#the green one is still up but I have a pretty good guess who is winning LMAO

[breezy-cheezy]

Color wheel challenge: LIGHT BLUE BRACKET

[sparrownnax]

anyways sometimes i wonder if i'm meant to be connected with people. don't get me wrong i appreciate my friends, but like my quality of life wouldn't go down too much if i hadn't met them. i like digging information out of people. they lose a lot of appeal once i know too much about them. i don't really have any kind of interest in pursuing any kind of relationship with people, romantic or platonic. i could take people or leave them. dunno

[arolesbianism]

The Joshua section of my oni playlist is looking great so far

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Series discontinued- sorry my loves. Ik y’all wanted more but the good news is that I’ve seen several really talented authors picking up this idea and executing it wayyyy better than my sporadic mood writing ever could.

[totally-here]

3 times Phantom's Guardian was Mentioned + 1 Time He Showed Up

One

Phantom’s introduction to Young Justice wasn’t as dramatic as Empress’ or Slobo’s, or even Arrowette’s first introduction to the cave. No, it wasn’t during the Olympics, or on a battlefield, and he didn’t come in injured and looking for help. 

Impulse just brought Phantom in one day and insisted that he should join because he’s their age, interested in justice, and now that Greta’s human again they need another ghost member. So Phantom stayed, popping in and out for missions but never really sticking around all that long. 

Today is one of the days that Phantom’s with them on a mission, that being looking around a lab of the Brain’s that had an energy surge recently, despite it being presumably abandoned. 

Kon got paired up with Phantom to check the rest out first, since they both have better hearing than Anita and Tim, who were both still in the main room working on checking the computers for previous activity. 

The room is dark except for the light green ball glowing slightly above Phantom’s hand. He waves it around enough for it to reflect off of glass, then throws it up to the ceiling. The light expands enough to illuminate the room. 

Phantom mumbles about not knowing he could do that. Kon ignores him and moves closer to inspect the glass tubes to the side of several monitors set up. 

“Looks like cloning equipment,” Phantom says, casually. He drags a finger through the dust gathering on one of the monitors. “Don’t think they’ve been activated recently, though, so that’s good.”

“What? You got a problem with clones or something?” It’s a quick and defensive answer, and Phantom puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Not in concept.” He shrugs and joins Kon near the tubes. “But not a lot of people ask before making clones.”

“So I don’t need to sic Superman on you?” Obviously Kon could chew Phantom out himself, but few can do a “not mad, just disappointed” face better than Clark. 

Phantom scrunches his face. “Why would you need to?” 

Kon stops pretending to inspect the tube and stares at Phantom. “You do know I’m a clone, right?” The blank look on Phantom’s face tells him that no, he did not. “Well I am. Clone of Superman, though we’re pretty much brothers now.”

“Cool,” Phantom says, not a bit less friendly. He hesitates for a second before continuing, “Could I maybe ask you how you got there? Me and my clone have landed on cousins, but that was also, like, given to us by her evil dad. So.”

Phantom trails off. Huh, that makes three members of the team that have been cloned. Not a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened three times. 

“You’re making sure she feels accepted, right?” 

“Yeah! Well, whenever she’s around. She,” Phantom waves his hand around, looking for the right word, “She’s a wanderer. Exploring the world and stuff. But Richard has a room for her at home, and I remind her of that whenever she does stop by.” 

“Well, first of all, don’t push it so hard,” Kon says. Phantom nods enthusiastically. “And second, who’s Richard?”

Kon doesn’t know a lot of Richards, and he doesn’t think that Phantom ever mentioned one before. Or even if he remembers his living life. 

“Oh, he’s my, uh, guardian? I guess that’s the best term. The guy I’m living with who forces me to go to school sometimes.” Phantom looks away and back to the tubes. 

Before Kon can ask for more details, Robin and Empress come in with a report of dead computers and wanting to know where they’re at with the cloning room.

They’re unimpressed with their lack of progress.

Two

Wally doesn’t really need to come by the Hamilton Lodge that often, not when that’s Young Justice’s territory and he doesn’t want to get involved in all of That.

But Red Tornado said that the team has a file on a planet that’s very quickly becoming a league problem, and he figured it might be a good time to try to check in with Bart, anyway. Make sure he hasn’t run any cars off cliffs again and all that. 

So he stops by Manchester to ask Bart about the file, then they both head East to actually find it. 

When they arrive at the hotel minutes later, Wally’s surprised to actually find it… clean? There’s no visible trash or overturned furniture or anything else he’d expect from an abandoned hotel filled with teenagers. Well, maybe not filled, lately. He doesn’t think anyone’s living here currently, with Greta at Elias’ for the school year and Slobo gone. 

Still, the room smells slightly of artificial pine scent, and Bart perks up before disappearing and reappearing rapidly, holding a teammate up by his armpits. Said teammate just accepts this, his legs folding into a wispy tail, and head rolling against his shoulders. 

“This is Phantom!” Bart holds him up higher. Phantom waves. Wally’s only heard of him through Max’s updates, the same way he would hear about Preston or Carol, but with more wariness about the supposed ghost. 

Actually looking at the pale face and glowing green eyes contrasting against the darker than dark jumpsuit, Wally’s a little more ready to accept his claim at being undead. 

“He stress cleans,” Bart explains, moving to carry Phantom under his arm. Wally bites down the urge to tell him to put him down, but only because Phantom doesn’t resist the hold, only moving to get into a more comfortable position. His hands are touching the floor. “So what happened?” 

Bart directs the question downwards, and Phantom heaves a very dramatic sigh. Definitely a teenager. It does raise the question of who exactly this kid’s mentor is. Hopefully he does have one. Maybe he’s the Spectre’s kid?

Phantom phases through the arm holding him only to lay on top of Bart’s hair. “I accidentally called Richard dad. And then fled.” 

Bart nods sagely. “Classic. One time I accidentally called Max dad, so I had to start a fire to distract him.”

Phantom sighs again, almost dreamily. “Genius.” 

Wally doesn’t have time to unpack all of that. Well he does, but he’s not going to, because there’s really only one Richard that comes to mind that might have the heart to take in a dead kid, even if he doesn’t go by his full name.

But surely Dick would have told him, or any other Titan, if he had adopted a kid. Right?

But there’s still a little shadow of doubt. Maybe Dick wanted it to be a secret, or it was really new or had a rocky start. Phantom doesn’t seem to hold himself like a Bat, but it’s not a guarantee Dick would have trained him. 

“The lodge looks nice,” Wally offers out loud, which Phantom shrugs at and wraps his tail around Bart’s head to keep secure. “Anyway, Impulse. The file on Myrg?” 

“Oh yeah!” Again, Bart disappears then reappears a few seconds later with a paper file. They really need to start digitizing more of these things. “That’s the planet where we played baseball so that they wouldn’t destroy Earth!” 

“You what.” 

The prospect of Dick following in his dad’s footsteps is forgotten in the face of what the hell Young Justice got up to on Myrg. 

Three

Tim may be in a…Predicament. 

It’s not his fault. Really. He knew what he was doing. He couldn’t let a civilian fall for the trap. But they were already so close, so he just, kinda, pushed himself into the rope instead. 

So there Robin is, tied upside down in a warehouse, with the Joker below next to an overly complicated control panel. The clown’s rambling about bombs hidden all over the city that Tim knows Batman is already tracking down with Batgirl. 

Tim’s not really paying attention to the rant because of that, more focused on wiggling enough to get the spare mini-birdarang out of his glove to cut the rope without notifying the Joker. 

“Yikes, bad time?” Asks Phantom’s voice beside him. Based on the source and accounting for the slight echo, he’s floating with his head near Tim’s, likely upside down. “Want some help?” 

Tim gets the birdarang out and starts sawing at the thick rope. They should be fine anyway, but stalling the Joker for extra time would be helpful. “Can you possess the Joker? Just hold him still.”

“The correct term is overshadow, but sure.” The voice disappears, and a few seconds later the Joker freezes. 

His body jerks forward, then backward, and a laugh chokes out of his throat. His hand claws over his mouth at the noise and he hunches over. All movement halts before he rights himself, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders. Phantom looks up at Tim and his eyes are glowing. 

Tim cuts through the rope, kicking and using the momentum to right himself and land on his feet. He brushes past Phantom in Joker’s body to handle the control panel. He turns off the radio broadcast and dismantles the bomb strapped to the panel.

Threat handled, he turns to Phantom and holds up some handcuffs. “Let me arrest you?”

Phantom obliges, turning the Joker’s body around and putting his hands behind his back. Tim lets him walk by himself out of the warehouse and moves the handcuffs around a lamppost. The Joker’s body jerks again, then slumps forward, just as Phantom reappears next to him, scowling down at the unconscious body. 

“That felt really slimy. Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Phantom grouches. 

“Why’re you in Gotham?” Tim asks. It’s not like Phantom makes a habit of visiting. The last time he came into the city, he complained about feeling the dead under the streets. Fortunately, that let Tim uncover a few tunnels that Talons travel through. Phantom, however, was unnerved by the Talons and left quickly. 

“Oh, Solomon Grundy’s back in our sewers. Richard said I should probably tell one of you Gotham heroes, since you keep track of those guys.” He shakes out his hands like they were cramped in the Joker. 

They hadn’t seen Grundy in a while. Tim assumed he was currently in a less violent personality. “What’s he doing?” 

Phantom shrugs. “Just chilling. Mostly underground. I tried to talk to him but he only grunted back at me. He also tried to pick me up, dunno what that was about.”

“Maybe because you’re both dead?” Tim guessed. That would be a surface level connection. Ivy and Woodrue have had more luck working with Grundy than anyone, and Phantom definitely doesn’t have the connection to the Green that’d help with that. 

Police lights turn around the corner, and Tim shoots a grapple to get to the roof above them. Phantom follows, but disappears as soon as they’re on the roof. Going back home, probably. 

Cass drops down from the roof she was listening on. “Richard?”

“Not the same one.”

They both stick around long enough to watch the Joker get put into the cop car. 

Plus one

A spaceship landed in the forests of New York, and Cassie’s team was the first to respond to it. Technically not respond, but check it out, since there wasn’t any alert or anything. 

Still, Wonder Girl has Empress, Robin, and Superboy on the other side of the ship, watching what looks like the back door, while she, Impulse, and Phantom watch the other door and main window. She has binoculars, but the windows are so tinted she can’t quite make anything out. 

No aliens have come out yet, and she hesitates to have anyone go in, in case whoever inside does turn hostile. 

Impulse has offered to run through a total of five times already, and it’s a testament to his restraint that he hasn’t, and a testament to Cassie’s that she hasn’t yelled at him yet. Phantom at least isn’t being annoying, but he’s not necessarily helpful, either. He’s not even watching the spaceship anymore. Now he’s trying to make a flower crown out of dandelions. 

“Door’s opening on our side,” Robin says from the comms. “But no one’s coming out.” 

“Alright, good enough to try to get in,” Cassie decides. She turns to Phantom, who’s closing off the circle of flowers. Beside him, Impulse has since pulled out a gameboy. “Phantom, go in invisibly through the open door and report back. Try to see what their plans are.” 

“Oh, sure. One second.” Phantom finishes the crown and tries to put it on Bart’s head. It doesn’t quite fit over his mane of hair, but Phantom shrugs and leaves it sitting there anyway before going invisible. 

“Maybe I should shave my head again,” Bart says as his game character dies. 

He gets a resounding no in response. 

Half an hour later they have a very annoyed Green Lantern lecturing them about league jurisdiction and knowing when to call someone else. 

Apparently, the alien ship was just stopping to complete some maintenance, and did not appreciate any spying on them, and especially did not appreciate who did it. Green Lantern was more than happy to explain that Wonder Girl’s team is not really a part of the Justice League and he can help with their maintenance. They denied his help and left to find a place with less people in it. 

“-and you!” Green Lantern rounds on Phantom next, but Cassie knows none of them are really listening. Sure, they messed up by freaking out the visiting aliens, and yeah maybe they should have contacted the league about it, but they’ve dealt with stuff worse than this! It’s not Cassie’s fault she thought that this would have stuck to the formula. 

“Who even are you?” Green Lantern runs a hand through his black hair, stupid green gauntlets shining in the sunlight. “Do I need to call your mentor?” He frowns. “Or do they know you mess up alien technology by just being around it?” 

Phantom scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How was I supposed to know their tech would go all fuzzy when I came in?” 

“You wouldn’t have to know if you just stayed out of the spaceship!” 

“Hey!” Cassie cuts in. “Technically that was my call. It’s not all on Phantom.”

“I still could've been more careful,” Phantom says to her, ignoring Green Lantern as they argue about blame. 

“Cut it out for a second, okay?” Green Lantern puts a hand between them and they stop to glare at him. He pulls the hand back. “Look, can I just talk to one of your adults about this?” 

Robin glares. “We don’t need an adult. We have this under control.”

“Only because I’m here now.” 

“I’ll call my mentor,” Phantom says. Kon opens his mouth, most likely to offer to call Superman instead in hopes of a lighter sentence, but Bart covers his mouth, smiling like he knows something Cassie doesn’t. Tim and Anita share a look, and don’t intervene as Phantom pulls out a phone from his chest. 

It rings once before it’s picked up. Cassie can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Kon’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Hey, do you think you can pick me up? Green Lantern wants to talk to you.” Phantom looks Green Lantern up and down then says, “No, this one doesn’t have a cape.”

Phantom says goodbye after rattling off their coordinates, hangs up, and stares at Green Lantern in silence for a few seconds. 

And then a swirling mass of black seeps into the space next to Phantom. The end of a cane steps out of it, followed by a leg, then the rest of the immaculately dressed man holding the handle of the cane that’s shaped like a bird’s head. 

“Phantom,” The man says. His voice drips with condescension in only a way a british accent can, yet Phantom smiles up at him. The shadowy portal behind him disappears. “What, exactly, happened?”

“That’s the fucking Shade,” Anita hisses to Robin, who shrugs noncommittedly at her. Green Lantern seems to recognise him too, taking a step back and clenching his hand that holds his ring. 

“Well, the team and I were staking out this spaceship–super cool, by the way–and I went inside to check it out, but my presence messed with their tech–which was an accident–and they freaked out, so I freaked out, and then we kinda got into a little fight until Green Lantern came to mediate.”

“Hm. Is that right?” The Shade asks Green Lantern, who nods slowly, still anticipating an attack. “It seems like the problem’s fixed, then.”

“Well, yes, but–”

“And it does seem about time for these kids to get home, doesn't it?” The Shade pulls out an actual pocket watch, chain and all, from his suit pocket and takes his time in checking it. “I’ll see them home.” 

Shadows grow from behind the team, swirling until they become a giant, gaping maw that swallows them up and spits them out in a different forest, or maybe just a different part of the same forest. 

Either way, Cassie has to take a moment to make sure she doesn’t throw up from the sudden vertigo the shadow portal caused. 

The Shade looks at Phantom, and raises an eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to always bail you out.” 

Phantom shrugs, looking guilty. “I know. Thanks, Richard.”

Oh, so that’s who Richard is. Annoyingly, neither Tim or Bart look surprised by this revelation.

[zephyrchama]

Do you ever wonder if the Devildom has silly celebrity TV competitions like The Masked Singer?

A bright green peacock costume graced the TV's screen. The costumed celebrity gripped a microphone and swayed as he sang, commanding all attention from the audience.

"This guy's got a great set of pipes." Mammon was on the edge of his seat humming along to the classic tune. "Twenty grimm says he wins the whole season. And another twenty grimm says that it's Chort."

Satan raised an eyebrow. "I don't think that's Chort. Could he even sing? Plus, didn't he disappear because of his massive debts?"

Belphegor nodded. "I heard he's been trying to dig a river for the last six hundred years. The show's hints made this guy seem pretty great. I think it's Vapula.

"You think?" Satan rested his head on his hand and listened. "He's really good."

Hundreds of long feathers splayed out gracefully from the back of the perforner's costume, as if hypnotizing the viewers.

"I'm tellin' ya, it's Chort. He's probably on here to sweep the competition and pay off his debts. Not a bad plan." A scheme began to take shape in Mammon's brain. "If I call these production guys, they'll be beggin' to have someone like me on next season."

Asmodeus laughed, "you? Maybe in a few seasons after me. I know they're waiting to bring me on as a special guest."

"Wait, really?" Leviathan was only watching in case somebody sang an anime or game cover. Most of the time, he was boredly scrolling his phone and making technical remarks about the costumes. "C-can you take song requests?"

"It's not official yet " Asmodeus clarified, "but I know they'll want me on the show in due time. I'm just worried the mask will hide my true beauty."

The singer finished his performance with a dab and a bow. After racous applause began an excessively long commercial break. Interest in the room dwindled. Nobody cared much about curse insurance.

You hugged a cushion to your chest. Being unfamiliar with Devildom celebrities meant you couldn't play along, but listening to everyone's guesses was still enjoyable.

"That guy reminds me of Lucifer."

Belphegor and Satan made faces like they had just swallowed a frog. There was a beat of silence, then everyone in the room collectively went, "Nah."

"Where is he, anyway?" you asked.

"He said something about a favor for Lord Diavolo," Beelzebub replied through a fistful of buttered popcorn. "Won't be back until late."

"Ah."

When commercials ended, the show began to wrap up. The peacock costume reappeared as the judges tried their hardest to guess his identity. Despite its flat plastic eyes, the costume had a majestic air to it. The masked man still drew eyes even when standing still.

"Last chance for betting," Mammon said. He shook his coin purse. Nobody took up his offer.

With plenty of suspense, the emcee began to remove the contestant's mask. There was a solid minute of the camera panning between the stage, the audience, and the judges.

"Hurry up already." Belphegor tossed a piece of popcorn at the TV.

"I can't believe this!" the emcee shouted.

Asmodeus impatiently squeezed his hands together. "Well? Who is it!?"

"It's...!"

Confetti cannons and bright lights obscured the mystery man's face, yet the audience was going wild.

"I can't believe it!" The emcee screamed.

"If they cut to commercials again, I'm leaving," Satan sighed.

Thankfully, there were no more commercials. There were no more pans to the audience or the judges. There was only one person in the camera's focus.

"Your ruler of hell, the Avatar of Pride himself, the great Morning Star! It's... Lucifer!"

There was a sudden chorus of exclamations. "What!?"

Aside from the television, the House of Lamentation became dead silent. Beelzebub stopped, slowly lowering his hand of food while transfixed on the screen. Asmodeus looked like he was about to cry, having his position on the show stolen first by Lucifer. Mammon looked confused and swiveled his head around, stunned, as though his brothers were pranking him. Belphegor narrowed his eyes with displeasure.

You cautiously eyed Satan, ready to command him to stay if things got out of hand. He just stared at the screen coldly.

Leviathan was first to break the silence. "Wait, really? Lucifer's the peacock?"

"I knew it sounded like Lucifer," you bragged. You raised your arms victoriously. Your cushion flopped onto the floor.

Beelzebub was the only one to commend you. "Good job, I had no idea."

"So it wasn't Chort or Vapula." Belphegor began to drag himself off the couch. "Well, that was unexpected. I'm going to bed."

"What's the prize for this show? How much's he winnin'?" Mammon asked.

"Probably nothing. It's a small appearance fee and the rest is just exposure," Asmodeus explained. Him and Mammon both hung their heads.

Satan got up to grab the remote, mashing the power button until it clicked off. "This show sucks. Let's find something else to watch next week."

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 25

masterpost

Despite the chill in the air, it was a lovely day to be outside. The sun was warm, the ground had dried out after a few days of rain, and the trees were in full color. Danny threw the ball again for Ursa, using the odd launching stick that Dick had gotten for them. It was appreciated, really. Ursa could run and Danny couldn’t throw the ball nearly as far as she wanted by hand.

Ursa raced back with the ball, just a cloud of black fur, and darted right past Danny. Danny spun around quickly, not wanting Ursa to jump on Alfred again (they were working on it), and almost swallowed his tongue.

“Ursa! Gentle, girl! Be gentle!” Danny called out as he took off after her.

Luckily, Ursa listened and planted her fluffy butt on the ground even if she was still wiggling around excitedly.

“Hi there, Ursa, it’s nice to meet you,” Babs said with a soft smile as she held out her hand to be sniffed.

Ursa dropped the ball in the offered hand with a quiet woof and a large grin. Luckily Babs didn’t seem to mind the sudden, slobbery present and threw the ball like Ursa wanted. Ursa was off after it like a bolt.

“Sorry about her,” Danny said as he scratched at the back of her neck. “Play time means fetch right now. She’s pretty determined about these things.”

“That’s okay,” Babs said as she wiped off her hand on her jeans. “She seems like a real sweat dog.”

“She is. It’s been really good to have her.” Danny didn’t even try to hide how found he sounded. He kept his eyes on Ursa, not able to look at Babs as he asked. “Did you… did you find anything?”

“I did.” Babs’ voice was gentle. “Do you want to know now?”

“I— yes, but no? I think this will… I guess… I don’t want to hear this alone, but I think that means I’ll need to explain everything.”

Ursa dropped her ball and came over to Danny where she pressed herself firmly against his leg. Danny buried a hand in her soft fur.

“They’ll all wait however long you need them to,” Babs said.

“I know. But I think… I think I do need to tell them, if I want to get better, and I want to get better.”

“Okay. I’ll make sure the family is on the way for dinner tonight and we can talk once they get here,” Babs said with that carefully gentle sort of voice that Danny always hated a little. Jazz used to do that too. “In the mean time, I’d love to get to know Ursa more.”

Danny cleared his throat. “So, I guess it’s obvious that she really likes fetch…”

-

Dick helped Babs settle onto the sofa. She didn’t need the help, not really, but the easy back and forth of movement was just natural for them, even after all of these years. It also gave him someone to fuss over that wasn’t Danny. What he wanted to do was scoop Danny up into a hug and never let him go. Dick figured that would be a bit too stifling though. Instead, Dick made sure that Babs had her laptop while the rest of the room got settled.

Danny chose the floor, apparently. He leaned back against Jason’s legs while Tim was pressed on the other side with Steph crammed next to him. Damian was on the floor next to Danny. The two were oddly hard to separate. Ursa had draped herself across both their laps; Danny dug his fingers into her mane. He didn’t look up at the rest of the room, even as Cass sat on the arm of the couch.

They hadn’t been told much about why they were there, a fact that ate at Bruce, but he worked to let that go. Danny had asked them to be there and to the one, they had shown up. Alfred was passing around hot chocolate with Duke’s help. The inclination that the comforting drink would be needed was probably right, as much as Dick hated that. He took his own mug and clung to it like a lifeline.

“The other night,” Babs started, “Danny asked me to look into someone for him, a Jasmine Fenton.”

On the television, a picture of redheaded girl appeared. The person who’s hair Babs had reminded Danny of, Dick realized. It looked like a school photo: mediocre studio lighting, bland background, a forced smile. She was late teens with a scatter of freckles and bright blue eyes.

“Jasmine Fenton, age nineteen, is currently enrolled at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville, where her permanent residence is.”

“Arkansas?” Danny asked quietly.

Babs nodded. “She’s been in the state since she entered the custody of Alica Bayard, Jasmine’s aunt from her mother’s side, almost two years ago.”

Danny sagged forward, burring his face into Ursa’s mane. “Oh thank god.”

“Why did her aunt receive custody?” Bruce asked when none of the rest of them seemed able to.

The steadying breath that Babs had to take wasn’t reassuring. “Jasmine was removed from her parent’s custody after the living conditions were found unsafe. This was part of an investigation into the disappearance of her brother, Daniel Fenton.”

