her weight from one leg to the other, she shook her head feeling like a child in trouble. 

”N-no, I haven't.. yet.” She replied quietly, acting like she knew what he was talking about. Jonathan had a hard time restraining his laugh, but he managed to keep his poker face. Nodding along, he shifted to the side. 

”Alright, go on then. Hold it up to the light and look at the consistency.” He instructed in a harsh, teacher tone. Y/n brushed a strand of hair away from her face nodding, before she grabbed the mixture, feeling her Atelophobia kicking back in. 

Holding it in the right hand, she held it up to inspect what her professor requested; a visible light shaking of her limbs made Jonathan’s blank face crack for a split second, allowing the switch to a devious smile that disappeared as soon as it came. Just perfect

Almost too easy, the psychology professor thought, his focused, predatory stare remained on the back of her exposed neck, his tongue darting to escape and wet his plumpy lips. In the process of waiting for the most appropriate time to act.

Jonathan maintained his predatory stare, not letting Y/n quivering limbs or trembling form escape from his sights. It was almost as if he was savouring the buildup, knowing that the effects of the aphrodisiac as soon as it will be taking complete control over his body—  such a perfect scenario to be able to take advantage of the vulnerable state his naive student will be in.

The professor felt his heartbeat quicken and his breath became heavier and shallower. It was as though he was becoming swept up in the moment as well.

”Is… is it good, Dr. Crane?” She asked in a shaky voice, standing two feet away from him, stretching her hands holding the mixture up to the light. Jonathan’s pupils widened slightly as arousal already started working in his body, adrenaline pumping in his veins. 

”Closer” He commanded quietly, watching her feet as she shifted towards the lamp hanging lowly from the ceiling. ”I said closer,” His voice became more harsh, more commanding the second time, startling her visibly. Y/n took a step, and as soon as she wanted to take the other one, her shoe caught on Crane’s foot which appeared out of nowhere on her path. 

A choked gasp left her mouth as she lost her balance, arms getting in the defensive position to minimise the damages in case of a fall. The little glass bottle fell out of her hand, hitting her professor in the shoulder before the content of it splashed on his neck and face, covering his skin in the weird fluid. 

As soon as it made contact, his body started tingling in an almost…pleasant way. Y/n’s body froze as Jonathan inhaled deeply, Adam's apple bobbing up and down visibly on his pale neck. 

Putting on his best acting skills, Crane’s face became red from the anger; despite the horrified look on her face, he fought against his amusement to keep the mask on. 

Huffing with anger he shook his head, trying to get as much fluid off of him as he could or rather trying to spread it better, moving frantically and suddenly. Appearing enraged, he slowly made his plan come true. Studying psychology for long years, he knew exactly what body language put on to be convincing enough. 

”Fuck!” He barked angrily, taking off the jacket with a huge stain on the shoulder. ”What the fuck did you do!” He yelled, turning to face her. His eyebrows furrowed at her frozen state, when she stood not moving, eyes teary and lips parted in shock. Crane couldn't help but notice how her hands trembled more.

Jonathan's anger turned into scolding as he continued to act mad, pretending to be absolutely furious with his poor tired student. He had to be completely convincing, for he wasn't really upset in the slightest.

"How could you be so careless?!" Jonathan asked, his voice filled with fake anger and disappointment  "Don't you know how dangerous that is?! Haven't I taught you anything at all?" he added, scoffing at her still shocked self. 

Jonathan could feel the strange liquid begin to seep down his skin, the sensation an eerie and disturbing one for him. His expression became neutral for a split second, before Y/N finally moved, getting his attention. 

”I-I’m… I'm sorry I… I don't know what happened, I-I… I didn't mean to…” She stuttered out, trying to explain herself and her clumsiness, completely unaware of the fact that she was only a puppet in his evil psychotic show. 

”It doesn't matter!” His voice boomed through her attempts of apologising properly. Y/n’s shoulders slumped, as she wanted to cover herself from shame, her body completely tense. 

Her heart was beating wildly, she could already feel the familiar tingling sensation caused by the negative emotions and the guilt, which was eating her. 

She was familiar with these emotions but still had difficulty mastering them, even though she had to...she didn’t want to make the situation worse with her still furious professor— risking that way to look even more pathetic as she fell into the vortex of stress that often ended in a painful and long panic attack.

Y/n wasn’t in the right situation or in the right place to give in to her fears and weakness, not even if the knot in her throat was making it pretty hard for her to breathe correctly. Focus she thought to herself, forcing her shiny eyes to snap back towards Jonathan’s face. Her nostrils slightly dilated and her jaw tightly clenched as if it would have helped her to let everything in and not show what she was actually feeling at that moment.

”I have a conference in…” He pulled his sleeve up revealing the expensive watch on his wrist, checking the time again. ”...an hour! Look what you did!” He pointed at the huge stain before scratching the itchy skin on the back of his neck. ”Fuck it starts working.” He breathed out heavily with a huff. 

At this point her face became teary, her breath getting heavier, her chest tight, and Jonathan couldn't be more happy from how well his plan was going. ”You are going to take me out of that state, and better do it fucking fast, unless you want me to talk to the principal about your lack of basic skills!” He spat out harshly, looking how wheels turned in her head before she gasped quietly at the realisation that… she didn't know exactly what the antidote was.. besides… sexually relieving the victim— since she based her whole experiment on Poison Ivy’s sex pollen. 

”Are you deaf?” He mocked, looking down at her with a stern facial expression, making Y/n finally snap out of her realisation; her body moving and turning back to the desk as she rummaged through the notes and components, trying to quickly find a solution as she read through her neat handwriting holding the papers with a shaky hand— her mind on the edge of panicking. 

Jonathan stood behind her, watching the desperation visible through her every move, he could clearly tell that her head was running miles. Suddenly his smirk started fading as the aphrodisiac fully penetrated his skin, getting to his nerves and beginning to work its magic. His pupils widened, icy blue irises almost invisible at this point. His breathing increased, skin started sweating more as his muscles clenched and relaxed alternately, causing him to lean back on the counter. 

Heavy sigh left his lips getting her attention, but she didn't dare to look at him for a longer moment. Up until he rolled his sleeves up, his veiny hand rubbed his arms, trying to relieve the stingy feeling all over his body before reaching down and rubbing up his crotch desperately, feeling the uncomfortable tension. Burning

Y/n’s eyes quickly fixed on her professor, studying his desperate state as she kept feeling guilty. Was it really her fault? She shouldn’t have worked on that project of hers in Dr. Crane’s lab and left her work-in-progress there at that hour, she should have brought it home or at least… paid more attention when her professor just tried to help her.

That’s what Jonathan wanted her to think.

The helpless expression on his face covered snugly the satisfaction in his icy, blue eyes. The poor girl, he thought, watching the worry and guilt in her gaze. He gulped loudly, panting dramatically as his pale and freckled skin flushed due to the effects of the strong aphrodisiac she….well, he spilled on himself.

A thing that he didn’t plan though, were the pretty strong and painfully annoying effects that Y/N included in the project, due to the limited knowledge about chemical compounds, not reaching the level of her brilliant professor.

Jonathan's body was on fire. All his senses seemed to heighten, and hot burning pierced his skin in places that he never felt before. 

Breathing deeply he tried to slow down his racing heart, muscle pounding so fast and hard that he would be worried if not the uncontrollable thoughts; his freckled, pale skin ached for a gentle or any touch. He didn’t really care, he just wanted… no— needed Y/n on him, all over him, doing unforgivable things to his needy body. 

His whole body felt tingly and numb at the same time, and he was struggling to keep his thoughts straight with all the rushing hormones— that’s when he started to move unconsciously, just when Y/n turned back towards the desk again, trying to ignore the state he was in, looking so… needy and so desperate. 

The poor student didn’t even have the time to register what was happening, she just felt a tight grip on her hips and in a couple of seconds she was pressed harshly, flat against the lab table— an almost animalistic panting against the back of her neck and Jonathan’s body lying on her, nearly crushing her ribcage on that wooden surface. Her breath knocked out at the sudden action.

“Fuck” Dr. Crane grunted, grounding his hips as his hands kneaded roughly on her breasts, since he cupped them before, managing to bend her down. He felt like an animal in heat at that moment, so desperate and so blind in front of the lust that was taking over his whole body.

His hips kept moving as if following a rhythm, his cock pressing against the front of his pants in a pleasant but still painful way— his hands still groping harshly Y/n’s round chest, pressing and pulling while also kneading with need and hidden satisfaction. They are as soft as they look Crane thought in his moment of pure desperation.

”Wh-what are you doing?” Y/n squealed, pinned to the desk with his weight. 

”Shhh.. I… I need it.” He moaned out, but slowly grinding on her ass wasn't enough. His angrily hard cock throbbed in his pants, relentlessly demanding immediate attention. He was getting frustrated with how little she was cooperating, and it felt like fire was blowing his veins. His skin was burning and itching as he whined lowly, dropping his head on her shoulder with a huff. 

”Touch me” He hissed out, pulling her up and turning around to face him. She remained pressed against him, but her hands were still, not moving or getting near his needy, aching body. He was losing his mind. ”F…fucking please” Jonathan cried out finally, when his cock started pulsing painfully in his briefs. 

Y/n took a deep breath, trying to keep her own lust and nervousness on a leash. 

Rubbing her thighs  together she hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice cracking in an almost pathetic way...if Jonathan wouldn’t have been in that situation with that mindset he would have probably mocked her “P-Pull it out, Prof-”. She stopped quickly, a new battle starting inside of her head, how was she supposed to call him? She couldn’t for sure refer to him with his qualification.

Dr. Crane had other intentions apparently, he didn’t let her think much about that…too eager to have her whole attention back on him and his now leaking cock. Standing proudly against his flat stomach was a thick, long member. The veins wrapped around it stick out even more than usually, as it throbbed impatiently. Cold air was enough to make him hypersensitive as he mewled, touching the tip and spreading precum on it. Red colour of his skin revealed how much he needed the release.

At the sight Y/n jumped slightly not expecting Jonathan to be so forward, just standing there… so close to her, holding his shaft as he moved closer to her in an attempt to probably seduce her and make her finally touch him like he had begged her for. The psychology professor managed to take another step before a loud slap echoed in the quiet room, his mind too fogged to realise immediately what she did but the stingy sensation on his cheek made it clear. He could have been mad but just the contact of her bare skin against his made him whine desperately, his eyes blow out in pure need and submission. He would have done anything….literally anything to finally have his release with her help.

Y/n's breathing had become more elaborate, her body was full of adrenalin at that moment which allowed her to act instinctively and impulsively, although it was better to work through the whole situation with a clear and rational mind.

Come on, the young student yelled in her head, gulping softly as she moved her gaze slowly back down to take a peek at her professor’s cock. Do it, just do it, she repeated, nodding slightly to herself before moving her tiny hand closer to the throbbing cock, gathering the courage to grab it, but before she'd manage to do so, Jonathan pushed his hips forward impatiently, forcing her hand in the worst way. 

Y/n looked up immediately, anger sizzling in her eyes at his unhinged behaviour. As soon as he tried to make her grab it again, her other hand made contact with his flushed cheek in a harsh slap. Crane’s lips parted in surprise, as he felt a drip of blood going down his chin from his lower lip.

”One more time, and I'll tie you up and leave you alone. All needy and crying” She warned with a scolding tone, Jonathan’s expression reminded her one of a kicked puppy; it was nearly distracting, his gaze so focused on her was hypnotic and the way his plumpy lips kept softly trembling was entertaining as he breathed deeply, almost like he was about to cry. 

A deep breath broke the silence that had been surrounding them after the slap, the young student nodded slightly before finally letting Jonathan rest his heavy member on her open hand. Her eyes focused on the task and on the cock in front of her, she could feel it twitch every time her acrylic nails brushed against the prominent veins.

Her breath was heavier, not like Crane’s was— he was panting like an animal in heath just craving..no, needing her touch. His icy eyes staring at her hand while tears started forming in them, he could feel his stomach tightener at every second that passed. He didn’t even dare to speak, afraid to scare her or just piss her off, making her slow movements come to a stop— he couldn’t let it happen, not now that her small feminine hand was finally reaching the angry red tip of his cock.

Y/n moved her wrist, gulping softly before finally wrapping her fingers around it trying to give it a testing pump staring with wide eyes how the foreskin followed her movement, exposing more the leaking  tip “Shit” Jonathan cursed in a hiss, letting out a choked sob before ordering her with a shaking voice “Spit on it, you little slut”. 

The poor man was feeling the effects of the aphrodisiac more and more, he could feel them crawl all over his body making it difficult for him to breath normally or think straight, a thin layer of sweat was already covering his flushed skin.

Her professor’s hand snatched hers, motiving it quickly closer to his handsome face as if he wanted to kiss it, ending up spitting on her palm catching completely off guard; her pretty face slowly twisted in a grimace of uncomfortable disgust.

