fic authors self rec ! when you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to five other writers <3
hehehehe. thannk u dulche <3 this wasn't a hard draw tbh, these fics play such BIG role in my style as a writer, and honestly tell you everything you need to know about me as a person akfjbaev
1 // Killing Eve
SUMMARY: Clark meets another super, who he can fuck the way he really wants to.
2 // Love, Temptation
SUMMARY: The first time Superman meets a telepath and nearly gets his secret revealed.
3 // Killshot
SUMMARY: Clark Kent scores an interview with Bruce Wayne's infamous sister — you. Except you don't make it easy for him.
4 // Everybody Here Wants You
SUMMARY: Clark and you share a room at a motel for the night.
5 // Burning Blue
SUMMARY: Superman attends a gala where he's being honoured and steals some time from a very hard-to-get Congresswoman — you.
I would love to share this with everyone who may happen to see this post. Please support this wonderful human being. He spent nearly a half century in prison for a crime he never committed. And the only thing that kept him going was his artistic endeavors. He deserves the best life can offer anyone ❤️
synopsis: In the field, you've come to expect Vigilante not to follow orders. After another reckless maneuver and at your wits' end you find yourself alone in the office with Adrian and discover maybe he's not so bad at listening after all.
gif by @/chaseadrian
pairing: adrian chase x reader
tags: 18+, welcome to smut city, coworkers to maybe more?, but definitely coworkers to coworkers who fuck, very loose sub adrian vibes, adrian is different in and out of the suit, vigilante is fucking menace, fingers in mouths, oral (f receiving), premature ejaculation, office/desk sex, pw(arguably too much)p, tiny bit of medical terminology and injury, parts of this are very silly sorry i can't help myself when it comes to humor!
word count: 6.1k
note: brought to you by this ask! with a special shoutout to @genuinelygemini for the "subby adrian" suggestion! i don't know exactly how subby this is in the end, but it was fun to write! i don't usually write explicit smut, but I had a grand old time. 🙂↕️
The sound of your helmet colliding with the wall was what finally prompted Adrian to speak up.
“I feel like you’re mad,” he said simply, his brow furrowed as he watched you pace back and forth. The sound of his voice stopped you dead. You clapped your hands together slowly as you looked at him through narrowed eyes.
“Oh, really astute, Adrian. Good job.”
He smiled that stupid dimpled smile of his. “Thank you.”
“Ohmygod,” you groaned under your breath, raking your fingers through your hair.
“Do you need water or something? I feel like you’re breathing really hard and,” he paused to look down at his watch, “usually your heart rate has returned to normal by now.”
“What I need, Adrian, is for you to fucking listen to me in the field!” you exclaimed, kicking the wastebasket that was suddenly in your way. Adrian’s eyes tracked it as it skidded across the floor and into the filing cabinets. “Do you have some kind of fucking complex or something? It’s like you’re physically incapable of hearing anything I say when we’re out there. We’re supposed to be a team but every mission becomes The Adrian Show. Like, we get it. You’re a man.”
“Well, I’m sorry that I can’t help my genetic makeup. Frankly, I think being a woman would be awesome. I mean, aside from all the misogyny and systemic oppression. But I’ve kind of always wanted to know what it would be like to be a mother,” he rambled.
You stared at him in disbelief. “Can you please, please shut the fuck up?”
A small part of you felt bad for saying it. You didn’t usually mind when Adrian went off on one of his rants. He was like a cute black hole, and you knew all too well what it was like to be sucked in. Adrian Chase - the man you sat next to at work, who always brought you a cup of coffee without being prompted; who could talk ad nauseum but listened when you had something to say; the coworker whom you always found yourself tucking in the tag at his collar was not the issue.
The issue was who he became in the fucking suit. Vigilante put blinders on him - and not just because of his stupidly limited field of vision in the mask.
You started undoing the clasps of your body armor and tossed your chest plate onto the nearest chair which you promptly threw yourself into. You hunched over and mentally prepared yourself to start unlacing your boots - you’d gotten kicked hard as shit in the ribs out there. They were sore, not broken. Probably. But before you could manage the task, Adrian rolled his chair in front of yours, brushing your knees with his. He reached down and started untying one boot, gently knocking your tired fingers out of the way in the process.
You sat up, stunned, and merely watched as his head dipped between your knees and he unlaced both boots, then slowly took them off and gently set them aside. He sat back up and pushed his wireframes up the bridge of his nose and just looked at you. It was unnerving to have him so silent.
“Where the hell is this in the field?” you asked quietly. He cocked his head slightly, almost like he didn’t understand the question.
“I don’t have to worry about you in the field,” he said simply. “Except when you get kicked so hard I think you’re going to start coughing up blood.”
“Of course you don’t have to worry about me in the field, I can hold my goddamn own. But you put that fucking suit on and it’s like I don’t know who I’m dealing with anymore.”
His brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t understand, I feel like we work really well together.”
“You don’t listen to me. It’s like you’ve got a one track mind and it’s your way or the highway. We work because I’m always having to adapt to you.”
He seemed to consider this. “But that’s because I know what I’m doing?”
You barked out a laugh that hurt. “Oh and I don’t?”
“I’m pretty sure I just said I don’t have to worry about you? I’m confused.”
His green eyes were wide and bewildered. You took a sharp breath through your nose and pushed your chair slightly back. You needed space - a thing Adrian did not know how to give. You unzipped your compression jacket, hoping it would alleviate the hot prickle of anger at the back of your neck, but instead all it did was cause Adrian’s gaze to drag across your chest like a jolt of electricity.
“What did you say about my heart rate earlier?” you asked, your mouth feeling suddenly dry.
“Huh?” he asked, gaze raking up the column of your throat before he seemed to remember you had a face.
“Not listening once again, I see,” you taunted, this time with a sly smile. Adrian pouted slightly.
“Okay, this was different. I’m not thinking about your tits when we’re in the field,” he said, as if that was some sort of sound argument and not a confession.
“Good to know my feminine wiles aren’t causing your fucking problem,” you drawled sarcastically.
“Oh, no, they definitely are. But like, a different sort of problem,” he said, voice low in the same sort of way it got when he was drunk. Then, he seemed to regain an ounce of focus. “Hey! I don’t have a fucking problem. You just don’t like taking orders from me.”
That wasn’t entirely untrue. Though calling them orders was perhaps a bit generous. More like improvising based on Vigilante’s unhinged decision making. “You seem to like giving them.”
“When I’m Vigilante, sure! You’re acting like I don’t take orders aaaaall the time when we’re not in the field,” he complained. “I like it when you tell me what to do.”
You paused. “You like it?”
“Is that not what I just said?”
You turned all the new information over in your mind. “What’s my heart rate, Adrian?”
“How should I know?” he retorted. “Your resting heart rate is normally 56 beats per minute. Cool as a fucking cucumber. I’ve actually been trying to train mine to be somewhere like 45 beats per minute because I read somewhere that really good athletes can have a bpm as low as 40bpm. And, I mean, we basically are athletes and I want to be at the top of my game. Actually, the Guinness World Record for slowest resting heart rate is 27bpm and I feel like if I worked really hard I could probably beat that.”
You laughed again and then winced. “Adrian Chase, you will only have a resting heart rate lower than 27bpm when you’re fucking dead.”
You weren’t sure you wanted to know how he knew your resting heart rate, but your brain supplied the image of his fingers gently pressed to your throat so easily. He must have checked it while you were sleeping - whether that was on one of his “sweeps” of your apartment in the middle of the night, or while you were napping on the bedraggled office couch, or the time you two had had to share a bed on a mission, well…he’d had plenty of opportunities to collect data you supposed.
“Adrian,” you repeated again, your hand moving slowly towards his. “Take my pulse.”
“Oh!” he said, sitting up slightly straighter, something attentive in his posture. Then he nodded. He grabbed your wrist and pulled it towards him. He looked down at your hand in his lap and seemed to short circuit.
“Might help if you take your gloves off,” you suggested.
“Right,” he replied, nodding vigorously. He ripped a glove off with his teeth and then pressed his warm, slightly sweaty fingertips to the pulse point in your wrist.
“Your radial pulse isn’t very strong,” he commented, his brow furrowed in concentration.
“Try here,” you said, bringing his hand to your throat. You rolled your chair just slightly forward so that his knees were trapped between yours.