A familiar face joined Jasmine’s on the screen. It was the same, awkward sort of school photo and Danny looked even more uncomfortable in it. His hair was shorter, his eyes bluer, and there were none of the scars. This was Danny before everything went wrong.

“The parents, doctors Jackson and Madison Fenton, were never charged with anything relating to the disappearance. They moved away from Amity Park four months later, likely due to increasing hostility from the town.”

“They weren’t dumb enough to keep me in the house,” Danny said. His words were somehow loud in the room despite being muffled by Ursa’s fur. He gave a mirthless chuckle. “You know, I used to think they were … not dumb, but clueless, you know? That they were science smart and low in everything else. The hapless, accidentally mad scientists. And then… and then I find out how much they had planned. That all of me was planned… I don’t know if anything about them was real.”

Damian leaned over to press against Danny’s side, offering his silent support. Dick was proud of how good a brother Damian was to Danny. It was a small silver lining in all of this. Danny slumped against him.

Danny’s eyes flicked back up to the screen and his sister’s face. He glanced away a long moment later. “Is there… are there any picture of the lab from the report that you can put up?”

Of course Babs had the photos and soon they were cycling through on the screen.

Mad scientists was right. The place looked distinctly science fiction, full of every day objects and tools that should be recognizable but where three steps away from reality. Everything was gleaming metal accented with a toxic green.

“My… they… the Fentons are ecto-biologists,” Danny explained as the rest of the room cataloged the details in the pictures.

“Ghost biologists?” Tim asked with furrowed brows.

“Yeah. Not that they ever met the ethics that biologists go by. But they didn’t think ghosts were sentient let alone sapient, so I don’t know why they even called themselves that. They didn’t… the screams means it’s working,” Danny said, choking on something between a laugh and a sob.

Jason cursed, the words a low rumble of anger that echoed through the rest of the room.

Dick had to get up and pace.

He brushed his fingers lightly over his family as he moved through the room, assuring himself they were all there and alright. Bruce caught his fingers and squeezed. Dick huffed, but settled lightly on the arm of Bruce’s chair.

“There’s a lot I didn’t really think about as a kid,” Danny said, once the room had settled again. “I should have. But they were—I thought they were my parents. I thought they knew best. When I started to really pay attention… we didn’t see eye to eye pretty quickly, but I thought they were just misguided, you know? I thought that maybe, eventually, I could talk to them about all the things that I’d learned and show them that they were wrong. But I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what, sweetheart?” Bruce asked.

“That I was never their son. I was just a lab rat.”

“Danny,” Cass called softly.

Danny shook his head. “It’s true! They even said it: ‘you can love the test monkey, Danny, but you can’t let that get in the way of the experiment’. Apparently I was an easy monkey to care for. Not too demanding. Easy enough for them to just add to the effort they already put towards Jazz, their real kid. Easy enough to ignore when they wanted. For me it was all just… normal. Just how I grew up.”

Tim bumped Danny with his leg. “Don’t worry, Steph and I will teach you how to annoy everyone in this family so that they can’t ignore you.”

The little snort of laughter Danny made seemed to surprise even him.

“Not that we would want to ignore you anyways, Dandelion,” Jason said. “We’re not perfect, but we’re family. Real family.”

Danny leaned back against Jason’s legs, a faint smile on his lips. Dick felt something in himself unwind at the sight. Jason was right, they were far from perfect, but they were family and they would be there for Danny always. It would talk time, a lot of time, but Danny would be alright. And all along healing he’d be loved.

Bab’s caught Dick’s eye. She clearly had more to tell, but Dick shook his head slightly. Give everyone a moment. Let everyone process and drink their hot chocolate and eat some of the cookies that Alfred brought with his impeccable timing. When everything was calmer and the cookies almost gone, Dick got up and returned to his seat by Babs. He touched her wrist gently. It was as good as time as any.

“So I’ve figured out when the Fentons visited Gotham,” Babs said. An old, poor quality image of a convention banner popped up on the television. It was for alternative energies. Next to it was a list of booths, the Fenton’s ‘Ectoplasm Energy’ booth highlighted. “But what I don’t understand is why they chose to clone Bruce. They never tried to use it as a claim for child support or any of the obvious reasons someone would clone a Wayne for.”

“I, um, never knew the when,” Danny said, squinting at the images. “I didn’t… I didn’t even find out the who until I was escaping. It was stupid to stop and look, they could have come back at any moment, but I had to know, you know? But I know the why. Bruce registers as a liminal. I would bet all of you do except for Steph and maybe Alfred. Well, Jason is more like me and Dami is something other, something more. Duke’s totally different.”

Bruce leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Liminal.”

Danny nodded. “Yeah. It can—like, it’s not the best term, really, because it can mean a lot. A lot of exposure to death, exposure to death at key moments, being somewhere liminal for a really long time, or longterm exposure to ectoplasm can cause it.”

“Is it dangerous?” Tim asked, mouth twisted in a curious frown.

“No,” Danny said quickly. “Think of it sorta like a meta gene? Some people are more susceptible to being liminal and liminals, if exposed to the right… incentives, can develop… not powers but kinda? Or, if things go really wrong, can turn into a halfa.

“My—the Fentons are really immune to being liminal, they learned that in college when their lab partner got really sick and then later turned into a halfa. I dodn’t know if… I don’t know if they would have tried to use Jazz like that did me if not. I don’t think so but… well, they didn’t have to worry about her when they exposed me to all sorts of stuff around the house growing up.”

“They chose to clone me simply because I was a liminal?” Bruce asked. He sounded befuddled.

To be fair, it was like the weirdest reason ever to clone Bruce Wayne and Batman.

“Yeah. A strong one,” Danny said. “Gotham itself is pretty liminal and you’re, you know, both her knight and her prince. I think you were sort of like the perfect choice for them to pick. I guess you went to the convention. They had you handle a device, it nicked you enough for them to get blood. They, um, would have played it off. Like they bragged, everyone always just thought D…Jack was just a bumbling fool. It let him get away with a lot.”

“They snagged Bruce’s blood and cloned you to just, what, have their own liminal?” Steph asked. Her nose scrunched up at the whole idea of it.

“Yeah. Apparently they tracking how much I was exposed to and what my levels where. I didn’t… I never noticed. It was just growing up. My, they always did my check ups. Experiments were left everywhere. I cleaned the lab. Sometimes hot dogs came back to life and attacked.”

“What?!” Duke squawked.

“One more reason to be vegetarian,” Damian tsked.

Danny just shrugged. “It was just life. But, um, I didn’t really get any powers or anything so they pushed things. They set it up for me to die and be exposed to a huge amount of ectoplasm at the same time.”

Dick stilled. “It was planned?”

“What?”

“You said they killed you, but it… that was planned. Killing you was planned?”

“Oh, yeah,” Danny said softly. “Like, I thought it was an accident, just being a stupid teen and not being safe enough around big science experiments. My friend just wanted a picture of me in the portal. It turned on and—”

Danny trailed off, fingers tight in Ursa’s fur.

“And halfa.” Cass said.

“And halfa,” Danny agreed. “Which I guess was the best outcome. I could have just died and been a ghost. It was proof that someone liminal enough could be dead and not at the same time. My, um, my friend Sam said I was responsible to fight the ghosts that the portal accident let out. It was just another way to test my powers and see how they grew. Not that, it wasn’t Sam testing me, but the Fentons would let ghosts ‘escape’ and I would fight them and get new skills.”

“You were a hero, Master Danny?” Alfred asked with a purposeful look to Bruce.

Bruce had the good graces to look a little chagrined. “It just seems part of the make up at this point?”

Danny smiled a little. “I guess. I went by Phantom. The city didn’t always like me, the ghosts could cause a lot of damage, but nothing ever got too bad. I really thought I was doing something important.”

“You were,” Tim insisted. “Even if the Fentons were the real villain behind it all, you still dealt with the threats that you knew about.”

“…I guess?” Danny agreed doubtfully. “I don’t know if it matters when they just were waiting for my powers to stagnate. Apparently they had pressure from the group that was funding them, the GWI, for results so they moved up their time line. I went to sleep and woke up in a box in a GIW lab. Then I was just a lab rat. I was just something to experiment on and cut into and—and—”

Dick moved to the floor and Danny’s side, pulling his newest little brother into a tight hug. “Don’t. You don’t have to think about that anymore.”

They had seen the scars.

They knew the sort of things that Danny had been through.

That those monsters had done.

Danny didn’t need to relive any of it just to try and explain things to them. Part of Dick wanted to protect his other siblings from having to be exposed to those horrors too, even with everything else they had been through. Danny sniffled wetly and buried his face into Dick’s shoulder. Hitched sobs wracked his body. Ursa huffed and tried to lick Danny’s chin. Damian leaned closer.

Dick looked up at Jason who was already watching Dick with a question in his gaze. Jason didn’t listen to anyone, not really, but this was a family mater and Dick was the oldest child. It was his call. Dick didn’t even hesitate to nod.

Jason looked viciously pleased.

Jason and Tim could handle the Fentons. The Titans would see to the GWI. The Justice League could deal with any fallout. The family would protect their own.

Dick pulled Danny closer as he let him cry.

---

AN: *lies down dead like Danny* this chapter was exhausting to write. I hope you all like it and it feels full.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ribbon, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook asks you what you would do to him if he was naked, blindfolded, and tied to a chair. He really is asking for it, isn't he?

warnings: rated M (18+) – JK is insolent bc he's secretly nervous smh; reader is unafraid to challenge him; smut (fem reader, he's obv naked, blindfolded, and tied to a chair, hand appreciation (?) spit kink, photography during sex, use of safe word, m-receiving oral, edging, f-masturbation); non-idol!AU; switches between reader's POV and JK's POV

--

“I’ve been wondering – do you ask me these questions because you’re bored, voyeuristic, or propositioning me?”

“W… What?”

“Hm? I’m allowed to ask that, aren’t I? Or can only you ask the questions?”

-

Truth to be told, you already had a good guess. It was just more fun to put someone on the spot. Strange that, even with the certain, ahem, reputation you had, people still took the time to misconstrue. It was tiring. Not entertaining in the slightest. Well, being entitled and self-serving was human nature. You didn’t mind it, as long as one owned up to their shamelessness.

Which never happened.

One could hope.

Regardless, you were willing to entertain when you felt like it. However, you refused to be a performance monkey. Even that practice was becoming obsolete as people realized the inhumanity of it all. If only the same could be applied to openly sexually active femme fatales. Sigh. For this reason, you avoided dating, both because it was exhausting and because we all die alone. Mhm. And, due to your rigid stance against romance, you of course kept finding yourself in long-term relationships. The universe never ceased with its paradoxes. With age came a rare lull. You figured that surely now was the time to be alone. Thus, the universe put Jeon Jungkook in your path, who did everything except for leaving you alone.

Ah.

The universe and its great paradoxes.

You were well aware of his fascination with your freak. He was green to it, too. It was the off-hand questions trying to catch you off guard paired the attempts at producing shock factor to a seasoned veteran that were the dead giveaway. Not that things weren’t moving forward as they normally did. A drag racer was slower than how you and him were progressing. Eh, you always believed time was a finite resource. So, you let him lead you along while skirting the edges of what if. Mostly to test his persistence. Alright, it was pretty fun for you as well. But the next evolution couldn’t quite continue without discussion.

Even nymphomaniacs could have morals.

Sometimes.

You watched his thoughts play out on his face. He was stuck in the mental battle of societal expectations, self-respect, and the truth. You wondered which would win.

“I… Just bored. That’s all,” he mumbled.

Hm. Societal expectations won. To be expected. Someday he would work up to the truth on the first try. He was one of those men with a pretty face, an arm sleeve of tattoos, and few reservations. But one of them was still sex, because sex was an undefined creature that he was still attempting to domesticate to that fantastical mold that media tended to favor. False idols attracted fanatics and fanatics generated payola. The most profitable subscription service was the lies that bound society.

It was what it was.

You weren’t surprised or disappointed by it. Didn’t hold it against him either. You leaned against the sofa cushions, facing him. With a smile. His jumpiness was quite cute. The tip of his tongue danced over his lower lip in involuntary nervousness. He had a tiny mole underneath his mouth, right at the center, that you were mildly obsessed with and hadn’t told him yet. Large black-brown eyes that shattered the tough image he was trying to aspire to but you weren’t going to tell him that. His style was big, baggy, and dark. Today was no exception. Black t-shirt, black track pants, gray beanie. Didn’t even dress up for the occasion of trying to bang you in his basement.

Well, trying to get you to bang him in his basement, actually.

You preferred it this way. It was authentic. You proceeded to question him. Just because you knew why he said what he said didn’t mean you had to accept it. You were trying to get to know him, after all.

“Is that so? Just bored, so you wanna get tied up?”

-

Actually, his reason was that he was horny. Which was probably obvious, but wasn’t something Jeon Jungkook felt like confirming. He learned for the start that she was not the subtle type. She did not seem to mind making the first move, so much so that Jungkook hadn’t realized she had until she had him backed in a corner that one time. It was a refreshing change. However, he had made the mistake of putting up an I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude in attempt to match her confidence when he very much did give a fuck. He gave a lot of fucks. To be more precise, he was trying to get fucked. And now trying to make her think it was her idea.

It was going…

Well.

Ish.

He knew from their first meeting that she was endgame. He didn’t do anything about it, because that would have gotten him labeled as a creep. Jeon Jungkook had flaws, but he was not a creep. He wasn’t her target at the time either, so. That was that. Over the years as he learned more about her, he was even more convinced that she was it for him. She was clever, resourceful, and unafraid to be the villain in someone’s story if it meant doing what was right. Sometimes you have to be a little bad to do a lot of good, she once said. It stuck with him. He used to think that his one true love would have to be his career. Film school was not cheap either. Money was required for existing, sadly. A person would, therefore, always come second. But, right now, seeing the way that her sleek black turtleneck and those tapered slacks draped over her body as she sat beside him on his black leather sofa, knowing that she was gently chastising him with her teasing smile, and, hell, even knowing that she in no way fell for his bait – there was no one else. There would never be anyone else. He just knew.

Whether it worked out or not, uh, remained to be seen.

Outlook was currently bleak.

“Why are you into that stuff, anyway?”

She leaned her head against the back of her hand with her elbow on the back of the sofa. “I’m not so much into it as it is my very nature.” The tip of her tongue grazed the edge of her teeth. He wanted her to bite him. He could also listen to her talk all day. But he would prefer the biting first. “Personal lore aside, everyone has things they are passionate about. Such as you and your mini movie theater down here.”

She was referring to the room they were in now, with the projector and sofas. The basement allowed him to enjoy the surround sound without disturbing his neighbors. There were a couple folding chairs leaning against the far wall for extra seating when he felt like hosting a karaoke night. He was actually very interested in her personal lore but maybe it was too much childhood trauma dump for this sexually charged moment. She knew time and place like that.

“People will talk behind your back if you like sex that much,” he pointed out.

Not for the first time, it seemed. “They talk behind your back even if you don’t like sex that much,” she chuckled, the oscillating blue-and-purple mood lighting making her eyes gleam. “For instance, I know for a fact that people speculate about your sexual prowess all the time. I’ve heard stuff.”

Jungkook doubted that. People possibly couldn’t be that unhinged. “Like what?”

She mused. “Like how you have a huge dick and are super dominant in bed.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Uh… huh…”

She smiled at him.

The same way a lioness would smile at a desert hare.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be thought of in such a… nice… way. It would be an ego boost if she hadn’t made it sound so objectifying. There was something off about it. Like looking into a mirror and seeing a blemish he didn’t remember having. He watched her eyes rather than looking into them. They had a distinct, sharp shape that reminded him of his favorite female characters in video games. She leaned a little closer. She always wore very nice perfume. Her natural scent was better, though. Tasting skin on tongue and breathing in at the same time, feeling her breath scatter at his touch, now that was perfection.

She ticked her head. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He realized he was slouching and straightened. He was most certainly not leaning forward in eagerness. Or anything like that. Nope. “You didn’t answer mine either.”

“I answer your hypotheticals every day. Humor me.”

Yeah, and didn’t offer to test any of them. He did his best to not feel bitter about it. He felt bitter about it anyway. “I said I was just bored.” Her waist-to-ass ratio was accentuated by her sitting position. Unreal.

She either didn’t notice his wandering eyes or didn’t mind it. “They say the first thought you have is the thought you have been conditioned to have.” Her hand was resting on her thigh. Didn’t move. She had said earlier the glittering reflective dark blue color she was wearing was from a Star Wars nail polish collection. It made the points of her almond manicure glisten in the low lights. “True feelings take a little more time to process.”

His eyes traveled up.

He wondered if she had ever thought about chilling the fuck out.

“What if you were the one being tied up?” he asked shadowed eyes.

She frowned slightly. “Now that sounds boring. For me, personally.” She stuck out the tip of her tongue before adding, “Hate that.”

He leaned onto his knees. “Oh, but you’re ready to do it to someone else?”

Her eyes slid downward to track his movement. “In my defense, you asked,” she said softly. Dangerously. “There’s no need to stress for compatibility. It’s either there or not.”

A pause.

In all honesty, Jungkook had first started asking the vulgar questions to see if he could throw her off guard. Then it became fascinating how unbothered she was by it. At some point, he couldn’t really help it anymore because he had become suddenly aware that she was aware of her effect on him. She had begun to notice how acutely he was listening to her answers. How he always had an involuntary reaction to her standing close to him. One time, he had felt the tips of her fingernails grazing over his lower back and visibly shivered. She had paused. Given him this look. He had held it but didn’t say anything. They were amongst other people. Must have been an accident. The next time, she did it intentionally. He held himself together better this time, but still returned the same knowing stare.

It became a silent game they played, just the two if them.

He asked the question of if she ever considered being on the receiving end of the power dynamic. She always rejected. He knew by now. He was only asking to stall for time. It was a dumb question, because nothing was a front with her. He liked that. He liked that she didn’t try to control anyone around her but rather had complete control of who she was. Didn’t try to convince anyone to change their opinion of her even though Jungkook hated it when he heard other people call her a slut. They used to be his friends but he stopped talking to them. He didn’t want to deal with that shit. He could get new friends.

He tilted his head at her.

She mimicked him, intrigued.

“So, you’re all talk and no walk?”

-

Damn, Jeon Jungkook was really trying to push your buttons today. You had to admire the audacity. Or maybe he was just horny. Nah, let him have the gumption. You hard let him get pretty close already, to test the waters of your compatibility, and you were feeling pretty confident about it. In conclusion, very successful. But nothing as intense as what he was suggesting. Pushing for, really. The best course of action was to talk about logistics and follow up some other time. That wasn’t really the way you or he rolled, though.

“What’s your safe word?” you asked plainly.

Jungkook looked confused. “Safe word?” he echoed.

You nodded. “Mhm. You know what that is, don’t you?”

His dark eyes shifted. “Uh. Yeah. Of course.” He frowned. You waited. “Stop?”

You almost laughed out loud. Almost. “Try something more obscure,” you coaxed. “Sometimes we say stop out of habit but not because we mean it.”

Jungkook was giving you this look. Fiercely protective with an even split of jealousy. “Oh, so you do this often, huh?” A little accusatory.

You blinked slowly.

Gave the time to let his own words sink into his ears. Then you said, “I’m fine walking out of here and pretending you never existed. I’m really good at playing the ignoring game.”

He got the hint. Winced and looked away. There was a bit too much pride to apologize for his rude remark. You could tell he sort of wanted to, yet the seconds marched on. The silence extended. Well. As long as he got the hint that you weren’t tolerating that shit.

“S… Sorry,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath.

You stilled a bit, wondering if you heard correctly. “Apology accepted.” You decided not to hold it against him since he proved you wrong. “The safe word is not just for you. It’s for me, too, so I can alert you that you’re asking for something I’m not willing to do. So, technically, it’s for us.”

Us.

That seemed to reignite his interest. “There’s stuff you’re not willing to do?” Of course that was what he was curious about.

You half-smiled. “Mhm. Such as heavy physical abuse. Blood play. Also, I’m not into cages. Those types of things aren’t for me.”

His eyes widened. “O… Oh.”

You ticked your head teasingly. “Disappointed?”

His eyes darted away. His deep voice became small. “Kinda scared… What even is…” He quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, okay. Yeah. I understand.”

You didn’t fill the silence. You let him think about it. Giving him an easy out if he wanted it. To be honest, this wasn’t your plan for tonight. Maybe some making out, but you didn’t walk in the door thinking about blindfolding Jeon Jungkook, tying him up, and having your way with him. Bit of an excessive lead-in. Hm. Suited him, though. You would have worn something less boring if this was your plan for seduction. Turtleneck and slacks weren’t exactly screaming I-am-going-to-fuck-your-brains-out.

“Yanggaeng.”

You broke out of your thought bubble. “Sweet bean jelly?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I was thinking about food.”

You liked that. “Mmm. You have rope? Fabric. Preferably all-natural.”

He shook his head. “Uh… I have some leftover ribbon from wrapping Christmas presents?”

You considered it.

“Eh, that’ll work.”

-

The tight turtleneck and tailored slacks looked even better when she stood up. Her sensual figure was made imposing by the cut of the fabrics. Either she was very good or very lucky at selecting clothing. He could clearly see the enticing body lines while at the same time seeing nothing at all. Even her shadow looked good. He felt a bit like a potato next to her. Best not to think about it too much. He changed the mood lighting to red. For ambiance. She let him know what she needed. He told her to stay and wait. A spool of dark cranberry velvet ribbon, a pair of scissors, and one folding chair later, she tucked her hands in her pockets and tilted her head at him.

“Blindfold?”

Jungkook went off in search of a silk sleeping mask. Close enough, right?

“Ah, smart.” She nodded. “Okay, strip.”

He stared at her. “Uh.”

She looked back at him, unbothered.

The silence extended.

“You weren’t serious about that?” she finally asked.

Calmly, as if she was asking for clarification of his lunch order. Awkward. He bit back his tongue. He looked from the line up of collected objects on his basement coffee table and then back at her. Instead of looking expectant, she looked curious. They hadn’t seen each other fully naked yet. Just mostly. And touched. But that was different.

“What about you?”

She glanced down. Then back up. “In due time.” There she went with that lioness smile again. “It’ll be a temporary embarrassment.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he shot back instantly and then regretted it. But she didn’t taunt him. Just continued standing there. He touched the seat of the folding chair. “It’s kinda cold.”

She looked around. “You have linens down here? A hand towel in the bathroom?”

“There’s some on the bar cart back there.”

This was happening. Really happening. It was sinking in now. All the more reason to not think about it. He yanked his t-shirt off as she searched the bar cart for the spoken towels. He plucked his beanie off too, and realized how flat and unappealing his hair must look. He had not planned this, obviously. Quickly, he made his way to the bathroom by the stairs. Yup. His reflection was not it. It took some water and aggressive pushing back to fix his hair. Wet dog was a better look than compressed.

She seemed a little perplexed when he re-entered the room. There was a plush white towel on the seat of the chair now. She was holding another one in her hands. She immediately looked over to him as he approached. Made zero comment about his shiftlessness.

Rude.

“You’re wet.”

He snatched the spare towel from her hand. “Turn around.”

She blinked slowly. “Why?”

He thwacked the edge of the towel against her hip. She looked down, acknowledging the action, but didn’t react much. Raised her head with a slight tilt. He tried not to blush. Believed he had succeeded with the combined force of sheer willpower and a hearty dose of delusion. He glared.

