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hoshigray · 2 days

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Can i request toji doing this to reader 👉👈

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: YEEEEEESSSS!!! I mean–ahem–yes, you may request this delicious prompt ٩(ˊᗜˋ )و

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing/making out - fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (presses and swiping) - Daddy kink - missionary position - praises - unprotected sex (no release on Toji's part, tho) - pet names (baby, mama, sweet thing, sweetie) - voice kink - Toji being a teaseing bastard, lawl - implied prior masturbation.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

“Haaah…Toji—Mmmm!“

“Shhh, I’m right here, sweetie…Did’ya sleep well?”

It’s not unusual for you to be asleep when Toji returns home from work, especially when he’s been away for more than three nights.

But, fuck, when he returns home, all he can think about is having your soft frame in his starved grasp.

You lay so peacefully on his bed, your man watching the rise and fall of your figure and listening to your snore while he quietly enters the room. Once he drops his stuff down, he’ll crawl up to be atop you, emerald eyes scanning every feature of your beautiful face he wants to kiss so badly.

And the truth is that you’re just as touch starved as he is, left here to await his return while he’s doing God-knows-what (you’re unaware of his assassin gig) and worrying about his absence. But when you awake to the smooth sensation of your lips being pressed on, you don’t scream or holler; far from that. Instead, you kiss back and open your sleepy eyes to see the grown man above you.

“To…ji?” Your voice is strained with exhaustion yet curious.

The dark-haired man shushes you with his lips onto yours, moaning with you while his hands spread your legs for him to lay comfortably between. “Missed ya, mama,” his gruff voice so low that your stomach immediately flips at the erotical tone.

“I missed you, too,” you admit in between smooches, and you melt when he cups your cheeks to keep your face with his. “Missed you so…Hmmm…”

More kisses have you relax, his scared mouth trailing down to suck on the skin of your neck to listen to more of your sweet gasps. “Yeah? My baby missed me?” You chew your lips as he whispers in your ear, and your hips instinctively move at the motion of his hand, palming the groin of your shorts. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout me while I was gone? ‘Cuz I sure was.”

“Yesss,” your answer slurred by the lick and kiss to your helix. “Yes, I ha—Aaah!”

His hand sneaks inside the hem of your shorts, not surprised to meet your bare cunt with his fingers. Your wetness instantly coats the rough pads of his fingertips as he nestles between your labia. “Thinkin’ ‘bout me so much that y’re all wet like this?” You can practically hear the grin uplifting the scar on his lips. “Hmm? Ya miss Daddy so much that you touch y’rself while I’m gone, huh?”

Your eyes are sewn shut at the sensation of your folds being fingered, and your lips ajar once Toji inserts his middle finger. Wiggling the digit around, scratching your walls with the blunt of his fingertips, it has you wail softly. “Yessss, missed you—Oooh! S..So much, Daddy…”

“Heh, dirty lil’ thing,” Toji’s finger goes faster, and the raven-haired man enjoying your shrieks gets a little louder, and your breath halts at his ring finger teasing your entrance. “Tell Daddy how much ya missed me.”

You arch your back at the insert of the other digit; your fatigue vanishes with every graze of the two fingers. “Haaah…Miss how you kiss me—Ahh!” He toys with your clit with the brush of his thumb. “H-How good you–Mmnn!–make me feel…” He kisses your forehead; the gentleness contrasting with the salacious squelches from your shorts causes a haze.

“Yeah? Ya like when I make ya feel good?” His fingers go faster, and the presses on your clitoris go frequently. “Just like?”

“Mmnoooh,” Toji kisses you again, this time more passionately with tongue exploring your mouth; you twitch around his digits as they curl and rub. “I…Love it!”

Toji chuckles. “That’s what I wanna hear, sweet thing,” and he removes his hand from your shorts to lick your fluids clean. “‘Cuz I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout makin’ you feel good on my way here.”

He discards your bottoms to the bedroom floor seconds before he unzips his pants and brings them down with his boxer briefs. Toji has his dick free for you to marvel at, the nether limb not yet fully erected, yet the quick pulse of it has your mouth water. He slaps the tip onto your leaky chasm; the sight makes your vagina throb. So much so that you clamp tighter as he pushes the soft tip into you. “Relax fr’ me, mama,” he coaxes you through, gradually pushing every inch of him inside. “Daddy’s gotcha, ‘kay?”

You howl inaudibly, furrowed brows as the base of his cock kisses your folds. And when he grinds his pelvis down? Jesus, you grip the sheets to serve as reins; contracts around his girth are inevitable.

