Saykaundermoon - Sebastian Sallow And Ominis Gaunt Enjoyer.

so like- miguel in suits and office wear would be my weakness honestly, ughhh

carpe noctem [ climax ] | sylus

— summary: sylus drags you onto a mission with him for old time’s sake. and you slide into familiarity, almost like there isn’t a wedge in the form of a beautiful young hunter driving you apart. — cw: explicit sexual content, reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, mentions of blood, profanity, mentions of pedophilia, mentions of human trafficking, minor character death, men with guns, reader has a shitty past, self-destructive behavior, reader doing her assassin duties, a little romance sprinkled in between, mdni — notes: inspired by mr. & mrs. smith. thank you so much for reading, lovely! [ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 ] — now playing: cariño - the marías — obligatory tags: @withering-dream @an-ever-angry-bi @midiplier @abbylee0710 @picnicthegarden @karespocketboyfriends @chrissy26 @delulusimps @glamouroki @midiplier @celestemcbrim @everywherenothere @ari-shipping-stuff @beewilko @alexhenituse @nim-rose @moonlight-inthe-sea @sunnyf4lls @himiko-omikami @inkonparchment @sillyfreakfanparty @regandoesthings @im-in-different-universe @ravensheart18 @alyyylog @corvid007 (sorry if i missed anyone.)

He wanted to make love. You wanted to fuck.

He wanted you, all tender and pliant beneath him, his name hinged in your throat. He wanted to worship you, to uncover the erogenous zones of your body piece by piece, and to expose you like forgotten treasure buried deep beneath rotting ruins. 

But you reasoned you didn’t have time. You were in a hurry—a hurry for what, exactly, you couldn’t pinpoint. 

Perhaps you were rushing to feel something, in a hurry to please and to feel useful as you tore his shirt from his shoulders, his body rigid and searing between the thick of your thighs. Pleasing is all you know, serving embedded in your chemical makeup, no room to pursue your own desires. 

Your mouths came together so abruptly that your teeth clashed. The counter of his kitchen island was glacial and tacky beneath your thighs. You’d barely divested yourself of your coat before you drew him into an ardent dance of tongues, his abs twitching beneath the artful crawl of your fingers. You tugged at the give of his pants, quietly yet vehemently demanding he take them off. He drew back, wild-eyed and hair mussed, eyes drowsy with want.

“We should slow down,” he sighed, hot and open-mouthed where your shoulder met neck. Blistered down to your collarbone where he nipped, hands roosted on your hips, thumbs soothingly cruising over juts of bone. 

It made you sick, his tenderness. You weren’t glass and didn’t deserve to be handled like it. 

You chuckled something husky and bitter, tossing your thoughts to the wolves. Your fingers raked through his hair. Grabbing the scruff of his neck, you brought his mouth back to yours, trapping any further words of protest in his throat. 

You didn’t want to think. Didn’t want complications. Just wanted to be driven by sensation, tucking your inhibitions into the darkest hulls of your mind. 

You’re a bit of a masochist. You enjoy punishing yourself for misdeeds you’ve constructed in your mind—having feelings for your boss, secretly envying your friend. Your use is slowly running its course, and you’ll one day be thrown to the wayside. 

You figure you don’t deserve kindness. Sensitivity. You don’t deserve a slow love, the steady creep of an orgasm bubbling in your stomach, invoked by the sluggish grind of hips, words of affirmation whispered like the sweetest supplication into your ear.

No.

You deserve to be used, lusted after. You’ve spent most of your adult life with that mentality, your past having engraved that under your skin. You’ve been a weapon for as long as you can remember. A tool. Loveless. Which is why, when the gentleman who’d frequented Lux wanted to take his time with you, you declined, opting for something more ragged and intense. 

He took you hard and rough on his counter at your behest. Left you open, bare, laughing, battling to get your breath under control. You stayed the night to humor him. Let him hold you as he stroked the sweetest compliments of all with ghostly fingers into your skin as the stars in the sky gave way to the gentle spill of sun rays. 

You crept out of his arms and apartment once he sank below the misty shawl of sleep. He’d inquire about your whereabouts later—ask why you didn’t stay. You rarely did. Tonight, you felt weak. 

You’d ignore him until you next needed him. When the urge to forget sunk its talons into your chest, curling around your heart and squeezing. 

You had a mission to prepare for. Sylus’ name lit up your notifications, cryptic as ever with minimal words. You’d deal with your feelings later. 

There was work to be done.

Besides, you didn’t even remember his name. 

How could you face him when you’d uttered someone else’s name while he was deep inside you?

—

You pay for your escapades in the form of pretty petals of blue and green blooming on your neck the following night. Bite marks. 

You rub at the raw skin for the nth time, a hiss forced through grit teeth. Maybe he was a little too rough. Concealer works wonders, coupled with your glamor. Still doesn’t take away the sting, but you suppose the pain is your punishment for being weak.

You stretch, yawning. Shift until the leather of the car’s backseat squeaks. You sense his eyes on you in your periphery, boring down to the marrow. The fine hairs littering your body stand on end. You maneuver again, leant against the door, cheek propped on your knuckles. 

You try to focus on the scenery unfolding beyond the car’s windshield. Powdery stars spilled over a deep violet canvas. The red glare of brake lights every so often as you approach another vehicle. Try to focus on the driver’s fingers readjusting on the steering wheel, on the fixed hum of the engine, and how it intermingles with the gentle bumps on the road. Home in on your breathing and the thunderous drum of your heart. He’s been watching you like this since you eased into the car—Sylus. 

You get this creeping suspicion he wants to say something. Like he knows all your secrets, having perused through them like they’re the yellowed pages of a book. Nah. He wouldn’t know what kind of night you had. He wouldn’t care. You’re a grown woman, capable of making your own mistakes and reaping the repercussions of them. He has other things on his mind—other people. 