“I’m going to see everything and you won’t get to see my reaction,” she reminded him.

He clutched the pearly white towel quite intensely. “So what?”

She smiled. In that way. “You can use your safe word if you want.”

He clenched his jaw.

“Turn. Around.”

She searched his face for a second. Then, she did as he asked, facing the other way so her back was to him. Damn. Nice ass. Not the first time he thought that. He must be crazy. She had given him the option to drop it all and go back to just the usual hot-and-heavy-almost-there. He stared at the back of her head. Her hair was twisted upwards, trapped in a claw clip. The covered nape of her neck made his blood run hot. He pressed his lips together before slapping the towel over his shoulder and reaching into his pocket, pulling his phone out and setting it on the coffee table. Then he took off his pants and boxer briefs.

He picked up the sleeping mask.

Sat down, draping the towel over his crotch before turning off the lights for himself behind black silk.

“Okay.”

Now would be a good time to get out of his head.

Sadly, that was not how life worked. And so Jungkook was forced to endure the revelation that he was not Daredevil, sigh. His hearing did not suddenly become more sensitive due to the absence of sight. Fuck. Hadn’t been bitten by a radioactive spider recently either. Damn. He heard nothing but the hum of the wine fridge. He tried to listen for any movement – rustling clothes, a change in breathing, even a single dust bunny shivering, but there was nothing but a looming sense of what-the-fuck-am-I-doing.

A fingertip touched his cheek.

He almost flung himself off the chair. He would have lost his chastity towel in the process though, so instead he clutched it and jerked his head, realizing partway that it was probably a bad idea. He might startle her with his sudden movement. He froze.

Her voice floated down, dreamlike and airy.

“Was I not supposed to turn around?”

“I… I wasn’t expecting…” Which was a dumb thing to say. Duh, she was supposed to turn around.

“Jumpy like a bunny.,” she purred.

His breath caught in his throat.

Her fingertip had only left for a second but it was back again, tracing his cheekbone. Then he felt the other three follow in a cascading caress. His skin tingled. Her fingers danced down, cradling his jaw. His body felt strange. It felt like his blood was burning in his veins. She gently guided his head back to face forward, cupping his chin in the base of her soft palm. He could smell her hand lotion. Herbal and warm with a hint of yuzu. The pad of her thumb touched his lower lip.

Then her lips were by his ear.

He felt her breath stroke his earrings.

“Can you see anything?” she softly asked.

He almost choked.  Somehow, he held it together. At least, he thought he did. “Fuck no.”

She tipped his head back. He realized he had instinctively closed his eyes under the sleeping mask anyway. He didn’t try to check if he could see but he heard her say, “I’d like for it to be nice and snug. That fine with you?”

He gave her the classic, “Whatever.”

That made her stifle a chuckle at least. Her hand let go of his chin. He let out the breath that he didn’t know he had been holding. He felt her adjust the plastic slider against the elastic so it was a little tighter and added alight pressure. Then he felt her wrist lift his chin and then her warm hand slid down his neck, fanning over his chest. He gasped and then immediately shut his mouth. Her other hand touched his forehead and tipped his head back once more.

Her lips brushed against the edge of his.

“Ready to get tied up?”

No, Jungkook was not ready. His heart was beating in his throat and cutting off all his air. His blood was on fire. What was scaring him was not what was happening but his reaction to it. The epitome of desire was too physical. It was freaking him out. Her name escaped his lips. He did not like the way it sounded to his ears. Hopefully she didn’t catch any of the nuance.

“Mhm? What’s wrong?” Her breath mixed with his breath.

He sucked in air. “You know what you’re doing, right?”

She kissed him.

He didn’t expect that at all. If it wasn’t for the damn chair, he would have tumbled to the ground. It was only a press of lips to lips, lasting for perhaps one very long second. Her lips were very soft. Plush. Fun to kiss, he had always thought to himself. And then she pulled away with a satisfied sigh.

“I know what I’m doing. Do you remember the safe word?”

He heard her pick up the scissors.

-

“I’m not going to need the safe word.”

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t see it, thankfully. You could only control yourself for so long. You stood behind him, holding the velvet ribbon and scissors. “What’s the safe word?” you repeated, more sternly this time.

“Yanggaeng.” Jungkook scoffed like a bratty kid that wasn’t getting his way. If he didn’t look so good naked and if you didn’t have the patience, you would have called this off by now. “You’re not gonna get all crazy on me, are you?”

Was it your imagination, or did he sound a little bit scared?

This probably wasn’t the time to bring up snuff films. “Good thing you have the safe word,” you remarked, crouching down and unraveling the ribbon. The cranberry-colored ribbon had weight and a sleek pile. It was the high-quality velvet. The price was still on the paper spool. Damn. His family must have gotten some nice gifts. You snipped off a decent length and called out to him. “Bring your hands back here.”

He hesitated for a second. You waited. His shoulders shifted and he crossed his wrists behind the folding chair. The muscles of his arms stood out, one bare and the other accented by dark, colorful, swirling tattoos from hand to shoulder.

You did smile.

What? His obedience was cute.

But you took a moment to readjust so his hands were side by side instead of crossed. You also turned his wrists inward so the pressure points wouldn’t be stressed. He would probably twist and move around eventually but you preferred to start off like this. You made sure there was some distance between his hands before you made a loop and began wrapping around both wrists.

“How do I know that you would even listen if I said the safe word?”

“I’m not going to gag you,” you replied a matter-of-factly. After a few wraps, you turned the ends perpendicular to the loops and crossed them before beginning to weave them parallel to his extended arms. “You can yap however much you want.”

“Yeah, but are you gonna listen?”

You paused before making the knot. “You don’t think I will?”

“I dunno. What if you go beastmode or something?”

Ah. You brushed aside your initial hurt feelings once you realized he wasn’t personally attacking your character. “If I could go beastmode, I would find a way to make money off it, not use it on you when you’re tied up like a Christmas present.” You tied a square knot. Fuck it. And added a bow to finish it off. You saw him test his restraints.

“… You do know what you’re doing, huh?”

“I keep telling you that and you keep not believing me.” You unraveled another long length and snipped it off.

Jungkook heard it and flinched. “What are you doing now?”

You were about to cut another one to match but you stopped. “I’m going to tie your ankles to the legs of the chair.”

“O… Oh.”

“Unless you don’t want me to.”

“I… It’s whatever.”

You felt a muscle in your cheek twitch. “Do you want to stop?”

He shrugged as much as he could. “Up to you. You’re in charge, right?”

You had not known Jungkook on a personal level for very long but you had enough intimate moments to know when he was being a cocky lil shit. It was mostly a bluff of false confidence to hide his nervousness. But it was annoying. He was basically low-key making fun of you. Well, not you specifically but BDSM in general. Probably unintentionally and out of ignorance, which was why you hadn’t brought down the axe yet. You licked your teeth, thinking.

He called your name.

In the same way he did before, when you had been holding his chin and asking if he was ready to be tied up. Low. Breathless. Fleeting, as if he didn’t want you to really hear it. You softened slightly at that. You cut the last length and let him hear you put the scissors and ribbon back onto the coffee table. Your misgivings would probably resolve themselves. You trusted him that much, at least. Whether or not that was a mistake would soon be known. Still, you had to teach him a lesson. You couldn’t let him think you were going to tolerate these comments forever. Then you got an idea. An awful idea.

You got a wonderful, awful idea.

You smiled the entire time as you bound his ankles to the legs of the chair.

-

“You scared?”

“Not really.”

This was fine. Everything was fine. Jungkook was not scared. One, because he totally wouldn’t be intimidated by a girl. Ever. Yup. Not him. And, two, because she had assured him that she was not going to go crazy on him and she totally wouldn’t lie. Right. So. He would be fine. His limbs were getting a bit cold now but his chest felt hot, as if someone was pointing a heater on his ribs. Cooked, if you will. He breathed in deeply yet quietly, trying to relieve the undefinable tension. She was behind him because he heard the click of her claw clip. Must be readjusting her hair. Haha. He was worrying over nothing. It wasn’t like she had whips and chains in her purse.

He heard her breathe in.

He was about to quip, are you nervous, but then he felt her hands close in around his forearms.

Her fingernails skimmed over his skin and dragged down.

He stiffened at the rising tingling sensation. It bloomed from his arms up to his shoulders, crawling down his pecs and into the pit of his stomach. His breath caught in his throat. Did time stop or was it due to the fact that he couldn’t see? Her warm touch closed in the cold backs of his hands. The binding around his wrists was secure but allowed her to turn his palms outward. Her lips touched the pads of his fingers.

She kissed his hands.

Never in a million years did he think she was going to kiss his hands. He was bound to a chair, blindfolded, naked, and the one isolated sensation he could feel was her lips traveling over the lines of his palms. His fingertips. Her breath trailing after. He could hear the delicate sound drifting up from below. He felt her fingers cup his, caressing his knuckles, and shivers slid up and down his body, diffusing the heat from his chest to his limbs. It was weirdly intimate. More intimate than sticking his dick in someone, which seemed fucking impossible, but it was. He didn’t know how to react. His entire body was frozen.

His breathing went shallow.

Her tongue slid out and curled around his right index finger.

Warm. Wet. Agile. His legs were spread open, locked in place by the binds. The towel was still draped over his crotch. He felt it shift when his dick twitched as her tongue licked his hands. There was almost no sound. Saliva dripped down his fingers. He suddenly felt her warm mouth closing in around two of them. She must be low on the ground to do that since his elbows weren’t raised at all. Jungkook bit back what was surely to be an embarrassing sound.

His fingers were halfway in her mouth when she said, “You can make noise, you know.”

Somehow, she was able to enunciate while sucking. His cock twitched again. “W-What are you talking about?” He only stuttered because he had not realized what little breath he had. “You haven’t… Haven’t done anything yet.” His racing heartbeat was choking him again.

She exhaled, low and slow.

His fingers slid out of her mouth with a wet plop. Then into the warmth went the fingers of his left hand, her tongue snaking in between, back and forth. Her pointed fingernails dug into the backs of his hands, almost pulling him. The persistent tingling danced all over his skin. He sucked in a breath. His hands were let go and then it was only her hot mouth traveling all over his fingers and palms. She hummed and the vibration coursed through his entire body. It was foreign and sensual and mind-numbing. She didn’t say anything but she didn’t have to. He kept thinking about how good it would feel to wrap his wet, slippery hands around his growing erection and yet he couldn’t, trapped in her circling tongue.

He shuddered.

His right thumb was pressed against something hard and cold.

It lasted for maybe a millisecond. His brows knitted together in confusion. Then he felt her tongue slide up his right forearm, dripping saliva. Soaking the velvet. He couldn’t feel her hands anymore. The trail of kisses traveled up his arm and to his shoulder. He leaned into it, wanting more.

“Hm. I think I found a nice place to sit,” she whispered.

He would have replied with a snappy comeback but then she started kissing his right ear, melting away his thoughts. Lightly biting. Sucking. Toying with his earrings, and he heard the zipper of her pants unravel. This was familiar territory. He let himself bask in the attention, letting out a satisfied sigh. Then he heard it.

The sound of a camera shutter.

For a moment, he thought he imagined it. He was so focused on the sensations on his right ear that he wasn’t paying attention to the left. He turned his head slightly, puzzled. Her warmth shifted. Circling. He was about to ask if she had heard it too, but then he felt her knee slide between his legs, stopping just so. He became highly aware that she was right in front of him. He moved his head to face the direction of her breath, tilting upwards. He couldn’t see but it was obvious. Her fingers laced into his now mostly dry hair and she yanked. The pain was momentary.

Click.

“Woah!”

 His hands clasped instinctively. He was quickly cognizant of his compromising position. His throat exposed, the towel barely clinging to his erection, dangerously low, and it occurred to him that she was holding his head with her left hand. He heard the sound of the camera shutter again. There was no mistaking it now. Panic shot through his ribs.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Her voice was eerily calm.

“Guess.”

Click.

Her hand turned and the base of her palm pressed against the top of the blindfold.

“Are you taking pictures of me?” he gasped, feeling his face flush hot.

She didn’t answer. She did not answer. He pulled against the velvet ribbon but his ankles and wrists were going nowhere. Her knee on the seat of the chair prevented him from moving it. He would have to throw his weight to one side to break out of her grasp but then she might be injured at the same time. His mind reeled. Click.

“Stop squirming,” she finally said.

“Stop –?” He did not know why he was hiss-whispering and yet he didn’t want to yell in her face. “I didn’t agree to this!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Click. “You take selfies all the time.”

His cheeks were on fire. “That’s… This isn’t the same at all!” He writhed, arching his back. “You can’t… Don’t… Please!”

All of a sudden he felt her chest press against his. Or, more accurately, her breasts. Still clothed, apparently, because he felt the smoothness of the turtleneck fabric and her bra underneath. He stopped raising the volume of his voice. Her face was close to his. He was breathing very rapidly and very shallow.

“What was that?” she murmured.

His head felt hot. His pulse roared in his ears.

“D… Don’t…”

“Just the last part,” she prompted, sweet like poison.

Confusion ate through the tension. “Uh…” He racked his brain. “Please?”

“Hm.”

Click.

Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, but then his lover whispered, “That wasn’t the safe word.”

The safe word.

He felt the edge of the cell phone touch his collarbone.

“Y-Yanggaeng,” he gasped.

She immediately pulled back and lifted the sleeping mask.

He blinked hard even through the red mood lighting wasn’t bright at all. Hurriedly shook his head. Panting. The tension eased down his limbs, melting away. He looked up. She was right there. Her left hand was on his shoulder now, bracing herself. In her right was his cell phone. The back, showing his phone case with a print of black marble with white veining. She turned it around wordlessly.

Jungkook saw his face.

Barely. The front camera was on. The front camera was on. He frowned, confused. Huh? He glanced down at the preview of recently taken photos and it was merely a black circle. He looked up, not quite understanding. She was looking down at him with an undefinable expression.

“Eh?”

She tapped the gallery and showed him the photos. All black screens. She swiped through them until she got to the most recent photo he took – an image of falling snow in the city. It was clear that she did not actually take a photo of him. Not a single one. He tilted his head. She switched back to the camera app and turned the phone around again, bracing it against her chest before he heard the camera shutter sound again. She had used her right thumb to press the button. All of the photos were when the lens was pressed to her covered chest.

“I’m not going to need the safe word,” she echoed hauntingly.

His eyes widened.

She raised an eyebrow.

Oh. “O…Oh.” He felt his cheeks warm again.

“Using the safe word is not just for extreme pain,” she said quietly. Her expression reflected mild disappointment. “I’m not fucking around, Jungkook. The safe word is not a joke.”

“Y… Yeah.” He looked down and then immediately couldn’t focus upon seeing her naked legs. “Yeah. I get it. Sorry.” He realized he should not have made light of something that was now proven to be very important. He looked back up, hesitantly. She seemed to relax due to his reaction. Even half-smiled. Forgiven, for now. “When did you swipe my phone?”

“When I put the scissors down.”

He smirked. “Sneaky.”

She chuckled. “Surprised you didn’t notice me unlocking it with your thumb print.”

He frowned slightly. “I felt it but I wasn’t sure what that was.” He narrowed his eyes. “I was a little distracted.”

Her shadowed eyes sparkled. “I think you liked it more than you let on.” She straddled his thighs, leaning her arms around his shoulders. The towel on his crotch was barely holding on. She didn’t look down though. Just stared into his eyes. “But I had to teach you a lesson.”

“Nuh uh.” He made a face. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Her amusement was subtle like a cat. “That would have been a nasty situation.”

“You know what I mean.”

He could stare into her eyes forever.

He probably should have been madder but she was right to begin with. Plus, it was hard to care when he could feel the weight of her naked thighs on his thighs. It was hard to think when he could almost feel their bodies pressed together with little air between them.

“You can put more weight on me.”

She didn’t take the bait. “I’m good.” Her tongue slid out and traced the edge of her lips.

His eyes followed. He sucked in a breath. Glanced back up.

She regarded him curiously.

“Kiss me.”

She didn’t move. Picturesque in the shadows. Imprinted into his memory.

“Please kiss me,” he breathed, low with want.

She tilted her head and kissed him.

Pulled her body closer and he moaned into her mouth. The towel bunched up against his hard length. He felt the warm dip between her legs. So close and yet so far. She kissed him deeply, the tip of her tongue against his lip, and he craned his head forward, driven by desire. Her tongue slid inside. He sucked on it, tight. His heartbeat against his ribs. Heat rising. Intensifying.

She broke the kiss, tearing his breath apart.

He half-opened his eyes. Her lips were glossy. Gleaming in the dark.

“Hey.”

Her eyes shifted under her lashes. Pupils slightly dilated. “Hm?”

“Take a selfie.”

Bewilderment. “Right now?” She frowned a bit. “My phone is over there.”

His voice was shaking a little. “With mine.”

She pulled back her right hand. The screen was dark. She still looked perplexed but made to get off his lap.

He immediately protested. “No.”

She turned the phone around. His lock screen was his Doberman who was blissfully asleep upstairs. “I need your fingerprint.”

“Use the PIN.”

She swiped the screen with raised eyebrows. Before she could ask, he gave her the answer.

“It’s your birth date.”

Her eyes flickered to him.

“What?” He shrugged as best he could. “I have to remember it somehow.”

She looked like she wanted to say something. Didn’t. Instead, she typed it in. The last open application was already loaded. It was still on the front camera. She raised off his thighs, holding onto his right shoulder with her left hand.

“Uh. Wait. The towel.”

She paused. Looked down. Back up. “What about it?”

He pouted. “Move it.”

Something flitted across her gaze. But she didn’t ask. She angled her hips and lifted the white towel from his lap gently. Upwards, so the edges had clearance before she tossed it aside. He glanced down, just in case. He wasn’t exactly hard. Not completely limp either. He was very aroused. He could feel pre-cum leaking onto the towel under him. His eyes went back to her face. For a split second, they shared a gaze. He couldn’t quite work out her expression. She had touched him before. Sucked him when he was fully hard. But never really seen him completely naked and not hard.

Every guy was self-conscious about that stuff.

She lowered back down and slid up higher. Higher, so the top of her crotch was against his abdomen. He inhaled sharply. She reached around and cupped his head, pressing it to her chest. He almost squeaked. Her thighs pressed against his hips. He wished she was completely naked.

What? Guys thought about that stuff too!

“Only my face, right?”

“Don’t get any of me,” he mumbled to her tits. “I don’t need any pics of myself.”

“You take a lot of pics of yourself. I’ve seen your Instagram,” she chuckled and then he heard the camera shutter.

“I deleted that,” he grumbled as she let go of his head and turned the screen. He could barely make her out but the highlighted details were exquisite. The red light and deep black shadows cast her pretty face with a vampiric glow. She had said she wasn’t into blood play but Jungkook was pretty sure he would let her suck his blood.

“Satisfied?”

His mouth was open. He closed it. “Uh. Yeah.”

She smiled. “You wanna continue?”

It did not occur to him that he could stop all this right now. “What? Duh.” He wiggled in place. “I haven’t even cum yet!”

Her smile grew. “Oh?”

“Hey! You gotta hold up your side of the deal,” he complained, stressed that she wasn’t going to let him bust a nut like this. “Come on.”

She was really serving Cheshire cat now. It might have been the lighting.

“Then it’s lights out for you.”

And she pulled the sleeping mask down, leaving him in the dark.

-

There was no plan. There never was when it came to Jeon Jungkook. You just knew you would end up in some shit whenever you stepped into his place. Like tying him naked to a chair and making out with him while he was blindfolded. You loved the feeling of dragging your nails over his skin. He slipped into the darkness much more freely this time, accepting anything you did. You hadn’t removed your turtleneck or undergarments yet. It added to the ambiance. He could feel the shape of your body but not your skin and it was driving him insane. His breath caught. His body went tense.

You dragged your nails down his chest and followed it with your tongue, slithering down his legs.

His gasps were slowly turning into whines.

You pressed your hand against his hard abdomen.

You lowered your head and drenched his cock with your spit. He wasn’t hard and yet he moaned to the ceiling as you swallowed him, guiding him down your throat with your tongue. You didn’t need to use your hands. You toyed with his thigh, spreading your fingers out over muscle and tapping your manicure against his skin. Moved your head back and forth. He grew harder and harder in your mouth. You kept it soft and excessively wet, sucking out the air at the back of your throat.

His moan rocked through the chair.

You worked him to full hardness rather quickly before pulling off.

“Fuck, what…?”

“Surely you didn’t think it was going to happen right away,” you said with your tongue against his balls. You held his wet dick up and out of the way, drawing one of his balls into your mouth and swirling your tongue. His whole body went stiff. You stroked the underside of his shaft at the same time.

“C-Careful.”

You held it delicately with your teeth and said, “Sensitive?”

He made a sharp sucking sound with his cheek. “A-Ah…”

You eased, pulsing, testing the limit. Licking at the same time. Jungkook made an odd moan-yelp.

“I dunno why, the biting kinda feels good…”

You changed sides, working him with your tongue first. Took him in your mouth, sucking back and forth. Tugging a little at the same time. His erection became hot. You slid your hand up and down, keeping him hard as you chewed lightly on one of his balls.

“Feels tingly…” he murmured, more to himself than you.

You let go and slid your tongue below his balls. Pinched the skin in between your teeth and placed a little more pressure there. His breathless gasp quickly turned into a moan as you sucked while jacking him off at the same time, using your own saliva as lube.

“A-ah, fuck, I’m gonna…”

You released your teeth and licked up his balls, up the length, releasing his cock milliseconds before you crammed it down your throat. His thighs snapped against the seat of the chair. He swore, or maybe that was a prayer, but you were busy planting your hands onto his thighs and sucking him off. You took him deep so he could feel your throat close in, over and over again, keeping a steady pace while building his orgasm. It was easier using gravity to your advantage. You had to spread your knees and hold your torso up so you didn’t hit your chest into anything, but that was easy to adjust to. You slid your tongue along the underside with each descent, hearing his moan drop into a hiss.

“Gonna cum, fuck–”

You pressed your lips into the base of his cock.

You felt his hips flinch and cum shoot into the back of your mouth. It flooded into your tongue, blanketing over the throbbing head of his cock, and Jungkook groaned, his collarbones standing out from the strain. Shoulders and chest tense. His thighs were rock hard in your hands. You felt him twitch. You didn’t move. The wave of orgasm shot up and rolled down, down. Slowly, he relaxed.

You swallowed, savoring it.

He shuddered.

Soft, grazing, lazy. Barely any pressure. You rocked your head up and down, licking up any excess liquid. Your turtleneck was becoming a little too warm. But then that meant your mouth would have to let go of Jungkook’s cock. And he was still hard.

So, that wasn’t happening.

You moved your hands from his thighs.

“Holy…” He panted, struggling to breathe. “Fuck, that feels good… Aaah…”

You drew your knees together. If he was paying attention then he would have heard you, but he was too busy basking the high of the afterglow. Or your mouth was too distracting. Both were possible. You drew closer. Took him a little deeper. Closed your eyes. Time slipped away. You forgot your own heartbeat, becoming one with the rhythm you commanded. Curling tongue. Excessively wet. A tight pocket in the darkness. Licking the lower base as your throat pulsed around the swollen head, and you heard his moan vibrate to the walls, the sound spreading and then falling, drenching you in his wanton want.

He came again.

You didn’t stop.

In fact, you reached between your legs to join him.