“Fuck,” he curses above you. “So warm and tight like always…”

When he begins to move, it’s at a slow pace. The feeling of his dick pushing into and pulling out of you so sensually is so erotic to your senses, especially witnessing the thing burrowing inside your warmth with your own eyes. Oh, my God, you can feel it getting stiffer, making your excitement dial-up.

The member goes firmer with every stroke, and every sensation differs from the last. His shaft stands solid inch by inch, your eyes shooting up as you become fuller by the second. One pull and push has you whimper. Another push and pull, and your toes curl at the stretch of him becoming greater. Another slow push, and you're calling for him with a shaky breath as the tip of his now solid limb lightly jabs your cervix.

And Toji adores the view under his bow, your body reacting to his erect cock scraping your insides to the point of broken cries. “How ya feelin’, baby?” His sultry voice pulls you in as he increases the speed scarcely.

“Daahh, s-so full,” the snicker to your ear makes you clamp on him harder. “So good…Nnoohh!! Daddy, st–Ooop! D-Don’t thrust so—”

“Hmm? What’s up?” You don’t have to open your eyelids to see that the older man above you has a mischievous look after suddenly sneaking a quick rut to your entrance. “What; don’t like it when I go like…this?” Toji’s hips go erratically, the motion making it easy to rub on your inner walls and sweet spots to the point of shrilled shrieks leaving your lips. “Or…this?” He sluggishly pulls himself back where it’s only the tip of his shaft that’s nestled inside you, only for him to snap his hips back in a rushed second. It takes a moment for you to process and let out a scream as the cockhead pokes your delicate cervix with precision.

Your hands frantically find his shoulders to grip his shirt, “Daddyyy, please, sl–Oooh–Slow down…! If you keep goin’, I’ll cu—….Mmmm!!” Your pleas don’t stop him; they fuel him to keep pounding into you. Balls deep for him to keep probing you with hits to the narrow end again, and your legs wrap around his waist without you thinking. How could you think? Your head kept pounding along with the climb of your orgasm, trembles climbing up your spine.

“What’re ya holdin' it fr’, huh?” All it takes is Toji to bend to your ear once more, kissing your cheek as his pelvis slams into your aching slit. “Cum, mama. Lemme know how good y’re feelin’.”

As if on command, your climax hits you hard, like a wave crashing down on your poor form, drowning your senses with euphoria like no other. Your cunt squeezes around Toji’s girth, your nerves spiking to a sensitive high that has you winded and cold for a moment. And the man above you hisses at the flutter of your walls; his rocking cadence slows down to relish the feeling.

You wail in ecstasy; a tiny sharp gasp leaves you from the gentle kiss he places on your forehead.

“There ya go, sweetie,” he coos with a kiss to the chin before straightening himself. You observe him remove his shirt to dump it onto the floor, and your face becomes hotter when Toji ventures down, where his face gets closer to your wet entrance. “ All wet and ready fr’ me…”

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nibeul · 3 days

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eraserhead

[id: It's a bust drawing of Aizawa Shouta. He is depicted with tan skin that has a few sunspots, black, shaggy hair, dark eye bags, and patchy stubble. He is wearing a black shirt and black stud earrings. He is drawn with his usual scar under his eye. Behind the bust are two sketches of him in his hero uniform, a baggy jumpsuit, boots, and his capture weapon. in the first, he is crouching with his hands on the ground and in the second, he is jumping up while his capture weapon unravels from around his neck. /end id]

#hi im back here now.#aizawa shouta #bnha #eraserhead #nibeul art

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dearneuvi · 3 days

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MDNI - scar x fem!reader, oral (f. receiving), this game has me in a chokehold

“Really?” Scar laughs, hands resting on your thighs amused with just how easy he found himself getting you sprawled out underneath him. “You’re quiet now? Where’d my favourite little viper go?”

You don’t reply. You can’t. Opening your mouth, letting out those noises he’s been so desperately trying to coax from you, saying anything that might let him know, for certain, he’s got you so perfectly under his thumb. You won’t risk it.

But he already knows.

His warmth on your skin, his rough fingers pulling at your clothing as he watches your glazed expression; he watches as you impatiently wait for him to touch you again. Almost completely naked underneath him, you should feel more shame, more embarrassment, more hatred for the man. But you just can’t bring yourself to care as he rises above you, pulling at your underwear until you fidget beneath him, giving him just enough room to slide the clothing down your legs.