But he met your gaze evenly and those wide, shining eyes of his took you in as he counted silently, his pink lips moving around the shape of each number. You could practically see two pastel hearts pasted where his eyes should be. You were probably, almost definitely going to regret this all later. But the pure curiosity of it overtook all common sense.
“75,” Adrian said, voice a hoarse whisper.
“What?” you asked, too busy lost in the swirling green pools in front of you. You really were doomed, weren’t you?
“Beats,” he clarified. “Per minute. Actually, that’s an average over the course of two minutes. You didn’t stop me and I thought I might as well be thorough.”
You nodded as if that made perfect sense but you couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d both let two minutes pass uninterrupted while you stared into each others’ eyes with his warm fingers pressed at your throat. You leaned slightly further forward.
“Your turn,” you said gently and touched your fingers to the side of Adrian’s neck. “But you have to be nice and quiet for me so I can focus. Can you manage that?”
Adrian made a small noise somewhere in the back of his throat. “Fuck - uh, yes?”
Again, he wordlessly locked onto you in a way that made something terrible and wonderful brew inside you. The corner of his lips twitched like he wanted to speak but he managed to wrangle it in. You weren’t wearing a watch, so you pulled Adrian’s hand into your lap and started counting meticulously. You dragged your gaze from his watch to his face for just a moment and enjoyed the spike in his pulse. He frowned at you and then whispered: “Shouldn’t you be focusing?”
“I’m very focused, Adrian,” you replied, voice low. Adrian shifted his hips in his chair. You winked, causing him to curse under his breath. Satisfied with the taste of excitement in him, you looked back at his watch.
“95 and climbing,” you said when the minute had passed. “What’s got your heart in such a patter?”
“My pulse is usually, like, way lower, I swear,” Adrian said quietly. “But you’re making me nervous.”
“Nervous?” you asked, pulling back slightly, worried you were misreading the whole thing. Adrian’s fingers caught your wrist in a flash.
“Not nervous. I’m fucking horny. Fuck! I mean, uh, I’m fucking happy. That you want to touch me.”
“Oh?” You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you. “So you’re not horny, or?”
He groaned and pressed his forehead into your palm instead of his own.
He dragged your hand down his face, over the front of his throat and then slid it up towards his jaw. You let your fingers explore, catching against the slightest stubble. Suddenly, Adrian opened his mouth and looked up at you with big, pleading eyes.
You narrowed your gaze, uncertain what he wanted, until he moved his head so that your fingers were just inside his lips, resting against his tongue. Oh. You slid your fingers into his wanting mouth, gliding over the velvet expanse of his tongue. He closed his lips around your index and middle finger, and you pushed them further in, testing, before you slowly withdrew, feeling how he hummed around them.
“I’ve always wondered what that would feel like,” he admitted once your fingers had slipped free. A small thread of spit connected you still. He turned his head again and pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist innocently like he hadn’t just begged for your fingers in his mouth. You wanted to say fuck it, to lean forward and capture his mouth with yours, to strip him out of that stupid costume and ride him until you both came hard, but more than that you wanted him to work for it. To beg a little. Adrian owed you nothing, but Vigilante on the other hand…
“Apical pulse,” Adrian said suddenly.
“What?” you asked, snapped straight out of the delightful idea of his face between your legs.
“Apical pulse is the most accurate,” he said matter-of-factly.
“And where is that?”
He reached forward and brushed his fingers against the front of your shirt, slowly dragging until they rested just beneath your breast. His fingers hooked into the fabric idly.
“Can I try again?” Adrian asked breathlessly. “Please? For science.”
Your lips split into a grin. “Well, if it’s for science how can I say no?”
Adrian released his hold on your shirt and sunk to the floor between your knees, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. He dragged his fingers down to the hem of your shirt and dipped his trembling fingers beneath the fabric. His breath was hot against your throat as he leaned even closer, his other hand coming to your waist. You weren’t sure if it was to ground himself or hold you down. Either way it made something hot and wanting unravel in the pit of your stomach.
The callused pads of his fingers were deliciously warm against your skin as they slid up and cupped your breast over your bra. He gave it a tentative squeeze before he dipped his index and middle finger beneath the underwire. His fingers dragged along the underside of your breast until he found the right spot. You were sure he’d find your heart rate had increased again, despite your attempts to the contrary. The last thing you wanted was Adrian to know he rattled you, though, you suspected you may have blown it entirely on that front.
You ran your fingers up Adrian’s neck into his curls and gripped tightly. Adrian hissed and then looked up at you with glassy eyes, pupils blown wide. “I - I lost count.”
You laughed, then yanked Adrian up to your mouth by the hair. Your lips had barely touched when he moaned into your open mouth. He kissed with the exact kind of frenzy you expected: wet, tongue-forward, frankly sloppy. It was a kind of eagerness that stirred a fondness in your chest. His hand slipped, conveniently, up your breast, pushing your bra up and out of his way.
Adrian leaned closer still, following your mouth like he was afraid you were going to take it away from him for good at any moment. You gripped his hair tighter still and Adrian seemed to be speaking into your mouth, but you couldn’t make heads or tails of what he could possibly be saying. He slipped his hand out of your shirt, fingers dragging gently across your skin and sending a shiver down your spine. He grabbed your tank top and ripped it straight down the middle.
“Adrian!” you gasped, pulling back to punch him in the shoulder.
“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed and then immediately began peppering your face with kisses. “Sorry I just couldn’t stop picturing what your tits look like and I needed to see them immediately.”
You snorted a laugh and unhooked your bra and tossed it aside. “Happy?”
“I think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life. Like, I could die right now and I would be content. Thank you. Thank you for sharing these with me. I’m the luckiest man in the whole wide – ”
“Adrian, shut the hell up,” you ordered.
“Yes ma’am,” he agreed with a salute before grabbing ahold of your hips and sliding you closer to the edge of your chair. He danced his fingers lightly over the ugly bruise forming across your ribs before he kissed the top of each of your breasts. Then, he paused, staring at your chest with a look of pure consternation. “How am I supposed to pick just one?”
“Oh my god, Adrian,” you started to groan but then Adrian took one of your nipples into his warm mouth and the disparagement left your brain entirely. His teeth grazed your skin slightly and then he looked up at you through his lashes, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose again. You gently repositioned them for him and were rewarded with a blinding smile.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.
“It’s fine,” you replied, trying to assure him. But he seemed to take that as an assessment of quality instead. He sat back on his heels and pouted.
“How can I do better? Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything,” he pleaded.
You pressed your thighs together slightly, desperate for some sort of relief. You were both a goddamn mess. Desperate for distraction from the sight of him begging, you twisted your fingers into his curls and pulled his mouth to yours again, leading him into a slower, more languid kiss. Somewhere in the back of your brain you reprimanded yourself for kissing him so much - letting him think this was something other than what it was was dangerous. But the idiot was a good goddamn kisser.
You guided him to his feet, pulling him closer still until suddenly he was straddling your lap, ass perched firmly on your knees. Your fingers traipsed over him, undoing buckles and zippers and snaps as you went. You knew Adrian’s armor intimately from your agile study of his form, his fighting style, and from looking for weak points. He wasn’t open to your notes, but it helped you know how best to cover his ass at a moment’s notice in the field.
Your fingers finally found smooth skin as you helped him out of his last layer, leaving him and his tightly muscled form in just a tank top. Part of you wanted to rip it off with your teeth, another part of you wanted to sit back and watch him slowly strip the rest away. All thoughts left your head as Adrian’s mouth moved to your neck. His tongue laved at the skin, teeth pinching flesh just slightly, when he suddenly drew back, as if rousing from some kind of haze.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on my lap?” he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on your lips. His chest was heaving and barely anything had happened. You worried suddenly that if you let him put his dick in you he’d drop dead.
“Way to give into gender stereotypes, Adrian,” you taunted. His eyes snapped up to meet yours. “I’m teasing. Mostly. I think it’s kind of hot that you’re on my lap.”
“You do?” he asked. You nodded. “Okay, good. Because I like it, too. A lot.”
“I have an idea,” you said suddenly, tilting Adrian’s chin with your index and middle finger. “How about a little lesson in taking orders?”
Adrian nodded furiously, at a loss for words. He looked so happy - kind of like the way he did when you complimented him on a kill. And now you were imbued with a kind of power you hadn’t really been anticipating. But you were certainly going to make it worth both your whiles.