“Are you…? O-Oh, fuck. I can hear it…”

You spread your knees and slid two fingers into your pussy, letting it make a loud, wet sucking sound as you pulled out. It was more fun than pleasurable, really. The real pleasure was letting him listen to you fingering yourself while you continued sucking him off. You placed a hand on the seat of the chair to brace yourself, increasing the speed and saliva. It was noisy and obscene, the repeated sticky separation sounds, and you kept going, getting closer, your back tingling, blood burning, closer, tucking your fingers in between your upper folds instead, rubbing your clit, feeling electricity crawl up your abdomen, closer.

You pinched your clit and moaned around his cock.

Jungkook threw his head back and groaned, his hips rising into your face.

You focused only on the head. He orgasmed with a hiss and an intelligible moan, and you tucked him all the way in the back of your throat. Thankfully you didn’t choke. The volume wasn’t as much as the first one. You locked your limbs and felt your own orgasm seep into your bones, setting your nerves on fire in heated blood. Your grip on the chair tightened, unwilling to collapse under the pressure. Wave after rolling wave, scalding you with ebbing ecstasy, and you endured it while licking him clean, feeling reborn. Proud of the session.

Pretty good if you could say so yourself.

You finally removed your mouth, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. You stood up, somewhat shakily, and righted yourself before plucking off the blindfold. You tossed it to the ground. Jungkook’s eyes were still closed. His black hair was damp with sweat. His chest, too, shone with a thin sheen of perspiration.

He panted, “Kiss me.”

“Do you want me to untie–”

“Fuckin’ kiss me now.”

-

She slid onto his aching, trembling thigh. Her lips felt like heaven in the hellfire, gentle against his racing pulse, pressing against his greedy mouth over and over. He could taste a hint of himself in her saliva. He felt the slick lips of her pussy on his upper thigh and he hissed between breathless breaths, “Rub on me, ugh, fuck, yes,” and she curled her fingers into his sweaty hair, pulling him to her. Tugging. Ah. Sweet, delicious pain.

He forgot he was tied up, really. It was just part of him now.

“Take it off,” he grumbled, realizing she was still wearing her turtleneck. It was a nice fabric but he wanted her naked. “How the fuck… How are you not hot in that?”

“I was busy sucking your dick,” she laughed, and he opened his eyes to see her peeling it off her body, crossing her arms. Pulling up and back to reveal her torso. He had seen it a few times already and every time he marveled. She tugged it off her head. It messed up her claw clip, but she looked better that way. More beautiful in chaos. She tossed the clothing aside and unclicked the front clasp of her bra.

Jungkook was convinced bras were made by the devil, but he couldn’t deny the magic of a front-clasp bra opening the gateway to heaven.

“Like what you see?”

He stared at her. She looked amused.

“Put them in my face right now.”

There was a certain rapport when it came to power dynamics. He didn’t know anything about that. Maybe he would get better at it. She laughed and lifted herself, dropping the bra to the ground, half-standing with one knee on the chair, and scooped up her perfect breasts to present those delicious-looking nipples to his face. He didn’t even care that he couldn’t use his hands. Ugh, they were just so perfectly soft and supple. She tasted so good. Was it creepy to think her skin tasted good? He didn’t care. She rubbed her breasts against his cheeks as he sucked, licked, buried his face into them like an excited puppy.

“I think we are losing the plot here,” she joked.

“Don’t talk to me,” Jungkook sighed, self-asphyxiating with her tits.

“I should be taking them away from you if I was really being dominant.”

He unstuck himself and planted his chin in her cleavage, staring up at her.

She looked down, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

He could have offered a witty comeback or even put on his best puppy eyes to convince her otherwise, but instead he stared into her eyes in stunned silence. His limbs were burning, now not from arousal but longing. Maybe also soreness. But mostly longing to hold her. The puddle between his legs was also alarming. His sweat was becoming cold as the seconds marched on.

“Don’t go.”

She tilted her head. “Did you think I was going to walk off and leave you tied to the chair?”

“What?” He frowned. “You’d never do that, right?”

She blinked at him.

“Right?”

“Maybe when you have more practice,” she chuckled. “What did you mean by, don’t go?”

The red mood lighting made her ethereal. “Don’t go home. Stay here with me.”

A pause. “In your house?”

“Yeah?” The way she said it made him question it too. “Uh, yeah?”

She sucked in a breath while pressing her tits against his face. “Huh, I dunno… That’s usually how women get murdered.”

“Hey!” He wiggled in place, or at least as much as he could. “I let you tie me up. You should trust me by now!”

She made a thinking expression. He would be much angrier if her soft breasts weren’t caressing his cheeks. “Mmm, okay. As long as I get to tie you up before we sleep.”

His eyes went wide. “What?!”

“I’ll even put a bow on your head. You would look really cute.”

“You can’t–”

She laughed. “I’m joking. I wouldn’t do that. It’s dangerous.” She slid down his body and pecked him on the lips. “Let’s get you outta these ties.” She was about to say something else but then stopped. Confusion fluttered over her features. Her eyes cast downwards. He felt his cheeks flush warmly.

“Uh.”

“Why are you hard?”

“No reason.”

Those shadowed eyes drifted back up. She gave him a slow, knowing nod. “Noted.” She got up to undo the velvet ribbon ties.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he called out.

“I don’t,” she said from behind him, loosening the knot before rubbing his forearms. “You give them to me.”

Oh shit.

He did.

And would continue to.

--

masterpost

[maiamore]

PASS THE SALT, MR MILLER

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak Rating: 18+ | W/C: 4.5k

Summary: Joel finds out the hard way that leaving a pretty girl with blue-balls isn’t the smartest.

Or, Joel fucks you in his garage.

Tags: christmas-y vibes, fucking on Joel’s car, implied age gap,unprotected p in v, grumpy!joel, lots of yearning, squirting, sexual games, brat taming, outdoor sex, creampie

A/N: merry christmas folks! tbh this is just a game of how many fics can I write that has to do with (a) joel's truck or (b) joel yearning. side note, looped Disease - Lady Gaga track on repeat while writing this oops

MASTERLIST | MAIN STORY

Holidays have never really been something you celebrated. Fuck it, your own birthday even. It just wasn’t a priority you considered worth fussing over. Admittedly, your lack of enthusiasm for these events was probably why you ended up avoiding them. You would do the most for the people you loved but never for yourself.

Take Halloween for example. Your friends from Columbia were begging you for a slutty girls' night out, but you’d opted to stay home to help chaperone your younger brother Oscar’s party. Even so far as to set everything up, you’d made sure Oscar had a shot at being the coolest damn guy in his school. Fret not, jobless big sis is there to help ya. 

Of course, it hadn’t gone unrewarded, to put it loosely. All that really happened was some broody hot middle-aged dad jerking off in front of your face. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You found yourself staring at the pale green piece of paper your younger brother, Oscar,  handed you when he came home from school that evening. Eyeing the morbidly cliche design that screamed of some bored old receptionists' handiwork, you tilt it to get a better read.

Oak Ridge High School Annual Christmas Potluck.

Great. Another one. You were often the stand-in for his PTA Meetings in place of your ever so busy parents. While you had your fun with the free buffets and whatnot, you were getting tired of people asking how old you were when you “had” Oscar. 

*Calling all Parent Volunteers. Please Contact Joel Miller at +1 (512) 555 XXX for details. 

Now that got your attention.

Joel Miller. The man who, after that night, weaseled his way into your glorious collection of mental spank bank. Evident in the plethora of stolen nudie mags your mom stashed underneath her mattress—you’d gone as far to dog-ear pages of men who had the slightest resemblance to him. 

You couldn’t get him out of your mind. By him, his dick. All eight fuckin’ inches of pent-up old man dick. 

The desperation in the way he thumbed his slit, coaxing his milky cum into your waiting mouth in your bedroom flashed in your mind like post-traumatic-sex-disorder. You were robbed of a good fuck.

The beeps of your dial-pad echoed embarrassingly loud while you dialled the number on the flyer before fully seeing the idiocy in this move. The line connects after a few rings. 

“Miller. Who’s callin’?”

A shudder runs down your spine. His voice hit you like a freight train, low and gravelly, cutting through the faint clatter of what sounded like construction work on the other end.

Fuck. Fuck fuck. Hang up. Hang–

“Hi.” You blurt out, forcing a higher register in your voice in a desperate attempt to disguise yourself. “I’d like to register. For the Christmas…thing.” There was a pause, followed by the clunk of something heavy and the sound of boots against a hard floor. 

“Right. You’re the parent of…?” 

You clutched your phone tighter when Joel’s voice rang clearer than ever, throat dry as you scrambled to speak. “Oscar.”

He repeats your last name when you offer it, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to place it–a flicker of recognition almost.

“Alright then,” he finally says, the faintest edge of suspicion still lingering.

 “Guess I’ll see ya there.”

—

Impulsiveness was something that fucked Joel over most times. 

Messing around with someone he’d consider uncomfortably closer to his daughter's age than his own settled within him like poison. 

It’d been two whole months since the incident at halloween and he was still hung up over you. He was certain that a pretty girl like you had far better prospects than a washed up crotchety shit like him. 

You plagued his mind every time his fist wrapped around his cock. Every time he’d tried to fuck the stress of working long hours of grunt work at the site. Your soft and sweet expression offered him instantaneous, sticky reprieve. 

Guilt, or something he should’ve been feeling over using your face as masturbation material didn’t quite blare the alarms in his head through post-nut clarities. 

He knew he had fucked up the second he had you on your knees that night. 

You parked your sedan in front of a navy chevrolet in the driveway. Hopping out of the car as you looked up at the quaint home, clean white siding, neatly trimmed lawn. 

You figured by the bustling noise from the backyard that a volunteer offered up their home and all. Generous, you thought. And then you catch it. The worn down navy mailbox that sprawled the letters–

M I L L E R

The swirl that was now your mind dragged painful throbs in your head. To be in his own backyard felt stalker-ish even for you. 

With a weary exhale, you click open the boot of your car. Worrying had to come later, you had to formulate a game plan for the boxes of fairy lights you somehow had to haul into Joel’s backyard.

With a heaving effort, you propped up two boxes into your arms when the shuffle of footsteps catches your attention, coming from beside the opening garage. 

“Hey! Sorry, could use a little help...” You call out instinctively. 

Only managing to catch a glimpse of a hand bracing against the rickety garage door to shove it all the way up with a loud metallic clang. 

The sound startles you, but not as much as the sight when one of the boxes lifts from your hold, revealing your apparent savior.

The both of you pause, staring at each other in slight shock. Well–for him at least. You had ulterior motives that came delivered to you all wrapped up in worn-out denim.

Joel’s expression was less than welcoming, which in his defense—he wasn’t quite expecting to see his ghost in his own yard. 

“What are you doin’ here?”

The curtness of his voice throws you, but it’s too late to think of turning tail and driving off.

“I’m…one of the volunteers.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel begins, lifting the last box out of your arms like they weighed nothing. “You signin’ up under your mama’s name just to come sniffin’ round’ me? That it?”

“What? No. She couldn’t make it,” you shoot back, a little too quick, a little too defensive. Joel wasn’t buying it, his unimpressed stare making you shift on your feet.

“Uh-huh,” he mutters, already stepping over to your car. With a grunt, he hefted another box from your trunk, the effort drawing a low sound from his chest. 

The bitterness (and arousal) pools in your mouth at the noise he makes. 

Yes. You’d admit. You sniffed out Joel’s trail like some stray, chasing after the smallest crumb of him. It wasn’t irrational for you to think that you deserved some sort of closure. 

His voice cuts clean through your spiraling thoughts. “If you’re expectin’ somethin’, you best stop right there. I ain’t messin’ around.” You grimaced, fumbling for words. 

“I’m just here to help—” 

“S’enough outta you. Stay out of trouble.” He interrupts, not quite looking at you. 

Joel wills himself to flick his gaze anywhere but at you, one look at your face was enough to remind him of the fact, one look was probably enough to pop a damn boner. He sets the boxes down by the patio, knees cracking as he stretches back up with a grunt.

“Get someone to hang ‘em up. ‘Cause clearly,” he says, eyeing your sweater and skirt, “you ain’t dressed to actually help.”

He gives you a short, dismissive nod before turning away, leaving you standing there. Warmth pools your cheeks, feeling foolish to have gone this far for the attention of a man who made it clear that he didn’t seem to give a fuck whether you were here or not.

—

Joel spends the better half of the afternoon hovering around you. 

Approaching you normally was out of the question now that Sarah and the other kids began to flitter into his backyard to help with preparation. His daughter’s presence acted like a highly effective cock-block. Not that he had any business entertaining those kinds of thoughts in the first place.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Risky didn’t begin to describe it, so he kept his distance. That resolve went straight out the window when he spotted you, half-balanced on a ladder, hanging Christmas lights along the edge of his roof. With candy cane printed panties peeking out from under your skirt—god almighty, Joel nearly doubled over.

You could feel Joel's eyes on you while attempting to hang the lights over the siding. Purposefully going against what he said, purposefully giving everyone a goddamn show. 

"You ever learn how to listen?" 

“I can do it myself.” You shot back. Coyly soothing the back of your skirt. A proper fuck you to him at his insinuation that you’d been here just to man-trap him. Not that the notion did much. 

You felt the ladder steady with Joel’s hold. Effectively blocking everyone else from seeing what you were flaunting. 

"For the love of christ, darlin’, get down." 

“For the love of christ, I’m almost fuckin’ done.” You parroted his words back to him with an annoyed huff. It was hard not to let Joel infiltrate your mind but lack of his attention was eating you up–making you do crazy things, evidently.

With a satisfied huff at the placements, you brought your arms down.

Why did that…feel heavy?

A sharp crackle and metallic clatter fills the air before you fully completed your thought, the chains of lights comes tumbling down. You froze. Lowering your gaze to see the single goddamn twine snagged onto your sweater that you’d effectively yanked down with you. 

The bulbs burst into chaotic pops as they hit the ground, shards of glass scattering like tiny fireworks across the patio, drawing everyone’s attention.

Joel doesn’t hesitate, his hands found your waist as he lifted you off the ladder and set you firmly on the ground to safety with a grunt, his eyes snaps to the shards of glass glinting in the light and the fresh scratches marring his freshly varnished patio.

"You gotta be shittin' me..." He mutters, the irritation sharp in his drawl.  

“Mr Miller…”

Joel held up his palm as a sign to get you to be quiet so he could speak. Damn if you calling him Mr Miller now of all times didn’t make him want to haul your ass up to his bedroom.

Which he might add, seemed conveniently close.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose. "D’you think before you do anythin’ at all? Or do you just act on impulse?" He asks in a sharp and biting tone, looking directly at you as he spoke.

You cock your brow at his words. Surely he wasn’t seriously reacting this way to a couple of broken lights. To mention, your lights.

“What? Think about being a decent person to help?”

"A decent person would've listened the first time when I told you to leave it the hell alone," he snapped, stepping closer. "A decent person wouldn’t have shot me attitude n’ thrown a damn temper tantrum when I told you to get down."  

“What are you getting so bent out of shape for?”

“For starters, you wrecked my patio, darlin’.” He grumbles. Rubbing the back of his neck in the slightest amount of awareness that he’d overreacted, though he’d rather chew rocks than admit it. 

You don’t answer him. Humiliated as is. Your pouty-ness showed in the way you stomped over to get the broom that lay in the corner. He watches you regardless, arms folded taut.

“Goddamned train-wreck.” He mutters under his breath after a long pause, not even giving you the chance to let an apology leave your lips before he turns his heel to leave.

—

You didn’t take it well when people spoke to you like you were stupid. 

An Ivy League degree hung the walls of your room for fucks sake. Who the hell did Joel think he was? As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, you’d tucked your tail between your legs to sweep it all up without a word. The embers that lay dormant were further fanned as time passed. You were pissed.

Joel, on the other hand, begins to feel guilt at the way he’d reacted. Even in the corner of his eyes, he sees you helping set up with the rest of the parents. It wasn’t the behaviour of some reckless nympho he imagined you to be when you stepped foot into his yard. 

You didn’t have to stand there to stand under the sun in the unforgiving Texas heat, refilling lemonade for the parent’s committee. Or entertain Sarah and the rest of the kids. You’d turned his backyard into a damned Christmas Wonderland by the end of the night.

You were a good girl, he figures after a long while of brooding.

And he tries. He tries to approach you to apologize but you didn’t seem to be having it. Going out of your way to swerve at the slightest sight of him near you. Which he gets.

You were over it, really. Chalked it up to his personality being generally the way it was. But what really helped you get over your humiliation? Seeing Joel Miller fucking grovel. 

Which you were acutely aware of with the way he lingered around you, waiting for an opening that you deprived of him.

—

The skies grew to a dusky violet, the backyard gently lit up with the soft twinkle of the fairy lights you’d painstakingly hung up (and re-hung). Lull of familiar Christmas classics playing by the speakers. 

The warmth of the chatter and laughter surrounding the table tugged at your edges, coaxing a reluctant smile to your lips. You weren’t ready to admit it, but the festive mood was infectious.

You sat near the end of the committee’s table, the seat next to you conspicuously empty. The kids–Oscar, Sarah, and their friends were huddled at their own table. You briefly wondered if you should join them instead, given that the current hot topic at your table being mortgage rates.

The thud of a melamine crystal glass landing next to your plate broke your train of thought. You flick your gaze up, your expression hardening the moment you caught sight of Joel dragging the empty chair over next to you and lowering himself into it with a creak.

Without a word, he slides the glass closer to you, taking a sip from his own. His movements were deliberate, careful, like a man trying not to step on a landmine.

Joel wasn’t quite well-versed in apologies, as evident by Sarah’s constant reminders that one of these days he was going to piss a woman he actually fancied. His hand stretches over your lap, unfurling the napkin on the other side of you to drape it over your thighs. 

“Could you pass over the salt, sweetheart?” 

You tilt your head, arching a brow, not moving a muscle. Instead, you shot him a pointed look.

With a heavy sigh and a muttered curse under his breath, Joel stands up, his knees popping audibly as he leaned across the table to grab the salt himself. He slumps back into his chair, setting it down with a huff. How could a little thing like you hold so much anger?

“Done torturin’ me yet?” 

A scoff leaves your lips. 

“Who said I was?” 

“I’m tryin’ to apologise, sweetheart.” You shudder at the manner he whispers the words out. As though it was a secret reserved for just you and him. 

You rest your cheeks on your palms, shooting him an uninterested look. Joel’s eyes darts down to your plate that you were pushing to him. He doesn’t hesitate, reaching over and starts loading your plate up again with generous portions of the dishes spread across the table. The sight of him doing so, quiet and almost reverent, made your chest sing.

Oh this. This you could get used to.

For the next twenty minutes, you’d milked Joel’s newfound contrition for all it was worth. Needed a refill? Joel was already reaching for your glass. Running low on napkins? He was up and grabbing a fresh one before you even asked. You’d even braced yourself for him to snap when you made a fuss over your creaky chair, but to your delight, he stood up and swapped it out without so much as a grumble.

Unfortunately for you, your luck does runs out.

The flutter of your napkin onto the makeshift mat spread across the lawn catches his attention, his eyes darting to the rogue square of fabric before slowly flicking back up to meet your gaze. You leaned back in your chair, looking at him expectantly, lips quirking just enough to toe the line between innocent and insufferable.

Joel’s jaw twitches.

“Fuckin’ pick it up on your own, sweetheart.” his voice was laced with just enough irritation to make your smirk widen. Still, you couldn’t resist one last little prod.

Your legs shifted, one crossing over the other, the toe of your shoe brushing lightly against the denim of his jeans. His eyes darted down to the motion before snapping back up, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to apologise?” 

Joel shifts in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gave you a look that sent a shiver down your spine. “Think I settled my debts, crackles.”

You roll your eyes at his taunt, the warning laced in it only served to burn in your gut like uncontrollable lust. You felt yourself grow bored now that he’d ruthlessly cut you off from your only source of entertainment. 

The thrill begins to wane, you’d grown impatient at Joel’s lack of well, giving in. Though the idea, a possibly stupid one, that you might’ve needed to give him a little push crosses your mind. 

With a deliberate stretch, you rose from your seat, leaning over the table to reach for the salt shaker resting comfortably on Joel’s side with a hand placed on his thigh. It was perfectly positioned for him to hand it over to you–if you’d bothered to ask. But that wasn’t the point.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the faint tick of his pulse. Slowly, you eased back into your seat, dragging your fingers in a slow deliberate curve as you went.

The sharp grip of his hand on your wrist came next, firm enough to make you gasp. Joel’s dark eyes locked on yours, his nostrils flaring as he tried to keep whatever storm was brewing behind them at bay.

You pressed your tongue against your cheek, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. He’d taken the bait all right. The unmistakable rise against where your hand was placed told you what you needed to know. Hook, line, and sinker.

It doesn’t quite matter to him whether you’d forgiven him anymore. 

With a sharp tug, Joel pulls you up with him. “S’cuse me. This one isn’t feeling too well.” 

The protest dies in your throat when Joel practically hauls you across his yard, away from the nosy glances from the rest of the parents. 

You frown at the dusty old garage he leads you to up front where you’d parked your car. A hand comes up the back of your head to force you to duck underneath the half opened door, cringing at the loud sound it draws. 

You tip your head up to watch Joel grab the edge of the half-opened garage door to full slam it down shut.

Fuck. You felt your cunt clench with the way his sleeves tightened around his forearms, wetting your lips subconsciously at the sight.

“This where you murder me, Mr Miller?”

His jaw ticks at that. There it was again. Mr Miller.

“Shut up.”

You mouthed the words wow as you looked to the side. As though there was a camera you were monologuing to. Joel approaches you tentatively. Backing you up until you feel sturdy metal stop your path. 

A firm slam against the hood you were backed up against causes you to jolt. 

“You’re fuckin’ with me.” He begins. Shifting closer until he had you snug against him and the truck. “You’ve been fuckin’ with me.”

You tilt your head up. Neck stretched uncomfortably to its limit. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel sighs. Looking towards the side, as though he might back off and run away again. 

“This ain’t right.”

You frown. Why was he getting cold feet now? You gaze darts to the side, following his line of vision. A frilly pink bicycle parked in the midst of the dusty old boxes stacked up against concrete walls. Some labelled with years of mementos of his daughter growing up. 

Joel groans when he feels a much smaller, soft hand cup against the growing strain on his jeans. “Judging by this, I think you’re full of shit.”

His restraint teeters on the edge. “Don’t.” He grasps around your wrists to stop you, though, he half asses it, barely with the amount of strength he could’ve used if he’d really wanted you to stop.  

You palm against his erection, feeling it quickly harden beneath. You suck in your breath at the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the slight twitch of his lips. A whimper leaves your lips at how receptive he’d been to your touch. 

“You’re trouble.” He manages. Finally meeting your gaze. You can tell he’s conflicted, but the way you cupped around his balls through the denim has him keeling over with a rough exhale. 

He finally gathers enough strength in him to force your hand away from his cock. Just as you were about to whine about it, he flips you over. You steady your palms against the hood of his truck. 

“Gotta be quiet. You understand me?” You nod quickly. Not daring to speak considering how his voice already echoed in the garage even at its softest.

Your elbows move to rest against the dirtied metal. Folding it so you could comfortably rest your head on it. 

Joel lets out a low whistle at the way you bend your hips. Hiking your skirt up slowly. “Fuckin’ hell sweetheart.” He mutters. Thumb swiping against the growing dampness of your panties. 

A dull noise from his zipper is the only other thing you hear when you feel him grind his clothed cock against you. 