Another yawn escapes you. You curse yourself for not grabbing coffee on your way out. Too busy pouring yourself into your dress, painting your face with makeup, and meticulously tucking your weapons away. 

“Long day?” says Sylus. You jolt the slightest bit at the grit of his voice. How it breaks up the silence and sets your stomach alight with dragonflies. Fabric shifts. His exhale is weighted beside you, thigh brushing yours as he spreads his legs, so very big in comparison to the backseat. 

You force a smile, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress. “You could say that.”

You feel the shift in his gaze. There’s a whisper of bitterness in his tone when he next speaks. “Maybe you should spend less time pursuing your hobbies at night and more time sleeping.”

This time, you do turn. Cut your eyes to him, mouth tugged up with confusion. His expression reads passivity. Mouth scrawled into a rigid line, scarlet eyes fixed to yours, unrelenting. Something’s off about him tonight. You sensed it in the brevity of his call when he phoned you to outline your mission—you’d be accompanying him tonight to a banquet. A glittering, amenable doll on his arm, smiling pretty like murder wasn’t rotting your mind. You’d lure your target away to be snuffed out like a candle’s flame. Slip out without drawing suspicion, and the world would be rid of another shit stain. 

He quirks a brow, wordlessly challenging you. No customary smirk comes this time. Just the air weighted with something tense. Your throat clicks when you swallow. You opt for obliviousness, laughing it off despite the gnarling feeling in your gut worming its way up your throat. Despite every synapse in your brain screaming for you to fire back. You’re reading too much into things. He’s being his usual, detached self, and not because he knows you were up to no good last night.

Right?

“Maybe I should.” 

The tendons in Sylus’ neck pull, jaw tensing. For a moment, he looks like he wants to keep prodding. But he instead averts his gaze when the driver chimes in, announcing you’ve arrived at your destination. 

The venue’s tawny spotlights dance over the windshield as the car crawls to a stop. People donned in expensive formalwear line the sidewalk, animatedly chatting as they await entry. You take some time to admire the historic, art deco architecture before your door opens, the crisp evening air spilling in and fanning over your skin. 

You look up when Sylus offers you his arm. His expression softens considerably, contrasting the wet cat he was moments ago. There’s a hint of a smile twitching his lips. He almost looks boyish, and you can’t help taking him in. He’s dressed to the nines, tucked in a three-piece tux, bow tie meticulously tied, hair swept up into a pretty, alabaster coif.

Your lips spasm. You peel yourself from the seat, gathering up the trail of your dress. Twine your arm with his, allowing him to shepherd you through the throng of people. It almost feels like old times, their voices petering to a hush when they catch sight of you. They part like a school of fish as the pair of you make your way up the steps leading to the venue’s doors.

“Stay frosty,” you joke to dispel your nerves, standing before the heavy, double doors, waiting for the attendees to open them. 

Sylus snorts, his arm flexing beneath the possessive clutch of your fingers. He pinches the bridge of his nose. And the exasperation in his voice makes your eyes crinkle with mirth. “Please, never say that again.”

You slide into familiarity thereafter, almost like there wasn’t a wedge in the form of a beautiful young hunter driven between you.

—

She said something curious to you when you arrived at the airport earlier—Ms. Hunter. You had the time to spare. You wanted to ask why she requested you drive her instead of Sylus. But you didn’t push it, figuring she had her reasons. Maybe she didn’t have the energy for his nagging, his fretting. She should be so lucky. 

She’d be gone for a couple of weeks, swept up in the grueling task of protecting researchers in the mountains from Wanderers. A part of you felt sorry for her. Worried. But she was a big girl. If she could smack Sylus around in Kitty Cards, she could dodge a few teeth and claws, no problem. 

“Need help?” you asked over your shoulder, the SUV’s engine humming idly at the airport’s drop-off point. 

She smiled at you from the backseat. “I got it!” She chirped as she fetched her oversized suitcase from the floor. 

She rounded the vehicle, bowing to your level at the window. Up close, her smile looked more mischievous than usual. Smile lines bracketed her honey-dipped eyes as she murmured, “Be nice to Sylus. He’s trying, ya know?” 

You pinned her with a quizzical look, your mouth working around a retort. She left before you could get a word out. You watched her slip through the crowd of travelers milling about before she was out of sight, leaving you to mull over what the hell that meant.

—

It starts to make sense as time passes what she meant. 

When you’ve gorged yourself on conversation and champagne, nestled between politicians, CEOs, socialites, and people of the like. Fickle, spewing gossip you can’t be bothered to keep up with. 

Sylus rarely leaves your side, only slipping away to chat up old colleagues or to procure you more bubbly. Always has a hand, scorching and possessive, at the small of your back, or an arm slung about your waist, drawing you into the safety his body exudes. He doesn’t correct anyone when they address you as his, giving you a subdued, amused look when you work your mouth into amending them.

You titter shyly, toying with your necklace. Maybe this is a part of your cover—pretending to be his significant other, all pretty and docile at his side. You won’t complain. It’s nice being this close, feeling wanted, and being envied in a different way. Not for your body, but for the man wrapped so willingly around your finger. 

It’s felt like ages since you’ve last done a gig together, so you’ll enjoy his attention, even if it’s all a ploy, while you can.

The evening slides by in a blur of twinkling chandeliers and laughter. 

Sylus draws you into a dance, and the pair of you are swallowed up by the mass of swaying couples and the string orchestra. Your cheeks ache with a smile, your limbs and inhibitions loosened by the champagne. He holds you to him as you waltz, his body rigid and devastating against yours, languorous fingers curled around your nape. He hasn’t stopped smiling, a boyish dimple cratering his cheek. Hasn’t released you from the scarlet stir of his eyes since, and you smoosh your face against pectoral muscle, hiding the warmth splotching your cheeks.  