You sat back slightly and dragged your gaze over him. “Shirt off, please.”
Adrian wasted no time at all. When he untangled himself from the fabric eagerly he looked back at you. “You don’t have to ask nicely. I’ll do anything you say even if you ask not-nicely. Actually don’t even ask. Just tell me.”
You blinked back at him. “I just want to make sure I have this straight - you really want me to tell you what to do?”
“I’ve been told I do really well with clear instruction,” he said, grinning.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you retorted with a roll of your eyes.
Adrian sighed. “You’re still mad about earlier? God, maybe Peacemaker was right - you really do need to get laid.”
You could feel the frustrated heat crawling up the back of your neck. Of course fucking Peacemaker was - “I’m sorry, why exactly were you and Chris talking about my sex life?”
“I just said I thought you’d been a little tense lately and I wondered if I could do anything to help and he said that you ‘probably just needed a good fuck’.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“If it makes you feel any better he said I ‘definitely wasn’t man enough for the job’,” Adrian said with a shrug. You weren’t really sure how that was supposed to make you feel better or instill any confidence in you.
“Look, I know he’s your friend, but that’s fucked up all around. And I’ll kick his fucking ass for you…if you want?” you offered with a wince. Might as well have stapled your bleeding heart straight to your arm for everyone to see.
“I’d like to see it,” Adrian said with a thoughtful expression. Then he leaned down and kissed the corner of your mouth almost daintily. “Just promise not to hurt him too bad?”
“I will make no such promises.”
Adrian gasped like he was scandalized. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”
You preened a little under his praise. “Anyway, are you going to do something about proving Peacemaker wrong or are you just going to sit there on my lap looking pretty all night?”
“Definitely not!” Adrian replied, kissing you again, this time his open mouth on yours, hot breath mingling. He reeled back, your head held in his hands. “Wait, fuck, I mean definitely not going to sit here looking pretty all night. Definitely going to fuck you.”
His mouth returned to its sloppy conquest of your neck and he slipped his hand into the waist of your pants, wasting no time in dragging his fingers between your legs, pushing your underwear aside. Your hips lifted into his touch and you pulled his hair harder than you intended.
“If you keep pulling my hair like that I’m gonna come in my pants,” he said, half complaint and half desperate need. He bit down on your collarbone. “You’re so fucking wet. Sick.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. Adrian pouted again but you reassured him with your tongue in his mouth and your fingers grasping at him through the fabric of his pants. He let out a hiss and gave up all other priorities to fumble with his pants. You pressed a hand against his smooth, warm chest.
“Are we really about to fuck on a wheelie office chair?” you asked, interrupting the flow of the moment.
“Uh, yeah? It’s kinda cool. I can like…slide us around to different places.”
“Why would you need to do that?”
“I don’t know, don’t you like options?” he argued, seeming utterly confused that you didn’t see the merit in transportation-based fucking. You rolled your eyes.
“You’re a fucking idiot.”
His hips rolled against you slightly. Of course he liked that.
“Fine, we can fuck somewhere else. Maybe the couch? Nah, Peacemaker and Harcourt have definitely fucked on that couch and I don’t want to encroach on the sanctity of that…”
“What?”
He plowed ahead, eyes scanning the room. “Oh! We could fuck on your desk. Wait, no, let’s fuck on my desk! There’s a real risk that every time I look at it after this I will get hard, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“I hate you.”
“Maybe,” he retorted with a grin. “Now can I please go down on you? It’s actually all I can think about. I’ve been told my pussy eating could make anyone love me, so let’s see if you still hate me after.”
“Adrian, no one has ever told you that,” you accused. He grinned, something crooked and impish.
“Okay, so maybe no one has said it to me, but I think it was implied. All I’m saying is satisfaction guaranteed for services rendered!”
The blatant honesty took you by surprise but not any more than suddenly finding yourself on your back on the desk with Adrian’s hips between your legs. He yanked you closer to the edge of the desk and then made quick work of undoing your pants, taking them and your underwear in one go in a way that almost made you dizzy.
Whatever you were about to say died on your lips when Adrian dropped to his knees again with a decisive thud and threw your legs over his shoulders. His warm hands pressed into the tops of your thighs, grip tight but not painful. He kneaded at your skin for a moment before he looked up at you through those pretty, stupid eyelashes of his.
“May I?” he asked, voice a low whisper.
You pressed your lips into a firm line to keep from laughing. If you were being honest, Adrian asking for permission was really doing something for you. You propped yourself up on one elbow so you could reach down and run your fingers through his curls adoringly. He had the same intense energy at the prospect of eating you out as if you’d given him a present to unwrap. He was vibrating with excitement. He dragged his cheek along the inside of your thigh and kissed your knee as he waited, patient and postulant.
“You may.”
The speed with which Adrian plunged forward to lick between your folds needed to be studied by science. He approached the act like he was well and truly starved. Your thighs tightened around his head, an involuntary clench of your muscles, but Adrian seemed to love that too. He hummed his approval against you, the sound of his tongue on you and in you positively obscene.
“You’re so wet,” Adrian managed, catching his breath for a moment.
“Please remember to breathe down there, Adrian,” you replied, deeply aware of the way it was harder to even out your own breathing. You twisted a curl around your finger and then another and his eyes fluttered shut. You hated how pretty he was. How was it possible that the beautiful, hapless, devotee between your legs was also the same man you wanted to choke to death with your bare hands in the field?
You gave his hair another little tug.
“I like when you pull my hair,” he groaned. You smiled wickedly and pulled a little harder.
“Like that?” you asked, watching him carefully, calculating. He was so much easier to read out of the Vigilante suit.
“Yeah, just like that,” he confirmed. He reached down, adjusting himself within his tactical pants. You really needed to do something about getting him out of those, didn’t you? You dragged your gaze up his torso to find him staring at you, wide-eyed and grinning. “You make me feel like a sexy Ratatouille.”
“Please tell me you did not just reference a Disney movie while you’re giving me head, Adrian!”
“It’s a Pixar movie, first of all,” he argued with an expression that seemed to convey that he thought you were an idiot. “And second of all, you told me to breathe. So I’m breathing! If you want me to not talk about how you make me feel like a sexy Pixar character you have to explicitly say that. Did you not want me to say that?”
“Not really!” you complained, slapping a hand over your eyes. You couldn’t bear to look at him, because even though he was yapping about goddamn Ratatouille of all things, he still looked painfully hot. “By the way, his fucking name is Linguini. Ratatouille is the name of the movie!”
“I thought Ratatouille was the name of the rat?”
“His name is Remy!” you exclaimed, sitting fully upright on Adrian’s desk. Fuck. You knew this was a bad idea and then you went ahead anyway and indulged Adrian’s weird shit. “I can’t believe this.”
“Wait, wait!” Adrian’s fingers pressed desperately into your hips. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll bravely drown between your legs if it means you’ll forget everything I just said.”
“Adrian…”
“Please, please, give me one more chance. I wanna make you feel good. I know I can make you feel good,” he begged. Those stupid green eyes were so hard to say no to. Who were you to deny him – and more importantly, yourself – a long overdue orgasm on Adrian Chase’s tongue?
“Fine.” Adrian smiled wide. “Now make me come, Adrian Chase.”
He kissed at the inside of each of your thighs this time, not rushing into it like before. He nosed at your clit and then kissed it softly before taking it into his mouth, sucking gently. His tongue slid through the warmth between your legs with an eager conviction, even if he was taking his time in his hard-won second approach. He was noisy as hell - moaning and muttering sweet-nothings as if you had your own hand around him. Your back arched off the table as he slipped a finger in you, and then another, pressing deeply inside.
“Harder,” you urged, and he took that directive with fervor. For a few moments, he kissed the crease of your thigh, the crest of your pubic bone, nuzzled his face against the soft hair between your thighs as his fingers adjusted their pace and their depth and their pressure. You weren’t sure how it was possible, but Adrian was a fucking scholar in pussy.
“Fuck,” you whispered, before managing to clamp down on your lower lip. Adrian smiled against your skin at the way your body – and you – responded.
You were hesitant to wind your fingers in his hair again, but you didn’t know where to put your hands. Your palms, sweaty, slid across the surface of the desk. You pawed at your own breasts to no avail, it wasn’t as good as his mouth and his calloused, warm fingers. Speaking of fingers – Adrian crooked his inside you and, at last, both your hands tugged at his sweaty curls. You pressed him slightly closer, and ground your hips against his face. In response, he cursed against you and removed his fingers so he could firmly grab your hips in both hands and press you flush against his face.