“Mr Miller—please.” You breathed out. Your thighs tenses, wiggling your hips higher to relieve the ache you felt. Feeling his hardness prod against your folds. 

Joel sighs softly, thumbing against your clit before you curl into yourself. “Don’t need it.” You breathe out quickly. There’s a pause in his movements before you feel a thumb hook around the waistband of your panties. Dragging it down to your ankles. 

The sound Joel makes at the sight of your slick stringing down the gusset of it makes him wince out audibly. Two fingers gather the slick of your folds, messily dragging it up and down your clit in a repeated notion. His fingers dipping in and out of you with a squelch. You groan out. Hips stuttering at the sensation. 

“Hurry.” You urged.

You feel his other palm carefully twirl around the back of your hair. The breath knocks out of you when he heaves you backwards into his chest with a sharp tug. Fingertips entwined with your locks.

“Been patient with ya all fuckin’ day and ya think you got the right t’rush me now?”

Tears threaten to prick in the corners of your eyes at his tone. You grip around his wrist where he holds your hair. “…hurts” , you whisper, guiding his other hand back to your clit, “..here.”

Joel swallows thickly. He clenched his jaw so damn tight you audibly heard just how hard he ground them. How could he deprive you further when you were begging so sweetly? 

He shucks his jeans down further, guiding his twitching cock out from his boxers. A drawn out groan leaves your lips when he nudges the head of his cock against your soaking pussy. Your moan echoes loudly into the space around you both. 

He growls into your ears. Before you could apologise, your voice gets muffled around the heavy palm that comes to cover your mouth. You whine against it. “Told t’be fuckin’ quiet.” He grits, voice hushed against the side of your head. 

Your eyes nearly roll back at the way he begins to thrust into you with the tip in an effort to get you used to his size. But it didn’t matter. The way his cockhead stretched your pussy out stung. But it was quickly replaced by the nauseating need to be fucked full. 

Joel leans down to trace kisses up your neck before he fully sheathes himself into you. The muffle around your mouth grows tighter to suppress the loud moan. “Shh shh…you’ve got it.” He praises, breathing heavily into your ears. 

The tears trickle directly over his knuckles. He releases the grip he had on your hair, looping around your abdomen. Snapping his hips into you at a punishing pace. You babble incoherently, practically slobbering into his palms, whining about how deep his cock was pounding into you. 

The obscene slaps of where the two of you connected fills the garage, only spurring his need to fill you deep with his come. 

Joel lets out a groan when you clench around his dick like vice. “Fuck. Pussy’s chokin’ me.” His head drops to the dip of your neck. Pressing kisses onto your pulse point. 

“Don’t think I can last much longer.” He admits, dragging his hand–slick with your saliva down to your throat. His head flush against your shoulder blade. He takes a moment to breathe you in. Joel isn’t quite the man he used to be and coming this embarrassingly fast wasn’t on his docket. Least of all tonight. 

You squirm a little at the sensation of Joel’s stubble against your shoulder. A deep exhale leaving your lips. 

“M…me too..” You pant out heavily. Resting your head back against his chest. Joel’s free hand slides underneath your sweater, yanking your bra down. 

A rough palm kneads the softness, tweaking your hardened nipples in a circular motion. “Shit. Mr—…Miller.” You manage. Squirming at how his palm gropes your tits clumsily. You give yourself the final push you needed, your fingers coming down to rub against your clit. 

Joel’s hips stutter at the sensation of your pussy convulsing around his cock, following your orgasm soon after. But he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it. Both his hands firm around your hips. 

Your hands hastily come up to grab around his wrists. “Wait—stop—…stop.” You gasp out. Joel doesn’t quite register your pleas with how his mind was whirring around wanting to fuck his come deep into you until he feels a warm splatter of your release trickle down his thighs. 

Your bated breaths fill the garage. Mortified, you watch the liquid drip from the radiator grill of Joel’s truck. 

“I’ll be damned.” He muses, earning a warning look from you. Joel shakes his head, a low rumble from his chest makes you feel a little less embarrassed about squirting onto his truck. He turns you around to press a kiss onto the apple of your cheeks. 

“Been meanin’ to get er’ washed. Guess I don’t gotta anymore.”

[neuvilette-tea-party]

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎ Il faut être deux... Part 1 ❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Steb x F!reader

You get home, excited to visit the Montains like you are sure Steb does each year for his leave! But when you discover your lover, you realize you're going to climb something different...

Tags: Some fish anatomy quirks, established relationship, heavy making out, pining, sexual tension, caresses, mating season (yeah, I'm going that route, sue me!), Steb is selectively non-verbal and that never prevented him from asking/respecting consent, lovey-dovey

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

You sigh entering your little house, unclipping your helmet. You throw the house keys in the bowl and put your helmet next to Steb’s who did not move an inch the entire day. 

You plan your leaves whenever you feel like it, but Steb goes like clockwork and always takes two weeks of leave at the same time of year. Everyone at the barracks knows that those two weeks are his and he will not leave them to anyone else no matter their arguments or urgencies.  

He goes completely no-contact and vanishes without a single trace. 

What does he do during those two weeks? Beats you! He does not speak, and especially not about that. The first year under his tutelage you got to his home for a friendly chat, trying to break the ice with your mentor, but you found his house completely locked, shutters closed and mail piling up in the mailbox. 

Your best guess is that he goes to the mountain to bathe in the rivers and lacs of fresh, pure water to soothe his scales bruised by the water of Piltover soiled with chemicals. 

But now that you live together, you will discover his little secret! You have already put some clothes discreetly on the side for packing. When you got home a minute ago, the shudders of the second floor were already closed, just an inch ajar to let pass a thin ray of sun for you to finish packaging this evening and then swiftly jump into a train, to the Mountains you go! 

You turn your head as you open your boots, hearing piano music from the living room. Steb must be playing.  

You smile to yourself, taking off your boots. You love listening to Steb’s music, you could spend hours doing nothing but listening and watching him play his electronic piano. You always wanted to learn music and Steb patiently teaches you short simple melodies that you play on repeat until you can’t bear a single more note. 

Steb doesn’t mind it, he appreciates the waves and vibrations of music with his sensible Vastaya ears, apparently, it feels pretty close to sounds underwater for him, helping him relax after a long day.   

“Hi, Steb!” You chant entering the living room as you take off your harness holster, “I managed to take one week’s leave matching yours!” You announce your little surprise. 

You stagger as you hear Steb slams his hands on the key brutally. You turn to him to see him, his back turned to you, frozen still, shirtless, his large shoulder moving up and down like after an intended exercise. 

“Steb?” You ask gently, cautiously approaching the Aquatic Vastaya.  

You frown. What the...? 

You get closer, squinting. 

Is that...? 

“Oh my goodness, Steb! Are you all right?!” You shout. 

You grab his shoulder to make him turn towards you. Red scales all over! Steb’s deep green stripes are now invaded with a deep red shade, the same for the tip of his fins and ears. You’re no aquatic Vastaya expert, but a sudden change of scale color patterns cannot be a good sign. 

Steb looks at you with eyes rounded in surprise, cheek rosy, and with a feverish gaze. 

“Are you sick?! Since when?! Did you go to the hospital?! Did you visit a physician?!” You drown him questions as he slowly gets up, grabbing your hand in his. 

You detail his chest, covered in sweat and new red scales, parasitizing his lovely green stripes. His chest rises up and down deeply and when you raise your gaze to look into his ocean eyes, you discover them febrile and dark. 

“Oh Steb... Are you all right?” You beg.  

Steb details you, remaining silent, slightly disheveled, his cheek fins waving repeatedly. His gaze lowers slightly to your lips and he licks his teeth. He raises your hand to his mouth and reverently kisses your fingertips and your palm, closing his eyes as a purr starts resonating in his chest. 

“...Steb? I am worried for you!” You insist, voice cracking in fear for your lover. 

Color change so swiftly is surely the prelude to a blood disease or even an organ failure... You know he pushes himself so much! Never allows others to see when he is tired or in pain, preferring to suck it up for his team’s benefit, but now it catches up with him! 

You try to resonate with him but he looks... out of here, like in some sort of daze. 

His large hand sneaks around your lower back and pulls you close to him, pressing his forehead against yours, purring deeply. You try to control your breath as he only blinks with his third eyelids,  his attention solely on you. 

He starts to cradle you, swaying your hips together gently, intertwining your fingers together. He brushes the tips of your noses together as he slowly dances with you in your small living room. 

“Steb... Is that an illness?” You ask, recovering your calm to think logically. 

He slowly shakes his head, blue eyes dead focused in your eyes. 

“Should I be worried?” His eyes lower down to a corner as he thinks, before returning to yours and shrug, his purr deepening. 

You gulp and nod, rationalising the situation. 

“Can I know what this is all about now?” You put your hand on his pec, strangely warm to the touch and vibrating with the purr. 

He takes a fistful of your hair and kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand in his. He lowers himself to kiss the tip of your nose tenderly and he releases your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your lower lips fondly, parting them just a bit. 

This is his usual move to ask for a kiss.  

Patiently waiting for your consent, devouring you with his blue eyes. 

You gulp, feeling his heartbeat against your palm, beating rapidly but steadily in his ribcage. 

He releases your cheek to take your chin between two fingers, still playing with your lower lip, and tilts your head as he brushes your nose tips together again, his lips hovering tantalizingly over yours, teasing you as you think he will close the gap several time, feeling his breath on your lips. 

But he remains patient. 

Simply toying with you, but never trespassing the limit without a clear ‘Yes’. 

His eyes are dark, a storm rages on inside of them, but an emotion pierces the fog. 

Imploration 

Despair 

Begging... 

You never saw him in such a state... 

You weakly nod once and close your eyes. Maybe acceding to his demand will relieve him a bit... 

He releases your hand to circle your hips and press them hard against his loins as you feel the ghost of his lips on yours.  

As to taste the water he leaves a single, trembling peck on your lips. 

Then another 

And another 

And one more  

Soon enough he is devouring your lips, giving demanding kisses, licking your lips to earn access. You open your mouth for him and his tongue enters, hugging and dancing with yours like a first time. 

He kisses you deep like he never did before, robbing you both of your oxygen. He bites down your lip with a growl as he pushes you until the back of your knees hits the sofa, unbalancing you and you fall with a yelp of surprise. 

Steb follows you easily, never letting go of your lips, you feel his weight pining you down the sofa, keeping you caged under him as his hands explore your back freely.  

You grab his side, his shoulders, his arms, his cheeks... You have no idea what to do with yourself when he treats you in such a way... 

You try to breathe in those demanding attentions while he lets escape a deep, rumbling sound between a purr and a growl, coming from the very depths of his chest. You start feeling dizzy, you have never been kissed like that by anyone, especially by Steb who prefers delicate touches and soft little attentions as he is a tender soul himself... 

Your ears are full of your gasps and pants and his subtle growl, your nose is invaded by his natural salty musk, getting straight into your head and making your heart palpitate even harder! His ears shake, and all his fins are coursed by a shudder, making him hiss. 

You take an immense breath when he finally lets go of your lips, a string of saliva connecting you together. He observes you panting, caressing your cheek with his knuckles so delicately. He reverently kisses your forehead once more before kissing your temple, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, and then taking a big lap with the flat of his long tongue on the entire length of your exposed throat. 

You lower your gaze as you feel Steb pulling on your jacket. He is looking at you while fiddling with the buttons, awaiting your go. 

You feel a fire in your cheeks and one starting between your legs. He never was so forward and demanding. Steb likes to take things slow for both of your comfort. 

He likes taking his time, appreciating each little step of the way...  

You just started exploring each other’s body after moving in together and if at first you felt frustrated it took so long to move things on, you started to get used to it, and even appreciated his method, reveling in the simple little things with delight. 

And now he is the one being impatient, confusing you in your newfound pace! 

The thought of stopping everything to get a straightforward answer crosses your mind, but you only have to dive into the agitated waters of his eyes to know. 

He had to hide from everyone in the dark each year, dealing with that storm all alone, without the warmth of a lover or a friendly shoulder that could understand his turmoil without judging him.  

Him always so composed, irreproachable, so well put together... 

What would they say if they ever saw him in such a state? Like an animal? 

They already have so little respect for non-humans... 

You cup his cheek tenderly, tracing the quivering gills on his jaws with the tip of your fingers and all his fins and ears tremble terribly instantly as he grits his teeth. You do it again and he exhales deeply, brushing his cheek In your hand with a relieved expression. Instinctively, you bite down the tip of his ear, licking the frills teasingly and you feel his grip tightening around you with a deep rumble, threatening to tear your clothes apart entirely. 

You release his ear, your hand cupping his cheek lowering down to the gills on his throat, and start caressing them as he captures your lips again, opening your jacket’s button expertly with one hand, your tongues entangled in a sensual embrace. 

He opens your jacket rapidly and opens your blouse a bit, just enough to create a cleavage that he tenderly kisses, before pressing his ear to your sternum and closing his eyes. 

Savoring your heartbeat while hugging you tight. 

You circle his shoulders and kiss the top if his head, diving your nose in his green strands.  

Steb did not close the shudder of the first floor, letting the sun’s rays bathing the living room illuminate his large back, making his red scales shine like they were real flames. You admire his powerful muscles rolling under his skin, creating waves of light on his scales, hypnotizing you entirely. 

He is absolutely stunning with theses shiny shades of red and green. 

You caress his hair as he deeply inhales, nudging his face between your bosoms, listening to the melody of your heart as you feel his finger digging into your flesh. He rolls his shoulders, agitated but evidently trying to control himself the best he can. 

You close your legs to hug him tight inadvertently putting pressure on his groin, which you now realize is really warm despite his pants and considerably swollen, making him hiss in response, his cheek scales shaking in tandem with the sound. 

Everything comes to a halt as Steb curls into your embrace, tightening his grip on you while you press your smaller body against his on the small sofa of your home. 

For a fleeting instant, both of your hearts beat at the same rhythm, like a single being. 

“I love you, Steb...” You confess, inhaling his salty scent deep into your lungs as you caress the top of his beautiful head, “You are my everything.” 

His purr peaks to higher notes at your words and he spins his head to reverently kiss your sternum again, soft pecks like butterfly wings, going higher and higher until he reaches the crook of your neck and he bites down the sensitive skin, nibbling it between his teeth, sucking on it, making you gasp. 

He parts from you, brushing his lovebite you feel flourishing on your skin. A chance you are on leave, you would have difficulties explaining this one to your colleagues. 

Steb tightly smiles, satisfied with what he sees on your delicate skin. You purse your lips and lunge forward to bite down his own neck, paying him back in his own coins. He lets out an audible gasp of surprise and a long moan as you suck the crook of his neck, holding the back of your head to keep you there. 

You part from him spitting little scales off your tongues, trying to scrub them off with your fingers, prompting him to chuckle, thoroughly amused by your demeanor, as he loudly purrs. You look up at him, leaning domineeringly over you, but his eyes spill love and adoration. 

”Mon amour...” He whispers like a secret, for your ears only. 

You nudge your noses 

But the storm still rages on in his ocean eyes... and between your legs. 

He looks into your eyes as one of his hands takes a handful of your thigh, slowly slipping under the fabric of your skirt, asking a silent, fated question  

You circle his shoulders and hips, locking him in your embrace and peck his nose, and extra sensible part of his face, like all aquatic Vastaya, and his purr skips a bit, like a hiccup. 

“Take me to our bedroom, Steb...” 

He reverently kisses your lips and lifts you up from the sofa, easily carrying you up the stairs toward your bed, both hearts palpitating in anticipation... 

[misserabella]

in heat

dom! alpha abby x sub! alpha ellie x sub! omega reader

a/n; i’ve made my research about aob and female alphas have dicks, so if you don’t fw it don’t read it!!❤️

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, synchronized heat and ruts, dom! alpha abby x sub! alpha ellie x sub! omega reader, different positions, breeding kink, oral sex (all three receiving kinda??, ellie and r for sure), making out sessions, dirty sex, cum eating, creampies, multiple orgasms, praising kink, ellie being a sub mess, abby uses her alpha voice for a sec, tit and nipple play (r and ellie receiving), hickeys, biting, hair pulling…

okay so everybody knows how hard ruts and heats are. how brutal they can be when there is no alpha or omega to spend it with. but nobody talks about the disaster that conveys when both sync at the same time.

your gilfriends and you didn’t really keep on track the timings of your ruts and heats. why would you? you were there for each other. so when ellie’s turns up is no big deal. or so you thought. ‘cause the moment you took a whiff of her scent your heat hit you like a wave, triggered by the auburn headed, and so abby’s, triggered by yours.

so now here you were. caged in between two alphas in rut, who couldn’t give you just a mere moment to rest. it’s not as if your body needed it. all your mind could think about was having either one of them inside, fucking up their cum inside of your womb, digging their fangs on the juncture of your neck, knotting you…

the thing is… that ellie and abby were unstoppable.

“oh, fuck!” you cried out as abby’s tip hit your cervix, the mix of the blond’s and red headed’s cum flowing out of your abused and swollen cunt with every harsh thrust of her hips. her lips were harshly sucking on your neck, strong arms surrounding you from the back to keep you still, warm big hands palming and squeezing at your breasts and reddish eyes focused on the other alpha in between your legs, whose tongue lapped messily at your slicked cunt and the peeking base of abby’s dick. your back was arching, your golden eyes shining with tears on them as ellie sucked on your swollen and sensitive clit. you didn’t know how many times you’d already cummed. but by the way your pussy kept swallowing them up, you guessed that not enough.

“good girl. such a good girl letting us use her like this. look at her. she just wants to be stuffed up full, isn’t that right baby?” abby smirked, slightly bitting at your shoulder as she gave you a particularly harsh and deep thrust, what made you moan.

“yes, yes, please… want your cum, want you to cum inside.”

—it was a good thing that you were on tablets, or else you three would have probably ended up with babies a long time ago.—

“yeah? want me to cum inside? want me to cum inside your pretty little pussy, baby?” she panted, feeling her dick twitch when ellie’s mouth sucked on her balls. “fuck ellie.” one of her hands left your chest to take ahold of her auburn locks. the alpha moaned at the tugging, her own throbbing dick painfully hard in between her stomach and the sheets she humped herself against. “someone’s desperate down there, huh?” she chuckled, making the alpha growl, her normally green eyes taken by a deep red.

“you’re the one inside her.” she answered, and the blonde tugged on her hair, pulling her away from you and making her scoff. there was a smirk showing off her soaked lips.

“smart, aren’t you? could be using your mouth for something better instead of talking back but here you are. maybe i should just let you watch and talk instead.” ellie whimpered, thrusting against the sheets, her demeanor changing as quick as the smirk disappeared from her lips.

“just want to cum.”

“i know.” abby said, focusing on rubbing your clit for her. “but you already got your turn. look at the mess your cum made out of my dick.” ellie’s eyes went back to the base of abby’s cock, were a white ring formed, her recent load dripping down her balls and onto the sheets. she moaned. “fuck. you like the sight, don’t you? like to know i’m fucking your cum deeper inside her?” she nodded, bitting on her lip.

“please. let me help.” she begged. it was funny. how out of the bed abby and ellie would always fight for dominance, but once they were inside this four walls she’d give it to her so easily.

“gonna make our girl cum?” she inquired and ellie nodded once again. “atta girl.” the blonde let go of her hair, relishing in the pornographic moan you let out once ellie was back at sucking at your clit.

whimpers fell out of your lips as you clenched around abby, making her grunt.

“fuck. you’re milking my cock baby. you close? gonna cum for us pretty girl?” you nodded.

“yes.” you cried out, feeling yourself reach your peak. “i’m cumming!!” abby was not too far behind, not when she felt you cream all over her dick, her hips pistoning inside your pulsing and warm walls.

“gonna cum. gonna knot you up and breed you, princess. gonna get you all round and pretty for us.” you moaned, tears swelling up your eyes. “that’s what you want? wanna make ellie and me mommies, hm?” you nodded, thighs shaking as ellie whined, still suckling at your clit.

“yes, yes. want you to get me pregnant please, please cum inside, cum inside, please.”

“fuuck.�� abby growled, your words making her with one, two, three more thrusts cum, her knot swelling and making you cry as she kept thrusting, abusing your walls to reach your womb, where she stilled, warm loads of heavy and creamy cum filling you up with a grunt.

“shit, it’s too big.” you whimpered, feeling abby’s lips on your neck and her hands on your breasts, pleasing you to relax and take it all.

“you can take it. take it for me. for us. be a good girl.” you nodded, watching as ellie got on her knees in front of the two of you, her cock dribbling with precum as her dazed red eyes focused on you.

she crawled her way to your lips, capturing them in a wet hungry kiss that left you with spit dripping down your chin.

one of her hands surrounded her dick, pumping it with a growl as your tongue glided around hers.

abby cooed. “look at her. so fucking desperate.” ellie groaned. “she just can’t wait to fill you up, baby.” abby whispered, her hands coming up to play with ellie’s breasts. “so fucking cute.” ellie panted, her hips thrusting against her hand. abby clicked her tongue, maneuvering the two of you —since you couldn’t get away from her due to her knot keeping you in place— ‘till she was down on her back, her head at the edge of the bed. “come here, use my mouth.” she ordered, and ellie couldn’t help but moan, hurriedly getting up on her wobbly feet to get herself in front of abby, her dick throbbing when the blonde’s mouth fell open for her.

“fuck.” ellie cried out when abby took her cock and wrapped her lips around her tip, her warm tongue gliding through the slit to savor every last drop of her salty pre cum. you whimpered at the sight. sure, you had to bend your body slightly to turn around and watch, but it was truly a sight of sore eyes, watching ellie slowly pick up her pace down abby’s throat, who was so pliant to please the smaller red head. the sight alone was making you drip down onto her thighs, your hips subconsciously starting to grind against her for some kind of relief, making abby groan in pleasure and consecutively ellie moan.

abby’s hands strongly gripped on your hips, bouncing you up and down her dick now that her knot’s swelling was going down, filling the room with now you three’s moans.

“stop. stop. i’m gonna cum.” ellie whined, feeling the band on her lower stomach about to snap.

abby let go of her dick with a pop, calling out for you. “get up here.” she ordered as she licked ellie’s length from base to top, over lining the veins with her tongue and making the alpha shudder.

you made quick work of following her orders, getting up from her dick to move and present yourself to ellie, back arched and leaking cunt showing for her hungry eyes. abby pumped her with her hand a couple of times before guiding her to your pussy, once she had pressed inside with a moan (which turned into two since you too couldn’t help but cry out at the feeling of being stretched out by her once again), pulling you up to your knees to start to kiss your chest. ellie’s pace became brutal pretty fast. she was close, desperate to cum inside you. and you were desperate for her to fill you up. abby took ahold of her face with one of her hands, kissing her over your shoulder as her free hand came down on between your bodies to rub at your clit.

you weren’t gonna last.

“i’m cumming.” ellie gasped against abby’s lips, and abby smirked.

“yeah? gonna fill her up?” she nodded, whining, feeling her knot swelling. “atta girl. cum for me.” it’s not as if she wanted to disobey to her voice, letting out a whimper just as her seed spilled into your womb, making you gasp as well due to how fucking full of cum you were. the feeling of it all made you fall apart once again, your knees failing and making you lean against abby’s warm and exposed chest. “did so good for me, my good girls…”

you closed your eyes. hoping that maybe just for a few minutes you could get a rest.