His heart thrums something steady beneath your ear. Beneath the expensive pleat of his tux. Breaths even, his bewitching scent furling in your chest like smoke. You let him lead you about the glittering marble tiles of the dance floor, feeling like you’re in a dream. Perhaps it’s the bubbly that’s got you toddling through a dreamlike fog, but a fraction of you starts to think, just for a second, you’re more than a cover, and your boss isn’t so detached, shoving you to the back burner in favor of someone else. 

Your breath is sharp when he suddenly peels away, expertly twirling you. You laugh as your dress flutters around your ankles, nearly tripping you up. He dips you as the music dampens, the beautiful scenery tilting and blurring. Swathed in the tawny, dim lighting of the banquet hall, you make out his features, something akin to affection loosening his expression, and the smile slips from your face. 

The world fades away, and only the pair of you seem to exist in this moment. He pulls you closer until your vision fills with red, fringed by dark, wispy lashes sweeping over cheeks mottled pink. His lips purse as his gaze slides to your mouth, breath stirring your baby hairs. You hold your breath as he eases in, appearing like he’ll kiss you, and you’re stricken by something hot. Your mouths but a hairsbreadth apart, he whispers something that makes your heart sink to your feet.

“It’s showtime.”

The magic of the moment falls away as he steadies you. A pout worms its way onto your face as Sylus tangles your fingers together, a chuckle swelling in his chest. He leads you back to your table, still holding your hand, even long after you’ve returned to your seats.

—

Nikolai is easy to manipulate. To bend to your will. Of course, he is. All men are if you know how to approach them. 

It helps that your glamor erases a few years off your face, giving you the appearance of a young woman barely experiencing the world. His favorite. It only takes you fluttering your lashes, laughing pretty, and flattering him to get him to take you back to his hotel room.

On the surface, he’s a passive, middle-aged man who looks like he wouldn’t harm a fly. But beneath that facade, he’s a scourge waiting to be wiped out. He’s as despicable as everyone else you’ve bumped off, auctioning off girls to nefarious men under the guise of selling “harmless little dolls.” Moonlighting as a franchise owner, using his stores as a ruse to smuggle young girls through the channels of the underworld. 

You take that personally, having once been on the auctioning floor yourself. Memories of a past painted red flood your mind, and it makes your stomach churn with disgust. You were lucky then, having been turned into a murderous tool rather than a fucktoy. So, it makes sense why Sylus was so eager to get you on this mission. Like he knew you’d take pleasure in watching Nikolai’s life drain from his eyes, his blood caked up under your nails. 

Your smile twitches, threatening to screw up into a grimace as you walk at Nikolai’s side, arm in arm. He’s red-faced and cheery, having gorged himself on champagne and merriment at the banquet. You would’ve snuffed him out if four bodyguards didn’t flank you. Not like you can’t take them, but you’d rather complete your mission as quietly as possible without rousing suspicion.

You just have to keep up the act long enough to isolate him so you can make your move. He’s been ruffling Onychinus’ feathers, claiming to be in cahoots with its notorious leader. Sylus, of course, doesn’t like that, not wanting to be associated with the likes of him. This is where you come into play, his ever-faithful watchdog, ready to kill at the drop of a hat.

Nikolai ushers you into his hotel room, where three more guards stand in good form in the living area. You acknowledge them with a seductive smile, allowing one to frisk you. Your smile grows tenfold when he finds nothing, clearing his throat and straightening his tie as if he’s fallen prey to your charm. Someone should be fired.

Nikolai leads you into his room thereafter, the double doors shutting and locking with finality. You offer him a massage, to which the portly man happily accepts, stripping down to his boxers and plopping onto the king-sized bed. He has a thing for pretty, young girls barely scraping the surface of legality. You’ll see to it he’s ushered into the afterlife by one.

Your hair waterfalls from its updo, warm as it spills onto your shoulders when you pull your hairpin free. You ruck up your gown, climbing over his body to roost yourself on his backside, legs bracketing either side of his waist, heels digging waning moons into your thighs. You’re sultry as you ensnare him in small talk, fingers kneading over layers of fat and muscle. Nikolai hums appreciatively, seemingly thrilled to have your company. Just the way you want him.

Your fingers tip-toe up his spine, thumbs smoothing over the notches of bone there. He exhales beneath your ministrations, remarking how magical your hands are. You huff a laugh as your fingers curl around his jaw, the opposing set burying themselves in his hair. 

“Massaging isn’t the only thing my hands are good at.”

With a fluent twitch of your wrists, his neck snaps, the sound barely heard above the gentle croon of the jazz music he queued up beforehand, accompanied by the exhale of a life dying out like a flame. 

You pull his eyelids down, easing off his lifeless body. Stare at his corpse with a faraway look in your eyes, smoothing some hair away from his face. Like he’s a sacrifice to the little girl inside, screaming for revenge. You straighten your dress when the bedroom doors rattle, Nikolai’s men frantically calling his name. Shit. Maybe you weren’t as meticulous as you thought. 

Quickly, you survey your surroundings for a way out. Spot the sliding doors leading to the balcony, and you dart between them, the wispy curtains grazing over your fevered skin. A wintry kiss of wind greets you as you lean over the rail, hair ruffling, and you take in the bokeh of lights glittering on the street below. 

You’re at least eight stories from the ground, so jumping is out of the question. You could very well fight your way out, but Nikolai’s guards are heavily armed. There’s no guarantee you’ll make it out of the fray unscathed. 

You lean back against the rail, adrenaline spuming through you, watching the bedroom doors pulse as his guards kick and shove against them. Fuck! Tugging a knife from the garter belt tucked beneath the slit of your dress, you prepare for a fight, body taut, nerves flaring. 