After a couple of seconds passed… where she didn’t do nothing, Jonathan bad temper snapped again, his mean part coming out “Fuckin’ touch it already!” he screamed in her face, catching her off guard for the second time in a row, his hips moving forward as his hand held her smaller one wrapped back around his length. His hips established a rhythm to relieve his pain…his free hand flying to cup her breast after nearly ripping off the lab coat she had still tidily on. How long is it going to last?

Consequently Jonathan's outburst, Y/n allowed him to continue to seek the pleasure he so badly needed, an expression of disgust still present on her face. His panting was quite disturbing now, she could feel the warmth of it and of his whole body that clearly looked like it was on fire and it kind of worried her. All her fault, that’s all your fault, she kept repeating to herself as she tried to find a solution… a way to help the man that was standing in front of her, moaning like a pornstar just for her. 

“O-Okay, Dr. Crane I-I….” she started, her voice shaking softly as she tried to speak with him— but he wasn’t listening at all, too busy in the activity he was engaged with. Y/n’s heart pounded, the unusual and somehow odd situation causing adrenaline to rush through her veins. She was lost in how to properly handle the situation, but one glance at him was enough to decide. Anger and desperation was filling his icy gaze, eyes cloudy and focused on his cock as she stroked it. Annoyance appeared in her mind at how easily influenced she was for him, as she huffed with anger. 

You want me to touch you? I fucking will then, she thought, as her hand gripped his manhood harder, stroking it harsher as the other hand rested on his chest. 

Jonathan felt almost deaf, his heart beating so fast and hard that it could be heard from any part of his body…he was feeling like on a rollercoaster, adrenaline rushing and filling his slender self.

As soon as Y/n started to feel Jonathan’s grip on her hand become less tighter, freeing her caged hand, she removed it completely in a quick motion. Feeling it, Jonathan's head lolled back with a high pitched, desperate groan. A choked cry pushed past his lips at the lack of stimulation. He didn't expect her to do it, his lips parted as he tried to breathe but his lungs burned, just like his skin that started heating up and itching again. His legs started shaking as a couple tears streamed down his face, but Y/n wasn’t as fazed by his state anymore, and she just wiped her palm on his white shirt, not really caring that he had an important meeting in just… thirty minutes.

“Strip” the young woman ordered with a simple word, not adding anything else. Her expression was stern and kind of pissed, she was tired and this was taking too long for her. She was also ready to take any decision or precaution to be able to get over this.

“I said fucking strip, you brainless slut” the student repeated, raising her voice just like Jonathan had done earlier, screaming at him the respect that was pulling her back now completely gone. There was still nervousness in her body, she was shaking a bit because of the different emotions present. To her surprise Dr. Crane started to take off his expensive suit, replying to her stern tone and insult with a pathetic whine… she could have kicked him in the face at that moment and he would have just licked her sole, whimpering and shaking for her.

As Jonathan peeled all the fabric off his body, watching it drop on the floor, the cold air hit his overwarm body, his nipples erect just like his hair which were standing due to the shiver and the goosebumps, Y/n couldn’t stop watching him move like a puppet. 

Her hands moved on their own, resting on his warm, pale and freckled chest… caressing in slow motions his skin as her eyes moved slowly across his naked self— it felt nice, it relieved the burning and stingy sensation Jonathan kept feeling but it wasn’t enough. Just when he was about to say something, to plead, whine and whimper, she used all her strength to push him away from her.

His body stumbled, hitting the nearest object that was right behind him which happened to be a chair… a iron, cold tiny chair that made him hiss as soon his skin made contact with it completely. His hairy pale thighs spread open, twitching due to the coldness of the surface, just like his back that arched in such a pathetic way.

“Fucking told you that I would have tied you down, you wasted your second chance, Dr. Crane” Y/n warned him, murmuring mostly to herself as she started to tie down his limbs, making sure to make a tight knot so that he really couldn't move without her wanting him to.

His heart kept racing, his body was in such a state that it just kept leaning towards Y/n’s every time she moved slightly closer as she fixed the ropes.

The young woman took a step back, admiring silently the desperate and subby state Crane had fallen in, his mouth open as he panted like a wild animal, his body trembling softly as his cock kept twitching and aching for relief.

She took a step forward this time, Jonathan’s eyes fixed on her as his head remained hanging low, he couldn’t tell what she was doing by all that wiggling but he discovered soon since he found himself with her wet thong in his mouth, his spit wetting it even more. She was bare, she was finally bare under the skirt she had on, he thought… his body still and tensed, too afraid to even move a muscle.

Her hands rested on his shoulders, her smaller body towering over his sitting position. Her finger interwoven with his black locks, he could feel her acrylic nails massage teasingly his scalp— it was gentle and carrying.. before she got a better hold on his hair and pulled at them harshly.

“Don’t come too fast, because I won't stop until I finish, got it?” his favourite student warned as she carefully straddled him, her bare wet pussy now pressing against his throbbing leg.

Earning just a choked moan from Crane she started to grind slowly on it, pressing her body closer to his to find the right angle were her clit would have been touched correctly. Their eyes remained locked all the time, even if Jonathan kept occasionally rolling his eyes back because of the pleasure, his gathering spit slowly dripping down on his chest. 

Condoms, Y/n thought quickly, her eyes growing wide as her breath increased “Do you have a condom?” she asked, knowing well that he couldn’t really reply to her with the cloth stuck in his mouth— his eyes just moved, following her movements as she decided to turn around, now her round cheeks gifted him with some relief as she grabbed his pants and started searching for anything there. Condoms, pills, some kind of protection. Finding just a tiny bottle of lube with his initials on it. 

“Oh, you pervert. Bet you use it to jerk yourself of” she mocked, moving back in the straddling position, her hands following the form of his nose, down to his plumpy lips “Guess no relief then, huh” she murmured, watching him carefully. She sure found Dr. Crane attractive and she would have lied if she said that she never had impure thoughts on him or just a need to try and feel how his lips tasted. She could now.

Her eyes remained on his open lips for a couple of seconds before she leaned in, removing harshly her thong from his mouth, earning a meowing sound from Crane, which died down as soon as her lips pressed against his. 

Her tongue entered his mouth easily, making them entwine into a deep and sensual dance, exploring each other's mouths and teasing with delight. Their bodies were more pressed up against each other, her soft hands remained wrapped around his neck to feel his Adam apple bobbing as he gulped.

In that moment of pure passion, something fell from the pocket of her blouse, dropping right on Jonathan’s lower stomach “Guess you have luck by your side today, Professor” Y/n praised as soon as she broke the kiss, watching their split still link them in a hot and sensual way. She moved her hands from his neck and grabbed the condom she had in her pocket without knowing…using her teeth to slowly open it while she grinded her hips against his.

The thong went back in Dr. Crane’s mouth as she stood back up to roll carefully the condom on his thick, long length, watching it wrap perfectly around his size “There we go” she whispered, using the lube she had found to prepare herself before finally sink down in a quick motion on his cock, her tight warm pussy clenching around him like a tight fit. Crane's head dropped down with a hiss at the tight squeeze, just like his jaw, the sensation that came so quick didn't let him time even try and control his imminent first orgasm. It was cruel, mean but Y/n was enjoying every part of it. 

She didn't know how Jonathan managed to not shoot his load, filling up the condom, and signing that way the ending of that all. But he managed, so Y/n started to roll her hips slowly before increasing the speed to hear the pathetic sounds coming out of Crane's bruised mouth. He was moaning with each move, whining whenever she'd squeeze him too hard, or sink her nails in his skin.

She was bouncing, riding him as if he was a wild horse, her thighs pressed against each of his thighs, holding him down while she searched her own peak… not really carrying anymore of Jonathan's state.

”I honestly didn’t expect you to be that big” His student praised with a veiled insult, hissing into his ear. He wasn't even able to respond as the next deep stroke pushed him over the edge, as he cried out pulsing between her velvet-like walls. His hands thrashed, tied up, as the need to grab her hips while he'd fill the condom up with his hot cum. Y/n didn't care, and she kept moving over and over, chasing her own high with head tilted back as the pleasure fully consumed her mind and body. She wasn't even aware of the pace as she kept milking him despite his whiny cries, moving violently on his hypersensitive cock. 

”F-fuck” He spat out, his voice still muffled, saliva dripping down his chin when his eyes rolled into the back of his head. More curses followed after the first that slipped from his lips, his body shaking uncontrollably as he felt the pleasure bult itself in his lower stomach. It was driving violently and forcefully like a train, about to go off the rails and hit him with all his force. The condom being filled for the second time by his seed, she kept going just like his load that kept being spilled without a stop. The amount of cum he could pump just minutes apart would usually impress her, if she wasn't so long gone in the maddening pleasure that his thick girth provided, stretching her out and pushing his way to her g spot with each thrust. 

The pleasure he was giving her was making her slowly reach her own climax, turning her head in a foggy and drunk state of mind when she squeezed her eyes shut, as her cunt clenched down on his member, making it impossible to thrust despite the overflowing fluids splashing between them as she reached her peak, shaking and crying out as her muscles gone fully numb for a moment from the powerful orgasm that made her nearly squirt. 

Only then did she realise that Crane was cumming as well, again, and she wouldn't care a bit, if it wasn't for the… thick, sticky fluid dripping down her thigh. Y/n’s eyes widened at the sensation, and she jumped off of him faster than she would ever anticipate, earning a loud strucked whimper from her professor. 

“Look at what you did!” she yelled, a bit panicked from the situation she was in, his seed still dripping down her thighs even when she tried to push it out. Staring at his engorged cock, that was still twitching. Red and wet, laying on his thigh even though it was still very much hard. The condom that she previously put on him, now with a giant hole, halfway down his dick.

The role switched, now Crane was the one with tearful eyes and she was the one furious with him. What was she supposed to do? She thought to herself, cleaning her dripping pussy with the nearest cloth before meeting Jonathan’s icy eyes. He caused it… so it was only fair that he found a solution to that, just like she did earlier for her mistake. 

After a deep breath the student moved closer to her professor, freeing him from his restrictions which made his pale freckled skin a bit sore and bruised, just before taking a step back “You need to find a solution for the mess yo—” she stopped mid sentence with a gasp, and his big slender hands grabbed her roughly, pushing her towards the white table. 

He didn't hesitate, and his moves weren't thoroughly measured or rational, like his usual way to think and act. He was an.. animal with a fire in his baby blue eyes, as he smashed her down onto the desk, dropping test tubes and vials onto the ground. 

Bent in half, Y/n couldn't do much besides reaching back to push him away in desperation, but it didn't help much as he twisted her arm, pushing it down while kicking her legs open, relentless in his motives.

”Shut up” He hissed out while reaching down to her heat, pushing his two fingers in as he checked how wet she was. Feeling his own cum leaking out of her, he grinned in the mischievous way, feeling how his veins were still on fire. 

Pushing her head down into the desk, he kept her quiet while his big hand tangled into her soft hair. Without any further notice, he lined up the pulsing tip of his hard cock with her tight pussy, groaning loudly at the choked gasp that pushed past her lips as he filled her up. 

”N-no!” She squealed while wiggling her hips to the side, struggling but still attempting to get away from him. ”I’m not on the pill!” 

Crane's hand fell near her face, patting it mockingly before he shoved two fingers into her mouth, silencing her successfully. 

”Shhhhh” He cooed with a grin, before he snapped his hips forwards making her cry out with him as his fat cock hit her cervix suddenly. She stopped moving as soon as the pain set in, and seeing it, Crane repeated his move laughing out when she squealed. The aphrodisiac was slowly wearing out, and he was more than happy to give her a lesson for teasing him.

“Fuckin’ take it” Jonathan murmured breathless, pressing his body against her back to keep her still while thrusting again before shooting more inside of her cunt, still moving as he groaned, biting her shoulder as he pumped some more of his semen into her. 

Her body moved almost automatically as she hit his ribs with her elbow, catching him off guard and that way free herself a bit… enough that she could turn around to face him fully, her hand flying towards his face, slapping him across the face with the back of her hand. It didn’t really go like she was expecting, Jonathan just answered with a lustful moan and his hand moved roughly to her neck, taking a hold of it. Just resting at the beginning, as his pace picked up on a speed, his long fingers wrapped around her slim throat, squeezing it as he cut off the airflow while his hips slammed wildly against hers, leaving red marks. Her own hands kept fighting him as best she could, till the pace increased, allowing her just to scratch, claw and dig her fingernails in his pale skin, her eyes rolling back as his fat cock kept abusing her sweet spots without any kind of mercy. 

They both were panting, their heartbeat beating like crazy in their chests and they both could hear it since Crane leaned closer, resting his sticky sweaty forehead against hers, breathing with his mouth against her lips— leaning roughly down a couple of seconds later to claim a feverish kiss. He stole Y/n’s much needed air and made her squirm more, even though she reciprocated the kiss, biting down harshly on his bottom lip drawing blood from it, which wet her own lips before dropping a bit on her flushed face as soon as Jonathan leaned back with a desperate whimper of pure, raw lust.