For a brief moment you genuinely did worry about him suffocating between your thighs. All thought leeched out of your brain the second Adrian merely pressed his thumb over your clit with a practiced pressure and you came hard. You were aware of the moan that dragged from your lips, dredged from somewhere deep in your core by Adrian Chase of all people. You were also faintly aware of the sound of Adrian hissing a whine through his clenched teeth.
If you hadn’t experienced alternate universes yourself you might have thought you were in one.
Adrian’s ministrations between your legs didn’t stop. His tongue laved slowly at you, dragging between your folds like he wasn’t quite done cherishing his last meal on death row.
“Adrian,” you vaguely moaned, or at least, you hoped his name had come out of your mouth coherently. You really couldn’t be sure.
“C’mon, one more. I owe you for saving my life,” he murmured. You looked down at him, his chin wet, his lips swollen, his glasses slightly askew, his hair a hopeless mess. Somehow, he still looked good. If this was what he looked like making you come on his tongue, then what the hell would he look like when he was coming inside you?
You inhaled sharply as his index finger dragged between your folds and slipped toyingly into you for just a moment before withdrawing. You bit back an embarrassingly wanting groan. “What are you talking about? When did I save you?”
Adrian frowned, like he was almost offended that you didn’t remember. “You save me every day.”
Then he looked up at you through his lashes as he ran his tongue up your thigh, his other hand drawing his nails across your chest, and made you come around his mouth and his fingers one more time.
When he was finally satisfied he dragged himself up to standing between your legs and kissed you deeply, brain still too fuzzy to properly taste yourself on his tongue. The rough fabric of his tactical pants dragged almost painfully against your core. You felt his index and middle fingers press flat against the inside of your thigh while he kissed you lazily. Finally, he pulled back and looked at you with big, glassy eyes.
You skated your hand along his jaw, dragging your thumb across his lower lip tauntingly before pressing it between his lips. You pressed down, sliding your thumb across the surface of his tongue and then let him close his mouth around you. You would have squeezed your thighs together at the sight, had he not been in between them. He mumbled something and you withdrew, grazing against his teeth, smearing spit across his chin. His chin dipped forward slightly, like he might try to trap you again. He was so hungry.
“What’d you say?”
“Femoral,” he said, as way of explanation. “110.”
Your brow furrowed further in confusion. “What?”
“Your heart rate,” he said simply, with a little shrug of his shoulders. “I can do better than that, too. Promise.”
To you, that was a goddamn invitation for more. You wanted him to prove it to you. You wanted him to bend you over his desk and fuck you hard, treating your heart rate like a personal best score every time. You ran your hands down his torso and reached for the zipper of his pants but he pushed your hands away.
“I’m good,” he said sheepishly. You frowned, studying his flushed expression. Then your eyes widened and you nodded in understanding.
“Hey, that’s okay,” you replied softly. You dragged your hips slightly against the rough fabric with intention this time. You couldn’t help that the idea of him coming in his pants made the whole thing strangely hotter.
“I really do want to fuck you, you know,” he said, tilting his head slightly, his gaze dragging down your body. “I dream about it.”
“You do?”
He laughed in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? Of course I do. I’ve been dreaming about it for like…as long as I’ve known you.”
“You’re so confusing, Adrian Chase,” you said, holding his face in both hands. “You’re like two different people. When you’re in the suit you don’t listen to a fucking thing I say, but when you’re just you, I think maybe you’d lick the ground if I told you to.”
“Do you want me to?” he asked, beautifully pathetic.
“Listen?” you asked.
He shook his head. “Lick the ground.”
“I don’t know what I want from you. To kill you or to fuck you.”
Adrian laughed. “You couldn’t kill me if you tried.”
“Is that a fucking challenge?” you asked lowly, wrapping your legs around his annoying narrow waist. The distinct sound of Peacemaker’s voice outside the building startled you two back to reality and Adrian tossed clothes at you faster than you could put them on. You hadn’t been expecting the team back so soon - usually cleaning up Vigilante-related messes took a little longer.
In the conference room, Adrian sat beside you for the debrief, the stillest you’d ever seen him, a dopey grin on his face the entire time. While everyone was distracted reviewing footage of Vigilante plunging into a spray of gunfire without you to cover him, you studied his profile. Soft, sweet, devoted Adrian had given you more than you could have asked for. But, you couldn’t help but wonder…
You leaned yourself against the arm of his chair and gestured vaguely at the screen.
“Maybe next time you wear the suit.”
Back in the field, you were calling out orders - Harcourt gave a nod and peeled off, taking Peacemaker with her. But Vigilante turned back over his shoulder and you could tell even through the mask he was fucking grinning.
“Vij, don’t you fucking dare!”
Your eyes widened as he pulled the pin from the grenade you hadn’t even known he’d had and tossed it into the warehouse. There was no time to process as he was too busy tackling you to the ground, draping his body over yours. Heat roared over the two of you and Vigilante wrapped his arms around you tightly, his mask tucked into the crook of your neck. Somewhere not far away you heard Harcourt cursing him out.
Vigilante panted, breath hot against your face even through the mask. His grip slid to your waist as his hips adjusted slightly against yours.
hey guys! found this drive with this year's GME for anyone who hasn't seen it yet. a very kind person uploaded it and posted the link in a fb group. hope y'all enjoy it!
minors, people I know irl - DNI - this is fucked up
Yandere Billionaire Jeffrey Steinberg x fem reader
warnings: non-con, yandere, breeding, kidnapping, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT
Deactivated
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: SMUT, the most extreme non-con I have ever written, forced bondage, edging, forced orgasm, kidnapping, forced impregnation
Summary: When the apocalypse hit, you, Jeffrey Steinberg and eight of the world's other greatest minds were trapped in an underground ecosphere. This is an AU where the betas kill Nico and McKenna so Jeffrey hatches a plan to repopulate the world. (Full disclosure: That plan involves strapping you to a table and getting you pregnant.)
A/N: Genuinely might kink-shame myself into deleting this in the morning. Rape and forced pregnancy are incomprehensibly awful in the real world. This fic is intended to be an escapist fantasy. PS This is the only fic my partner has refused to proofread for me so apologies for typos.
Chapter text:
200 days.
200 days was all it took for the men of Evergreen to decide you were nothing more than vessels to be used to repopulate this hellhole of an underground ecosphere.
When they lined you up and began debating who belonged to whom, you and Ida took your chance to execute your hastily pulled-together plan.
Ida slipped a sickle she’d stolen from her agriculture station into a belt loop behind her back. You had pocketed a wrench from your mechanic’s workbench. You weren’t going down without a fight.
When Jeffrey Steinberg looked you over, dictating your height, weight, blood type and other vital stats from Cortex’s electronic display, you took your chance and whacked him on the side of the head with the wrench.
Then - chaos.
Ida grappled with David who caught her wrist as she slashed wildly with her sickle.
You were knocked off your feet and pinned to the ground.
Yelling.
Fighting.
You only remember Cortex being commanded to deactivate you before you were sucked into a black oblivion of nothingness. A door closing. More nothingness. The same door. Nothingness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You wake up with a gasp - coughing, choking on air.
You’re in a hospital room. A brief glimmer of optimism that this was all just a coma-induced nightmare vanishes in an instant when with a sinking feeling of recognition, you realise you’re not just in any hospital - you’re in Evergreen’s hospital. David’s doctor’s office. This nightmare is real. And it’s only just beginning.
You’re in stirrups. Wearing a hospital gown. With your arms shackled above your head.
Oh, fuck.
You try to move your legs from the stirrups but they’re fastened tight. The handcuffs around your wrists only dig in when you try to slip your hands from them.
There’s an electronic beep and the door slides open.
Instinctively, you try to close your legs together. Preserve your last shred of dignity but your attempt is futile - the stirrups don’t move.
“Nice of you to join us,” says Jeffrey. Anger flares up in you when you see him. To think that you ever had even the tiniest romantic feelings towards such an awful human being.
“Us?!” you ask shrilly, a fresh wave of panic sending a jolt of adrenaline through your veins.
He gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Just an expression.” Jeffrey presses a few buttons on the door panel, locking it behind him. “It’s only me.”
You should have guessed from the start that he’d be a monster.