“You’re going to make me work for it, huh.” Your eyebrows furrow as you scowl at him, biting your lip to stop your rebuttal—you don’t trust your voice. Scar lets out a laugh, a condescending sound that, you hate to admit, sends shiver throughout your body. “Don’t look at me like that.” He leans down again, nose bumping against yours deceptively softly, his breath warm and wet against your lips. “It makes me want to devour you.”

Dipping his head he presses a chaste kiss to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. Lower and lower, his hair tickling your bare skin. Scar moves agonisingly slowly, teasing you with the tiny touches, tongue lazily swiping at the skin of your thigh.

Your sharp intake of breath is bliss to his ears; you barely manage to hold in the soft whimper threatening to escape as you look down to him, meeting his eyes, looking too content settled between your legs.

His eyes don’t leave yours and you can’t look away even if you wanted to, you’re hypnotised by his gaze as he, finally, runs his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of your arousal. Scar watches you with a smug look, waiting for the moment you let your shields down, let yourself come undone because of him.

It isn’t until his tongue circles your clit and his lips surround the sensitive bud when he finally lives to his words and devours. You’re broken from your trance, head falling to the pillow as his tongue moves with perfect precision, pulling sound after embarrassing sound from your throat.

You try to hold them back; you intend to push him away but the second you hands get close they tangle in his hair pulling him closer with a tight grip. Or, as tight as you can manage as the bolts of pleasure shock through your body.

Pulling away only to brush his teeth against the inside of your thigh, thumb rubbing continuous circles against your clit, relishing in the way your body writhes wishing he had some way of immortalising the image in that moment. Wondering what your righteous friends would think if they knew how easy it had been to get you into this position; to almost have you begging for the release he was in charge of.

Scar latches himself to your cunt. Consuming you like you are his very life force, drinking you in as though you were his first meal in weeks. The obscene sounds full the room, his guttural moans as you rake your fingers into his hair mix with your breathless words. Your chants of please encouraging him to torment you further, detaching himself from you as your body stiffens, leaving you seconds from your climax.

You whine as he catches your hands, desperate to push yourself over that edge he’s leaving you teetering on, lacing his fingers between yours. “Scar.” Your breathless voice, pitiful in comparison to what he’s so familiar with. His viper long gone, replaced with such a meek creature—he wants to break you down more.

He rises, pressing himself against you as his lips fan yours again. Your hips grind against his, glazed eyes meeting his and soft panting warming his skin.

You must have lost your mind. You’ve let him get you exactly where he wants you.

“It’s okay, Sweetheart.” He cooes, pushing his hips in response to yours, your moan swallowed quickly as he catches you in a messy kiss, taking the last of your sanity with his surprising expertise. Scar smirks as he finally pulls away, your body shaking beneath him, and clawing at his clothing. “I’m far from done with you.”

#wuthering waves #wuthering waves smut #wuwa smut #wuwa #scar smut #scar x reader #wuthering waves x reader #be nice pls I’m try a get out major writing block lmao

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n0tamused · 2 days

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Will you stay?

A/n: save me sad dragon general, save me... sad dragon general you better get ready cause I'm sending happiness your way whether you like it or not

Content: Jiyan x Reader (fem implied, but no pronouns used), angst undertone but it all turns to fluff, Jiyan referred to as a husband, word vomit, non sexual nudity implied, not proof-read, maybe a tiny bit ooc? Feedback is appreaciated

Moonlight cascades through the open window in silky streams, showering the white sheets with silver and shimmer. The world is at peace, and quiet prevails all around, much unlike the main battle front. For only a few hours he spends here, Jiyan feels as if his lifelong wish is fulfilled. A facade it is, a dream, but it is comforting in all its delusion. Maybe one day it will come true, and he won't be forced to abandon your warm embrace for another month, and more, to fight.

His eyes move from the window and down at you where you have nestled yourself against his chest, your arms draped around him. It’s well into the depth of the night, yet both of you are denying sleep that so obviously hangs heavy over your eyelids - as any hour more means longer time spent together. And up until that point he has been listening to you talk about your days in the city, your fingertips tracing his chest and the occasional scar that paints itself thin and textured, different from the rest of his smooth skin. When you trailed off, he was quick to notice. His chin dipping slightly down to look at you.