”Going to… to cum” He breathed out, his tone was back to the low one, filled with authority and dominance almost the same as the one he used during his lectures. If she could, she'd roll her eyes at the way he was back to being a cocky, commanding bastard... if it wasn't for the massive cock splitting her nearly in half. Her right hand moved away from him, diving down where they were connected to gather some of their arousal and rub her clit in quick motion, increasing the speed just in time. Her pussy clenched around his cock as her body spasmed softly because of the orgasm that just hit her whole body, she could feel Jonathan’s seminal fluid spill out of her cunt and slowly down on her ass and lab table.

It all stilled, their breathing was the only noise in that empty room “Y-Yo…Your conference, Dr. C-Crane” she reminded him breathless as she held back loud sobs caused by the pleasure and all the emotions that filled her smaller body.

Breathing deeply, he leaned back while running a hand through his hair as he chuckled. 

”Right. The Conference.”

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys, @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher, @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

[midnightwind]

I'm making the almost kiss messier, for me (okay technically this is a few days after, but close enough) if you don't like the idea of Spite being into the Rookanis relationship, maybe don't read this lol

Summary: Spite tries to help. Things might be worse now. (just kissing and little touches, very pg, lot of yearning tho)

Word Count: 1705

She stood numbly before the pantry door, her heart in her throat. An air of guilt hung heavy around her shoulders. She had tried to give him space, busying herself by helping Taash and Bellara outside the Lighthouse. Things had felt so fragile and she was almost petrified that she had egged him into doing something he didn't want. But she wanted to visit Treviso and it felt wrong to go without at least inviting him. So she tentatively raised her hand and knocked gingerly on the door.

“Lucanis?”

There was a quiet shuffle from inside, but it was brief. She cracked the door slightly, unsure. If he was properly resting, she didn't want to ruin that. He was perched on the cot, slumped back against the wall. A cup was cradled in his lap, fingers slack. Had he fallen asleep halfway through a cup of coffee? She couldn't help the fond smile that tugged at her lips. He'd make a mess if he startled awake. She slipped silently inside, the door closing quietly behind her. With soft steps, she padded to his side and paused.

She had reasoned the intrusion with the idea of moving the cup then seeing herself out, but now that she was close she seemed to freeze. His shoulders rose with each breath, slow and peaceful. The heavy bags under his eyes were more obvious from this close and even though he was finally, finally sleeping, the exhaustion hung heavily from his features. She wanted to ghost feather touches along his jaw, card her fingers through his hair, press gentle kisses to his skin, anything to coax the stress from him. Her hand started to reach for his cheek, unbidden, before she caught herself. Grinding her teeth in frustration at the desire, she turned the motion to the cup. Her fingers had barely brushed the dish when his hand suddenly wrapped tightly around her wrist. He moved so quickly she almost screamed, her instinct to jump backwards halted only by his iron grip.

“Rook.” Her moniker curled from his mouth with Spite's low voice.

Her heart skipped a beat, wincing as the demon pulled her closer. “Hello Spite.” She smiled nervously. “Your grip hurts a little, could you… be gentler, maybe?”

Their eyes narrowed, mulling over the suggestion just long enough for her to worry he'd leave bruises on her skin. And then the pressure lightened, still firm, but measured now. “Rook is. Trespassing.”

“I…” Her mind raced to find an excuse before she sighed. “Yup. Sure am.”

A wide, toothy grin spread across their lips. “Good. We can talk.” And then he was scowling, an annoyed growl rumbling free. “Lucanis has been. Hiding. Avoiding. Won’t explain anything.”

She could feel heat rushing to her cheeks. “O-oh, I don't know if I…”

“Rook will explain.” 

It didn't sound like a request, but neither did it feel like a demand. It was more just… an expectation. An understanding that she was simply someone who would answer his questions. It left her a little dumbstruck. Explaining to the demon the intricacies of messy mortal relationships didn't thrill her, but it would be a bigger fight to try and escape. And maybe she'd get some answers herself.

“I can try.” She offered slowly. “Emotions are complicated.”

“Rook will know.” His words had more bite to them this time, grip squeezing. “You will. Stay close. Need to show.”

A thrill of alarm shot through her, heart hammering against her ribs. It felt like a bad idea. “Alright, but… let me find something to sit on. Being hunched like this is uncomfortable.” When he didn't move she offered up a wane smile. “I won't run. I promise.”

He let out a displeased hum, but let her go. She did snatch the cup as she stepped back, placing it on the little side table before she turned to assess the pantry. With only a little sigh, she dragged a crate to the cot and sat down primly. Spite closed the distance in an instant, face close and eyes bright. Nerves had set her hands to trembling, unease curling in her stomach, but she kept her face placid. 

“Why does Lucanis. Refuse himself?” He asked suddenly, voice low. When she only offered him baffled blinks he almost snarled, bringing their hand to caress her cheek. “He thinks. Of touching Rook. Like this.” Their thumb traced the line of her jaw, a little rougher than she would have expected, but it set her heart fluttering all the same. “Always wants to touch. So many different ways.” The wandering motion dragged their palm across her cheek, leaving a trail of warmth before their fingers tangled in her hair, holding her in place. “Wants to be close. Thinks of it. Constantly. So why does he not?”

She could feel the flush creeping up to her cheeks. “Only Lucanis can really answer that. I'll only have guesses.”

That did earn her a frustrated growl. Her heart was back in her throat at the noise and Spite was narrowing their eyes again. A dangerous grin slowly crawled across their face. Spite brought their free hand up to tug her hair free from the pins that held it in place. She didn't dare move as it cascaded to her shoulders, barely daring to breathe. He dragged their fingers through her hair, trapping a lock and pulling it to their lips.

“Like fresh blood. Fire dancing in the hearth. Warmth in the bones.” He purred. 

A strangled noise was all she could offer. Both hands cupped her face, trapping her gaze with his purple blaze. They were so, so close again. Her breath hitched.

“Storms at sea. Sun through glass. Sharp edge of knives.”

He bent their face to the crook of her neck, beard ghosting along her skin. She shivered. Their breath was warm and it felt like the ground disappeared from under her feet. The world reduced to the space between them, a sliver of distance barely maintained.

“Red berries and jasmine. Dizzyingly sweet. Smells of desire.”

That sent an electric spark through her veins, her pulse jumping. She shouldn't be hearing this. The urge to run screamed through her, but Spite had placed a hand on the side of her throat. Their fingers were tangled again in her hair, their wrist pressing down on her shoulder, and that single weight felt crushing. She couldn't move. Their free hand traced the pointed edge of her ear.

“Lucanis wants. So does Rook. Can smell it. Hear it. Feel it.” He brought their face back to hers, head tilted, lips hovering over hers. “Yet you both. Refuse. Why?”

She swallowed thickly, her voice hoarse and wavering. “Fear.”

That seemed to give him pause, though he didn't retreat an inch. “Of what?”

“Expectations.” The words fell unbidden, rasping whispers. “Disappointment. Pain. Misunderstanding. There's… so much that surrounds feelings like this.”

Their brow furrowed as he digested the idea. The moment felt like it stretched on forever under their caging grasp. And then she watched as he dismissed the thought. “Needless. Solution is simple.”

The distance disappeared before the alarm could settle in her bones. Spite's kiss was a hungry need, clumsy but forceful. He moved their other hand from her ear to her cheek, trapping her completely. It would have made her laugh if she had been able to form a thought. Part of her was screaming to run, of course, but the other part simply felt relief. A need finally answered, content to exist in the bruising kiss for eternity. She clawed at their chest, grabbing a fistful of their shirt, but wasn't able to bring herself to push them away or pull them closer. The sharp bite of teeth ripped a gasp from her, more surprise than anything, and Spite finally relented. When he leaned back, he had a wolfish grin as he licked blood from their lips.

“Simple.” He purred.

And then his presence vanished like smoke in the wind and she was left being held by a Lucanis who was struggling to take it all in. His eyes staggered over her loose hair, the deep flush to her skin, and her wide eyes. Her breaths were too fast, shoulders shivering. He could taste iron on his tongue and something else, something new. They stared at each other, both petrified, before the curse finally slipped from his lips, quiet and wondering.

“Mierda.”

It seemed to startle them both, his hands leaping away from her as if he had been burned. She stumbled backwards off the crate, pushing her bangs out of her eyes just to have something to do with her hands. Her gaze was focusing anywhere but on him, unwilling to see the look on his face. Would it be horror, or want? It felt like both would break her heart right now.

“Rook,” his voice was staggering, uncertain, “I-”

“Sorry,” she cut in sharply, a nervous laugh coloring her words. “I just- Spite had questions and I- Sorry.” She took a clumsy step towards the door. “I think… I need air.”

It was her turn to run, stumbling past the tables and chairs. She didn't stop until the dining room doors were closed firmly behind her. Pressing her back to them, she slid to a crouch. Head in hands, she took gulping, shivering breaths. There was a knot in her chest, a confusion of emotions. She had wanted that from Lucanis, but she liked it from Spite, too. That caused a worrying flip in her stomach. She did not want to pick that feeling apart right now. Shaking fingers dabbed at her lips, feeling the shallow cut the demon had made. The bastard left a reminder for her. It caused her to groan, pressing her palms against her eyes.

“Rook?”

Her head shot up in alarm at Bellara’s voice. The elf was paused at the bottom of the walkway to Neve’s room, a bundle of papers clutched to her chest. She took a tentative step forward as Rook shot to her feet.

“Are you okay? You look… Did Lucanis do-”

“No!” She cut in sharply, launching herself from the doors and almost running past the Jumper. “That was not Lucanis.”

[moongreenlight]

Ok I’m in the middle of doing four thousand things at once right now but I am personally having some thoughts about Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick that is forcing me to pause everything.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

He is so unbelievably obsessed with your pleasure. Obsessed with your sweet cunt and the way it reacts to him and his touch.

Literally cannot get off from head unless you’re 69ing because he needs to know that he’s making you feel good too. The combination of you mewling and gagging around his cock and the way you clench around his fingers when you come is guaranteed to get him to reach his high every time.

He honestly doesn’t even need to bury his cock in you. He can get himself off laying in bed with his head buried between your legs. Grinding against the sheets. Feeling you buck your hips against the tip of his tongue.

OBSESSED with giving you head. Daydreams about it. It’s all he fucking thinks about. And he’s SOOOOOO good at it. Takes time to watch the porn that you like so he can try to replicate some parts of it. Memorizes all the things you like and dislike. Incredibly attentive to all your tells. Is also SO coachable. Like he listens to directions for a living. A little to the left? Faster? Slower? Harder? Softer? Anything you want followed to a T.

He’s a pillow princess enabler. Buys you silk pillowcases and sheets and builds you a little nest in the bed before he settles in for the night. Rotating between licking at your pussy and fucking into you ruthlessly. Wouldn’t dream of asking you to get on top because god knows he tires you out enough as it is and he wouldn’t want to risk you needing to take a break or end things before he was properly done with you. Routine pauses to make sure you drink water. Feeds you sweets and cut up fruit or granola to keep your energy up because he’s so thoughtful.

Pleasure dom for sure. Practically demands that you send him videos of you touching yourself when you’re away from him on holiday or when he’s at work. Begs to see a picture up your skirt of your soaked panties after he’s spent your entire lunch break guiding you over the phone through multiple orgasms in your car. Insisting it will help you focus throughout the rest of your day.

He also definitely takes videos of you with your permission. Buys a tripod and everything. Zooms in close on your cunt so that he doesn’t miss a single detail. Takes hours and hours to lick at your clit in slow, measured strokes. Or he has you prop yourself up doggy style so he can pump a few fingers in you. Watching the way your sweet cunt drools and clenched and twitched around him. And he’ll go at it for HOURS. I mean it. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from you until you can’t stay up anymore. Can’t keep your legs from shaking. The breeze from the AC kicking on sends you screaming into your pillow because you’re so sensitive without him even touching your clit. At that point he’ll flip you over his knee and keep at it until you’re screaming and crying and physically cannot produce another orgasm. He’ll pout his lip a little even though his fingers have gone pruny from being buried in you so long, but he’ll be so gentile when he rolls you onto the bed and tucks you in. Rubs your back and massages your scalp until you fall asleep. Cooing into your neck about how well you did for him. How good you are. How much he loves making you feel good. Makes him feel good too.

[milkamel]

Yap post about Beast Yeast ep 9 !!!SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

MY GOODNESS IT WAS FUN- I had a feeling I'd love ES a lot and I wasn't wrong SHE WAS GORGEOUS. And finally Hollyberry got the spotlight I love her even more as well. Ngl her Crispia ep was a little boring but Beast Yeast? AMAZING. BEAUTIFUL- GAVE HER JUSTICE- I have yet to complete the Legend of The Red Dragon story ofc but hopefully it'll shed light on more of her character by the time her awakening happens

NOW SPOILER TIME!!!