Nobody becomes a billionaire without stepping on a few toes or, indeed, crushing a few skulls. Everyone else here hated Jeffrey Steinberg from the outset. But you? At the start of all of this, you had actually liked him. The two of you had spent your spare hours flirting with each other. You were like two peas in a pod working to fix Cortex. Mechanic and Programmer. Hardware and Software. Yin and Yang. It only made the betrayal worse when, mere days after Nico and McKenna were both killed by Nico’s experiments on human cloning, Jeffrey had decided that you and the rest of the women were to be reduced to glorified incubators.
“Only you?” you spit. “For now, right? Whose turn is it next?”
He shakes his head and stands adjacent to you at the head of the bed. This small movement to respect what little dignity you have left doesn’t give you much comfort when you know what’s next. “It’s not like that,” says Jeffrey.
You laugh although there’s nothing funny about the situation you find yourself in. “What’s it like, then?”
“It’s just you and me. I chose you and that’s one of our rules - David, Axel and I’s rules, I mean.”
“So you care about rules now?” you ask. “What about laws?”
“I care about the rules I make because there are no laws.”
You scowl at him with all the hate you can muster. “Who undressed me? Who strapped me up like this while I was deactivated?”
“David. It was entirely clinical. He’s your doctor, after all.”
“And you believe that? I could be pregnant already. In fact, come to think of it - I do feel kind of nauseous,” you say looking at him in distaste. “Or maybe that’s just the effect of the present company.”
He smiles. A perfect, arrogant smile that reaches his green eyes. “See? This is why I like you. You always have so much fight.”
“Get me out of these handcuffs and you’ll really like me, you piece of shit,” you hiss, pulling at your restraints.
“I know you think you’re angry but this is humanity’s last chance for survival,” says Jeffrey, picking up the tablet with your vitals on it from your bedside table.
“Look at yourself. Humanity is already dead.”
“After the betas killed Nico and McKenna, this is the only way we can survive.”
“You’re a psychopath if you think living like this is better than dying.”
“It’s about more than just living. It’s about our entire species going extinct.”
You stare at each other in silence for a few moments. You absolutely hate that even under these circumstances, you find yourself blushing when he looks at you for too long.
“Fine. Go ahead with your turkey baster and get this over with,” you say, breaking eye contact with him and staring furiously ahead.
“Now, where’s the fun in that?”
You hold your breath as Jeffrey puts the tablet down and walks to the bottom of the examination bed standing directly between your open legs. Something long and metallic glints in his hand and you attempt to shrink back.
“Safety scissors.” He holds them up so you can see the blunt ends. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Not with scissors, maybe, but you clearly have different definitions of what hurting another person means.
Jeffrey holds the end of your hospital gown and cuts upwards, careful even with the blunt ends of the scissors, not to touch the cool metal to your skin. Your chest heaves as the scissors split open the fabric over your tits and you close your eyes when they reach your neckline. You keep your eyes tight shut, listening to the snipping of the scissors as he cuts the fabric of your sleeves and pulls the gown away, leaving you entirely naked on David’s examination bed. Your nipples harden when you feel the cool breeze of the air conditioning fanning over them.
Jeffrey lets out a low exhale. “Your fight wasn’t the only reason I chose you.” You open your eyes to find him staring at your body. “You’re beautiful, you know that, right?”
Even though you still have to clench your fists to avoid letting him see that your hands are trembling, you feel your core tighten as butterflies erupt in your stomach. Under normal circumstances, you’d have liked to receive a compliment from Jeffrey - have him admire your naked form like this. But you remind yourself your current circumstances are as far away from normal as you could get.
“Don’t compliment me, you psychopath.”
He steps closer between your open legs and places his hands on your hips. There’s nowhere to cringe away to - but the sensation isn’t unpleasant. His hands are warm on your skin when he draws his thumbs along your hip bones. You feel goosebumps prickle on your skin as he does.
“Are you cold?” he asks gently.
The contrarian in you wants to argue with everything he says. To admit you’re uncomfortable in your vulnerable state would be giving him the upper hand. But the cool air makes the hair on your arms stand up so instead you swallow. “A - a little,” you answer quietly, deciding there’s no point in being even more uncomfortable than you already are.
“Cortex, turn it up to twenty-two degrees Celsius in here.” There’s a wave of warm air - a blessing on your cold, exposed skin. “That’s the temperature you like, right?” You don’t answer but your fists stop clenching and you can feel where your fingernails have been digging into your palms. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”
Jeffrey puts the scissors down on the empty hospital rolling tray table. He notices your eyes following them.
“I told you they’re blunt. But I bet you’d like to stab me with something right now,” he teases. “You’ll come around eventually.”
He smiles, teasing you like you’re friends again and this is just a silly game. Like how he did before everything went to shit. “I’ll never come around. If you go through with this, I’ll throw myself down the stairs. I’ll drown myself in the reservoir. I’d rather die than carry your baby.”
“I won’t let that happen. Cortex will be with you day and night.”
“Cortex can’t keep a watch on all of us. The others -”
“The others. Hannah and Ida both relented. They’re excited, even, at the prospect of giving the human race another chance.”
“They relented after being strapped to a table and forcibly impregnated?”
“They went along willingly with Axel and David, respectively.” You can’t ignore the way his thumbs are so tenderly stroking your hip bones.
“And you’ll be able to live with yourself once you’ve done this? Done this to me?”
He shrugs. “I’ve already made peace with it,” says Jeffrey, drawing his thumbs down and massaging your vulva.
You look away, trying to ignore the surge of heat you feel in your core at his touch. “Stop that,” you snipe. “Can’t you just jerk off until you’re close and finish in me?”
“The chances of conception are higher if you cum too,” he says, pushing your outer lips together, putting the tiniest bit of pressure on your clit. You breathe in sharply, freezing for just a second before trying to move your hips away from him to no avail. “Besides, if I know you’re having a good time it makes it much more enjoyable for me.”
“This - this is not my idea of a good time, Jeffrey.”
“I think - deep down - this is exactly your idea of a good time. I see how you look at me.”
You flush, embarrassed that he’s throwing your earlier flirting from weeks ago back in your face. “You’re deluded.”
He tuts gently. “Now, you can’t lie to me when I can see how wet you are already. ”
This time you feel your embarrassment creeping right down to your chest. “I can’t - I can’t help how my body reacts to you touching me - I mean, being touched.”
But he smirks at your slip-up. “Sure. And when you’re begging for my cock in a few minutes, we can pretend you can’t control that either.”
“Fuck you, Jeffrey.”
“Now that’s the spirit,” he says and your pussy protests when he removes his hands to drag over David’s office chair. You watch as he sits down and wheels closer, his head and shoulders still visible. “God, you have such a pretty little cunt.”
Jeffrey slides two fingers along your slit, dragging your wetness up and over your clit. You turn your head and look away, trying to appear disinterested. You’re determined not to enjoy this. Not to give him anything.
“What’s wrong? Are you worried if you watch that you’ll finish too quickly?” he asks, a mischievous grin lighting up his face as he lightly circles your clit with the rough pads of his fingers.
“I’m just wondering if they have a hospital TV so I have something to do while you get this over with,” you say, blandly - a direct contrast with the heat pulsing from your clit.
“Come on, baby. Don’t be like that. Not when I can see you soaking the bed.” He runs the two fingers between your lips and holds them up so you can see them glistening and wet under the fluorescent clinical lights. “Do you want to taste it? Make sure I’m not lying?”
You stare at him insolently, refusing to answer.
“What am I saying?” He laughs. “You’d bite my fingers clean off if they came anywhere near your mouth, right?” Jeffrey sucks on his two wet fingers, briefly closing his eyes, before slowly withdrawing them. “Mhm. You’re missing out. You taste so fucking good.”
You hate that he’s hot when he does that. You hate that he’s hot full stop.
Why is the psychopath you're stuck here with hot?
Billionaire CEOs are used to controlling everyone around them. You’re not surprised he’s getting off on having you completely at his mercy. What surprises you is that he’s good at it.
When he slowly pushes two fingers inside you and curls them up, it’s like he knows it’s exactly what your body needs. You can’t help but gasp, feeling him gently stroking your G-spot. You bite your lip, trying to stifle any further noise involuntarily leaving you.
You don’t want this to feel as good as it does.