Just when you’ve resolved to get your hands dirty, something feathery touches your bare shoulder. Gentle and curious in its embrace, and you whip your head around to its source. You’re met with a smoky tendril, speckled with claret orbs of energy, swirling ominously before you. You peer over the railing, a familiar shock of white blurring into frame. There’s no mistaking the upward cant of his lips, and the crinkle of scarlet-spun eyes from this height. He motions to you with two fingers from the sidewalk, wordlessly beseeching you to come down.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter, a nervous expression stretching your features. Heights have never been your forte, but you suppose beggars can’t be choosers. “Fuck it,” you relent, gathering some courage and climbing onto the rail. 

Nikolai’s men finally break through, and as they dart in, spraying the room in a hail of bullets upon seeing Nikolai’s corpse, you fall into the feathery cradle of Sylus’ Evol, a yip ripped from your throat. 

You float to the ground like a feather, falling into Sylus’ arms. He looks down at you with something unguarded shining in his eyes, using his Evol as a shield when Nikolai’s men pelt the pair of you with a barrage of bullets.

You lose yourself in the moment. Your lips part, lids heavy with something you can’t quite place. 

“Took you long enough,” you chide to dispel the tension brewing between you, trying to catch your breath.

“I’ll be more punctual next time,” Sylus answers with a chuckle, voice rumbling against your body as he casually walks away from the scene, refusing to put you down, even long after he’s warped you to safety. 

rising action | masterlist

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal AU.

Chapter 1:

Dark pupils watched from the ceiling, their gaze affixed upon you. You sighed, deciding to ignore its presence.

An aggravated chitter interrupted you. Pausing, you watched as a little green bird jumped out of the bat’s shadow. It paced towards you, making a small leap to land on your outstretched finger. You smiled, extending your hand to pet the top of its head. The bird took a moment to consider the moment, head tilting with its beak outstretched as if it intended to bite you. It seemed to decide on sparing your finger, allowing you to give the bird some pets on the head.

However, it was time to resume your work. You turned back to your computer, a dismissal. The bird didn't like that. A quick flash, and the bird tittered about on your keyboard, messing up your setup.

“Robin!” You snap, reaching out as if to push the bird away.

You sighed. You disliked calling the bird Robin. It was the correct species, despite the bird being green, so it made sense to use the name. But.. you hated the connection it created between your soul bonded animals and the vigilantes of the city. Unfortunately, the bird didn't answer to any other name. You've tried.

The other robins were so much more agreeable than this newer one. Well, not that you could even call those three robin anymore. The newer robin was very possessive of the name, and you'd rather not have to search your room for more stray feathers that flew off in their next fight. Your soul animals were such a pain.

The flutter of wings distracts you from your musings. You look up, finding the very bat you had been so cautiously avoiding earlier descend onto your desk. The bat chirped a little, with the robin occasionally replying back with chirps of its own. They were having their own conversation.

You decided you were owed a break already, so you gave up on your dreams of getting work done in lieu of watching the ongoing conversation. It was rare for soul animals to talk. They didn't need to. Due to the nature of a soul bond, soul animals act on the innermost feelings of the soul they represent. The bond connects souls, so soul animals, which are a manifestation of the bond, are already intune with their soulmates.

The only instance in which soul animals did tend to talk, was if the soulmates themselves were talking.

Robin chittured with a snap, the bat in return giving a controlled chirr.

Oooh. You thought to yourself. This sounds like an argument. You wondered what it was about. Maybe Robin pecked one too many victims, or caused a mess again.

Ah. You were thinking of your bonded as just animals again. To be fair, it was fairly easy. The only things you knew of your soulmates were because of how the animals acted. Anything else, and you were in the dark. That's how you wanted to think, anyway.

Maybe while they were distracted… You scoot back a little in your chair, until you figure you’re out of their line of sight. You make for the door, tipping out of your seat as quietly as you can. You're almost out the door when a weight settles itself on your head.

You sigh.

“Robin. Get off me, please.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the presence doesn't budge. Obliging, you reach up to your head, feeling the bird’s little feet jump onto your hand. Bringing Robin to eye level, you stare at it, unimpressed.

A nearby bat of wings draws you out of your faceoff. Guess sneaking out on your own was too much to ask for, as always.

“Ughhh.” You whine. Your soulmates were going to push you into complete isolation at this rate.

“Fine. You two already know the drill.”

You point at the Bat. “You can never follow me, I mean it. A bat is way too ominous of a soul animal to be flying around. It's just asking for trouble.”

The Bat remains silent, watching. Always, watching. You really hated it sometimes.

In all honesty, a robin wasn't too great of a soul animal to have with you in Gotham either. But your robins came in odd colours, so people didn't always clock that the bird was actually a robin. Sometimes you said that your soul animal was a greenfinch or a swallow. It tended to work, as long as no one looked twice.

A bat was much harder to hide.

“So..”. You give up, gesturing to your bag. “Just get in already, I'll make the trip quick.” You always had to make any outings short with this particular robin. If you spent too long with someone it got snippy. Very, snippy.

The other three robins tended to be a bit more accommodating. Well, not by much.

Robin glides into your bag, a movement of precision and grace. Not for the first time, you wonder what your bonded was like in person.

Deciding to dismiss the thought, you unlatch your door, heading out.

Just another day, with your soulmates.

~ ~ ~ ~

Your parents told you about your birth. You were born to a bat watching your window. It wasn't such a red flag, at first. The maternity ward was flush with newborn babes, so your parents figured that the bat was bound to another child. It was what they had hoped for, anyway.

Plenty of children weren't born with soulbonds. It wasn't a concern. They could be the elder of a bond. Or, they could have a delayed bond. They weren't concerned.

But… then it followed you home. Your parents settled you down, snug in your crib. When they next came to check up upon you, it was there. Perched upon the crib, watching you. When they next blinked, it was gone.

The very next day, your parents awoke to the Bat watching you again. But this time, a smaller bird was snuggled to your sleeping face. It clung to you all day, refusing to disappear when they appeared like the Bat did. It was… very mouthy.

They had assumed this to be a good development, everyone knew The Night worked alone. They were happy.

They were happy, even when another robin appeared the subsequent day. A scruffy one, snappy. Its feathers were still growing out. Young.