First thing I did was put them together <3 PURE VANILLA IS SO SWEET I LOVE HIS SOFT EXPRESSION SO MUCH. MY GOD. MY KING. MY BBG.

Also bought the SMilk eps soundtracks for my kingdom I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THEM. SO PEAK. Like especially this one struck me ever since I first played ep 7

Me being cringe again- ngl didn't expect to hear any of his lines voiced but it was nice. Hollyberry wasn't voiced too ofc, I hope voice actors will be able to comfortably return to their work soon without any issues <3 <3

ALSO. BEASTS BATTLE INTERACTIONS. THIS IS THE FIRST THING I FOUND OUT AND MY GOODNESS AM I DREAMING?? FINALLY WE HAVE A GLIMPSE ON THEIR RELATIONSHIPS YESSSS LOVED THAT SO DAMN MUCH

Also this guy was interesting- kinda confused abt his relationship with Eternal Sugar cause he's so nervous around her for some reason??- Looked through some info on him and yeah I guess that's valid

My honest reaction once more. SHE'S ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS MYYY GOODNESSSS 🙏🙏🙏 I'd give in immediately ngl

I absolutely loved her and Holly's interactions (had to hold back the shipper in me lmao like wow- that was a lot)- Honestly at first I couldn't tell what was her goal with being so friendly (except for getting the soul jam ofc). I mean I expected some tricks and luring everyone into this paradise buutttt hm idk idk since she let them go so instantly (and I guessed the thing that'd happen right away lol, makes sense they'd want to go back after being faced with a harsh outside world)

Also I was so aggressive to the little guy for literally no reason- but yeah the way he fears her is.. odd to say the least

ALSO THIS?? HELLO?? THAT WAS CRAZY I DIDN'T EXPECT THIS ONE- though I should've cause it's not common for someone close to the ancients to get hurt. And Holly's sprite- GOODNESS 🙏💔

And mini Holly,, oh she's so precious and cute- :((( ueueueeueu- Indeed she was protecting everyone all the time- so sweet

AND ALL OF THIS- I LOVE THAT HER INSECURITIES AND FEARS WERE PROPERLY SHOWN AS WELL,, LIKE SURE THEY WERE EASY (kinda) TO GUESS BUT IT'S NICE GETTING A STRAIGHT ANSWER

AND THIS- WOW. WOWOOWOWFKJDJKGHJhjgdjhgf YEAH I'M STILL NOT OVER ALL OF THIS AT ALLLLL- "SPECIAL" IS CERTAINLY THE WAY TO PUT IT

ALSO SMILK MENTION!! MY GUY!! Still wanna know more about everyone's relationship. They don't seem to dislike each other but it's not like they're friendly or close. Eternal Sugar is definitelly the least aggressive out of everyone (at least at the moment) and kinda has good intentions but still her actions are still harmful towards the cookies she looks over

LOVE THIS SPRITE BTW- LIKE OH MY GOD CAN SHE GET EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL? Can't wait to get her omg,, please I beg-

ALSO ALL OF THIS??? CRAZY MY GOODNESS- As I said her motivation was.. mostly positive? To make a paradise where everyone is happy. She wasn't disappointed in cookies like it was with Mystic but she certainly went for drastic measures to ensure everyone stays happy. She looks pretty redeemable though not sure if this what's gonna happen

And yeah Hollyberry is traumatized cheers to everyone who wanted to see this happen!! (aka me)

Anyway. Loved the ep. Definitely one of my favs and will PROBABLY yap some more cause my thoughts are all over the place rn I need to collect myself lol

May everyone pull Eternal Sugar 🙏🙏 Cause fr so far I pulled PV and then Awakened right after like does he miss me already stop

[mvnscloud]

you’ll be in my heart.

because he’s allowed to love again, even if she still does.

pairing: choi seungcheol x angel!reader warnings: implied death, grieving, heavy themes of loss, angsty as hell! word count: 1.2k author’s note: this is my first tumblr fic pls be nice 🫰

𖤓

they say when you die, you see your life flash right before your eyes. but no one ever warned me about what happens after. no one told me about the ache that would come later. when you’re gone. when the world goes on.

when he goes on.

time works so much differently now. it doesn’t tick. it stretches. it folds.

sometimes it feels like minutes. sometimes, years go by in the blink of an eye.

and yet, in all of it, there was seungcheol.

i never stopped watching him.

i don’t really remember the moment i chose to stay. maybe i never made the decision consciously, maybe it’s selfish, maybe it’s love that anchored me here.

he was shattered, at first.

he stopped taking the long walks he used to enjoy, choosing to isolate himself from the world and everyone else. he stopped watching the sitcoms we used to endlessly replay. he didn’t even bother with the little routines that used to fill his day.

i sat next to him as he cried into the sweater i left behind, still hanging on the back of the chair like i might walk in and claim it any minute.

he whispered things into silence like he thought no one would hear.

“where did you go?”

“why did you leave me?”

“what am i supposed to do without you?”

on the better days, he wouldn’t ask why. he’d just cry quietly, whispering, asking me to be his angel, to always be with him, to stay by his side forever.

so that’s what i did. i could only watch. i could only press invisible hands to his shoulders when he trembled. i could only whisper “i’m sorry” into the quiet, hoping the wind would carry it to him.

and he talks to me sometimes, still.

he doesn’t realize he’s still doing it, but i know. he’ll be in the kitchen, trying to cook dinner, and the rice will burn again. he’ll curse under his breath, the way he used to when i would tease him for not measuring the water properly. you always said i’d starve without you, he’ll mutter, but there’s no anger in his voice anymore.

sometimes he’ll (clumsily) fold the laundry the way i taught him. i always tried to show him how to do it right, but he’d laugh, saying it didn’t matter as long as he had clean clothes. now, he folds them the same way, but there’s no laughter, just a quiet routine, like he's doing it out of habit, not because he wants to.

seungcheol talks like i’m still there “you’d laugh at me right now,” he says with a small shake of his head. “bet you’d say i’m hopeless.”

and in those moments, i do laugh. as if i was still there sharing the moment with him.

he’s learning to live with the emptiness. slowly, but surely, the weight of it becomes something he carries instead of something that presses him to the ground. he’s started to fill his days with things i used to do for him; making coffee (just a little too strong), leaving a jacket on the chair when he’s done wearing it, keeping the door cracked open at night because he used to hate the dark.

once, he forgot to set a place for me at dinner. i felt a small sting in my chest, a reminder of what used to be. but the next time, i noticed how he didn’t even hesitate. he just ate quietly, lost in his thoughts, and though he didn’t apologize, i could feel it, he was starting to let go. not of me, but of the weight of my absence. maybe, just maybe, it was okay for him to keep going.

he was going to be okay, and that brought me peace.

until she came.

at first, she was just a name in his phone. a co-worker, a friend, a new routine.

but i noticed the way he smiled when she messaged. the way his voice softened when he spoke about her. not full of grief, just… warmth.

the first time they met outside of work, he wore my favorite shirt. he still wore it too much, it was too loose now, but i think he kept it that way on purpose. like maybe wearing it meant i wasn’t quite gone.

she laughed at his awkward jokes. listen intently. looked at him like she saw him.

and he looked back.

not with guilt. not with shame. but with something dangerous,

something new.

i told myself i was happy for him. that i wanted this for him.

isn’t that what angels are supposed to do?

i watched her slip into the corners of his life i used to fill. the coffee runs, the weekend walks, the song recommendations.

i watched him fall in love again.

and oh, how it burned.

i wasn’t angry. i couldn’t be, even if i wanted to.

she was kind, she was careful with his heart.

she never tried to erase me, only held space for what he had lost.

once, i watched her run her fingers gently over our framed photo on his bookshelf.

“she was beautiful,” she said.

“she is.” he replied.

and i would be lying if i said my breathe didn’t catch. even until now, he uses the present tense. not wanting to erase my presence in his life.

but later that night, he kissed her. and when she kissed him back, i felt the universe split into two.

one where i was still alive, and this one.

that night i didn’t watch. i rose above the city, trying to find peace in the places where he wasn’t.

but still, i came back.

i will always come back.

she makes him laugh from his chest again. he hums while he cooks, the way he used to, before everything changed. he goes on long walks now, the kind he used to take, though they feel quieter, like he’s still figuring out the rhythm of his days.

i wish i could say it didn’t hurt, but sometimes i cry.

it’s a strange kind of mourning, to grieve a future that’s no longer yours, to mourn someone who’s still very much alive and healing.

but i’m learning that love doesn’t vanish just because the body does.

it shifts. it expands. it lingers like light across water, never quite touchable, but always there.

she’ll grow old with him.

she’ll know the quiet thoughts he used to only tell me.

she’ll meet his family, maybe name their daughter after someone who mattered once.

she’ll love him fully.

and he’ll let her.

and me?

i’ll still be here.

loving him gently, silently.

because even in death, some love stories don’t end.

and as i watch him hold her hand with the same reverence he once held mine, i’ll whisper the goodbye i’ve never said out loud.

you’re allowed to love again, even if i still do.

you’ll be in my heart, always.

[meraki24601]

Part 2 of Search and Rescue?? I love me a good rescue or recovery scene :)

(Only if you want to of course ;D)

Hullo, friend! Thanks for the ask! I love rescue and recovery, too. Let's get Whumpee and Caretaker to safety, shall we?

Part 1

-----0-----

Search and Rescue: Part 2

It hurt. Oh, it hurt Caretaker more than they ever imagined as they dragged Whumpee out of their hiding spot. Whumpee was in no condition to crawl out on their own, and none of them could fit in the small space to carry them. The hollow cry of terror and pain when Caretaker reached in to take hold of Whumpee’s ankle shot through their chest more accurately than any bullet. 

They hadn’t realized the ankle they held onto was broken until after they’d pulled Whumpee free. The limb wasn’t resting at an odd angle, and they had gripped above the break, so they hadn’t felt any shifting. They, they didn’t know.

“Officer? Officer Caretaker, we have them. You can let go.” A light touch brushed over Caretaker’s shoulder. 

Whumpee was quiet now, cradled in Caretaker’s arms. They kept them pressed against their chest to feel every breath shifting against them. Every heartbeat was measured by the hand wrapped around their neck and the base of their head, with fingers resting over a fluttering, slow pulse. Sure, they were alive, but they weren’t responding. Why weren’t they responding?

A voice crashed into Caretaker’s awareness. “Move! Get out of the way. Move, now. Hey, hey, Caretaker. Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?”

Caretaker’s lip curled in a scowl even as their head started to spin from the effort of looking up. “They’re dying, Friend. I can feel it slowing down. Their heart. Their heart isn’t beating fast enough.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen. Medics are determining the safest way to extract Whumpee from this ravine. We don’t have the supplies out here to monitor Whumpee’s condition properly, so they’re going to need you to hold them on the gurney and keep track of their pulse. Can you do that?”

Their arms tightened around Whumpee before they realized what they were doing. “I won’t let them die.”

Friend sighed. “Whatever the cost, right? Don’t move. They’re almost here. For safety reasons, they will check you to ensure you're capable of performing the task. If you fight back, one of the rookies will take your place.”

Caretaker didn’t argue. Even though it took more restraint than they’d thought, they didn’t fight the medics as they moved and examined Whumpee in their arms. They stayed perfectly still when Whumpee began to shift and whine at the likely painful examination. A small needle in Whumpee’s arm had them relaxing against Caretaker so much that they barely noticed when the attention switched.

A light shone in Caretaker’s eyes, and the medics were forced to take Caretaker’s pulse from their neck when they refused to release their hand from Whumpee. An injection that Friend assured them was to help them recover enough of their strength to assist in Whumpee’s recovery was the last thing they needed. 

“Let us help you both on the gurney. We need you to focus on keeping Whumpee steady.” Friend sighed when Caretaker made to stand.

The trip back started with Caretaker sitting upright, but the medics stopped once the search teams were out of sight. 

“Help us lay them down.” One of the medics swayed slowly back and forth in Caretaker’s vision as they messed with the device now attached to Whumpee. “Officer Caretaker, if you could lie down as well. This position is likely very painful for Whumpee, and we need you to continue monitoring their condition.”

Caretaker did as they were ordered with minimal help from Friend, blinking heavily as Whumpee was spread out against their chest.

When Caretaker opened their eyes, something cool was wiping across their forehead. 

“Whumpee is alive, unconscious, but should make a full recovery. It’s 0800. You were in and out for two days. They’re on your right. You can punch me when your fever goes down.”

“What the hell did you—”

“Whumper is still in custody and has already been transported.” Friend continued. “There are a few still fighting, but most of their men have run away or surrendered. Turns out Whumper’s second in command is pretty much useless.”

Caretaker rolled onto their side, grimacing at the IV in their arm. “Ugh. I feel…”

Friend chuckled and shoved Caretaker over onto their back again. “That would be the pneumonia. You’re in a hospital. I have a feeling the doctors are going to give you another lecture about hiding and ignoring your symptoms when you’re sick. This one could have killed you.”