You try and leverage yourself up and away from him using your handcuffs but it’s no use when your legs are strapped down. Your ass barely lifts off the bed. He notices but he doesn’t stop tapping his fingers.
“C’mon, where are you going? We’ve barely even started,” he complains before inching his chair closer and pressing his lips against your inner thigh. “Tell me - how much - you want me - to fuck you.” Each pause is punctuated with a kiss or a suck on the sensitive flesh of your thigh as his fingers continue to curl up inside you.
“You’re crazy if - if - if - ah-” You swallow, watching him smile triumphantly against your soft thigh. Stop, you have to think of something else. You’re a mechanic - not a machine. You can be mentally strong. You don’t have to react automatically when you have these very specific buttons pushed. You exhale steadily. “- If you think I’d ever want you to fuck me.”
But the more you try to appear bored, the more relaxed your body becomes and that only heightens the sensation of Jeffrey toying with your pussy. Feeling your legs untense, he pushes his fingers in deeper and with a jolt of pleasure your back arches. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You curse yourself for making this so easy for him.
He laughs softly at the way your body becomes pliable under his touch and his hot breath fans over your clit. He picks up pace, tapping firmly against your g-spot. Everything pulls up in you like a spring tightening.
Oh, fuck. This is it. You’re gonna -
Suddenly, Jeffrey removes his fingers and frowns. “You know what? Maybe this was a bad idea after all.”
You feel your heartbeat in your ears below your waist screams in protest.
What did he just say? “R - really?” You’re surprised to hear your voice is just a whisper.
You know you should feel relieved. But you were so close.
You try to remind yourself to feel victorious. You resisted cumming long enough for him to come to his senses, after all.
“Although…” He tilts his head. “You’re soaked. What a mess you’ve made… somebody should really clean that up.”
You shudder when he draws his tongue all over your entrance, lapping up your arousal with the tip of his tongue before going back for more. He carefully avoids your clit, making sure not even the tip of his nose touches it. You feel the bundle of nerves throbbing, begging for his attention. You want him to notice, to move up just a couple of centimetres and slip his tongue over the sensitive little nub.
So, you chase it instead. The lower half of your body is in total disregard of your protesting mind. You roll your hips forward hoping to catch his velvet tongue as he mops you up.
“You like this, do you?” smirks Jeffrey and he pulls back to watch your chest heave. You stop your wriggling abruptly, as your brain fights to regain firm control of your actions. “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to cum until my cock is inside you. And the only way that’s going to happen is if you ask for it.”
He looks over you with a smug smile but you’re not going to crack yet.
Are you?
“This is how you’re going to justify it to yourself, then?” you snarl, with renewed pent-up aggression.
“What you’ve got to understand is that I didn’t become a CEO without firstly, having what it takes to make someone break, and secondly, refusing to compromise when it matters most. And you’re going to break long before I decide to compromise.”
He stands up and pinches both of your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and you suck air in through your teeth. “I wonder if you’d let me suck on your nipples today or if you’d try and bite me…” he thinks aloud, with a discerning look into your eyes as if trying to read your mind. Honestly, you’re not sure how you’d react, you feel so dizzy with need that you’re not really processing what he’s saying.
“I think it’s safe this time,” Jeffrey decides and then, as if for good measure adds, “Remember, I can bite too,” before latching onto your hard nipple. You huff a sigh, the fight burning inside you instantly forgotten as the contrast of his soft tongue running circles around the peak of your nipple makes you want to just melt away.
He firmly rolls your other nipple between his fingers and you arch under him, trying not to moan. Jeffrey takes an agonisingly slow time sucking on your tits, swapping from right to left, trying to fit them in his mouth, burying his face between them as you watch helplessly. The steady pulsing in your clit still throbbing, waiting for him to pay you attention below your waist again.
“God, you’re so hot when you’re being well-behaved,” he says. It’s probably a fair assessment - the last time you saw Jeffrey you hit him over the head with a wrench. You scowl - you don’t want him to think you’re complying just because his mouth on your nipple felt good.
“What’s that little pout for?” coos Jeffrey, straightening up and tracing a finger down your torso. “I know you’re smart but aren’t you tired of thinking all the time? Always thinking about machines and schematics. Solving problems. Wouldn’t you just like to relax for once?”
You purse your lips. This entire time in Evergreen has been so mentally draining.
“If you really thought about it, wouldn’t you like the chance to stop fighting to prove yourself? All you have to do is say the word and you can stop fighting. All you have to be is my little fucktoy.” You screw your face up and he laughs. “You’re not gonna make it easy for me, are you?”
Jeffrey leans down and presses his tongue against your clit. You pant, waiting for him to give you clit the same treatment he was just giving your tits. He looks up at you and raises his eyebrows. “I’m not gonna make it easy for you either. You want to be a worker instead of a fucktoy? Then you can work for this too.”
“Fuck,” you whine, feeling tears prickling the corners of your eyes.
You push your hips up against his face and rock back and forth as much as your constraints allow. Jeffrey follows your needy movements and sucks on your clit, swirls his tongue across the throbbing sensitivity and groans, sending deep vibrations across your skin.
You curse yourself for being so desperate for your orgasm.
Everything pulses and burns. Fuck, it radiates from your centre as you grind yourself against Jeffrey’s face.
“Ah - fuck,” you whimper as everything pulls up fierce and tight once more. Your fingers wrap around the chains of your handcuffs, giving you something to bear your weight against as you roll your pelvis and feel the flutter of his tongue on your clit.
Jeffrey pulls away and you actually cry out this time, arching your back and lifting your hips right off the bed as you helplessly try to follow his mouth.
“Was that a close one, baby?” He clicks his tongue soothingly. “Shhh, you don’t need to cry.” You huff and blink tears from your eyes as he leans over and wipes a fat tear from under your eye with his thumb, smoothing it across your cheek. “All you have to do is ask. Ask for me to fuck you.”
You take a gulp of air and shake your head, using your very last bit of resolve to pull yourself together.
“No?” he asks and with difficulty you shake your head again. With a sigh, he turns away from you and unbuttons his shirt. You blink slowly as he reveals his toned, muscular shoulders and back. “Usually this is reserved for girls who behave. But I can make an exception - given the circumstances.”
The room is silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning and your laboured breathing. Your eyes rake over him. He has no right to make you feel self-conscious. Especially when it’s his fault that you’re in the state you’re in right now. But he does. Just him existing - looking like that - makes you self-conscious of the sweat glistening on your stomach and the puddle of arousal coating the examination bed.
You were attracted to him the first time you saw him. Felt his bicep when you hit him on the arm playfully in the control room. Watched his muscular forearm flex under a rolled-up sleeve when you asked him to lift a piece of machinery while you fixed one of Cortex’s attachments. You already knew that his physical form was more than it seemed under his tailored shirt.
But Jesus fucking Christ.
Like the control freak he is, he folds his shirt neatly before turning back around and standing between your open legs again. Your gaze flicks down, following the dark blonde trail of hair covering his chest and stomach.
Jeffrey undoes his belt and the gentle clinking noise seems deafening in the quiet, clinical room. The atmosphere crackles as you hold your breath.
Waiting.
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his overpriced, designer boxers and eases his cock out. And of course, it’s hard already - there’s no way he wasn’t getting off on this. But he’s thick too. Without realising it, your whole body tenses up when he wraps his hand around it.
“No.” You look away adamantly. Though you’re not sure whether you’re protesting about him having his cock out or if you’re resolving not to be persuaded by temptation.
Deciding it’s the former, Jeffrey says, “I already told you, I’m not gonna fuck you until you’re begging me for it.”
Jeffrey cups your pussy and for a second, your body hopes against your own will that he’s going to slip his fingers inside you again. But you feel a pang of longing when instead, he gathers up your arousal on the flats of his fingers before coating himself in your slick.
“I thought you’d break sooner than this,” he says, stepping close enough that the underside of his cock brushes your clit. Your breathing picks up again - his touch sending an electric current through you that kicks your needly little nerve endings into hyperdrive.
He doesn’t fail to notice.
Jeffrey holds onto your hips and fuck, you feel so small in his large, firm hands. He edges closer, dragging his length along your clit. All the gears whir furiously inside your brain - normally your thoughts are so collected. You wish your brain was working properly but all you can focus on is the delicious way he’s rocking his hips, putting the lightest pressure possible on your clit.
You can’t take it.
You can’t fucking take it.