Perhaps they should have expected then, that the dawn the next new day would bring another little bird to your crib. The youngest one, a nestling still developing pin feathers. Despite its age, it held a keen gaze at them.

There weren't any more animals that appeared after that. So they hid any evidence of the Bat, and instead allowed you to grow up freely with your three birds.

The Bat was evidently the oldest in your soulbond. It was protective, almost parental, in its movements. It had a sixth sense for when you were in any danger, always emerging from the shadows with perfect timing. If a bat wasn't such a symbolic image in Gotham, you'd probably be more appreciative of its efforts.

The eldest bird was silly, performing aerial tricks and jumps that always brightened your day. It was keen, focusing on you whenever you felt down. It had the uncanny ability to appear whenever you were under the weather. When you said the word robin, it snapped to attention.

You decided to call it Robin.

The second bird was protective. It wasn't as loud as the eldest, but there was a spark of kindness in its gaze. Originally the bird was a lot rougher, but it started to calm down a few years in. Became stable. It always seemed to find you when you got stuck on homework, or landed on your shoulder whenever you flipped through a book.

The third bird was small. You assumed it was only a year or two older than you, due to how the bird’s feathers grew in. It wasn't as affectionate as the other two. Solitary, it often lingered in the shade. It watched you. It watched your other soul animals too, when they appeared. It seemed a little tired. It took you a bit, but eventually you realised it was lonely. After that, you always had a comforting word.

That is… until the Batman gained a partner. A boy decked out in green and yellow, the same feathers on your eldest bird. The vigilante called itself Robin.

As the duo gained notoriety, you were hidden more and more. There was danger in soulbonds, and nothing was more dangerous than vigilantes.

Robin became Nightwing. Your eldest bird grew in blue feathers. The bird stopped responding to its name. A new boy became Robin. You spotted green and yellow feathers growing in on your second bird. It started answering to Robin.

You knew who your soulmates were. After that, it was no secret. Not to you, not to your parents.

Your parents weren't happy anymore. But you were safe. They could be content with that. They considered reaching out. The evidence was obvious, they knew it, and you knew it. Maybe you could be even safer, if the Batman knew where you were.

And then you watched your Robin die.

The little bird had been stuck to you recently, seeming to be in an argument with the Bat. When in conflict, soul animals gravitated to those they weren't in disparity with, and this was nothing unfamiliar to you.

You had been stroking the little bird, as it rested on your lap. But then it jumped. It started shaking. It started crying. Bleeding.

You panicked. You tried to comfort it, to whisper caring words, to give a reassuring touch. You were young, you didn't know what to do. There was nothing you could do.

When a soulmate dies, the soul animal dies too.

The little Robin died, crying in your lap.

You had never looked at vigilantes the same way again.

There was no point in denial, not after that. Your bat became the Bat, the eldest robin named Wing. A few days later, your youngest soul animal developed new feathers. Green… and red. You didn't have a name for the bird, but you suspected you would soon.

You took a week off school.

~ ~ ~ ~

“Please be quiet, this time.” You muttered down to the green bird resting in your bag. It started at you with a condescending gaze. Ugh. Younger soulmates.

You'd sigh, but you've been doing that far too much lately as is.

Time to get this over with.

You enter the supermarket, one of your very few weekly outings. You start perusing the shelves, picking out what was in your list. As you're walking though, you hear a frustrated bark. You peak out from the shelves, spotting a lone woman tugging a leashed dog along.

Ah. You knew what this was. Everyone did. The other shoppers in the store paused too, staring at what was going on.

It was a rejected bond. When feelings between single soulbonded individuals become too bitter, the soul animal dissipates. Well, it was supposed to, and then reappear when feelings improve. But if the animal was constrained in some manner, then the animal can't disappear and is forced to remain in a physical form.

Judging from the leash on the dog’s neck, this was that same scenario. It was rather bold of the woman to bring the soul animal out in public if it was rejecting her like this. Almost brave.

Gothamites rarely helped each other, but things became a little sensitive with soul animals. You wouldn't be too surprised if there wasn't at least one attempt to free the dog today. It certainly caught attention. It could even catch.. vigilante attention.

You frowned. It was a shame to cut one of your few outings short. Sometimes there was no alternative though. You certainly wouldn't be sticking around.

You jumped at the sound of a shriek, eyes darting down to your bag where Robin rested. Robin glared venomously at your shoulder, and you glanced at it.

Your shoulder where… Ah. That would do it. Your shoulder where Red rested. Your third robin. You felt like crying. Why, why this pair?

You didn't even feel the bird as it appeared. Was that a testament to Red's stealth or your lacking observational skills?

Robin glared daggers at Red, practically hissing. You didn't even know birds could hiss. Red paid him no mind, instead looking very settled on your shoulder. The bird even snuggled your face a little. What a smug guy.

Another bark caught your attention. You glanced forward, remembering the scene. Your soul animal’s squabbling would draw too much attention. If any of the vigilantes were watching, you'd be in trouble. One robin soul animal was potentially excusable. But two? That would get you caught.

You tried to shush the two, a small signal for them to knock it off. Naturally, because it was these two, they ignored you. You groaned. This was far too public.

You grabbed Red, snatching him off your shoulder as gently as you could. Placing him gently into your shoulder bag, you tried your best to pretend the resulting screech from Robin wasn’t noticeable. The flap of your bag was closed, so no one could spot them… They could certainly hear if they came close enough though.

Time to leave. You paid for what you picked up and dashed out. The sight of rejected soulmates was generally considered disturbing, so anyone watching could just attribute your rush to that.

Were you paranoid?

Mayhaps a little.

You've justified it by the fact that you're probably soulmates with Batman and 4 robins, so paranoia is practically a requirement for your soul.

____

Hello ^ ^ welcome to my soulmate au! I do hope you enjoyed.