-

a/n; 😔 i can take them both (not in a fight)

[hazbinlove]

Platonic Yandere Batfam x demigod reader x Yandere Percy Jackson

Chapter One

Walking around the manor wasn’t always good. It was quiet…too quiet like everything stilled. It always felt like I didn’t belong, like I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Walking down the hall of the quiet manor I come across a bedroom. The silver worn out plaque showed $@&€ name in worn out lettering. ‘Ah who is $@&€ again? Probably not important’ I thought to myself before continuing down the hallway of old oak. Stepping down the dark oak stairs carefully I walked into the kitchen only to see a old man there. ‘Who is this again? Meh doesn’t matter. Why am I back in this place again? Where is this place at anyways and why is it important to me?’ I thought to myself again with a small shrug.

“Good evening master @&$@. How is everything?” A calming voice asked snapping me out of my train of thoughts before looking at the man only giving him a nod before walking back upstairs to my room. Walking into the small room too small for a growing person I flopped down onto my old bed with a huff closing my eyes as the world around me went dark. Only to be startled awake by banging.

Waking up to loud banging wasn’t on my morning to-do list but oh here we are no? Groaning I get up as slide out of bed before quickly tossing in some sweatpants and walking towards the door of my cabin while trying to tame the birds nest of my hair.

“Alright alright I’m coming! Geez.” I yelled out annoyed before opening the door. “Ah good morning Hanna what seems to be the trouble?” I asked the blond girl in front if me. Hanna is one of Apollo’s kids and was always cheerful. She was small a few inches shorter than I and had brown eyes and a little tan but she is well strong enough to handle her own. Her brown eyes always seemed to look bright no matter the hardships sent her way…oh how I envy that but I guess that’s why she’s Apollo’s kid huh?

“Ah you won’t believe it! Hunter asked me out today!” Hanna’s squealed out causing me to reel my head back a bit before rubbing my ringing ears. Although she’s Apollo’s kid her voice is high pitched but cheerful. Kinda like Pinky pie from my little pony.

“Oh hun that’s great! It seems like Cupid and Aphrodite were listen to you’re prayers no?” I said while leaning against the doorframe crossing my arms with a small smile. Hunter is one of Ares kids but thankfully is pretty chill most of the time.

“Oh indeed! He’s just so handsome with his blond hair and green eyes. And his large hands that can-“ Hanna said only to just as quickly be cut off by a somewhat flustered demigod.

“Alright alright let’s not go down that kind of path now hun. It’s good that you love him but sometimes let’s not over share alright? And I’ll admit he’s a handsome fella.” I said cutting her off quickly scratching my flustered cheeks with a small laugh. I loved Hanna I really do but sometimes she can be a bit…what’s the word. An over-sharer? Lust driven? Sometimes I forget she’s Apollo’s kid and not Aphrodite’s. She definitely has the looks to be an Aphrodite kid.

“Aw come on!! It’s not that bad but alright. I came to also tell y’a that breakfast is almost done.” Hanna said with a small pout before smiling.

“Alright thank you hun. I’ll be right out.” I said with a small nod of gratitude what hung as the hyper girl bounced off towards the other campers. ‘I swear this girl never runs out of energy.’ I thought to myself with a small amused chuckle and closed my cabin door.

Yawning I walked back into my bedroom and looked around. The walls were painted in deep shades of indigo, and charcoal creating a sense of enveloping darkness. Looking over at the large window above my bed the dark purple curtains pushed to the side as the sun was barely up.

‘Hm must be 5 or 6 in the morning.’ I thought to myself before looking around again. The intricate metalwork in the shape of crescent moons, delicate chandeliers resembling constellations, or tapestries depicting nocturnal creatures like owls, bats, or wolves.

‘I’ll have to thank Leo for making those for me. Maybe get him some more metal to work with?’ I thought with a small nod before fixing my bed. Grabbing the luxurious, velvety bedding with midnight tones I pulled the sheets and blankets over the bed. Grabbing the Plush throw pillows I put them back in place before smoothing out the blanket. With a nod I bent down to fix the soft rug with jewel-toned hues. Nodding in contempt I looked over at the shelves, ancient tomes on astronomy, mythology, and the occult, along with small trinkets and curiosities collected from the child's nighttime wanderings. Looking over at the desk or work table taking note of the old grimoire sitting there. Walking over I quickly closed the eons old book. With a nod of approval I walked off towards the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Walking into the softly lit bathroom I leaned against the deep black stone sink that could possibly pass off as obsidian. Looking into the large mirror ornate mirror framed in silver, with designs of the moon phases or intricate constellations. Standing taking in my disheveled appearance before trying to smooth out my hair while staring at the gray streak in my hair. Running my hands across the scar on my cheek with distain.

‘God I’ve always hated this scar. It’s so…ugly and weird looking…guess that’s what happens when you fight off harpies.’ I thought to myself before sighing and grabbing a brush to brush out my hair.(if you’re a man or have short hair ignore this!) After that I slip off my black silk pajama shirt before looking away from the mirror not wanting to look at the scars of past battles. With quick succession I walked over to the black stone bathtub that looked similar to the sink before turning on the water. Patting the hot water fog up the mirror and bathroom while I quickly take off the rest of my garments and tossing them into the dirty hamper for later.

Getting out of the shower I quickly grab a towel to cover myself before opening the bathroom door letting the steam out of the confined space of the bathroom. Walking back into my room I walk over to the large oak closet before opening the doors. Looking at the array of clothing I grab one of the orange camp shirts and setting it on the bed before grabbing a pair of black jeans with holes.

‘I should probably get a new pair of jeans soon. Too many holes could be dangerous and could get caught on something. I wonder is Chiron would let me stop by the store if I have a quest today?’ I though with a nod before setting the jeans on my bed with the shirt. Walking towards the dresser I grab the necessary garments before also placing them on the bed.

‘I wonder what’s for breakfast? Pancakes? Waffles? French toast? Sausage? Hash browns? Waffles with sausages and eggs sounds delightful.’ I thought to myself while slipping my jeans and shirt on. Walking back into the bathroom I quickly look in the mirror and smoothed out my shirt a bit before nodding in acceptance.

‘Looks nice. This shall do for the day ahead.’ I thought again before turning on the sink Fossett and grabbing my toothbrush and toothpaste.

‘I wonder what Chiron will have us do today? Probably send some of us on quests and what not. I know for a fact that some Ares kids are gonna cause some trouble. Wonder what if I have a quest.’ I though while brushing my teeth and rinsing the toothbrush and spat out some extra toothpaste before rinsing my mouth.

Walking out of the bathroom I quickly slip on some socks before sipping on my old beat up convers. Getting up off the bed I grab my phone and headphones before heading out of my cabin. Rubbing my eyes from the sleep I walk off down the pathway before finally coming across cabin three Poseidon’s cabin.

“Percy you up? It’s almost time for breakfast!” I said loudly not wanting to startle the boy while knocking on his cabin door. Receiving no answer I huff before gently opening the door and walking into the cabin. It smelled like the fresh sea and musk pretty fitting for the son of the sea god. Looking around before walking towards the bunk room only to find said demigod still sleeping in bed.

“Percy dude it’s time to get up now. It’s almost breakfast.” *I said turning on his lamp and gently hedging the boys shoulder, but only receiving a grain in protest.

“Come on now Percy. Just think of the adventures that are lined up for you.” I said while leaning over him looking into his drowsy sea green eyes.

“Good morning sunshine. The day is early now get up before I get Annabeth.” I said a little amused before walking off as he sat up and rubbed his face. Percy is a handsome demigod. He is every girls first crush. Given that having messy, jet-black naturally tousled, wavy thick hair of his. His body is what a lot of girls like about him. His athletic build, though not overly muscular. He’s lean and toned. He has the kind of physique that comes from constant activity rather than hours in a gym. Think of someone who runs, swims, and spars regularly. Some girls like him because of his sun-kissed, slightly tanned skin, with a few freckles or marks from scrapes or cuts. But overall don’t let his appearance fool you Percy is a force to be reckoned with. He’s fought many battles and won. Fought many monsters and won. Overall Percy is deserving of the total of strongest demigod.

“What time is it?” Percy asked his voice deep and groggy from waking up as he swung his legs off the side of his bed.

“Currently about 5:40 in the morning. Breakfast is at 6:20 so come up you go!” I said while grabbing a camp shirt and jeans from his closet and folding them neatly before placing them on his dresser.

“Ugh it’s too early! I wanna sleep more!” Percy whined behind me causing me to roll my eyes a little.

“Sorry bud but you’ve gotta get up now. Chiron would get upset if you’re not up by then.” I said and walked past him making sure to ruffle his hair hoping to wake up up more as he leaned into the touch.

“I don’t wanna but I’ll get up. Only if you stay and wait for me?” Percy said looking up at me with puppy eyes wanting me to stay.

“Alright I’ll stay but hurry up.” I said with a sigh as he got up and quickly hugged me before running off towards his shower. ‘I swear he’s gonna be the death of me.’ I thought to myself before sitting down on his bed and taking out my phone.

A few minutes have past since Percy got into the shower leaving me sitting there on his bed playing on my phone. I was swinging my legs a little waiting for Percy to get out of the shower. After a few more minutes I could hear the shower turn off and the door open. Keeping my back to the door waiting for Percy to get dressed.

“You can turn around now {Name}” Percy said from behind me as I turned around to face him.

“How was you’re showed bud?” I asked and got up from his bed to dry his hair.

“It was good. How was you’re shower? You’re hair is still wet.” He asked reaching up gently grabbing the ends of my hair.(<ignore this if you have short hair!)

“It was the same but overall alright. Now sir and let me dry you’re hair.” I said as I sat back down on the edge of his bed and he sat on the floor in between my legs. Gently placing the towel on his head. I gently massaged his head drying his hair as he leaned back against me a little.

“Relaxed?” I asked a little amused as he just hums. Chuckling I continue drying his hair before tapping his shoulder for him to get up. As he got up I walked into his bathroom and hung the towel up to dry before leaving his bathroom. Looking over at Percy as he puts his shoes on I quickly grab my phone before waiting by the door for him so we could make our way towards breakfast.

Walking out towards breakfast wasn’t as quiet as I hoped. Percy here as much as I love him and he’s my best friend he shouldn’t be this hyper in the morning. Shh don’t tell but I’m barely paying attention to what he’s saying. Listening to him talking I just nod along here and there. After a few more minutes of walking finally Percy and I came across the dinning area of camp. Listening to all the other campers talking was always loud but welcoming. It felt like home honestly I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Percy, Annabeth and the others are my friends…there my family.

Life at Camp half-blood was both good and bad. We all have trauma and have seen some things. Things normal humans wouldn’t understand. Things humans would fear. We demigods fight said monsters and mythological beasts. All to protect humans from what they wouldn’t understand. Overall coming to camp was the best decision I’ve ever done. I thank Apollo and Artemis for finding me and bringing me here all those years ago, but I wonder why they helped me all those years ago.

“{Name!}”

A sudden shout of my name interrupted my thoughts. Lookin go over I notice Percy looking worried holding onto my shoulder.

“Sorry I’m alright just lost in thoughts is all.” I said gently patting his hand only for him to squeeze my shoulder a little bit. It made me feel a little uncomfortable with how tight it was.

“Are you sure? I’m always here if you need me.” Percy said his eyes darkened a little bit his hold on my shoulder still uncomfortable.

“Yeah I’m alright. Let’s just get some food.” I said and quickly walking off to get some breakfast. Unaware of the dark look that flashed across his face.

Getting in line for food you’re waiting listening to Hanna blabber on about Hunter as Percy walks up being you and Hanna. Jumping slightly as he grabs you’re hand and intertwine his fingers with yours. Feeling a little uncomfortable with his tight grip you try to move you’re hand away only for Percy’s grip to get tighter. Kinda like a constricting snake with it’s prey. Getting slightly nervous due to his strong grip you quickly pinch his side as let go of his hand before wiping you’re hand off. Going back to listening to Hanna talk you keep you’re hands in front of you completely missing the dark look that flashes in Percy’s eyes.

After grabbing a plate of waffles and sausage you, Hanna, and Percy walk over to the table housing Annabeth and Piper and a few others before sitting down. Hanna sitting down next to Hunter while you sit across from them. Setting you’re plate down and sitting on the bench Percy immediately sits down next to you before he engaged in a conversation with Annabeth and Piper.

After finishing you’re food you listen to the loud onslaught of talking going on around you. Picking up on a few things here and there as conversations take place. Uninterested you slowly allow yourself to block out the noise and go back into you’re thought’s, but before you could the breakfast gets interrupted by Chiron dismissing everyone to do there own thing around camp.

“{Name!} and Percy!”

A sudden shout of yours and Percy’s name startled both of you. You, Percy and the table look over at Chiron as he waved you and Percy over to him. With a sigh you get up to walk over only for Percy to excitedly grab you’re hand and drag you over to Chiron.

Chiron was a centaur or well an immortal centaur, he’s the son of Kronos and the Oceanid Philyra, and also a famed trainer of heroes. Chiron is also the activities director at Camp Half-Blood. He’s like a father not only to you but to Annabeth as well. He raised you both into the strong warriors you are today. Chiron’s eyes and hair are brown like the Grand Canyon. You feel as thought Chiron is not a true centaur, as centaurs are quite notorious for being overly indulgent drinkers and carousers, giving into violence when intoxicated, wild, lusty, and overall generally uncultured delinquents. Chiron, by a large contrast, was very intelligent, civilized, and kind. You’re also pretty positive that true centaurs are born of sun and cloud and are not immortal. You’re also like…90% sure Chiron got his immortality from the gods.

“Yes Chiron? Good morning!” Percy said still as hyper as ever. As he swings you’re linked hands.

“Yes good morning Percy and good morning {Name}. I actually have a quest for the two of you.” Chiron said as Percy nods excitedly at the prospect of going on a quest. You really didn’t mind going on quests but you personally liked doing quests alone.

“Alright so here’s the quest.”

End~

© - all rights reserved. Please avoid plagiarism, or copying anything I write. Some things I write may be shitty!

@erikasurfer @maicenitas @plsfckmedxddy

If you wanna be tagged lmk and I’ll tag y’all! Also if I made any mistakes lmk and I’ll fix them!!

[kiss-inthekitchen]

same sky | spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a late night phone call with Spencer. unruly amounts of fluff. no gender identifiers in this one. apologies to residents of las vegas, i did insult your city's aesthetics. i had to do it. for the plot

word count: 2k

notes: this is a rework of a very old fic i used to have up on ao3 by the same name. it's the second in a series of fics i've updated from my vault of oldies :) this one's for the girlies who liked the banter in no vacancy <3 oops! all banter

“I miss you,” you say into your cell phone, standing on the back porch and gazing out at the sky. It’s late, but you can’t sleep. Spencer has been gone on a case for the better part of a week, and you don’t sleep as well without him. 

“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon,” Spencer replies, keeping his voice low.  

“Is everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Where are you right now?” Even though you aren’t in danger of waking anyone up, you find yourself mirroring Spencer's tone. 

“Best guess, somewhere over New Mexico.” They’ve been in the air about an hour, and given their trajectory, he’s pretty sure he’s right. Spencer is seated at the edge of the couch, his back against the arm of it and a blanket thrown over his legs, barely covering his mismatching-socked feet. 

“How come you’re still up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says. Somehow, he can feel you smiling across the line. It makes him smile, too. He doesn’t ask why you’re awake when it’s even later where you are; he knows already. "What are you doing?”

“Looking up at the stars.”

“You know, you won’t be able to see me up here.”

“Ha ha.”

“Here, I’ll open the shade on the plane window. At least we can share the same view.”

“Hm. Almost like we’re together,” you hum. 

His heart aches. It’s only been a few days and he still can’t stand it. “Almost.”

For a minute, neither of you speak, looking out at the sky from two different time zones.

“When I wake up tomorrow morning, you’ll be here, right?” 

“Mmhm. Maybe even before that,” he responds, a low, soothing hum in your ear.

“Should I stay up until you get here?” you already know what he'll say, but you kinda like the idea of it anyway.

“No, no, it’s at least another four hours. Don’t worry about it. When you wake up, I’ll be there.”

“Sounds good. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You’d intended to let him go after just a quick call once you realized that the rest of the team were resting not too far from him, but you don’t want to hang up. He doesn’t make any moves to do so either, wanting to hear your voice as much as you want to hear his. “So, how was Tucson?”

“Oh, you know. Hot. Desert-y. Lots of murder.”

“Less murder now.” 

“Yeah.” 

His voice sounds strained. He doesn’t like indulging in a sense of accomplishment after closing a case, doesn’t ever feel like he’s done enough. He shows up too late and does too little, and then he gets to leave while the families of the victims have to pick up the pieces. You understand why he doesn’t like to think about the work that way, but you’ve tried to remind him that the good he does is incalculable; how many lives saved, how many tragedies avoided. It’s all you can do. 

You pivot a little, not wanting him to get too caught up. “I remember, when I first moved to Virginia, I was so shocked at how green everything was. I swore I’d never seen that much green in my life.”

“I had a similar experience,” he says, fondly, aware of your tactics. 

“Oh, I can only imagine. I’ve been to Vegas. It’s icky.”

“Icky?” he asks, laughing at your word choice. 

“I mean, no offense, but… it’s kinda ugly.”

“Wow, okay, insult my hometown, why don’t you.”

You laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re right.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Always am.”

“Well, statistically, you actually have a seventy-two percent chance of being right, which is still impressive, but hardly a flawless track record.”

“Spencer Reid coming in hot with the stats. I love when you talk numbers to me.” 

“I don’t think we’d have gotten very far if you didn’t.” 

“But I think I should be right more often than that.” 

“Are you asking me to fudge the numbers?” he asks with put-upon shock. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’ve got it wrong.” 

“Oh, so you dare to challenge the accuracy of my eidetic memory? Or is it the statistics that you think I’ve calculated incorrectly?” 

“This is affecting my score, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll have to factor it in. You understand.” 

You giggle, and Spencer starts to feel some warmth come back into him after too many days of stress, doubt, and destruction. He hadn’t been able to talk to you nearly as much as he wanted. And it was hard to talk to you on certain cases, to allow you to make him feel lighter when reality was so dark. When he felt so much weight on his shoulders, when he should be focusing on the profile and apprehending the unsub and… sometimes he just didn’t feel like he deserved to have that weight lifted by you, even for a little while. 

“Spence?” 

“Will you go inside?” he asks, his tone full of something like reverence for you. “Please?”

“If you insist,” you sigh, already opening the door. 

“I do. I do insist, very forcefully.” 

“I’m already inside with the door locked.” 

“Man, I’m good.” 

“Mmhm.”

“Going to bed?”

“Yeah. Will you talk to me for a few more minutes?” you ask, sliding under the covers. Spencer hears the slip of fabric as you pull them up over your shoulders, and it sharpens the ache he feels to be home with you already. 

“I’ll talk to you for the rest of the night, if you want me to.” 

“No, I don’t wanna keep you awake, too.” 

“I probably won’t get much sleep regardless.” 

“I don’t condone that,” you say, your frown evident in your voice. 

“Noted,” he replies, though he sounds apologetic. 

Four hours feels an eternity too long to wait. You miss Spencer, and you hate how tired he sounds. You want to fix things for him. You want to run your fingers through his hair til he falls asleep and you want to make sure his dreams are peaceful when he does. 

“What do you wanna do when you’re back?” you ask, hoping that planning for it will make the time go faster. 

“Oh, I’m taking a shower and getting right into bed. And you can’t make me get up.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m serious. Don’t ask me to do a single other thing cause I won’t do it.” 

You laugh. “For the whole day?” 

“Probably. And you better not go anywhere either. We could both use the rest.” 

“Okay, rest day all day.” 

“We can order Thai though. So we’ll get up for that. But even then, it’s just to sit on the couch.” 

“Maybe the floor.” 

“I will also accept floor,” he concedes, and then it occurs to him that you might’ve been asking because you want to do something with him. “Is there something you wanted to do the next day though?” 

“Well... the saucer magnolias are blooming at the Smithsonian again.” 

“Say no more.” 

You sigh wistfully. “You’re my favorite boyfriend I’ve ever had.” 

“Well, I should hope so,” he says, smiling. “You’re my favorite, too.” 

“Aren’t I the only partner you’ve ever had?” 

“Ha ha. I had a girlfriend in college.” 

“Spencer, you were like sixteen in college.”

“I wasn’t sixteen the entire time,” you hear the eye roll in his voice, “I have three PhD’s, it took me a little while.” 

“Well, who is this girl? Do I need to beat her up?” you joke. 

“No,” he laughs. “You are my favorite, after all. She wasn’t very nice to me.” 

“Okay… so you told me not to beat her up but then gave a reason why I should?” 

“Please don’t beat up my ex-girlfriend. I do appreciate your violent impulses though.” 

“Mm, okay. As long as you know I could.” 

“Sure, angel. You’re very scary,” he placates. 

You let out a little gremlin laugh. 

“Oh, and you’re delirious,” he notes, an amused lilt to his tone. 

“Delirious because I miss you,” you sing, dragging out the ‘you’. 

“God, where did I even find a weirdo like you,” Spencer laughs. 

“I found you. You attracted me with your peculiar aura and soulful eyes. Trapped me in your… fucking what’s-it-called. Tractor beam.” 

“You know, the term tractor beam was actually coined by science fiction author E.E. Smith in 1931 as an updated version of his original term ‘attractor beam.’” 

“Hmm, yup. You caught me in that.” 

“Did you call my eyes soulful?” he asks, seemingly just processing that part. 

“Oh, you don’t like my adjective choice? Next you’ll have a problem with me calling your aura peculiar.” 

“I mean… I don’t know that I loved it.” 

“Here he goes fishing for compliments,” you sigh, rolling over to your other side and creating a bunch of shuffling noise on the line. Spencer wrinkles his nose, holding the phone a little farther from his ear until he hears you speaking again. “Okay, your eyes are big and brown and beautiful and they contain a standard unremarkable amount of soul, and your aura is also really regular. Regular Reid, that’s what they call ya.” 

He’s frowning, you can practically see it, but he’s also fighting off an amused smile. “Well, that one started off nice, at least.” 

“God! You’re so difficult. My boyfriend is sooo difficult. Why don’t you come home to me first and then I’ll come up with some more adequate compliments?” 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

The two of you talk for a little while longer, with you telling Spencer about the new coffee shop you’d tried out and how their lavender latte actually tastes like lavender, which is basically unheard of. Spencer tells you about the standoff between him and an all too curious roadrunner that he swears was trying to get into his motel room. Calling it a standoff is generous; the man got bullied by a bird. 

You try not to laugh and end up unsuccessful, with Spencer insisting that you were taking sides and he was well and truly in danger, which only makes it funnier. His voice pitches up even as he tries to keep his volume low, and you argue that his energy is just so attractive that even the local wildlife are drawn to him. 

“Don’t start,” he warns, overwhelming fondness in his voice. 

You make Spencer tell you something boring to calm yourself down from the image you’ve conjured of him being chased by a roadrunner, which, in your exhausted state, is even funnier than it should be. He claims to regret confiding in you with this, but he knows he’d do it again just to hear you laugh. 

Instead of telling you something boring, he recites some of the poems he’s memorized over the years. It works the way you’d intended, and you regret it when you have to stop him to tell him you’re falling asleep. He’s just a little smug about it. 

“So, you’ll be home in four hours?” you ask, the start of your goodbyes. 

“More like three now.”

“We made time go faster.” 

“We did.” 

“Will you try to get some sleep?”

“Fine. Only because you asked.”

You hum, victorious. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

Hours later, just as the sun is beginning to change the hue of the sky from deep navy to a hazy cerulean glow, you feel your mattress shift underneath you. You’re barely awake, but still you register the scent of Spencer’s shower gel, fresh and sort of woodsy. 