“Better me than them.” Caretaker swung their legs over the opposite side of the bed and sat up before Friend could stop them. They studied the section of Whumpee’s face that wasn’t wrapped in bandages. “Why are they in here? If I’m sick, they’re in danger.”

Friend clapped a tense hand on Caretaker’s shoulder. The double meaning was clear. They wouldn’t be allowed any closer, but Friend wasn’t going to force them to lie back. “Fungal. Not contagious. Wouldn’t have gotten this bad if you had rested when you started feeling bad. Anyway, I asked them to let you share a room. Figured if it weren’t the case, you would have left to find them the moment I turned my back.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I know I’m right. Stubborn fool.”

“Your superior officer.”

“Powerful, stubborn fool.”

Caretaker almost laughed, then sighed, letting Friend guide them back down onto the bed. “They’re going to be okay?”

“You both are. Get some rest. Once your fever breaks, I’ll ask the doctors to bring in a chair so you can sit by their bedside and stare at them like a creep.”

[slaaverin]

With the impending return of BTS I have been thinking how are they going to tackle their comeback. There was quite a few posts on here how it could look like. And I cant help thinking that I truly wish for them, all the boys I mean, to be who they really are - just like Jikook were wondering together how should their future look like after MS.

Because lets be honest, by the time they're back (and I dont think we will get any major album/concerts/tour this year) almost all the boys will be 30 or over. Only JK - one out of 7 members will be still in his 20s. And I truly hope (and someone else wrote about this already) they will cater to a more mature audience. Bc they got older but so did the fans, right? There are so many kpop groups that are younger and they should fulfil that need for having idols playing into their trope of boyfriend etc.

But not BTS anymore. They have shown during their solo chapter how mature they are, how much depth there is to them - they are not boys anymore. There is no need for being blushing mess when singing about sex etc. Let them be the grownups they have become!

One other thing I wish for them is to let go of the constructs of kpop, of fanservice etc. They are succesful beyond measure now, they dont need to play into that shit, into theories of crazy tkkokers, of looking for crumbs of connecetion. And Im sorry (not really though) for saying this, but there is one particular member who LOVES fs and loves to play into it - you know who I mean. He will take any chance to do that - look how he behaved at the movie premiere with JK, or the time they spend time on Hawaii - he milked the fact they were together...

I hope they know the power they truly hold, there is no other BTS and there wont ever be.

And if some fans leave due to things changing - let them go on their merry way - they dont deserve those boys anyway....

(So sorry for this rant! I love you! 💜)

I share your wishes anon really,

The fact they will have time to prepare and regroup before putting new content out gives me hope that they will actually time to THINK and they should think hard about this new direction, it will either make it or break it.

I don't believe they can remain the same as they have been - it's pretty unrealistic and change is normal especially with age.

I also wish they would not play into the kpop game of fanservice in the future, honestly they really don't need to, but look what happened with the anime, and look what this member is doing (and kept doing even during military, this guy is on a MISSION, which obviously isn't good for anyone - whatever his reasons are.)

Unfortunately I don't see any of it stopping unless they all have a serious talk.

My opinion for a while is that Hybe keeps playing it small despite the member's success, it's like they kept a small company mindset and can't seem to ditch the underdog attitude, can't open to new ways of doing things, can't open to how international the band is (this alone needs to be studied because their inability to go international is almost comical - just look at their international job offers written in korean 😂), can't ditch the kpop game because they never believed they would break it the first place and now that they did they simply don't know how to handle it properly.

Some koreans are very conservative, and it seems many at hybe are older people, so my bet is that if you put something like CHANGE into their hands...will they actually be able to do it? Can they handle it?

I am not entirely sure.

Kpop is ingrained into the band since its debut. The members surely don't define themselves with the label anymore, but how does the company see it now? Are they truly capable of handling global superstars, and not just idols?

Can they go beyond the mold of kpop and push a different agenda?

I have a lot of doubts about this.

Yes the members have influence obviously but they need the company to back them up.

The anime was made I guess without the member's consent.

Yet a tk agenda was pushed. In our year of 2025 💀 doesn't it tell us that hybe is indeed playing the game here?

So indeed I share your wishes but I'm not sure realistically we will get them, at least not to the extent we want.

The interactions and pushing of certain subunits will be there.

Unless someone says something, which is not certain to happen.

Because everyone knows "it's the game you must play" YES in kpop but BTS are beyond this.

How much the members and hybe are willing to entirely let go of that label is completely unknown.

As for entertaining younger audiences, imo they can't even do it anymore because now it would simply be too weird. Imagine 30yo singing to 16yo? Trying to sell them the boyfriend fantasy. It's just weird. Creepy, even.

So yes change is absolutely needed.

I guess it also circles back to jikook's questioning "how do we want to live our life moving forward".

What is good about this, is that jikook will be able to think about those questions together and come to conclusions together AND THEN share everything with the group to find a middle ground with everyone. Somehow it eases my heart a little bit that their shared decisions might come first and that they are allowed also to decide how they want to present themselves with the world (more maturely too?).

Maybe everyone will finally cut the crap (ohhh I wish)

That would be good if some fans left indeed and that they kept more mature ones (if all tkkers could go actually...they don't even care about the music 💀)

Whatever the direction (it could go in so many ways) I just hope the members themselves will be happy about it, and that they will be able to express whatever they want just how they want it. That's my only wish.

Sorry if I'm not super optimistic - I just keep my expectations low so when I am surprised I will be even happier 😂

Can't wait to see how it all plays out 👌🏻

You can rant to me anytime! Love you too 💜

Thank you and take care 🫂

[unicyclehippo]

For bishova: regret

it would be stupid to think she knew anything about yelena from one—a mostly masked fight on a rooftop, and two—a conversation slash interrogation (?) in her burned-up apartment but when the widow took the seat next to her in the booth where she had been drowning her sorrows, a bottle of top shelf vodka in her hand, kate couldn’t help thinking maybe the other girl was being nice.

but what the fuck did she know? she hadn’t even know her mom was a mob boss or whatever.

‘what do you want?’

‘to drink,’ yelena said calmly.

kate kept her head low. no one in a bar like this cared who she was—hopefully, though maybe she was risking it by patronising a dive bar, maybe her mom had double-crossed or pressured or stole from or threatened everyone in here.

kate didn’t tell yelena to leave but she didn’t say anything more. just sat and rolled a quarter over her knuckles again and again and again and again and—

‘you are not being a very welcoming friend, kate bish—‘

‘don’t,’ kate growled. out of the corner of her eye, she saw the assassin smirk. she probably sounded like a toothless puppy to her. she was a fucking joke. ‘just don’t. okay? sit and drink or go away.’

yelena sat. she poured a measure into one shot glass and pushed it in front of kate, who blinked down at it.

‘what—did you bring your own novelty shot glasses to a bar?’ she couldn’t think of another reason she’d have an Alice In Wonderland themed glass.

kate let the quarter clatter to the tabletop and traded it for the little glass, lifted it up to make sure.

DRINK ME, it said, with a cheshire grin.

yelena didn’t smile like that but when kate finally looked at her, properly, she was pretty sure the glint in her eyes was the assassin’s version of it.

‘yes. mine is even better. see?’

kate didn’t look down.

‘does it say hot sauce?’

‘it says hot sauce.’ yelena smiled toothily. ‘a funny thing to put on a shot glass, yes?’

‘yeah.’ kate mustered a dry sigh. ‘yeah, it’s - that’s funny.’

‘you are not amused. you are either not a funny person, kate—which i know is not true—or you are not paying attention to my very funny glass.’

yelena threw her shot back.

kate should look away. kate should not find it very attractive, the way yelena shook her hair back and swallowed the shot, licked a drop from the corner of her mouth. the line of her throat. kate should not have got her mom arrested. kate should not be upset about getting her mom arrested. kate should be stalwart and true and brave and—

yelena tapped the table. ‘drink.’

‘don’t tell me what to do,’ kate snapped, overly harsh.

the only sign that yelena noticed was her slow blink. then the assassin scoffed.

‘so rude, kate! here i am, bringing the “good stuff”, and you won’t drink? this is very hurtful. i am hurt!’ yelena insisted, hand to heart.

she was lying, of course. she had some spin, some angle, something she was trying to get out of her or do and kate didn’t have to play along this time! it wasn’t any of her business! except that yelena was here, of course, but what did that mean?

kate scowled down at her drink. she hadn’t even finished the mostly-foam beer the bartender had shoved into her hand, pint sticky with the drink that slopped over the edge. or from the drink before. which was gross but. whatever. she wished she’d drunk more. wished yelena hadn’t shown up yet but when she was a more respectable nine drinks in, which would be a real excuse for not knowing what angle yelena was working this time, for how muddled kate’s thoughts were.

an ache punched up into the soft of her brain, the headache (concussion?) kate had been ignoring for the last hour. she let out an unsteady breath and picked up the quarter again. squeezed it until that hurt more than her head.

‘did you poison it?’

yelena turned so she could lean an elbow on the table, prop her head against her hand. kate watched out of the corner of her eye as the other girl smiled very sweetly.

‘no.’

‘drug it?’

‘no.’

‘steal it?’

‘no.’

kate sighed.

‘fuck it. thanks.’

she drank.

the vodka hit the back of her throat first. then she tasted it; it tasted like the time she swore her head off and her mom told her to wash her mouth out with soap and she’d done it because—

‘another,’ kate rasped, and coughed.

yelena poured her another. when kate drank that one too, she said,

‘you did not strike me as this kind of girl.’

heat poured through kate, stomach out. it was nice. it was always so cold in new york. not the real kind of cold kept at bay with a good coat, and kate always had a good coat and boots she never slipped because her mom always got her the best stuff and scolded her when she tried to slide across a big patch of ice. new york was cold because there were so many people here but none of them were hers. and yet. here was yelena. and vodka. and kate was warm.

her tongue felt warm too, which was weird. maybe the drink was drugged. she didn’t think she cared at this point.

‘what kinda girl?’

‘the kind to sit in dirty bars and drink alone.’

kate considered that seriously. yelena’s words felt as smoky as her voice and the meanings kept slipping through her fingers. how strong was that vodka?

‘me neither,’ she confessed. ‘but before today did you think i was the kinda girl to get my mom arrested?’ it struck her as funny. it was funny! because, guess what, she is!

‘i was not sure,’ yelena said. ‘but i am not that surprised. it was fifty-fifty, yes?’

fifty-fifty chance she’s a bad daughter or a bad hero. great odds. fucking fantastic.

‘you are having regret.’

kate eyed her empty shot glass.

‘i will give you another when you answer my question.’

kate grinned. leaned closer to her drinking buddy. ‘so this—‘ she patted yelena’s shoulder—and was sober enough to see the frown that earned her to remember not to do that again—‘this is an interrogation, huh? okay.’ she leaned closer. ‘i wish you hadn’t told me.’

yelena narrowed her eyes. read kate like an open book. easier—like words on a clear shot glass.

‘you do not mean that.’

kate shrugged. she wasn’t so sure. she nudged her shot glass closer to yelena. ‘any more questions or will you be a good drinking buddy and top me up, romanoff?’

she thought yelena wanted to say something for a second, as she sat back in the seat and tilted her head. but then yelena only poured her another drink and kate thought better of it. what the fuck did she know? not her mom. and certainly not yelena.

[gabessquishytum]

I wanted to write a little something more detailed based on this lovely ask, so I did - I'm afraid it's not very much, ironically because I'm very much struggling with my own Hypermobility at the moment! But I hope it'll bring joy, nonetheless <3

Love is Stored in the K-Tape

(550 words, rated M, no major warnings apply)

“You know, darling, it wouldn't hurt you to buy k-tape in a colour other than black.” Hob muses – measuring up the tape against Dream’s ankle and then cutting the strip. Dream huffs, and kicks his foot very lightly against Hob’s hand.

“Because the supposed flesh colour is so close to the colour of my skin.” Dream's tone practically drips with sarcasm. And all Hob can think is – he's adorable. Beautiful. An absolute brat.

“Well yes, it would look more like orange against your skin. But the blue would match your eyes so beautifully!” Hob picks up the last strip of tape and peels the back part away. He holds Dream’s ankle, taking care that the joint is comfortable, and applies the tape to the velvety pale skin. A quick kiss to the joint seals the process. “There we are, love. Is that alright? Not itching or creasing too much?”

Dream rotates his foot and gives a regal nod in response. Both of his ankles are taped, as is the outside of each foot (this part is to keep his toes from popping out of place). His right knee has been decorated too. Hob runs his finger over each piece of tape, and then leans in to kiss each one too. Hearing Dream’s little hum of satisfaction after each kiss brings a smile to his face.

“Thank you.” Dream eventually murmurs, when Hob has finished the tour of his joints. He tangles his fingers up in Hob’s hair and tugs affectionately. “For all that you do for me.”

Hob crawls up the length of Dream’s body to kiss him properly on the mouth before replying. “I can promise you that there's literally nothing else in the world that I'd rather be doing.”