If you have any questions about the au, please feel free to reach out :D

Tim Drake is a hoe, he is Bruce Wayne level playboyness. He has not met a single woman who's heart he will not break. He has also moved onto the men. He will threaten to sleep with your mom and he will. Dick, Jason, and Damain would never.

For the streets: Bruce and Tim

Take him to your mother: Dick, Damian

Virgin: Jason

nsfw alphabet - george weasley

a is for aftercare - whats their aftercare like?

george is quick to clean up his partner & order take-out after a long night. he’s so gentle & kind with you while pulling you out of your subspace, or just pleasureful state of mind, but the minute you’re back with him he’s joking, tickling the marks he left & making jokes about the night

however, if george subbed that night, he needs you in his arms immediately. he clings to you as you try to clean him up & use the restroom. he just wants to be by you & suffocate you in affection, he’s so thankful & grateful for you. but playing with his hair ALWAYS pulls him out of that state of mind, especially if you’re telling him how good he was while racking your hands through his hair

b is for body part - whats their favorite part of their own body? what’s their favorite part of their own body?

george adores his partner’s thighs. fred definitely asked him one day if he prefers boobs or bum & he just blushed & mumbled ass, but he was thinking about thighs the whole conversation. all shapes & sizes of thighs, george adores them. he could bury his face in your thighs, or in between your thighs, for the rest of his life

his favorite part of his own body is his hands. he prides himself on how soft his hands are compared to his other sibling’s & despite his usual insecure nature, he really likes how his hands look.

c is for cum - anything having to do with cum

george adores cumming on your thighs. he usually has you sit back on your heels when you suck him off so he can pull out of your mouth & cum on your thighs, which he proceeds to lick afterwards

he also cums A LOT

he adores when you cum on his fingers. you think it has to do with the fact that he’s confident in his hands, but he gets flustered anytime you bring it up. just the image of your cum all over his fingers, spilling down his hands, gets him going for round 2

d is for dirty secret - whats a dirty secret of theirs?

he really wants to have sex in fred’s bed. i mean REALLY wants to have sex in fred’s bed. he brought it up to you & you thought he was joking, but no. if you were down, he’d get so excited. you two would go for so many rounds, him wanting to milk out the experience as much as he could. especially if you were domming. the idea of you taking over in his brothers bed sends his mind whirling

e is for experience - how experienced are they?

when you two get together george is a virgin. i think he’s probably messed around a couple times, but it was all awkward & vanilla. he’s a teenager & he’s still trying to find his sexual preferences, but he’s happy to experiment with yoh & sees no problem in you being more experienced than him

f is for favorite position - whats their favorite position?

when you’re first starting to have sex, he sticks to missionary. he likes to see your face & missionary is easy for both of you. but as things progress, he loves taking you against a wall. he can still see you & it’s a little more risky & he has more control, with your thighs wrapped around his waist as he holds you up.

if he’s subbing, he loves watching you ride him. like i said, he likes to see you & he can feel your thighs on his hips & it drives him crazy.

g is for goofy - how goofy are they in the moment?

you’ll literally go from laughing about a joke george was mumbling in your ear to one of your screaming out in pleasure. there’s so many little jokes & bumps & accidents in yalls sex life that you two don’t process until the after care. but half of your sex is you two laughing

h is for hair - how well groomed are they? do the carpets match the drapes? etc.

i think george keeps it manageable, but he has some stubble. i mean he’s young & doesn’t really see the reason in looking porn star perfect, but he doesn’t like when it gets too hairy.

now whether or not your shave, george doesn’t care. but he does love when your pubic hair grows out a little more. whether you’re just keeping your normal amount of hair or you just forgot to shave, he thinks there’s something more risky about you having more hair down there. he admits, it doesn’t make much sense, but he loves it

i is for intimacy - how intimate are they? how romantic?

the first time you two are having sex it’s very intimate. he brings out the candles (which are all different scents so it smells awful & you two both end up with a migraine) & is so so intimate & romantic. but honestly, after that most of the romance is found in the aftercare. of course, he’s praising you & complimenting you, but it’s so much more intimate afterwards

j is for jack off - masturbation headcanons

he used to jack off a lot. like a lot. but then you two started having sex & now he usually comes & finds you instead. of course, there are some nights where you don’t want to have sex or you’re apart & he ends up masturbating, but usually things work out in his favor

if you ever tell him that he feels better than when you masturbate, he’d go feral. first of all, now he’s imagining you masturbating. second of all, he knows he’s pleasuring you

k is for kink - one or two kinks of theirs

he likes sitting back & watching you please yourself. whether he’s punishing you or you’re punishing him, he loves the way you’re moaning over your own fingers, legs wide for him to watch

he’s not a spanker, but he loves slapping your thighs. oh my god the red handprint on your thighs & watching them jiggle. especially if he can see your juices from your pussy on them. he loves it.

i feel like he might be into public sex ?? idk

l is for location - where’s their favorite place to do it

fred’s bed. he brings it up all the time

but, when it’s too risky, he loves taking you in the store. literally anywhere in the store, but he’d probably stick to his office at first. but he prefers having you sub when you’re in the shop. something about you being all his in the shop he built up from the ground fills him with so much pride

m is for motivation - what turns them on?

you. he’s never had someone entrance him as much as you do. especially after the first time, he gets so turned on & needy by literally everything you do. he’s very easily turned on

n is for no - what is something they absolutely will not try?

threesomes. honestly, he gets overstimulated easily & a threesome would quickly turn into him just being overwhelmed

he’s also not interested in knife or gun play. he might rack his wand up & down your body, but it holds no threat. the first time he heard fred talking about knife play & saw how you flinched at the mere idea, he knew he would never do it. if you had that reaction just to talking about it he knew he never wanted to make you feel that way in bed.

o is for oral - are they a receiver or giver? what’s their skills like? etc.