Half asleep, you shift to accommodate him, and he slips an arm around you as you lay your head on his chest. You wrap an arm around his torso and throw your leg over his hips, as close as you can possibly get without literally being on top of him. 

You sigh, deep and relieved, and Spencer’s heart stutters. 

“I missed this,” he chuckles, resting his cheek against the top of your head and wrapping his arms tighter around you. You just hum in response, the last of your energy before you’re pulled back under. Within minutes, Spencer is asleep too, and the two of you sleep through sunrise and into the afternoon. 

[pyro-les]

Jealousy- Rio Vidal X Reader

918 words - warnings: none

Based on a request by @baysha1822

"You know, Agatha put together a pretty good coven, you gotta give her that."

"I don't know the green witch is pretty weird. She's definitely hiding something." Jen replies, Lilia and Alice humming in agreement. Rio was definitely the most suspicious of the group and considering they had a witch who had a rune hiding their identity and one of the most feared witches of all time, literally known for killing her own coven it was a pretty high bar.

"We're doing alright on strength though, Y/N is clearly pretty powerful." Lilia adds to the discussion.

"Pretty cute too." Alice replies, everyone agreeing yet again as they look behind them to Y/N strolling casually along the road while chatting to Teen. What they didn't realise was Rio walking ahead of them was listening to their conversation her anger steadily growing.

She may not have known most of the coven long but she was really starting to dislike them, how dare they start talking about Y/N like that? Did they not realise who they were messing with?

Sitting around a small campfire in attempt to bond Y/N poses a new discussion topic, "what did you guys do in the blip?". A loaded topic to say the least.

The group all pause for a moment, fearing she had said something wrong Y/N started to speak again "You don't have to answer that. I don't know why I asked that, I'm sorry." For someone so powerful she sure could be pretty shy.

The awkward tension dissapears as soon as it had arisen as the group start to chuckle, mixed responses of "don't worry hun.", and "no harm done hot stuff" each reply more flirtatious then the last.

"Well as you know I was pretty busy at the start of it. Alot of backlog to get through you know." Rio spoke with a chuckle. The others all turned to look at her with curiosity, they were clearly missing something that Y/N seemed to know if her small laugh at Rio's responses was anything to go by.

"You're laughs so pretty" Jen says to Y/N, who muffles out a small "thanks, I guess." In reply. Considering how much Rio complemented the witch it was ridiculous just how awkward she was responding to them.

"It really is! Everything about you is pretty." Alice adds on honestly.

Oh this was too much, Rio thought. How dare these poor excuses for witches keep flirting with her Y/N? Did they not get the message the last gods knows how many times they tried to flirt with her only for Rio to pull her closer or change the topic.

Y/N looked over to Rio, sensing her tension rising. Trying to help calm her she says to the rest of the coven "thanks but you guys really don't need to keep complementing me so much."

Taking her statement as Y/N simply being humble Jen takes an extra step too far, " Oh your cute, do you really think you don't deserve the praise? I'm starting to think you actually don't get compliments anywhere near enough if your response is anything to go by."

Now seething with anger Rio steps in "Do you really think that? That I wouldn't compliment her enough, that I'm not enough?!"

"Chill out dude, she's just being nice" Alice replies quickly followed by Lilia asking "what do you mean, you're not enough?" Clearly the only one to pick up her specific wording other than Agatha who had been watching with a small smirk, enjoying watching the sparks fly.

Standing up with her knife in hand Rio starts to stalk towards the rest of the coven with a smile on her face "She told you to stop, is that not enough? I don't care if you're just "being nice", she's mine!"

Clearly not taking her seriously Jen keeps digging her grave "Oh I get it, you're jealous she'll like us more than you?" Looking over to Y/N still sitting awkwardly on the log across from her she adds on "what do you say cutie?"

Bringing her knife right to her throat Rio seethes out "Enough! Do you really have no care for your own life? Is this really how you'd like to go? Because I'd be more than happy to assist if that's your plan." Lilia and Alice watch with baited breath, too scared to do anything while Agatha still watches from the side letting out the occasional laugh.

Jen just smiles up at Rio, maybe she really did have a death wish.

Finally stepping in again Y/N walks towards Rio and snakes her arms around her waist hushing in her ear "It's ok baby."

Leaning back into Y/N's touch, Rio starts to calm down a bit but not letting go of her knife currently still against Jen's throat as a small drip of blood starts trailing down her chest. Y/N runs one of her hands along Rio's arm, slowly going up to hold her hand gripping her dagger and bringing her hand away from Jens throat.

Finally calm Rio puts her dagger back in it's sheath and turns towards Y/N, her hands automatically going to her waist.

"Well that was fun." Agatha finally speaks up, breaking the silence.

"What was?" Teen asks, walking towards the group, looking over curiously to Rio and Y/N now standing close together side by side.

Laughing Alice replies "Oh you have missed so much kid."

A/N: this is my first AAA fic and I wrote it pretty fast so I apologise if any of the characters a bit OOC. That being said if you did enjoy it please let me know if you'd like more Rio fics and if you have any requests my askbox is open:)

[oracle-of-dream]

Frame by Frame

Minors DNI

Summary: Your brother Jay invited his friend Sunghoon over to spend the night at the house. The three of you had mostly grown up together, so you knew him pretty well. Something's off with him... he keeps looking at you.

Warnings: Male Reader, Muscle Kink, Rough Sex, Brother's Best friend, Breeding, Spit play, Pet names (Baby), Soft Dom Sunghoon, Sunghoon has a big dick, Aftercare, Jaywon (briefly)

Wordcount: 3.5k

You woke up from a midday nap to the smell of food being cooked downstairs. The Sun was still shining into your window, but you could tell it was the afternoon by its dark orange color.

Climbing out of bed, you remembered your parents said they'd be out of town for the week. Probably because it was spring break for you, and they didn't want to be around when both their kids would be home again. They were way too happy to send you and your brother off to college...

You put on some sort of t-shirt before leaving your room to investigate the kitchen. There were two voices; one was Jay, your brother. The other was Sunghoon, his best friend since you were five years old. Sunghoon and Jay went everywhere together. To the movies, the gym, cafes, and even the same college too. It really felt like they were dating each other with how much Sunghoon was around, even if your parents treated him like another kid.

Stepping into the kitchen, you saw Sunghoon in a sleeveless red shirt with gray sweatpants. Jay was wearing something similar in green and black. They probably just came back from the gym. Jay had shouted something about it before you'd fallen asleep.

"It smells good. What's on the menu today, chef?" You smiled at your brother the way you did when you needed something from him.

"If you do the dishes after dinner, then it's a tomato bruschetta with salmon," Jay replied without looking up at you.

"What!? Why do I have to do the dishes?"

"You want to eat the food I'm working hard to make, then you have to contribute."

You rolled your eyes. "You hate the way I wash the dishes, you always say it's not done right and end up doing them anyway–and what about Sunghoon? He's eating too, so he has to do the dishes!"

Sunghoon was about to protest but Jay beat him to it. "Fine. Both of you start washing these dishes. If it's not clean by the time I'm done, then the dog is eating really well tonight."

Sunghoon didn't bother arguing. "I wash, you dry?" He asked while handing you a clean rag.

Your stomach was too empty to think of a good argument about why Sunghoon was the person who should do everything. "Fine," You snatched the rag from him and lifted yourself onto the counter to sit. For the next ten minutes, you dried the dishes as he handed them to you. Your mind wandered, thinking about how hungry you were. You looked over at Sunghoon washing the dishes, his huge biceps flexing as he worked over every dish. He'd been going to the gym as much as Jay, but he always had a better shape than him. His arms were incredible, his shoulders also pretty broad, and his side profile wasn't half bad either... He definitely wasn't the kid you'd grown up with anymore.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by Sunghoon's eyes looking over at you, catching you staring at him.

"Y/n, you alright?"

"Y–Yeah, just still a little drowsy..."

Jay finished making the food and started planting the table. "Did you really sleep all day, y/n?"

"How'd you guess?"

"Those are the same pajamas you've been wearing for the past two days..." He dryly replied.

"Well–What did you do today, Jay?"

"I cleaned the house, got groceries, picked up Sunghoon, and then we went to the gym. Then we came back here and I cooked for the entire house."

"Three people, but okay... that's supposed to be a break and you're working like a house husband!"

Jay picked up the plate sitting at your place at the table. "So, that's a no to the food?"

"Okay–Let's not get out of hand. You started it."

"That's what I thought," Jay set your plate down and returned to his seat. He waited for you and Sunghoon to finish the dishes and join him. Dinner was pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausages, with a bowl of fruit. Jay knew you loved breakfast for dinner, and it was all prepared and set to perfection.

You all eat together, not talking very much as you focus on the food. Sunghoon was wolfing the food down like usual, making a mess.

"Hey, you're going to get food on the floor!" You pushed him slightly, "I'm not cleaning the floor if you make a mess."

He replied with a mouth full of food, "Relax, Mom!" Sunghoon has egg on his face and crumbs on his shirt.

You pinched the egg off his face and tossed it to the dog to eat. But when you looked back at Sunghoon, he was staring at you.

"What? Were you gonna eat that?" You asked.

He shook his head, "No, it's nothing."

The air hung heavy between you. Sunghoon has been acting like that sometimes around you, creating some sort of tension between you. But you couldn't think of what you could've done to make him bothered by you. He was fine earlier...

Jay cut through the silence. "Well. Sunghoon, are you still staying the night?"

Sunghoon nodded. More invested in the food now, even though his plate was almost empty.

Jay turned to you, "Y/n, you doing anything tonight? We can all hang out if you want."

You shrugged. "I don't think I've got anything for me. So I'll be around."

The three of you continued dinner without much extra conversation. You went back to your room, Jay started washing the dishes from dinner, and Sunghoon stayed in the kitchen to talk to Jay.

You watched some TikToks in your room until you got a text from Sunghoon.

SH: Hey...

You sat up in bed so you could give it more attention. Why would he put the ... in there?

YN: What's up?

SH: I hope I didn't make you upset earlier. About the dishes. You were kinda giving me daggers, so I just wanted to make sure we're cool.

YN: Of course! I didn't mean to look upset, I was just thinking.

SH: What, about?

YN: Random stuff, I can't even really remember it now...

You knew you couldn't just say, "Oh I was thinking about how good you've been looking these days. Great gains, bro!" You needed to play it cool.

SH: Oh, okay. Can I get your thoughts on something?

Your heart raced, just for a moment.

YN: What is it?

SH: What do you think about this, hot or not? Jay says not.

You stared at the picture of Sunghoon in the gym's locker room. You tried not to laugh at his expression.

YN: I think you could work on your expression. Try smiling or something. Most guys just focus on showing their body rather than their face at the gym anyway.

There was a pause in the messages. Sunghoon didn't reply for a full five minutes...

SH: What about these?

YN: Sunghoon, why do you need me to tell you if you look good? You've always been the most handsome out of you, me, and Jay.

SH: Well, Jay won't even look at them. But it's good to know you think I'm good-looking.

You blushed and scoffed at your phone... You couldn't tell if he knew what he was doing to you. Your body was going crazy.

YN: Well, whatever. I think the photos are all fine.

SH: Last one.

You braced yourself for another sleeveless selfie, but what you got was way better.

You almost dropped your phone when you saw him shirtless. He was absolutely doing it on purpose. Making sure not to actually show you anything, just some collarbone.

SH: Thoughts?

YN: Yep, still looks good.

SH: Well, you can send me photos too. Let me rate you.

You caught a look of yourself in the reflection of your phone. You looked more than a little rough.

YN: Um, I don't really have photos...

SH: Then should we fix that? I can take some photos for you.

YN: Why do I need pictures?

SH: ...I dunno. It just felt fair, since I forced you to look at me. I should look at you too.

You thought about sending Sunghoon photos of yourself. What kind of photos would he even want?

YN: What kinda photos are we talking about?

SH: Anything, I'm just here to help. Just like you did for me.

You spent almost twenty minutes trying to find a photo that seemed decent enough to send. Changing your outfit, messing with your hair, cleaning your room a little bit. You settled on a candid photo of you reading a book in some loose-fitting clothes. Your shirt was almost falling off your shoulders, and your shorts barely peeked out to show you were wearing any. You sent it to Sunghoon and waited anxiously for his response.

SH: Looks good.

You frowned at his response. You really look all the time just to get that kind of response from him... You tossed your phone away from you and went to the living room to find Jay and Sunghoon. Both were sitting on the couch, using their phones. But as soon as you walked in, Sunghoon tucked his phone.

"I'm gonna hit the bathroom really quick." He said as he brushed past you.

Jay didn't acknowledge it, but you sure did. Sunghoon was acting weird again.

"Jay, have you noticed anything about Sunghoon lately?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Same old Sunghoon."

You scoffed at your brother. "Since when have you been so uncaring?"

"And since when did you care so much?" Jay raised an eyebrow as he looked up from his phone.

"Never!" You turned and stormed off from Jay. Clearly, he wasn't going to be helpful, so you needed to get to the bottom of things yourself. As soon as you got into the hallway of the bathroom, you could see the light was on, but the door was barely open. The bathroom door got messed up when Jay closed the door too hard, making it difficult to keep the door shut. A small push could open it. But Sunghoon didn't know that. You moved forward to pull it closed, but then heard Sunghoon breathing heavily.

You leaned closer to the door to listen.

"...Jeez. You're so beautiful. Y/n, holy fuck." Sunghoon softly moaned.

You moved to peek through the crack. Sunghoon was jerking himself to something on his phone, moaning your name. You didn't realize you were holding your breath watching him. His hand stroked quickly, his hair bounced lightly, and his mouth hung open with his eyes squeezed shut. His thick arms pulsed, and his veins popped. His legs shook and shifted in pleasure. You inched closer to get a better look at Sunghoon's phone, but accidentally touched the door which creaked slightly and scared Sunghoon.

"Y–Y/N! I–" Sunghoon scrambled to cover himself but he dropped his phone while doing it. His phone landed face up, showing what he was masturbating to; the photo of yourself you'd sent earlier...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk here..." You said as you turned around and shut the door.

There was shuffling, and then the door opened. Sunghoon's face was wracked with guilt. "Y/n, I'm sorry. I..." His voice trailed off, not knowing what to say.

You turned to him. "Be honest."

He gulped before opening his mouth to answer. "I–I'm really into you, y/n. I've been like this for a while... And, I get it if you're not interested in me."

You stepped forward and kissed his cheek, leaving him dumbfounded. "Come to my room tonight. Wait till Jay's asleep." You walked off toward your room without waiting for his response. You couldn't look him in the face after what you'd seen. All you could think about was his dick and the expression he was making, replaying again and again in your mind. You stayed in your room for the rest of the night, and when Jay knocked on your door to check on you, you told Jay that you didn't want to hang out anymore.

Around midnight, the house had fallen asleep except for you. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you heard a soft knock at the door.

"Y/n? It's me." Sunghoon whispered through the door.

You opened the door and let Sung Hoon in. You sat down on your bed, and he sat down on the far end of it, awkwardly looking at you in the low light of the moon that dripped in from your window.

"I've already seen it, so you can't be awkward with me now." You stated, trying to start the conversation.

"I know... I just didn't want you to find out like that. It's embarrassing." He scratched his head. "You just looked so good in that picture. The moment I saw it, it was hard. And then I saw you in person. I needed to deal with it."

You shifted a little closer to him. "Well, you were sending those pictures first. I was just following your lead."

"I wasn't trying to be sexy in the pictures..."

"Well, you're bad at not being sexy. And, why would you send that shirtless one if you weren't making a pass at me."

Sunghoon's ears went pink. "Well–Maybe I was fishing a little. But I didn't think you'd send anything back to me."

"So it's my fault?"

He turned to you. "No! I didn't mean it like that. I meant–" Sunghoon couldn't finish his sentence as he watched you unbutton your shirt.

"What? Aren't you going to get undressed?"

Sunghoon looked away from you. "Wait, what's actually happening right now?"

You shyly started putting your shirt back on. "I thought you came so we could... have sex. Or something. That was dumb, I'm sorry–"

Sunghoon knelt down in front of you and stopped your hands. "No, it's not dumb. I liked it. I was just thrown for a second. We can do that if you want. But I want to take it off you if you'll let me."

You let your hands rest, Sunghoon slowly stripped off your shirt, touching you gently, caressing your skin, and breathing in your scent deeply as he did. Once your shirt was off, he tossed his aside roughly, revealing his muscular torso to you. You automatically looked away, but he sweetly pulled your chin to face him.

"You can touch me, y/n." He spoke with softness in his voice and looked up at you with warm eyes.

You placed a hand on his shoulder. It was stiff and strong. You traced his muscles down his arm until your hands met his and locked into his fingers.

"We'll go however far you want, y/n. Whatever you want, I'm all yours." He kissed your hand.

"Can you call me baby?"

He chuckled. "Baby."

Your heart fluttered at his deep voice calling out to you.

"Baby, can I touch you?"

You nod.

Sunghoon uses his other hand to wrap around your waist and lift you off the bed, moving you so he'd sit on the bed and you on his lap. "Is this okay?" He slightly leaned in for a kiss, pausing for your consent.

You nod again. Leaning in to meet him.

Sunghoon's hands traced your chest before landing on your hips. Your hands traveled up his waist and stopped at his neck as the two of you made out. Every time you moaned Sunghoon would pull you closer to him, squeezing you slightly. You could feel him slowly grinding into you, his hips lurching upward for just a moment of sensation. You arch your back, laying your ass down to meet him, earning a groan from him.

"Keep doing that, baby." He moaned into the kiss.

You pulled away from the kiss. "We can keep moving forward."

Sunghoon lets you climb off of him. The both of you face away from one another as you toss aside your pants and underwear, leaving you both naked.

You felt a little too exposed. "Actually, can I have my shirt back?

Sunghoon handed it to you, and you took it without looking back at him. You slipped it on but left it unbuttoned and open. Slowly, you turned around to let him see you.

"You look amazing with it on. Good call." He complimented.

You blushed at his compliment and lay on the bed. "Are you coming?"

Sunghoon crawled onto the bed, positioning himself over you. "Are you prepared, or do you need me to do it?"

You covered your face. "Don't ask embarrassing questions. Just check if it's enough for you."

Sunghoon smiled. "Will you lick my fingers?"

You moved your hands just enough to show your mouth and let it open. He delicately placed his fingers on your tongue and let you work them over, tossing and turning them. You got them so wet that they were dripping as he took them out.

"Jesus, that's hot." Sunghoon put them in his mouth.

"Hoon–" He then slipped two fingers into you, making you cover your mouth so you didn't slip out any loud noises.

Sunghoon pushed and pulled softly, searching around and bending his fingers. When he found your spot, he felt you suddenly squeeze his fingers. "There it is. Now, I know where to aim."

You were starting to drool with all the foreplay. Or maybe it was an overexcited thing. Either way, Sunghoon noticed and licked your cheek, drinking your spit.

"We're going to start now. Anything you need to do?" He asked one more time for your consent.

"I've been waiting for you to get to it..." You muttered.

"Oh, baby, are you getting impatient?" He teased me.

You didn't answer and Sunghoon lined himself with your hole before slowly sliding his length inside you. You held the sheets of the bed, trying to control your noises as he filled you. He was so big, and every vein and twitch felt like an explosion inside of you. You struggled to stay still while you got used to him.

"You can do it, baby."

You moaned. "Seven inches is more than I've had before..."

"Did you count my inches with your hole? How lewd." Sunghoon chuckled. "And, we're not done yet."

Your mouth twitched a smile. "Just put it all in then."

Sunghoon put his hands on either side of your hips and pulled up into him, putting the last two inches into you.

"Nine!?" You almost screamed.

"Maybe it's 9.5, but who's counting? Now, stay quiet, or Jay will wake up." He leaned down to you, sliding his hand under your head. "Bite me if you need to."

You thought you didn't need to until you felt his hips move, and then your mouth instantly fixed itself to Sunghoon's collar. He groaned as he started moving slowly but picked up the pace when you moaned. Your thighs were raised, and your legs were around his waist, shaking as Sunghoon pulled you into him to meet his thrusts. You could feel Sunghoon's muscles moving and tensing as he controlled your body. He leaned back to see his work on you and caught you staring at his chest. His pecs were so big and bounced with every thrust.

"Oh? Does Baby like my chest? Wanna touch it?"

You nodded breathlessly.

Sunghoon leaned back down for you to touch them comfortably.

You squeeze them, pinching on his nipples. You were mesmerized by them.

"Since you like them so much, I'll keep them nice and big for you, okay?" Sunghood cool to you.

"O–Okay." You moaned as you held his pecs in your hands, kneading them roughly. The sensations were so intense you didn't even notice you'd already finished once, cum painting your stomach.

Sunghoon's thrusts got sloppier, losing their rhythm as his moans got shakier.

"I'm almost there, baby, hold on a little longer." He growled, hitting a few more times before his cum spilled into you. Which makes you cum again, painting yourself with more ropes of white. Sunghoon rode out his high, thrusting a few more times before pulling out. Cum spilling out of you, onto the bed.

Your body shook and convulsed every few seconds from the rush. You were a sticky mess, and Sunghoon took care of everything. He went into the bathroom and got you hot towels to clean you. And then he carried you to your bathroom so you could do your business. While you took care of yourself on the toilet, Sunghoon changed the sheets and waited for you to come out of the bathroom with new pajamas ready.

Sunghoon tucked you under the covers. "Goodnight, baby, I'll see you in the morning." He got under the covers with you to cuddle you.

You grabbed his arm. "You're not leaving? What about Jay?"

Sunghoon laughed. "He knows. I talked to him. He should be at Jungwon's house right now doing the same as us."

"Why would you tell him–Jungwon!? They're a thing!?"

"Since forever. And Jay's known for ages that I've liked you. After I talked to him about what happened, he chewed me out for being a pervert and jerking off in the house, but he gave me his blessing. So we don't need to worry about him~"

The two of you cuddled together for the night. You drifted to sleep to the sound of Sunghoon's heartbeat, plotting about your next morning...

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || since you're the only one of his coworkers at arkham who doesn't seem to be intimidated by his intelligence, jonathan decides it's time he finds out what does scare you... and how he can embody it. unfortunately for you, turning into your greatest nightmare doesn't prove very difficult for him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || EXTREME AND EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ only and please proceed with caution), drugging and kidnapping, paralysis, traumatized reader, forced orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, unprotected sex/breeding, misogyny, jonathan is very much in character which means he is incredibly evil and has incel vibes (I know y'all are not about to get mad at me for writing a villain being a villain and not uwu babifying him...)

When you interrupted and corrected your colleague, Dr. Crane, about the correct combination of pharmaceuticals for a certain schizophrenic patient in the asylum who happened to have diabetes, you thought nothing of it.  After all, the whole point of staff meetings was to discuss and debate these things, and you weren’t about to let him damn-near poison a patient by giving him something that would interfere with his insulin.  You weren’t trying to be snarky about it, but you did sort of make a joke about how dangerous his suggestion was— and you didn’t notice the way Jonathan’s nostrils flared and jaw tightened when some others chuckled at what you said.

When you received an email from your therapist’s office informing you that there was evidence of a break-in in her building, but that the police were unable to officially determine if confidential client files were compromised, you thought nothing of it.  It was a big complex, these things happen, and you knew from being a clinician yourself how tricky the laws could be surrounding that stuff: she had to email you, legally, if there was any chance your file could’ve been accessed, and that didn’t mean you had any reason to fear your private therapy session notes had been read.  Besides, who would want to read about you and your boring life, diving into your mundane hopes and fears and daily stresses?