“Even so…” Now Dream is blushing, just a little bit. It makes him look delightfilly radiant. He nudges his nose against Hob’s cheek. “Perhaps. I am becoming spoiled.”

“And perhaps. Spoiled is exactly how I want you.” Hob is half teasing, copying Dream’s intonation and the seriousness in his voice. But really Hob is the one who is quite serious, at least about this. He likes Dream to have expectations and demands of their relationship. It makes him feel like he's doing something right.

Dream only says “hmph.” And goes right back to pulling Hob’s hair. Hob has never been more enamoured with anything. He may be, he is willing to acknowledge, a tiny bit obsessed with Dream. This is what he wants: to be allowed to care for his lover and to make sure that he can enjoy sex without pain. It doesn't seem like too much to ask for. 

“Darling.” Hob nuzzles into Dream's oh-so-soft neck, licks the flutter of his pulse, and fails to stop himself from smiling. “Do you think that I could make love to you, now?”

Another one of those beloved regal nods. Dream’s hand slides down from Hob’s hair to the pelt on his chest, and he tugs on that instead. “I will be most disappointed if you do not, after all that effort.”

Hob has no intention of disappointing Dream ever, let alone this evening. And so he sets the tape and scissors carefully aside, to devote every ounce of energy and attention to his unique and utterly perfect Dream.

[riddle-me-ri]

Hi, um, are you still taking asks? Specifically nsfwa about the hatters? If not, or if you don't want to, feel free to ignore.

But, in case you do wanna answer this, may I please get the hatters (or just secret six/btas jervis) with a virgin reader, and how they'd help them losing it?

If you don't wanna, ofc feel free to ignore, but thank you if you do! (Also I've read all of your hatter stuff on here twice and I'm feening for my blorbo because the way you write him is positively delicious and I NEED MORE CONTENT OF THIS MAN MYBRAINFWORMS ARE STARVIGN!!!) thx for listening c[:

a/n: first of all thanks so much for enjoying my Hatter works! It feels like it was just yesterday I added him to my roster and I was scared and anxious about it lol (still kinda am but oh well) anyways I'm gonna choose Secret Six Mad Hatter for this prompt because he's the only likely to have the most experience to where he could actually help a virgin reader–and also...not sure what took over me on this one, but yeaahh sorry not sorry for the length asdfg also this is my first dive back into nsfw writing after not writing it properly for months so..go easy on me please!

Word Count: 3.2 k

Content Warning: explicit sexual content (gender neutral sexual intercourse, oral sex (reader receiving), making out, intense biting/mark making

Secret Six Mad Hatter x Reader - A Helping Hand

Your head slowly succumbed to the weight of the thoughts stacking up inside. Your crossed arms provided some cushion as you rested your chin on the indent of your crossed wrists. 

It was quiet in your room, and you wish the same could be said about your mind. Memories from the very beginning of your time with the Six to just the last ten minutes ago, replaying in your head.

You may not recall how the conversation started exactly, but you do recall how it ended…

“What? No way–” Lawton scoffed.

“Hm, I can tell. It is written on their face. They are a virgin.” Knock-Out stated in a matter-of-fact tone. 

“I mean, I wouldn't wanna do it with the hat junkie but--not even before him?” 

You shook your head, face flushed a firetruck red. 

Lawton just exhaled a disbelief whistle before taking another swig of his beer.

Again, you weren't sure how the topic of your sexual history was brought up, but you knew you wanted it to swiftly end.

The only thing you could do was quietly excuse yourself and immediately leave the common room table where the other two sat. 

Neither Lawton nor Knock-Out stopped you; their interest quickly drifted to another topic–

Now you wish you could just move past it to…but you'd be lying if this subject wasn't a topic of tension for you to begin with, especially being in a relationship.

Jervis Tetch is your lover, an experienced one at that, and it made you a nervous wreck to think about. 

You weren't born yesterday. You knew how things worked, you've masturbated…or at least tried to–if you didn't get tired or interrupted before…fully getting there–

Jervis has been an endearing partner the whole time. Never rushing or pressuring you, albeit his experience intimidated you regardless… 

Of course, he can't help himself sometimes with the usual euphemism or two, or his voyeuristic tendencies.

Which was another thing, you've both been naked in front of each other- isn't that the hardest part? 

Well, no, no it wasn't. He's been with many partners. How in the hell could you even begin to measure up, his past affairs also likely knew how to please him, how to get him going…

As your mind began filling up with critical and doubtful thoughts like tea in a cup, you felt the tiniest bit of weight on your physical head…

Your eyes blinked as you registered that something did indeed land on your head. 

You brought your head up, but not without ensuring the mystery item stays in place with your hand. You picked it up and looked at the object…

A tiny handmade sun hat with a bold red ribbon tied around it.

You smiled as you instantly knew the maker. 

“A hat for your thoughts?” Jervis asked.

You sighed. “I like the red, this is one of your most intricate hats yet...” You delicately held the tiny hat piece in between your fingers. 

Jervis hummed. “Those weren't the thoughts I was referring to, but I appreciate the compliments all the same.” 

You shake your head before placing the sun hat on the little wooden shelf at the head of the desk that housed all the hats he's given you since you met. 

“It's nothing, Jervis, really…I-I'm just…overthinking I suppose.” 

“Hmm…over…under...thinking is thinking, but it might help if you start speaking…” He suggested. 

You bit your lip.

You knew this conversation would happen eventually, it probably should have happened ages ago but between missions and other things, the time was never right. 

“I, uh, was in the common area with K and Lawton..I don't remember how we started talking about sex, but, well, K pinned me as a virgin and…she's not wrong…” 

Jervis blinked. “Are you worried about what they think? You shouldn't mind those dim-witted–” 

You shook your head and placed a hand on his shoulder as if pushing a physical pause button on the milliner to stop speaking. 

“No, no…I mean, it was…awkward and not how I wanted to finish my dinner. BUT it just…brought up other stuff that's kinda weighed on my mind…”

Jervis walked over closer to you. His head reached your knees as you sat in the small desk chair. His gloved hands clasped over your own, which were wringing themselves due to nerves. 

The sweet gesture encouraged you to continue. 

“I just, y'know, I worry if you'll get…bored or frustrated that I'm making you wait just because I'm… nervous from my lack of experience and that I–it won't be any good if we do it and–” 

It was Jervis’ turn to stop you from rambling yourself into a deeper rabbit hole. 

He tilted and leaned his head forward closer to your own. 

“Let me ask you this: why do you think I have partaken in several trysts?” 

Your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. 

Jervis chuckled warmly at your adorably perplexed expression. “I was looking for happiness, you see, bliss with others at its most abundant. It worked for a while, but after some time, that method...became redundant…” 

“No amount of memory or experience with any one person or persons, my dear…will ever amount to the bliss I have found with you…here.” 

His gloved hands entwined with yours.

The grip did encourage you to finally look into his eyes, your eyes having been shifting from left to right as he spoke. 

“I never want my experience to intimidate you, but rather, assure you! Assure you that I'm a man fully capable of pleasing you…” 

If your cheeks and the tips of your ears weren't flushed red already they were now. Even though the thought of speaking crossed your mind, you couldn't find yourself producing any words…

“I will wait however long it takes, but please know I'm in no haste. The love you give and show is well worth the wait…”

Concluding that actions spoke louder than words, you quickly brought your hands underneath his armpits and lifted up the sweet milliner off his feet as you stood up. 

When he was brought face to face with you once more, you pulled him into a sweet, grateful kiss.

A kiss that said you love him, you cherish him, and are grateful for his understanding…

You couldn't help but giggle into the kiss as you felt the air from the force of Jervis' feet kicking in glee. 

Your giggles caused Jervis to chuckle as well, making it hard for you two to keep kissing. 

Finally, you thought of something to say. “I…I'm ready…I mean..if-if you are…” 

Jervis beamed. “I'm always ready for you, darling.” 

You kissed him once more before reluctantly returning him to the floor, where Jervis had already made work of removing his clothes. 

It never ceases to amaze you how quickly he managed to shuck off all his clothes in one go...

When the last remnants of your clothes were removed, so were the remaining foundations of the walls you kept up to protect you from embarrassing yourself. 

You heard a blissful sigh from below, Jervis stared up at you with wide irises and mouth agape. If you looked any closer you could have sworn you'd see hearts. 

You wrapped your arms around your legs as you brought your knees up to your chin. Your back up against the bedrest.

“Jervis…” You muttered bashfully as you turned your head away from his enamored gaze.

Again, you two have been naked before, you saw Jervis naked before you even knew his name–(long story, you walked in on accident), and you two have showered together…

Why did it feel so much more raw and intimate all of a sudden…

Jervis scurried up onto the bed and placed his hands on the sides of your knees. 

He gently whispered your name. “Please don't hide, there's no need to be shy while I'm at your side.” 

He kissed the top of your head which made you rotate your head to face him once more. 

“You were…are staring…” 

Jervis tilted his head. “Of course, I am. There's no one else or anything else I'd rather stare at until the end of my days.”

Thankfully, he discarded those rough gloves for his hands. His hands were still calloused and blistered in some areas–his nails far from finely clipped but his hands were warm and gentle.

He gently rubbed the sides of your calves. “You must relax, dear…or we can't get anywhere…” 

Slowly, one by one, you stretched out your legs, which lazily wrapped around Jervis. Your hands rested against the mattress–your head was supported by the headrest of the bed, so you weren't sure what to do with your hands. 

Jervis took in another labored breath of air. He could never get enough of seeing your body. If anyone asked him lately what his latest drug was he would instantly say you. 

Jervis leaned in and kissed you as a reward, but also as a technique to get you to relax more. He could tell by the shrug in your shoulders and the furrow in your brows you were still tense. 

You moaned when Jervis skillfully slid his tongue into your mouth to swirl around your own in a wet dance. 

Once he heard you moan, he knew you were getting comfortable, and if that didn't seal it, you bringing your hands up to the sides of his face to pull him in closer, did.

Reluctantly, Jervis retracted his lips from yours. He didn't waste a second putting them back to work though as he began leaving a trail of deep damp kisses along your cheek, jaw, neck…down…down…down he went. 

You would gasp periodically when you felt his teeth break your skin–you couldn't deny the little jolts of electricity each bite gave your nerves…making you that less nervous and much more excited. 

You began feeling apprehension when Jervis made his way down to your groin area.

Jervis didn't fail to notice the hitch in your breathing as your feet planted on the mattress, causing your legs to tense and brace themselves for something.

He brought his hands up from under your calves and began softly kneading your skin. 

You took in some shaky breaths as you attempted to relax your legs again–

Which didn't last long when your body shivered at Jervis’ warm breath against your sex–let alone when his lips actually made proper contact with it. 

You bit your lip as Jervis expertly went to work, igniting nerves you didn’t even realize you had. Your body slowly warmed up from the inside out…

Not to mention the noises crawling up from the back of your throat and dying to get out but you're far too timid to–

“Mm..mmmahh…” 

Jervis transitioned from licking and kissing to enthusiastically sucking on you. 

Your hands gripped the sheets like a lifeline–without the sheets you could have made small cuts along your palms. 

Until a fine idea came to mind–

Very gently, you reached down and moved your hands under Jervis’ signature hat and lightly tugged on the shaggy auburn hair there. 

It was Jervis’ turn to moan, the vibrations of it against your most sensitive spot made your eyes roll back. 

“J-J-Jervis…” You whimpered. 

Your breathing got heavier, panting, that familiar tightening you've felt on your own, coming on stronger and faster than before.

Jervis slowed down, debating whether or not to withhold your first orgasm with him or not. 

“J…Jervis…please…” you whined, almost pathetically so.

Yep, that answered that question. 

He quickly tried to recover the pace he had before slowing down, determined to get you to your climax. 

Enthralled by your moans and whimpers, Jervis couldn't help but hump his hard cock against the mattress, desperate for some friction to relieve the ache.

It felt tense at first, you felt like you were going to burst at the seams–almost thought about stopping–the feeling was far too intense–

Until the dam finally broke and your body was riddled with goosebumps, all your nerves ignited at once and caused your whole body to shiver and shake.

Your legs jolted as Jervis continued to consume all your body had to offer him. 

Mouth dry, breath hitched, all you could do was gently nudge him away.

“S…sensitive..” You managed to say.

Jervis nodded, happily adapting to lapping at his fingertips after gathering whatever remnants remained on his chin.

Then he stopped, fully taking in your exhausted but contented form.

Your skin glistened with sweat, your eyes half-lidded, your mouth partly opened as you tried to catch your breath. 

His cock instantly got hard again, despite the mess he had made of the sheets just moments after you came.

You giggled, breathlessly. “ Jervis…You're staring…again…” 

“Mm hm…” Jervis hummed mindlessly as he crawled back up to where his face was in front of your own.

You softly laughed some more at the clearly twitterpated look on Jervis’s face.

Your laughter only ceased when Jervis brought his lips to yours. 