it depends on the day whether or not he’s giving or receiving. he really loves when you suck him off & he adores cumming on your thighs, but he also wouldn’t want to push you too far. he’s a very soft dom. but he also adores being between your thighs & you gripping at his hair. it really just depends on how the two of you feel. both turn him on a lot

he’s honestly really awkward about oral at first. his bucking his hips & cums really quickly the first time you give him a blowjob. & the first time he goes to eat you out you have to gently direct him, which he really appreciated. but the more he does it the better he gets & eventually he can have you cumming in what seems like seconds

p is for pace - are they fast & rough? or slow & sensual?

he likes to go slow & deep. the idea of going fast scares him & he thinks he’ll hurt you. but he likes to be deep inside you. it took some experimenting, but george found the perfect pace

but he does adore when you ride him fast & hard, watching your boobs bounce & hearing your thighs slap his hips. he could just never go that pace himself

q is for quickie - their opinion on quickies

he was initiating quickies every five seconds after you two first started having sex. it seemed like between every class he was trying to get in between your legs. but, after his initial neediness calmed down, he usually only goes for quickies when you need them or after a quidditch game. now, he prefers to take his time with you. but there was that time after your first time where he was just too needy not to take you anywhere & everywhere, all the time.

r is for risk - are they game to experiment? do they take risks?

george wants to try everything at least once. he thinks it’s the true way to find out what he likes in sex & so there are many nights where he tries a new thing with you, no matter how weird it sounds.

he does take risks, but he doesn’t really process how risky they are. he just thinks they’re fun. sometimes you have to explain how risky what he’s suggesting is

s is for stamina - how many rounds can they go? how long do they last?

at first, george could only last a short amount of time, & you as well, both of you being somewhat new to all this.

but now he can go for 20-35 minutes unless there some edging involved.

but george has always been one for multiple rounds. he gets so hard again so quickly & all he wants to do is go again & again until you two are too tired to move. he calls it the best exercise

t is for toys - do they own toys? do they use them on themselves or their partner?

he owns a vibrator for you, but he doesn’t use it a lot. he prefers getting you off himself, but if he’s teasing or edging you he’ll use his vibrator

he’s tried to use a cockring before but he just doesn’t prefer it. he’d much rather you get him off on your own

u is for unfair - how much do they tease

he tries. he really does. but usually you two end up laughing at his antics. like george, everything your partner does turns you on. you don’t need him to act a certain way to get you going. & so when he tries to be teasing & scandalous, you can’t take him seriously. you both end yo laughing

it’s when neither of you are trying that you actually tease each other. george will rub your thigh absentmindedly or accidentally pull your hair & it’ll get you riled up all day. but he doesn’t know what he’s doing until you tell him & then he’s so turned on hearing you tell him that he wants to go right then & there

it’s these little things that tease george too. you’ll play with his fingers or sit on his lap & he’ll get all teased & horny. you didn’t mean to. but here we are

v is for volume - how loud are they? what do they sound like? etc.

george is pretty vocal. but he’s talking. he’s telling you how good you’re doing & how good he feels & literally everything else that comes into his mind. if you’re feeling really dominant you’ll tell him he can’t make noise & he’ll go feral

he loves hearing you. you’re more one to whine than to talk lowly the way he does, but when he’s being dominant he lives for your whining. he won’t move until you can tell him exactly what you want, which is so hard for you when you can hardly form a sentence

w is for wild card - self explanatory

he got super nervous telling you he was a virgin. ginny & fred always made fun of him about it & he didn’t think he cared until he actually had to admit it. when you said you didn’t care he literally almost cried. if you were also a virgin he felt so much better about himself, like he wasn’t alone in that aspect

x is for x-ray - let’s see what’s under those clothes

his body in general is toned. he never misses a quidditch practice & is always running around with fred so you can imagine the surprising, wiry muscles he has. he prides himself a lot in the way he can carry you around

as far as his dick goes, he’s not very thick, but he’s definitely long & a bit of a grower. he’s got around 7 inches soft, which is pretty long for his age. there’s also a slight curve that gets him right at your g spot. george really has the best cock you’ve ever seen

y is for yearning - how high is their sex drive

he’s so needy. no matter if he’s a dom or sub in that scene, he’s so so needy. his sex drive is so high, but he makes sure it’s not all about sex all the time

z is for zzzz - how fast do they fall asleep afterwards

he usually falls asleep after food. there are some particularly rough nights where he falls asleep before take out gets there, but typically he’ll eat & talk with you about the scene before heading to bed. but the second his head hits the pillow he’s out. he tries to make you go to bed before him but he really can’t help it some days. but you don’t mind

i'm loving everyone's art of miguel this past week, esp soft!miguel ;;

miguel's fav position is def mating press, but what about hobie. do u think he likes you on top so he can touch everywhere or on all fours, using his size to press against you?

hobie’s favorite position is… baby i’m drawing a blank i feel like he likes every single position like he just loves being inside you but if i had to choose… it’s either missionary with your legs over his shoulders or with you on top cause his dirty talk goes crazy with you on top 💯 you bein in control turns him on BAD so he’s literally encouraging you and telling you to take what you need and to ride him “just like that” and to “show me how much you love this dick, yeah?”

(bonus! he also rlly likes when you talk to him while he’s fucking your brains out. he’s all about your pleasure so over time he’s taught you to tell him when he’s doing something you rlly like. say he angles his hips a certain way. he presses up against your spot n you go crazy and start saying shit like “yeah, right there, feels so good” … he will go insane. makes sure he presses against that spot with every thrust and he’s moaning “yeah? right there? tell me how fuckin’ good it feels, love.”)