You buck wildly, your body begging for more pressure but he keeps steady, giving you a knowing smirk as you arch your back again, chasing the sensation.
“God dammit,” you sob, wishing you had a hand free just to slap that smile off his face.
Your fingernails dig crescent moon indents into your palms as you exert yourself, shamelessly trying to grind against the underside of Jeffrey’s cock.
“Come on, baby. You can get it if you want it. Almost there.”
He follows your movements this time, pulling your hips into his own.
Holy fuck.
Your heart leaps into your throat as you teeter on a tightrope, willing yourself to fall off. To let yourself plummet.
Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, you think with every little grinding motion.
You squeeze your eyes shut as your orgasm rears its head.
Then Jeffrey steps back and his departure fucking winds you.
“No! Fuck, nonononono!” you wail.
“I told you that all you have to do is -”
“Fuck me. Fuck me. Pleeeeaaassseeee,” you howl, feeling tears hot and wet on your cheeks.
What the fuck are you doing? This is so fucked up.
And what’s worse is that you want it.
You like it.
“Tell me you want me to breed you,” says Jeffrey, placing the tip of his cock against your entrance.
You nod, looking away in shame.
“Tell me. Using words.”
“I - I want you to breed me,” you mumble, feeling your face turn bright red once more.
“Good girl,” he says, slapping you on the side of the thigh like you’re livestock. Jeffrey inches forward and you’re so slick and hot between your legs that you’re able to take him more easily than you’d imagined when you first saw the size of his cock. His grip on your hips tightens as he slowly sheaths himself in you, sucking through his teeth.
“I’m glad you finally saw sense,” he grunts, wrapping his hands around your thighs to better leverage himself so he can sink into you deeper.
Sense? What sense? Your own thoughts have never made less sense than right now. You don’t know how to tell him this so you just whimper, blinking at him slowly while he stretches you out. The head of his cock presses against your G-spot and your eyes roll back in your head, grateful that this most sensitive part of your insides is getting the attention it’s been crying out for.
Holy fucking shit.
Your walls clench around him, clamping down hard as your legs begin to tremble. Jeffrey groans before pulling back out and slamming into you and, fuck, you’d be screaming if you could breathe properly right now. You’re only sure that you haven’t been deactivated again because you can still see.
“You’re all - fucking - mine. Forever,” he says through clenched teeth, drilling into you.
He removes a hand from your hip and starts rubbing circles on your clit as he thrusts. You finally take a gasp of air - so deep that you might be waking up from reactivation - as stars are exploding behind your eyes. “Ah - ah, Jeffrey - fuck,” you whine.
And then you’re writhing. Writhing and grinding as much as you can while he uses your body as a counterweight to thrust himself into you. You’re not losing it this time. He’ll be merciful this time, right?
“You gonna cum for me?” asks Jeffrey. “You gonna cum from being used like a slut?”
“Yes, yes - yes,” you pant, chasing your impending orgasm, everything pulling inside you like a rubber band getting ready to snap.
“Tell me you want my cum -”
“I - I want you to cum - fuck - cum in me,” you say, cutting him off before he can even finish as you take open-mouthed gulps of air. “Breed me. Use me. Do whatever you want.”
“Fuck, I’ve never heard you say that before,” he murmurs to himself, furrowing his brow. With renewed determination, he speeds up his thrusting in time with the circles he’s rubbing around your poor, abused clit. “Come on, baby. You can cum now,” he breathes.
You don’t give him a chance to change his mind. You vault over the edge this time. Your core tightens like a vice then explodes - wet and hot around his cock, squeezing and spasming around him as you tremble and beg for him to let you finish this time.
Jeffrey lets out a low groan, coarse like grit as he fucks you so hard the examination table moves and squeaks on the polished stone floor. You feel his cock pulsing inside you as he growls his way through his release, shooting ropes of his seed inside you.
He pulls out of you quicker than you’d like him to. But it’s with purpose as he pulls up his boxers and says “Cortex - tilt the bed back minus 30 degrees.”
The bed mechanically reclines until your pelvis is higher than your head. It doesn’t help with how dazed you’re feeling.
Your state of mind must be painted all over your face because when Jeffrey walks around to the side of the bed, pulling on his shirt he says, “Just like this for a couple of minutes to give us the best chances of conception.” He brushes a sweat-soaked strand of your hair back from your face.
You look at the ceiling as you regain control of your breathing.
Eventually, Jeffrey puts you upright.
“I’m going to take off your restraints so you can go to V-mem,” he says. “I’m warning you now that Cortex will deactivate you if you try to harm me.”
“V-mem?” you ask.
“I can understand that your current situation could be considered to be… traumatic. V-mem will help you rewrite that trauma.”
You nod and watch silently as Jeffrey presses a button that undoes your restraints. He taps an electronic key fob above your head and it unclips your handcuffs.
“Better?” he asks, watching you rub your wrists. You remain silent. You’ve nothing else to say. Nothing you can say that will change what your future will be down here.
Jeffrey frowns and hands you a fresh hospital gown and you put it on before following down the corridor in your bare feet to the V-mem room.
“You - you know how to use it? Even though McKenna is gone?” you ask, stepping into the chamber.
“We’ve not only used it but we’ve improved it,” he says, pulling the door shut. For some reason, this particular door shutting jogs something in your brain. “V-mem can do more than just help process trauma. It can actually delete memories.”
You stare at him through the glass pane. He might be evil but he has a perfect face.
Too perfect.
You remember hitting him pretty hard with a wrench. Shouldn't there be a bruise?
“Jeffrey... how long was I deactivated for?”
“Which time?” he replies absently pressing buttons on the V-mem pod.
Your stomach sinks.
Deleted memories.
“How many times have we done this?” you ask, your throat feels tight as he continues to press buttons.
Jeffrey pauses. “This is the first time you’ve ever asked that.”
“How many times, Jeffrey?” you plead.
“Nine.”
You feel bile bubbling up in your throat.
“And - and how many more times will we need to do it?” you ask, trying to keep your voice as casual as if you were asking the weather.
“We’ll keep doing it until you’re pregnant. Or until you agree that this is our best shot for humanity. You’ve taken much longer than Hannah and Ida to come around.”
“I agree,” you say quickly. You can’t let your memories be erased. You can’t let this happen again to future you. “I - I see it now. You were right Jeffrey.”
He raises an eyebrow sceptically. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“I - I’m not sure. I think it just took a while to sink in.” His expression remains still. “And now I - I realise I’m so lucky that you chose me and I’m not stuck with David or Axel.”
Jeffrey’s face softens into a smile. It’s been so long down here that his ego must have been feeling so neglected.
“I’m the lucky one,” he says, opening the door of the V-mem pod and cupping your face. “You are the smartest person down here and I’ve missed you while you’ve been deactivated.”
You paint a simpering smile on your face, choking down the retort on your tongue - that it was he who deactivated you in the first place.
“No - I am. Think about how smart and beautiful our children will be,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes.
He laughs “Come on - let’s get out of here,” says Jeffrey helping you out of the pod and putting an arm around you. “And back to my quarters.”
“Your quarters?”
“Well, if we’re going to be parents together we should probably start sleeping in the same bed, right?”
“Right,” you chuckle weakly, letting him lead you down the corridor to the bed that you’ll be spending the rest of your life sleeping in.
Hot tip for future parents: you actually have to guide your kid to adulthood. Feeding them and waiting for them to grow up is not enough since they are not house plants. A little more thought and care is required.
for those lacking certain "adulting" skills, especially things around the house, check out:
mom, how do i...?
and dad, how do i...?
^ there are tons of other resources but these two will teach you some personal hygiene, home or apartment repairs, easy recipes and basic cleaning techniques, even how to schedule doctor's appointments
if youre a renter i cannot recommend the trans handyma'am enough, mercury is a lifesaver, and her channel and accounts are always accepting new questions
there are so many resources, a lot that you dont have to even ask for, just know how to look 🩷 much love
“Survivors look back and see omens, messages they missed. They remember the tree that died, the gull that splattered onto the hood of the car. They live by symbols. They read meaning into the barrage of spam on the unused computer, the delete key that stops working, the imagined abandonment in the decision to replace it.”
— The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion (via theunquietworld)
If you live in the USA and you're pleading for donations to pay your rent, bills, or get food then dial 211! Please dial 211 before the last minute!
It's a toll free service with people who will help you find programs in your community to pay those bills, find food, and find housing! They will give you numbers to call so you can get help.