When his tongue once again became entangled with yours, you gasped slightly at the taste. 

Is that…is that how you…taste? 

Jervis felt your gasp and smiled into the kiss. 

When he slowly pulled away, you were still at a loss for words, but felt something should be said.

“That was…incredible…t..thank you.” 

“There's plenty more where that came from, my dear…that is if you're up for it…I…I know I am..”

You glanced down and noticed that he was indeed more than ready for the main event. 

You nodded. “I'm ready…” 

No amount of foreplay or preparations from Jervis’s fingers could prepare you for his actual cock.

There was something monumental about actually properly losing your virginity, and just how different it felt being filled by something other than fingers or a toy of some sort. 

Your body’s immediate reaction was to push his cock out–your body squirmed at the intrusion. The only thing keeping you calm at all was Jervis reassuring you you’re fine and reminding you to breathe. 

Once your body got comfortable, your hips went from retreating to almost bucking up against his, desperate for some movement on his part. 

Meanwhile, Jervis was near the end of his rope. 

His patience…before and during the moment…was wearing thin. It was getting far too difficult to hold himself back…

When you finally gave him the green light–he immediately began setting the pace of his thrusts.

Jervis Tetch may have his delusions, but he was self-aware he wasn’t the most well-endowed, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t know how to use it to make up for it. 

You thought you’d seen all the expressions Jervis had to offer–even the more intense ones, such as rage, sickly, or sorrowful–

All the times he beamed at you with glee at your naked form or when he grinned mischievously at the opportunity of seeing you bare–

None of them compared to the absolute primal look he gave you when you finally gave him the go-ahead.

You had to refocus your vision back on him, as your eyes rolled back when he began rolling his hips into your own. He looked delirious, almost, like a man finally getting a drop of water during a drought–determined to have his fill but simultaneously rejoicing in obtaining what he desired most. 

His thrusts were fast but thorough at the same time. Calloused hands gripped around the skin of your waist and abdomen, the man using whatever strength he could muster to pull you impossibly closer to him. 

Then came the biting–

It took some getting used to–just how much Jervis enjoyed leaving all sorts of bite marks on your skin. He always said it had something to do with ensuring everyone knew you were his or how you were just so sweet inside and out–he couldn’t resist. 

Now, being ever so close to a free canvas of open skin, your skin might as well say, “bite me”. 

Jervis was adamant about leaving no bit of skin uncovered, and with every bite, even when you knew it was coming, made you gasp at the sharp sensation. 

Every gasp made your hole tighter around his cock. His warm breath fanned over your skin whenever you tightened around him, motivating him all the more to continue to bite you–

His gestures weren’t all that cruel though, he did leave soothing kisses or licks here and there over certain marks he knew would likely bruise the next day. 

The knot in your gut was tightening again–every bite and thrust pulling and tugging at the loose ends of the knot. You were drenched in sweat, your hands gripped desperately at Jervis’ back–you couldn’t say you didn’t leave marks of your own upon his person…

You felt like you were gulping for air, for the energy to speak, only to realize you may not have to say anything.

Jervis could tell you were close, as was he…the long wait, getting to taste you, to finally take you…it was all so deliciously overwhelming for the Mad Hatter. 

“J–Jer…” you couldn’t finish saying his name before your body finally tightened once more before the knot ultimately burst, alighting all the nerve endings in your body. 

Your partner soon followed you over the precipice–his body giving out as he made his head comfortable on your chest, both of your sweaty bodies making it easy for him to stick to you, not that he ever needed help clinging to you. 

For a moment you two just laid there in silence, the realization of all that transpired fully coming to fruition in your mind.

Jervis turned his head up to look at you, his eyelids heavy with sleep and what can only be described as enamoredness as you made eye contact. 

You wanted to say something–anything, but you were worried you’d say something foolish. Something that would ruin this sentimental imperative moment between you. 

Perhaps a gesture instead. You bent your head down and gave him a kiss on his forehead, hoping that it said everything you wanted to say–

Thank you. I love you. That was amazing. Thank you, thank you…

“Thank you…”

Jervis hummed. “No need, it was my pleasure…quite literally.” 

You giggled inwardly. “Yeah, I can tell…my stomach is a testament to that.”

“Oh, don’t be surprised, you can’t give an artist an empty canvas or a writer an empty page and not expect them to do something with it.”

“Besides..” He added. “You love it.” 

“True, true..” You conceded. 

Another beat of silence. You glanced at the analog clock (the only one that actually told the proper time). It was 2 a.m. 

“Here, let’s get under the covers and go to bed, hm?” You suggested. 

Your mind was racing whether or not you were doing this whole after the act routine right. You knew you didn’t have to worry about being ditched or the like, but was it too soon to act…normal? 

Jervis glued himself back to your body like before you got under the covers. He didn’t seem to be acting any different, so why should you?

You rested the side of your face against his shaggy hair after kissing the top of it. 

“Good night, Jervis, I love you…”

Jervis snuggled closer to you, if that was even possible. “Good night, my dear, I…” he yawned. “I love you too.”

You didn’t expect that when you finally lost your virginity, you would be in a safehouse with five mercenaries, fighting for your lives on suicide missions, and that you would give your v-card to the schizophrenic milliner with a penchant for Lewis Carroll and headwear…

But honestly, as you watched, said milliner sleep soundly on top of you, remembering how he looks up at you with such enthrallment and admiration…

You don’t think you would have it any other way. 

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Dramatic Ending Ch. 24 Premium Story

Dramatic Ending Ch. 24

Thank you @passthechloroform for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

Before the end, the people who believed in God were in mourning.

Still, no one tried to stop Azel.

Perhaps, unbeknownst to everyone, a new era for the Land of Divination and Bewitchment had arrived.

-

Azel: Could you stop making such a gloomy face?

Emma: …I’ll try my best.

Once the people were out of sight, Azel slipped into a nearby guest room.

I followed without thinking, but I didn’t know his purpose.

(But, this is good timing.)

Whether it was because I was influenced by the people, or because I had learned that the end was tomorrow, as soon as I relaxed, my vision blurred, and I couldn’t even speak properly.

(I decided to spend time without regrets…)

Emma: I couldn’t help you with anything after all, could I?

Forcibly suppressing the overflowing sadness, I raised my voice brightly.

Emma: What did you want help with, Prince Azel?

Azel: Ah…

Azel: …That’s right, you said everything you wanted to the old man on my behalf.

Azel: Thanks to you, I didn’t have to waste any effort. That’s what you were for.

Emma: Haha… Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?

Azel: No, it’s a fact. Please don’t misunderstand.

(Does he realize he’s digging himself deeper the more he talks?)

My heart ached as I looked at Azel, who had turned away.

Azel: More importantly, aren’t you being sought by Akatsuki?

Azel: Your father doesn’t know where we went.

Azel: If he handed Enis over to the doctor, he might be wandering around the castle by now, unable to bear it any longer.

Emma: That’s true. I need to get back soon, but…

Emma: …I thought we were going to have a secret conversation in the guest room.

Azel: There’s no such thing. I just wanted to go somewhere quiet.

Emma: …

Azel: However…

Azel sat down on a long chair by the window and looked up at the full moon.

Azel: If you have something you want to talk about, I wouldn’t mind listening.

(…This God is…)

Emma: You’re becoming more and more generous, aren’t you?

Emma: You said earlier that you would only answer one question…

Azel: …Ah, no need for mercy.

Emma: Please wait, I want it, I’m happy!

(I’m sure I’m not the only one saddened by the farewell.)

(Tomorrow hasn’t come yet…)

I gathered the cold night air and cooled my heated body.

Emma: Prince Azel…

Emma: …Are you really going to disappear?

Azel: Yes. The “death of the eternal God” is exactly what it means.

Azel: I, as God, will die. And it will be a grand spectacle in front of the masses.

Emma: That’s… tomorrow?

Azel: Tomorrow. There’s no change in plans.

Emma: But…

*flashback*

Silvio: I hear that the Living God is reincarnated and descends to Tanzanite at regular intervals.

Silvio: In other words, there are times when the Living God isn’t around.

Silvio: Azel happens to be here now, but when he’s not, the people worship an idol god.

Silvio: Even if the Living God dies, “God” doesn’t die.

*flashback over*

Emma: Even if Prince Azel is gone, the idol god will remain.

Azel: Of course, with that old man leading the way, God won’t disappear from everyone’s hearts.

Azel: God will remain as an idea. But the important thing is which side becomes the majority.

Azel: Whether they continue to depend on God, or break away from God. If the will of more than half changes, the country will change.

Azel: Besides, did you think I wouldn’t consider what you’re worried about?

Azel: I’ve already taken measures. It’s impossible for God to be defeated by mere mortals.

(…This is no good. I just said I would support you, and yet here I am thinking of ways to stop you.)

Perhaps my heart hasn’t caught up with what I understand in my head.

When I lowered my eyes, a sigh dissolved into the silence.

Azel: …I didn’t want to be bombarded with questions from you because you would react this way.

Emma: I’m sorry.

Emma: But… Prince Azel, you’re being cruel too.

Azel: What do you mean?

Emma: You’ve had this plan all along… ever since you met me, right?

Azel: Of course.

Emma: …And yet, weren’t all those suggestive actions cowardly?

Azel: What are you talking about? When did I ever act suggestively towards you?

Emma: You don’t remember?

Azel: No, not at all.

Emma: Even though you were so clingy to me.

Azel: Huh? Please stop fabricating facts.

(At first, I thought it was because of God’s detachment from the world.)

(But, ever since you chased after me to the party you were supposed to hate, the contradictions in your words and actions became obvious…)

(Even now, you were trying to keep me away at first, and yet you’re holding me back like this.)

Azel continued to gaze intently at the moon, but he couldn’t hide the redness of his ears.

Emma: …Prince Azel, you’re a sinful God.

(Even I, who knows nothing of love, can tell.)

(Azel doesn’t react like this to just anyone…)

Azel: Look who’s talking.

Emma: What do you mean?

Azel: You too…

Azel: …No, never mind.

Emma: Now I’m curious.

Azel: Don’t worry about it. I was just delirious.

Silence dominated the room, to the point where we could hear each other’s breathing.

(This suddenly became awkward.)

(I should have had so many things I wanted to say and ask…)

(My heartbeat is so loud, I can’t put my words together properly.)

Azel: …

Emma: …

Azel: …Don’t you…

Azel: Don’t you need to pray to God one last time?

Emma: I’m not a believer, you know?

Azel: I'm a merciful God, even to non-believers.

Emma: That’s news to me.

Azel: …Shut up. You wished for my wish to come true earlier, didn’t you?

Azel: In exchange for that piety, I thought I’d at least listen to your wish too.

(My wish…)

Azel: Well, I’ll listen, but I won’t grant it.

Emma: …

(If I could wish for anything right now, there’s only one thing that comes to mind.)

(But it would be cowardly to say it out loud.)

(Even if God tempted me with sweet words, I shouldn’t say it.)

I pressed my lips together to prevent it from accidentally slipping out.

Perhaps sensing something from my behavior, God stood up and looked down at me.

As I tried to step back when he approached, he grabbed my hand.

Azel: I told you before. Don’t try to endure it with a creepy smile.

Azel: Say it.

Emma: …I have no wish.

Azel: That wouldn’t be fair, would it?

Emma: That’s not something a swindler God who forced a debt on me should say.

Azel: You…

A hand touched my cheek, and I braced myself for it to be pinched.

But the usual pain didn’t come; it was just gently placed there.

Azel: I’ll have you know, I already know your wish.

Azel: And yet, I’m still listening.

Emma: Even though it’s something that can’t be helped by saying it…?

Azel: Yes. That’s why I said “listen” first, right?

(...)

(..........)

I placed my hand over the warm palm that cupped my cheek and squeezed it tightly.

Emma: …I don’t… want you to die.

(I’m… contradicting myself too.)

(After all, I’m saying the same thing as the apostle in the end.)

The moment I said it, regret began to eat away at me.

But Azel didn’t brush my hand away.

Azel: Why?

Emma: Why?

Azel: I understand your wish, but I don’t understand why you’re so desperate to stop it.

Azel: Unlike that old man, whether God exists or not won’t affect your daily life.

Azel: Of course, a kind person like you would be saddened by someone’s death.

Azel: But even that is just a fleeting moment when measured on the scale of life.

Azel: It’s a pain that will fade quickly with the passage of time.

Azel: To put it bluntly, my death is “irrelevant” to you.

Azel: Don’t trouble yourself over a God you only spent a short time with, it’s foolish.

(––That’s what you were leading me to say.)

(Just as I wished for what was best for Azel…)

(Azel thought this was best for me.)

Accepting God’s mercy, I tilted my head, nestling it against Azel's hand.

Thinking about the pain of the moment this hand would become cold, I didn’t feel like I could go back to my normal life.

Emma: Prince Azel… what would you do if I said I was going to die tomorrow?

Azel: …………It wouldn’t matter to me if you died.