SFW Alphabet for Sebastian Sallow

Warnings - none

A/N - I haven't actually done one of these before, so I'm sorry if it's awful!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) I think it's safe to say that Sebastian is all over you much more than what's period-appropriate. He's always got an arm around you, either your shoulders or your waist. He's possessive and it's his way of letting everyone know that you're his. In private are a lot sweeter because they're just for the two of you. He loves cuddling with you and he is a big fan of kisses.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) I think we know he's not exactly the greatest best friend, but he cares really deeply even though he goes about everything wrong. You would be getting up to mischief with him all the time constantly bombarded by things he's learned from reading the restricted section. You wouldn't be bored with him.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) He loves cuddling with you lying on top of him or him on top of you. He just wants to be encompassed by you. He needs to have his hands on you at all times but also loves being able to see your face so that's why this cuddling position is a must for him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) I don't see him as being a bad cook at all. In fact, as well-read, as he is I think he's learned a thing or two. He picks things up really easily too. I think he would settle down in an ideal world, but I'm just not sure he's capable of doing that for himself. He's always got to be doing things that help him search for his purpose, so domesticating him really wouldn't be the easiest. Even as a life partner, you would be traveling all the time.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) He would be the type to either start completely ignoring you and avoiding you or be so incredibly mean about it that you wouldn't even think of talking to him again. That's how he would go about it especially if you still meant something to him, but he had some reason to insist you needed to be apart. If he never cared that much or it was never serious for him, he would probably come right out with it pretty bluntly. And this may come off as mean because he makes no effort to sugarcoat anything, but it's the most amicable he's got.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) I think he would be quick to desire being engaged and maybe pop the question, but shrink back from getting truly married right away. He would be happy to claim you as his and ensure you're wearing a ring all the time. When he starts actually thinking about the idea of commitment and what marriage means, especially in the 1890's he might start to psych himself out and get cold feet.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) I don't think that Sebastian and 'gentle' can even go in the same sentence. Emotionally, he's an absolute trainwreck. So any relationship with him is going to be a roller coaster with steep drops and twists and turns all over the place. He's not good at talking about his feelings, he's the absolute opposite of gentle if you're in a disagreement. Physically, when he's giving you affection or having any other kind of interaction like dueling, he's probably a little closer to gentle. Still, he's not the type to be thinking past his next move too much so he's not going to be thinking about accidentally hurting you or anything.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) He does like hugs and is a big fan of hugging you from behind. His favorite thing to do is to take you by surprise to see if he can scare you or not. His hugs are warm and filled with his heady scent. He's a bulky guy so his embraces tend to be tucking you into his chest or shoulder and enveloping you.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?) He either says it way too early on by mistake or is so reluctant to say it you almost fear he never will. There's no in-between.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) Jealous? YES. He's possessive and protective over you and when his own insecurities flare up too, it's a recipe for disaster with him. He's pretty likely to cause an embarrassing scene for you over things that may be trivial. He's going to misread casual situations all the time. He's usually angrier with whomever you were with than you, but on occasion, he can take his frustrations out on you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) His kisses are warm and urgent. He's got pretty full lips that he loves to overtake yours with. He's always ready to kiss your lips, but he loves kissing intimate parts of your body that are reserved just for im

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) He falls into place easily around children, even if he's nervous at first. He lost enough of his own childhood to more serious events that it's second nature for him to be childish and playful.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) Mornings are spent trying to drag him out of bed. Probably getting his clothes out and ironed for him and getting his breakfast together before he's even willing to think about getting up. If you remain in bed with him, he's much more likely to be convinced to get him if you tell him sweet nothings and give him a few kisses.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Nights are when he is the most lively. He has a lot of late nights studying things or planning new endeavors. He enjoys going out with you to find local festivities so the two of you can relax and just have fun. He also enjoys a good night in with you where you steal his attention away with a good meal and some card or board games.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) He's open with you once he trusts you. And depending on how you meet and what he already knows about you will determine how quickly that happens. Once the flood gates open he's dumping all of his intense trauma on your way before telling you more fun anecdotes that reveal his personality.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Very easily angered and easily prepared to overreact to the feeling.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) Sebastian would remember a lot of irrelevant details about you and then forget something important. He's definitely clueless to you dropping any kind of hints, so don't expect that to work on him.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) His favorite moment in your relationship would probably be a time you got into some insane fight over things that didn't make much sense. And yet you both end up superheated, absolutely fuming, until something goofy happens and you're both cackling with each other and making fun of what had you upset in the first place.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Very protective and likes to think he's a great physical protector and that you must need him. He protects you by swooping into social situations where he thinks you're being harassed or when you're out together just remaining very close to you ready to push you behind him at all times.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) He would put reasonable efforts into anniversaries. The longer they were the more he would be excited to try and come up with something that would surprise you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) Lord, the man is a walking red flag. His temper isn't good and he says a lot that he doesn't mean to try and get his way in situations, whether it's hurtful or not. Gaslighting and manipulating are his bad habits, not my fault they're the absolute worst.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) He's pretty concerned with his looks even though he tries to come off that he's not. He's got the messy, fluffy hair that actually takes quite a bit of time to make look perfect; he in fact does not wake up like that. When it comes to clothing, he does make an effort to dress nicely, but he's not nearly as concerned with things like wrinkles or fabric being slightly askew. At the end of the day, he has more important things to focus on than how his clothes look.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) Most definitely. Even if he treats you like a menace, he's bound to be lost without you. He needs your advice, even if he doesn't listen. He needs to know you're going to be there when he's ready to apologize for whatever wrong he's done you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) Sebastian is most definitely the blanket hog that always claims it wasn't him.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Sebastian is not really into being told what to do all the time. He's down to hear your opinion on things or your side of some kind of situation, but he feels like Solomon tells him what to do enough and he can't stand to be put in a box like that. It wouldn't keep him from developing feelings for you, but it would cause you to but heads A LOT.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?) A sleep habit of his is to be sure that the bed curtains are drawn. Then he will get comfortable and loosen a few buttons on his nightshirt before turning in for the night.

Finally got round to finishing this , took me long enough.

I put my voice, over this edit pt. 2

Want your own? Order my voice here -

Payhip

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