It is not 100% foolproof. Their job is to direct you to a program they believe will help your current issue, but it's still a step up from praying random strangers online will give you enough cash before a deadline! The added benefit of these community programs, which get funded by the local government most of the time, is if there are more people using them then they can get more money to help more people.
You're not taking resources from other people if you use your community services. Your taxes pay for them. Use them.
Dial 211 first to see if they can help, and if for some reason they can't, then make your donation posts!
Hi I work for my state's 211 service. It really breaks my heart how many people only know to call us at the last minute. 211's can provide a whole wealth of resources to use before things ever get to a cut off utility, eviction, or homelessness!
I can't speak for all 211's but most should also have a website detailing all the agencies in their database. if you don't like phone calls, this can be something to reference instead.
If you don't have health insurance but you need to see a doctor, reference 211! We list clinics that provide free or discounted general care, vision, and dental services to low income households and people without insurance! Many hospitals also have financial aid policies that can severely reduce your bill if you had an expensive procedure!
If you're stuck in a dead end job or need educational resources reference 211! There are a lot of programs focused on providing basic adult education as well as trade skills or other high demand fields! State governments are generally more interested in funneling people into work than providing benefits, but you can still use this to your advantage especially if you have some form of disability but are still able to work. That includes if you're neurodiverse or have mental health issues! Most of these programs are extremely underutilized.
If you believe you qualify for public benefits but the bureaucracy of the process is in your way, reference 211! There are agencies specifically geared towards helping people obtain the benefits they qualify for- for free!
If you need help with your taxes-
If you need help finding a pro bono lawyer-
If you need help finding affordable housing/section 8 housing-
If you need help finding food pantries-
If you need help paying for your prescriptions-
If you need help obtaining disability aids or assistive technology-
If you need help finding transportation options-
If you need help following a natural or personal disaster (like a home fire)-
If you need help repairing a home you or your family owns or it needs modifications to be accessible-
If you need Queer resources-
Reference your 211!!!!!
I had no idea what 211 was before working for it but I wish I had. I've learned so much about what resources are actually available to the community even in a ho hum area of the country like my state. I've saved my partner literally thousands of dollars just from the medical resources I've gathered.
Not enough young people know about or utilize these services but they are there for you!
P. S.
This isn't an intended use of 211, but I like to reference the agency listings when I look for jobs. Many of the agencies listed are non-profits which, while they certainly are not perfect, generally have lower barriers of entry to decent paying jobs with benefits. The work environments tend to be much kinder and at least pretend to be forward thinking. You're more likely to find jobs without as many people applying as well, especially if they're only advertising their positions through their own website.
Oh my goodness. Sharing this because maybe your state has something to help you see a dentist! If it's been a while, please see I'd you have any dental services in your area. It's really so important to see a dentist.
heres my challenge to everyone for next month, for black history month. any time you want to draw inspiration from art, like poetry, music etc, pick a black artist. web weave with langston hughes and james baldwin and jamaica kinkaid and hanif abdurraqib and derek walcott and set your edits to meghan thee stallion and beyoncé and eartha kitt and coltrane and invoke basquiat in your art and it can be fanworks or original stuff and importantly, it doesnt have to be about race. obviously be cognizant of the context of the art youre using because a lot of the artists i mention specifically create art about racism but like. take your white doomed yaoi ship and make a webweave to poem by langston hughes. set an edit to body by meghan thee stallion. engage with black art in all contexts.
Hello !! I think your account is so cool ! perfect for art fight account decoration :0 Would you mind doing silly clown themed dividers with the primary colors if possible ? there oddly hard to find - :o)
Silly Clown Circus
Some silly little clowns for all your art fight needs! ❤️💙💛
Please credit @pixopix, likes and reblogs are appreciated!
You know what? I just realized I'm hording my mom's cleaning hacks that are cheap and (mostly) low spoons.
Toilet Cleaning Hacks for the lazy/disabled/inflexible people with stiff spines (me) from my mom:
How to clean your toilet if you have no energy to scrub: Antibacterial denture cleansers.
Shut the valve close for the toilet itself. (The Little knob that attaches to your toilet behind the white throne.)
Fill that bowl and tank up as high as you can comfortably risk it with water.
Plop 5-6 denture cleanser tablets in your tank on the back of your toilet.
Plop plop fizz fizz 3-4 more in the bowl in the morning before you leave for work or a vacation.*
8 hours minimum allowance to soak and activate the tablets powers.**
Open the valve when you return.
Flush.
Enjoy the minty fresh clean bowl without scrubbing.
I do this once a week now to ease the scrubbing demand. It is still recommended to scrub with the toilet cleansers once a day, but this will take the effort of scrubbing down from Macbeth "out damn spot", to sweeping a lazy cat into the dustpan bin.
*I do not recommend doing it overnight because you'll do what I did once and go piss in your clean bowl, then flood your bathroom flushing the clean tank water, with your overfull bowl water. In your just-woke-up fugue state and have a panic.
**If you have roommates let them know you're cleaning the toilet and the time required to let the denture cleansers do their magic. Try to coordinate the best day to do it. If you have more than one bathroom, make sure to have a sign up to warn others not to use the one your cleaning.
Note: if you live in an area with hard water (scale 3 or above) the denture cleansers will also separate the hard minerals in the water. Do not be shocked or scared if there are particulates at the bottom of the bowl when you go to flush. That's not bacteria or toxins or anything. Its mostly calcium and magnesium, that's safe to drink.
How to clean your Toilet if you have Mold and can't scrub: Vinegar and Soap
Shut the valve close for the toilet itself (the little knob that attaches the water hose to your toilet)
Mix 8 cups of vinegar (distilled white/pure vinegar, apple cider works in a pinch) with 2 teaspoon of liquid soap (dawn works best).
Pour 4 cups of your vinegar mixture into the tank and 4 cups into the bowl
Fill the remaining space with additional water.
Allow mixture to soak for 8 hours.
Open the valve when 8 hours are up
Flush
Enjoy the fact that you have successfully killed the mold in the toilet
Note: This works because you're essentially changing the chemical environment the mold is growing in from an ammonia/hydrating rich paradise to an acidic grease lubricating hellscape. If there is mold elsewhere like your walls, a pure vinegar spray will work just fine.
WARNING: Do not do this immediately before or after the denture cleansers to prevent chemical reactions from harming you or your toilet. Give it one day to air out.
HEALTH SAFETY NOTICE: If you have to do this more than once every other month (bi-monthly), you should consider replacing your toilet and getting a mold specialist in your home, to investigate the source and to decided how to tackle a mold problem that could be making your home a fungal danger.
How to clean the lid/seat without too much scrubbing: Disinfectant spray or alcohol/bleach.
No need to turn valves off for this part
Just grab a disinfectant spray like the one pictured above.
Spray every surface of the toilet (soak the seat and lid).
Make sure to get underneath the seat/lid good.
Leave for one minute.
Wipe with a warm washcloth.
If you're using alcohol/bleach:
Get your 90% proof or higher alcohol (I use vodka personally) or bleach
Mix it at a 1:9 ratio (one part bleach/alcohol : nine parts water)
Fill a squirt bottle and make sure to label it as "disinfectant" witht he ratio you're using for safety.
Spray every surface of the toilet (soak the seat and lid).
Make sure to get underneath the seat/lid good.
Leave for one minute
Wipe with a warm washcloth.
Again like mold: this works because your changing the environment from friendly to hostile for any bacteria/virus/mold that may have been moved by the vacuum forces the toilet splashes up and out.
It's not clean if you don't address every part of the toilet that comes into consistent bodily contact. The back of the toilet tank you can spray and let it air dry. The external part of the toilet bowl too. It's the internals that collect the bacteria and mold the most, which requires more effort to clean using the tricks listed above.
If you are at all sensitive to chemical smells wear a mask when you do these things. Keep the fan in the room on at all times to ventilate the space. Open a window if possible. Time it so you can leave to do work or shopping while the chemicals disinfect your toilet for you.
Go now my peeps, and clean the most transferable disease spot in your home with the confidence of a 1960's housewife with an MRS degree!
WOOOHOOOO!!! THE TIME FOR CLEANING IS NOW!!!! Thank you so much I’m not GREAT at cleaning but this is gonna help a LOT!!!
Percy @mypersonaljunkdrawer - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