Contrary to his words, Azel's expression grew stern, as if to say he was displeased.

Emma: That’s the kind of emotion I’m feeling right now.

Azel: Sigh… I told you not to fall in love with me.

Azel: .....

Azel: ………… Ah.

Azel: No, that’s wrong.

(…I didn’t mean to corner you like that.)

Seeing Azel so obviously flustered made me laugh, forgetting the situation.

(You don’t have to try to hide it now, it was obvious.)

Emma: Are you in love, Prince Azel?

Azel: Don’t get cocky.

Emma: Ow… Ow ow!

He pinched my cheeks tightly, stretching my face.

Azel: Don’t nitpick, I just misspoke.

Emma: …I’m in love, you know.

Azel: …

Emma: I feel like I’ve been scammed.

(I thought I would never fall for a wicked God who put me in debt, no matter what.)

(…But once I realized you were just a compassionate person who couldn’t be honest, I suddenly lost my composure.)

(Besides, with the wicked and greedy Azel, I didn’t have to hold back…)

(I enjoyed the time we spent together so much.)

The parts of him that I respect, and his clumsy kindness in everyday life, piled up to build my current feelings.

It may still be shallow, like a small sprout just beginning to grow, but I’m certain that this is what I’ve been yearning for all along.

(I can’t pretend it never happened now.)

Emma: I think I’ll resent and curse you forever, so be prepared for that.

Azel: …Cursing someone who’s going to die is pointless.

Emma: I mean “I won’t forget.”

Azel: ...........

Emma: I feel relieved now that I’ve said what I wanted to say. Thank you, Prince Azel.

(I feel like crying, but…)

(…No, it might be too late already.)

Tears spilled down my cheeks, even though I was smiling, and wet Azel's hand.

At this distance, there was no way to hide it, and I could only lower my eyes.

(I don’t… have to hold back, do I?)

(The root of all evil is the God in front of me, after all.)

Once I gave in, I couldn’t stop, and sobs gradually welled up.

I didn’t want him to see my tear-streaked face, so I tried to shake his hand off, but against my will, he lifted my chin and made me look up.

Emma: Prince Azel, at least a little of my–

My parted lips were sealed.

My eyes widened at the soft sensation I had never known before.

As I stared back in surprise, he pecked my lips again briefly.

Emma: It’s impossible to say I’m not in love after this.

Azel: Shut up.

Azel: …It’s your fault for provoking me.

Emma: I only cried because of the wicked God.

Azel: That’s what provoking means.

Emma: What kind of common sense– Mm!

As if to say he wouldn’t acknowledge any objections, he stole my breath away again.

Once he had broken through, God didn’t stop kissing me.

Not only my lips, but each tear that spilled from my eyes was met with a loving kiss.

(I really… might end up resenting you forever.)

Azel: It’s all your fault.

Azel: …It’s your fault I became a fool.

Emma: Then it’s Prince Azel's fault that I fell so in love with you.

Emma: It’s cowardly of you to die without taking responsibility.

Azel: Cowardly, you say? Fine. I am a wicked God, after all.

Emma: A perverse, wicked God.

Azel: To think you would add to your debt with insults at the very end.

Emma: The compensation Prince Azel has to pay me is much higher, you know?

Our foreheads touched, our eyes locked, and our lips met again, though neither of us had planned it.

Azel: ………… Damn it.

(…I wanted to fall in love. I wished to love someone.)

(To think it would be like this…)

???: No matter how rational a person is, once they are driven mad by love, they can no longer live without it.

???: Just like a child.

.

.

.

Dramatic Ending Ch. 25

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[rom-e-o]

I was wondering if you are comfortable writing an asexual Rook/Emmerich?

maybe the others are teasing them about their relationship with dirty humor and eventually Rook has enough and leaves?

if this is something you won't write, you can delete the message

Hello, friend!

Apologies for the delay! I swear I wasn’t ignoring your ask, but I wanted to tend to it properly and give this prompt the attention I thought it deserved.

I hope this still finds you well. <3 Thank you for the request, anon! I had some fun with this, so I hope you enjoy~

Perfect

(Emmrich/GN!Rook)

Harding was a good friend. A very, very good friend. When it came to reliability and loyalty, she was sterling in both departments. The thought had dawned on Rook more than once that without her, they would have mostly definitely died at the temple while disrupting Solas’ ritual. She’d thrown herself right into the fray to rescue them, danger be damned.

Even before that fateful encounter, they’d been longtime allies in the search for Solas, and she’d continued to remain faithfully at Rook’s side even as the stakes had continued to rise.

Rook appreciated the scout for her charming personality and impressive prowess on the battlefield.

… That being said, there was … something that got under their skin. Sometimes it came in the form of a small prick, like a needle.

Other times, it hit as devastatingly as an arrow.

“So, Rook … you and Emmrich are…?”

With a sigh, Rook cast their glance from the bookshelf they’d been keenly examining and gave a waning smile.

“Harding, we’ve been over this,” Rook said, their tone carefully measured.

“Yeah, I know, I know!” she said, her words insistent while her tone stayed playful, “You said you wanted to keep things private.”

“That continues to be my preference.”

“Yes, right. That is perfectly fine.”

“Good. Thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”

“…Okay, but…can I just ask you something? From one friend to another?”

Rook pivoted to Harding curiously, trying to feign politeness even as the question grated the edges of their nerves. “Of course.”

“Really?”

“You may ask me a question, but I may not answer it. If that’s alright.”

“Oh. Well, that kind of defeats the point.”

“Harding.”

“Listen, Emmrich is older than you—”

“Nooo. Surely you jest.”

“—I was going to say, he’s … have you ever been with anyone older, Rook? Like, older-older?”

Rook swiftly slid the book back into its place on the shelf. “How old do you think I am, Harding? I’m not a child. Not even close, actually.”

“I know that!” She huffed, but in her usual determination, cleaved a path forward. “Hear me out. I just wanted to make sure you’d thought about this. Carefully. It’s hard to swim out of the deep end once you’ve already started drowning.”

“What about Emmrich would drown me, exactly?”

After flicking her eyes around the Lighthouse’s library to make sure they were alone, the dwarf close the distance between them with a few wooden footsteps. Then, in a conspiratorial whisper, she said, “I just want to make sure he’s not too much for you.”

Rook chortled. “Too much? In what way?”

“…Rook. You know in what way.”

Right. Emmrich had mentioned that vaguely on their previous dinner date. While he’d disclosed precious few details about his previous relationships, Rook was aware that he had been a mutual participant in more than his fair share of courtships. By extension, they could only fill in the blanks and imagine that a man with a dance card as packed as his had his fair share of experience in the bedroom.

Experience that Rook hadn’t had, and had no interest in experiencing.

“Have you at least talked it over?” Harding inquired. “Because that might be a conversation worth having before things get too serious, don’t you think?”

The two were so caught up in their conversation that they failed to notice a presence enter into the Lighthouse library, then still on the sidelines as their banter continued.

“You’re right,” Rook continued carefully, “We … um, well … we did talk. A little bit. He knows that he’s my first um … anything. I trust he can fill in the blanks. Even after I told him, he was still interested. We’ll just move slowly.”

“…”

“…What?”

“Rook, it’s obvious that even talking about this makes you uncomfortable,” Harding said sympathetically.

She was right, Rook thought. It did.

“Remember when Davrin made that joke about ‘hand-to-bone’ combat? I swear you flinched.”

Rook did recall and remembered their reaction keenly. It was the first moment they realized that, while perhaps they and Emmrich were on the same page regarding intimacy, the others at the Lighthouse perceived their interactions differently. There were comments and innuendos about sexual encounters and concepts that neither of them had put forward. Their friends were thinking about them being together.

Enough to joke about it.

Enough for it to become small talk.

That notion hadn’t annoyed Rook – it had terrified them. The sudden weight of the expectation to perform sexually, like some kind of peacock, when they were already trying to stay afloat with saving Thedas for blighted gods, was heavy. The last thing they wanted while trying to focus on saving the world was coping with lingering doubt about their competence in bed – as if that was anyone else’s business, anyway!

Davrin was one of Rook’s best friends, so they knew the Warden hadn’t met any harm. It was just gentle banter. Completely routine, actually. They’d heard far worse in seedy Minrathous bars and alleyways.

The comment wasn’t the issue.

“Rook, you’re under a lot of stress,” Harding said. “I know Emmrich is a good man who would never pressure you. I just … worry. I know how it feels to withhold your thoughts to avoid confrontation. Not that I think you would do that, of course! I just … ugh. I want to look out for you, but I’m probably coming off as some controlling ass, huh?”

Rook smiled gently. “On the contrary, you’re making a lot of sense.”

“See, I’m sorry for—oh! Wait. Really?”

“You’re not worried about Emmrich pressuring me,” they said, plucking another book from the shelves. A romance novel. It fell open in their hands, and their eyes scanned it lazily. “You’re worried about me pressuring myself.”

“Yes!”

The sound echoed loudly through the open space, reverberating like the knell of a chantry bell through the hollow space. Both cringed at the strident noise, but once it quelled and was replaced with the rumble of the magically-suspended debris overhead, they shared a laugh.

“I appreciate you looking out for me and Emmrich, Lace,” Rook said sincerely. “Thank you.”

The dwarf shifted from one foot to another, wooden clogs tapping the tiles with each humble sway. “Aw, shucks. Well, you’re welcome. I’m sorry I didn’t articulate that better at the start. I’m not great at … things like that. But I appreciate you too, Rook. For everything. I just want you to be okay.”

“I will be. Emmrich will be, too.”

“What will I be, now?”

The two friends snapped their heads in the direction of a new voice entering the conversation. The source of the voice was Emmrich, who had sauntered in, his staff in-hand as he walked. His hazel eyes fell on Rook, whom he regarded with besotted warmth.

“Hello, darling,” he drawled, pausing briefly at Rook’s side to greet them with a gentlemanly bow. One look from him was enough to make Rook practically swoon.

“H-Hello, Emmrich.” They blushed slightly at the way his voice deepened distinctly for them. The way he annunciated the ‘k’ sound at the end of their affectionate nickname never failed to produce a small shiver of delight.

Then, to Lace, he flashed a more casual smile befitting the greeting a friend. “Ah, Lace! I thought I heard you before.”

“S-Sorry about that,” the redhead apologized with genuine sheepishness. “Guess my Ma’s reminders about having an ‘inside voice’ have been dormant for a little too long. Maybe I’m due for a trip home as a reminder.”

“Oh, if you do, I’d love to accompany you,” he said jovially. “Ah, but speaking of that, did I happen to hear you mention my name before?”

Of course he’d heard, Rook thought. For a man of his age, he seemed to have keener eyes and ears than most people in their twenties or thirties. Perhaps years of studying the Fade had honed his senses, or perhaps he was simply a man who took the care needed to keep his mind and body extra sharp. The reality was likely a mix of both.

As Harding rushed to grapple for an excuse, Rook came to the rescue with their usual honesty.

“Lace was just checking in on me,” they said warmly. “On us, actually.”

“Us?”

Rook smiled warmly at the inquiring lilt in his voice. He was already expecting the worst, he realized, so they were quick to dispel his concerns.

“I asked the same question, but Harding just wanted to make sure we weren’t putting additional pressure on ourselves. I was just letting her know how much I appreciated her attention to detail.”

Coloring a shade of deep crimson under Rook’s kind words and Emmrich’s joyful thanks, the dwarf again stammered out another thank you. “T-That’s what I tried to do, anyway. I-I confess, we were also talking about, well, you two. Together.”

Emmrich blinked, casting a glance back at Rook. “Oh.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um. W-Were you?"

“N-Not in detail!” Lace rushed to correct, arms rushing outward as if she was about to summon a wall of stone. “Actually, that lack of detail was what I wanted to um, ask about.”

Emmrich blinked again, slowly. “I don’t follow.”

“I-I just…you two are both really important to me,” she finally admitted. “So, there. That’s why.”

The man’s brow softened immediately at her admission. “Oh. Well, that is most courteous of you, Lace.”

“I agree,” Rook added, their tone chipper. "Courteous and inspiring. It's good to know we have each other's backs."

Emboldened by their friend’s care, Rook decided to act on an earlier impulse. While a kiss on the cheek would have felt too forced, especially right in front of company, they instead stepped alongside Emmrich and gently took his slender arm into theirs. Resting one hand against the swell of his bicep (which his linen shirt did very little to hide), they beamed at the surprised look the gesture earned. A moment later, the man quickly adjusted. He switched his staff to his dominant hand and used his non-dominant one to gently reach up and twine their fingers together.

"I must say, we are quite lucky to have each other here," he whispered, his gaze never leaving Rook's.

"As friends and comrades."

"Among others." His hand squeezed theirs gently; protectively.

Even with his hand partially gloved, the gentle scrub of his palm and warmth of his skin was intoxicating.

It was a small touch, but it was enough.

“Well, look at that,” Harding smirked, “Don’t you two look perfect together!”

And it felt perfect, too.