And when Crane came into the office with tea for you, you thought nothing of it.  Sure, you seemed surprised when he popped into your office with cups in hand— you asked him why he had two cups of tea, assuming they were both for himself, and he laughed.  Just that was out of character, he wasn’t much of a chucklehead or anything.  “Green tea, right?  With lime and honey?” he asked, setting one cup down for you.  You were still taken aback, but you had to admit defeat.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the cup as he sat down across the desk from you.  “Yeah, that’s my order— I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“Sometimes,” he informed you, hoping his poker face was holding up as he watched you take a sip.  He couldn’t help but stare at your lips wrapping around the little hole in the lid, the print of berry-red your lipstick left behind.  His heart was racing already, more than he expected.

When you finished the first sip, you smiled at him and let out a small, nervous laugh.  “Thank you,” you finally said.  So, yes, even though you clearly noticed this was slightly odd behavior, you thought nothing of drinking the tea.  That was one thing he hated about you: the thoughtlessness.  You didn’t seem to second-guess yourself much, if anything you were a little on the cocky side.  He found it so irritating— that confidence.  Sure, you were smart and you deserved to take yourself somewhat seriously, but the way you walked around this place— the way you ignored him so easily, or spoke over him if you wanted to, or ignored his suggestions when he gave them… you were a bitch, basically.  You clearly thought you were better than him— better than everybody else— for no reason at all.  Just because you were pretty and had a good job you thought you could get away with anything, surely; pretty girls always think that way.

He made casual conversation with you as you sipped the tea, asking questions he already knew the answer to, hoping to catch you in a lie.  For the most part, your stories matched up with what he’d learned from that file.  But, you left out the gory details— you left out the best parts, really.

You mentioned where you went to medical school and that you transferred mid-way through due to ‘stress’, but you didn’t elaborate on what really happened to you.  You mentioned having your own therapist— something you said passionately that every client-facing mental health professional should have— but left out what you were actually being treated for, not to mention the PTSD diagnosis.

He had to hide his smirk behind the paper cup every time you seemed to lose your train of thought— it wasn’t like you, so focused and determined all the time.  No, it was the drugs finally kicking in.  You went for bigger gulps of tea each time your eyes looked heavier, hoping the caffeine would work— but the trace caffeine in your green tea was nothing compared to what he’d added.

You tried to warn him that you were suddenly not feel up to par— that he needed to leave, and you might try to wake yourself up— but he just sat and waited.  He watched you try to get up, and lose your balance.  He watched you stumble, trip, and ultimately fall onto the floor limply.  He watched your eyes flutter shut and the final ounce of energy to fight it fade; he quietly took a final sip of his tea.

~

You woke up on the floor.  You could barely feel it beneath you, but you knew it was the floor— it was cold, and hard.  And you were looking up at the dark ceiling, at the fan spinning at the lowest speed; so you were definitely on the floor.

Jonathan was standing above you, not too far off, flipping through papers.  You couldn’t move— no matter how hard you fought to, you couldn’t.  You barely managed to turn your head, but it felt more like it rolled to the side on its own.  You tried to yell for Dr. Crane’s attention, for help, for him to explain what happened to you, but even your mouth couldn’t move.  The best you could do was breathe harder— actually, you were pretty sure your body was trying to hyperventilate, but you were too incapacitated to even have a proper panic attack.

He heard you, though; he looked away from the papers and grinned down at you.  “Comfortable down there?”

You started to put together a few things.  One, that the last thing you remembered was being in your office, and now you were in your apartment.  Two, that those papers were photoscans of chart notes— obviously you couldn’t make out the words from here, but the format gave away that it must have to do with a patient.

And three, that Crane was neither surprised that you were paralyzed on the floor, nor interested in helping you.

He half-rolled the papers in one hand and playfully hit the other hand’s palm with them.  “These have been quite interesting… revealing, to say the least,” he informed you, like it was a compliment— something you should be proud to hear.  “You’re quite the enigma, Doc!”

He sat down beside you on the floor, leaning on his hand first to find his balance with a little sigh; he seemed amused, actually, and your heart began to race.

As he started to read aloud from the page in front of him, you felt nauseous.  He was reading patient data, describing a client who was receiving individual counseling— or that’s what the CPT code indicated, at least.  As he listed the client’s demographic data— age, race, gender, height, weight— it became eerily obvious what he was doing.  You refused to believe it until he went on: “Client was recommended to Dr. Min Zhang for individual therapy concerning PTSD following sexual trauma.”

Your therapist.  This was a file he’d copied, which belonged to your therapist.  And it was obvious whose file it was.

As you tried with all your might to scream, Jonathan flipped a few pages ahead.

“Session fourteen, eleventh of June,” he continued.  “Client expressed frustration with an increased recurrence of nightmares and flashbacks to her assault.  Up until now, she has struggled to explain what triggers her anxiety without having to actually elaborate on the circumstances of the event.”

He stopped, but you weren’t exactly relieved.  In fact, you were horrified.  He had a little grin on his face when he looked at you, but you could finally see the rage in his eyes.  Suddenly, you realized how long it had been there.  You had sort of picked up on it before, the resentment he had towards you— and it didn’t take a Freudian expert to figure out that he was threatened by you, especially as a man.  He didn’t respond well to feeling upstaged and he clearly had an issue with women.  Maybe not that issue— he was good-looking and well-off, he didn’t need to have any issues with women if he didn’t want to— but an issue nonetheless.  

“Now,” he added, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before, “client states she is ready to describe the incident in full detail.”

He set the papers aside for a second, leaning over you and almost looking… giddy, really.

“I won’t read you the rest, I’ve already pretty much memorized what goes on from there.  It was fascinating— seeing how what happened that night connected to the fears you still have today… the nightmares.  You said that you still feel sick at the smell of alcohol, you still don’t like to wear pinstripe skirts, and even just the wrong few words can make you feel like you’re right back there where it happened— on the floor of your apartment.”

All you could do was look up at him, and you felt your eyes get hot as they welled with tears.

“Not this apartment, obviously— the one by your old school,” Jonathan sighed, “but this will have to do.  And the smell of alcohol, well, I wouldn’t want to let anything cloud my experience— but I dabbed a little gin on my wrists, what do you think?”

He held his hand up by your face, caressing your cheek for a second, and you imagined yourself pulling away— turning your head and shrugging his touch off of you with a grimace.  But nothing happened, of course, and you were entirely helpless as the acidic stench of liquor became apparent.  You couldn’t give your typical outward reaction of a frown, but inside, you felt just the same as always: your stomach twisted, your heart pounded, your head swirled.

“Smell is such a… primal trigger of memory, isn’t it?” he mused, watching your face reverently.  “I can see it in your eyes, it’s affecting you even more than I expected.  You act so fearless at work— but I knew you must have been overcompensating.  God, you’re terrified— I would say you’re paralyzed, but, well… it would be too literal, I think.”

You knew that Crane studied fear and phobias, even trauma occasionally, as a personal interest within the field.  It was normal to have a favorite subtopic, and to conduct related research on it— but obviously, this was far from normal, this was absolutely deranged.  You knew that part of this was vengeance, in his own mind at least, but you didn't feel like you'd done anything actually wrong to him.  And the rest of it, well, it seemed like some twisted experiment, but if you were able to speak you would've tried to remind him that this 'research' wasn't going to get him published or advance his career— but of course, that wasn't what he wanted.  He just wanted to humiliate you.

“I was worried I didn’t have enough to work with, you know,” he added.  “I knew I couldn’t get you to where it happened, if I could even figure it out since you never filed that police report… and the skirt, well, I considered it.  It sounded pretty exciting to dress you up like the night it happened— what I would give to know everything you were wearing that night, but I don’t have a ton to work with.  Obviously, you don’t own any pinstripe skirts anymore, so I would’ve had to buy one… and I wasn’t quite ready for the looks I’d get shopping at Macy’s, so…”

Carefully, he reached up to take off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on your coffee table.

“You know how detail-oriented I am— I mean, I went to all this, didn’t I?” He continued, reaching down and brushing his fingers for a moment over your leg.  It was so instinctive to pull away that it took you a moment to realize you hadn’t… because of course, you couldn’t.  “But it’s impossible to recreate it all perfectly.  Clearly, I don’t need to— if only you could see it, Doc, you look… you look so weak.  Pathetic.”

Since the only thing you could do was look around, you tried to look away— to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in your eyes.  He grabbed your face and turned it until you looked up at him.  

“Did you think you’d be able to face your greatest fear?  Perhaps with a bit more dignity?” he mused.  He looked different without the glasses on; and, ironically, you felt like he could see you even better now.

It was obvious that he enjoyed lording complete power over you, but a quick glance down to his suit trousers made it clear just how much he enjoyed it.  You quickly darted your gaze away, but it was too late; he started to climb on top of you, staring at your face uncomfortably close, and worked on opening his belt and fly.

“Fear rules us all, doesn’t it?  Everything you did, it was guided by your fear that it would— well, why paraphrase?  Let me find exactly how you put it…”

He picked up the papers again quickly, licking his thumb and flipping around until he found the right entry.

“Yes,” he said, “here it is: client states she lives in almost constant fear that it will happen again.”

So that's what this was: his disturbed take on exposure therapy.

As he tossed the copied charts away for the last time and reached up under your skirt, he leaned down and whispered in your ear— and you couldn’t even flinch from the harsh sounds of his words.  “It took you over fifty sessions to admit it,” he recalled, “to tell her the whole truth.  Not just what he did to you… what you did.”

With a small growl, he yanked your panties down your legs and rubbed your thighs with far too much aggression, such that you expected bruises from his hands— just like the ones you’d had before.

“You said he made you do it,” he continued, “you couldn’t help it, right?  But you said nothing’s ever felt like that— that you’d never had such a powerful orgasm.”

You would’ve vomited, except that that, too, requires your muscles to not be paralyzed.  Rolling your skirt up and spreading your legs, he positioned himself right between them, rubbing his cock's leaking head around your hole.

“Your greatest fear isn’t really that it’ll happen again, is it?” Jonathan taunted.  “You’re afraid someone’s going to find out how much you liked it.”

With that, he punched his hips forward and speared you on his cock.

It had been years since you'd had anything inside you, even your own fingers.  You couldn't even remember if being penetrated hurt like this during your assault, and you would've sworn before that you remembered every detail perfectly.  But this was so real, not a memory or a nightmare.  You couldn't cry out from the sting.

"God, it's tight," he groaned, "I bet you weren't this tight when it happened— you'd been whoring around, hadn't you?  Letting all kinds of guys use you… just ran into the wrong one and got your drink spiked.  But now…"

He hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on your hip.  

"Now it's all mine, isn't it?"

Inside, you were screaming and kicking and pleading for mercy.  You imagined you would be angry and violent, beat him to death with your heel or something, but you wondered if you'd be forced to bargain with him— apologize for whatever you did to upset him, promise you wouldn't tell a soul about this as long as he left you alone.  But either way, it didn't matter… on the outside, you were useless, laying there and letting him use you.

"What made you come so much before?  Did he have a big cock, is that it?” he asked with a snarl.  “Did he know exactly how to touch you?  Or was it just that you’d been craving it, needed it really rough to get off properly?  Is that why you came while he raped you?”

It was a biological response, you told yourself like you had over and over, I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was a biological response— it wasn't my fault, I didn't like it, it was a biological response.

“I think I know what it is,” he mused, looking down at you with heavy eyes and almost purring as he watched your limp form bounce on the floor.  “I think you wanted to be put in your place.  You act so liberated, so empowered— but you’re a creature of instinct, like anything else.  You need someone to remind you how weak you are, I know, fuck, I know you do…”

He fucked you just a bit faster, grunting and tightening his fist on the floor by your head.

“You haven’t been able to have an orgasm at all, since then,” he stated— almost making it like a question, with the way he said it, but he obviously already knew it was true.  He sounded shockingly sympathetic— not even pitying, not condescending, for once.  “I’m sure for a while you didn’t even try, afraid it would remind you— but that’s the thing, you can’t finish unless you’re reminded.”

You almost surprised yourself when you heard a whine come from your throat; he smiled proudly.

"It's wearing off, I think," he noticed.  "I only gave you a small dose.  Can you move at all?  Can you beg me to stop?"

You opened your mouth to try to say everything you'd wanted to since you awoke, but all that came out was a moan.  You hated yourself for that, and he laughed happily.

"You don't want me to stop," he decided.  "Feels too good?"

I fucking hate you, you wanted to scream, you sick son of a bitch, I fucking hate you—

"You didn't say it outright, but he must have said something to you— during, maybe after," Jonathan theorized.  "You didn't say what it was, but you told your therapist about having a vivid flashback after being accosted by a delusional homeless man on the street.  He called you a bitch, seemingly for no reason… is that what your rapist said to you?  Did he say you were a stuck-up little bitch?"

As burning hot tears striped your temples, you curled your fingers over and over— maybe you could move your arms if you really tried…

"He was fucking right about you.  You think you're so much fucking better than everyone else," he growled.  "You think you're so fucking smart, and special.  But you're no fucking different, you're nothing—"

You whined and reached up, weakly trying to push him off of you, but all you could do was limply grasp at his shoulders.

"Nothing but a stupid—" he grunted the word as he slammed himself into you— "fucking—" he did it again— "bitch."

"No!" you finally heard yourself sob, clutching a weak fistful of his white shirt, but he grabbed your hands and shoved them back down to the floor.

“God,” he choked, holding your wrists tightly until you whined, “it’s so much better when you can fight— fuck, it’s so much better.  Keep struggling if you want, Doc, you’re still too weak for me…”

Your legs moved a little, but they felt heavy.  Sensation was only just beginning to return to them, like pins and needles, and it stung; you winced as you managed to squirm a bit beneath him.

"That's it," he praised, "this is probably just how you did it before.  Too drunk and too desperate for cock to really do much, but trying so hard to look like you hate it— I understand, you don't want anyone to know that you need this.  They'd never look at you the same again: the smart, accomplished psychiatrist who likes getting treated like fuckmeat.  What would they think of you if they knew?"

"No…" you said again, too weak and traumatized to say much else— but it wasn't what he said that made you say no, it was the pulse of pleasure inside your cunt.  He must have felt it, and if he didn't, he surely felt the next; yes, he did, because he smiled down at you excitedly.

"It's happening, isn't it?  You're gonna come."

He held on tight to one of your legs, gripping your thigh and staring uncomfortably into your eyes as he kept going— faster and rougher with each thrust.  You choked on your throat, trying to stop any part of this, but the pleasure was undeniable; it still hurt, yes, and you still felt so angry and sick and numb, but something familiar and desperate was tightening in your gut.  It’d been so long since anyone touched you… you’d forgotten how natural it could feel, even when it was so horrible.

"I read it in your file, but I still couldn't really believe it,” he laughed quietly, “I couldn't believe you came over and over while being raped— but here you are, wow, look at you… you’re so beautiful when you’re scared.”

A long, heavy sigh fell from your lips; your eyes got heavier, and your whole body seemed to relax— in a way totally different from the medication-induced paralysis.

He cooed at you, seeming oddly proud, and you were oddly compliant as he picked you up and pulled you into his lap.

Tears streamed across your cheeks as he held you close, one hand around your back while the other moved your hips against his.  “There you go— come for me, I wanna feel it— another one, baby, for me…”

It wasn’t much longer before another one came— from what you remembered, it was a lot like the first time, this terribly wonderful way your body protected itself from the trauma by immersing you in pleasure.  Of course, Jonathan helped you along by rubbing your clit with his thumb, excited to watch you surrender to ecstasy even when you begged him to just stop and leave you alone.

Of course, your protests were less and less believable as more of your strength and mobility returned— you could’ve tried harder to get away, but instead you found your hips rocking with his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.  No, you didn’t want this— you never wanted this— but you found the way he spoke to you impossibly comforting even while it was still deeply upsetting.  “Tell me about the nightmares, darling,” he whispered— some impossible mix of pleading and ordering.

“A-almost every night,” you whimpered.  “I… I got used to it, but I used to… I used to wake up and think I was still…”

"They felt so real, hm?" he presumed, and you nodded.  “It’s real now… you don’t have to be afraid of the dreams anymore, it’s all real— I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare or comfort you; he pet your hair, clinging to you tightly, kissing your face and neck along the lines of the tears soaking your skin.  

You felt his grin against your cheek when another wavering moan echoed in your chest, and he laid you back on the floor to hover over you again.  “Was that your third one, already?” he noticed.  “This is so much easier than I thought… you needed this so badly, you poor girl.”

A quick wave of panic settled over you when his hand wrapped around your neck.  “W-wait,” you pleaded instantly, as if you really feared he would just strangle you to death right then and there.  Your hands, still weak and tingly, reached up to his arm, and you felt his cock throb inside you— of course that was what he wanted, to see you react in fear again.  So many other emotions were at play right now, even some you didn’t know existed (like whatever the word would be for longing for the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, or feeling like the only person you can trust is the person hurting you the most), but fear was still going to rule it all as long as he had any say.

"How many times did you come before?" he demanded to know, nostrils flaring as he fucked you harder.  "Tell me how many times you came when he raped you."

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

"I— I don't know!" you yelped, whimpers falling to silence as he tightened his grip on your neck. 

"You don't fucking know?" he snarled at you, watching you fight for air.  You clawed at his shirt, his wrist, tried to pry his fingers away, but he just sneered as he stared at your numbing face.  "You don't know how many times you creamed on your rapist's cock?  Bullshit."

"I—" you gasped when he let go of your throat, "I lost count…"

He went from livid to ecstatic in a second, laughing proudly and dipping down to kiss your neck passionately.  "Good girl," he mumbled against your skin, fucking you even faster.  "That's what you need to do for me now— come for me until you lose count."

“I— I can’t,” you choked, grabbing at his shoulders as he seemed to overwhelm you just by pressing his weight down on top of you.  “I’m sorry— you… you proved your point, I— I just need a break—”

Even though the drug he’d injected you with was wearing off, you realized you were just as limp and helpless as before… after all, some of the most powerful chemicals come inside the body.  You didn’t even fight it when he put his hand over your mouth, spitting out a quiet but hateful shut up and continuing with his quick and forceful thrusts into you.  

He kept you conscious and lucid by occasionally hitting or choking you, talking to you, once or twice even ordering you to kiss him.  Like you mean it, he’d said, slapping you as punishment for doing it wrong.  Truth be told, you hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that you’d really been trying your best the first time.  Sometimes he told you to beg him for more— or to beg him to get off of you— and yet he would usually punish you for speaking at all.  He was completely unpredictable, and you figured that was part of the plan: take away any shred of control you might try to get by making it impossible to follow his rules.  Keep you confused and crying, keep you fearful, keep you obedient.

But, he did seem to enjoy when you could only just choke out a broken please.  He laughed at you, pinching your sore clit in response until you sobbed and tried to jerk your hips away.  “‘Please’ what, honey?  You mean, ‘please keep fucking me, Doctor Crane, you’ll make me come again?’” he taunted.  “Something like that?”

“Please… please,” you swallowed around your whines, “please just… finish, and go…”

“Oh,” he purred, “you want me to come?”

You’d specifically not phrased it that way, but, yes, that was what you were asking for.  You weren’t sure what else he wanted from you now, it felt like he’d drained you of everything.

“You can just say that, baby— you wanna make me come?” he grinned, moving in closer for a kiss, but you turned your head away.  He grabbed your jaw again and stared at you with an angry glare.  “This isn’t about me.  This is what you wanted.  This is what you fucking wanted!”

As he screamed in your face, you sobbed and tried to look away again, but he hit you hard on the face and covered your mouth before the cry of agony could come out.  

“This is what you wanted, right?” he insisted again, forcing your head to nod with his clammy, iron-tight grip.  “Uh huh— and you wanna make me come, don’t you?  You understand now that’s all you’re good for.”

As sick as it was, you felt yourself fall into another orgasm when he said that; your eyes rolled back a bit, and for a moment you felt even hotter between your legs.

“I think, if you beg me to come, maybe I will,” he offered— bargaining with you, probably another way to trick you into clamoring for some control only to yank it away.  Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a deal.

“Please,” you blurted out the second he released your mouth from under his hand; when you blinked the tears from your eyes, you saw him clearly again and realized how completely different he looked from the arrogant-but-generally-unassuming man you knew from work.  His hair was fallen beside his face, and he was close enough that the ends were tickling your forehead.  His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, and dark.  His lips, always full and plush but usually in a tight frown or neutral look of condescending boredom, were curled around the teeth he bared at you.  He looked animalistic, for a man typically so measured.  Only he could do something so animalistic in a way that required such intellect, foresight, and contemplation— using his superhuman skills to treat you in a subhuman manner.  You realized that you were really seeing him for the first time— the person you’d known before was the mask.  This was something horribly freeing for him; and you were having a much easier time analyzing and thinking about him to distract from how sickly freeing this experience was becoming for you.  “Please, Jonathan—”

“Doctor Crane,” he corrected.  Apparently this wasn’t enough to put you on a first name basis…

“Doctor Crane,” you repeated, “please… come.  I want… I want you to come.”

“Hmm,” he considered, and you worried he’d decide he was unimpressed with your effort and hurt you again— but, he did maybe the only thing worse.  “Okay,” he agreed, “if it’s so important to you.”

Just when you shut your eyes tight and hoped you could just get through this— just hold on for a few more minutes at most and then this would be over and done with— he whispered in your ear that he needed you to keep your eyes open if he was going to finish.  

Though, when you obeyed, he purred at you and let his own eyes flutter shut for just a moment.  For once, he actually seemed affected by all this physically and not just psychosexually.  “I think I’ll come inside, like he did before,” Crane decided with a groan when he opened his eyes, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at you.  “I didn’t see any birth control in your listed medications on chart… I guess we’ll find out if you have a fear of getting pregnant.”

"Jonathan— don't," you whimpered.  "Please, don't do that—"

"Shh," he soothed, petting the top of your head and laying his weight over you.  "Shh, it's alright.  I think you need to be filled with come… I think that might be the one thing that’ll get you to settle down, now just hold still.”

“I— please… please…” you began to beg again, but your words faded away as another wave of sensation washed over you— they started to blend together, like before, and you realized you were doing what he’d asked: you were losing count.

“Good girl,” he praised under his breath, “like that— fuck, I’m close.  Fuck!”

He held onto you tight— one hand on your thigh and the other on your neck as his thrusts sped to a desperately, impossibly fast pace.  You moaned— or cried, or yelled, or something— as he pushed just a little too deep and your toes curled in your heels.

“Uh huh,” he encouraged, “just one more while I come inside you— I think you can manage that, just one more good squeeze on my cock— oh, fuck, that’s it, yes, just like that…”

You stopped being able to understand what he was saying, but you heard the wavering groan that came a few moments later when his movements suddenly stopped.  He gasped and kept himself as far inside you as possible; you shuddered, blinking fresh tears out of your eyes, and felt paralyzed in an entirely new way as you laid under him, staring up at your ceiling, seeing how far the sun had set since it began— actually, it had started to rain, making it even more impossible to tell how much time had really passed.  Eventually, though, he took his head out from the crook of your neck and propped himself up enough to look down at you.  

Reaching to your coffee table, he fumbled his hand around until he found his glasses, and shakily put them back on.  “Well,” he grinned, still panting but seeming to be mostly back to himself (whoever that was).  “I never thought I’d meet someone who loves fear as much as I do.”