Your finger neverending in its work of drawing him out, feeling him in all his warmth, living warmth - and your eyes lost themselves in images your mind conjured of what the battlefield looked like now. Red skies and twisted lands soiled with blood of people from the same city you were in now, the same people that were once someone’s little boys and girls, daddy’s girl and momma’s boys. Only now they were decades older with heavy bags under their eyes, lying in the desolate lands under trees for cover.

“Don’t think about it.. don’t.. let that plague your mind, my dear” Jiyan spoke up, his hand coming up to cup yours that had begun to shake over his chest, fingers curling into your palms. Jiyan wished he could take this worry away from you, he wished he could protect you from the horrific unknown and all the terrifying images of your imagination, but such a task was an impossible one. Your bare body can only share his warmth and hold on to what is currently there.

“(Y/n).. “

“Tell me about your days..” you whispered, cutting him off as timidly as a petal of a flower. You pick your head up and place it on top of his chest, gazing into those golden eyes you had dreams of when he was gone. Pretty in all their glory, even as they regarded you with worry and question. Jiyan sighs softly, his eyes wandering to the ceiling and the small swirly patterns that show up with the moon. That was your choice to put up there, little swirls and dots and constellations..

“Days are long and tiring. I often miss the smell of the city while out at the front, and your cooking. The ingredients and supplies are scarce but we are alright, we are holding together, my dear” his words resonate softly in your ears, and to an extent they bring you comfort. His thumb is rubbing the inside of your palm, massaging the soft skin until the shakiness subsides, and furthermore. “During the down-time, when there’s no danger to confront, the soldiers always seem to find new ways to entertain themselves” at that a small smile broke over his solemn and tired features, prompting you to smile as well. He has told you before how men would jest and play, little children stuck in bodies of adults, chasing one another after one of them threw a boot at someone. It was a reminder all of these soldiers were people and that they were alive, but most importantly they still held onto their humanity and hope. So much hope that one could feel it from a mile away.

“The other day, before our departure towards here, they were bold enough to attempt a small jest about me and it backfired, well it was unintentional frankly, I just happened to walk in on them. I suppose a new rumor broke out how I dismiss people from the military after I give them medical assistance”

“What? That’s ridiculous.. You wouldn’t send anyone home unless they were really badly behaving or injured”

“Yes. But that doesn’t quell the rumors, especially among the new cadets, which makes me think this is some ploy of the more experienced bunch as to scare the youth But..as I was walking by the tents and corners I ran into this group huddled under the lamp, talking about this rumor. I’m not sure what came over me, but I just marched up to them and coldly began to question them, about what they were doing and such” A stupid smile came across his lips now, a childish one you relished in seeing and it make you physically perk up to hear the rest of the story. Your leg came over his waist as you tried to comfortably lay on his chest.

“One of those men had a pretty bad leg wound from the day prior, but nothing life threatening. However, he has been quite snarky with Captains and other soldiers, so I gazed at his bandaged wound, then up at him, and then I asked if he wanted me to take a look at it. The team went silent as a grave, my love- I..”

“The rumor had so much effect on them? Pfftt-” “Yes! I was quite shocked too, I had to hold back my surprise, but he went pale, I can’t even describe it to you. Whoever created this rumor really was creative, I need to give them that, but I really couldn’t play so long afterwards. I had to clear it up..”

You giggle at his words, forehead pressing against his collarbone as your chest flutters with warmth, just imagining this scenario was silly - has your husband become such a menace in the army? Him? Sure, he was skilled beyond belief, but the way he laid beneath you and the way he touched you could never make you believe he was scary. You know him, for crying out loud! And due to that, this was all the funnier.

Jiyan joined your fit of giggles, other hand rubbing and holding your back, pushing you up against his chest that jumped with cackles. “Goodness- now you’re laughing at me as well” he comments lightheartedly.

“Apologies, apologies, I can’t help myself” you respond and slowly come back to your composure with a long sigh of relief. “Those poor souls, scared by my precious husband. Perhaps I should start scolding you at home more often” Your hand sneaks from his hold and pinches his cheek teasingly, causing him to click his tongue and pull away, reminded of the way his mother would do the same action when he was younger, although not so teasingly or playfully. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, his other arm soon joining its pursuit of keeping you still against him.

“Perhaps you should not. I missed you too much, but then again.. If scolding me is the way to hear more of your voice, I could get used to it..” Jiyan says as he releases his tight hold of you, letting you slump against his chest with a small exhale. “But now..” his lips found your forehead, pressing a lingering kiss to it before pulling away. “You must rest. I know how little sleep you got the last few days..” he says and reaches for the covers that were pushed down in your small tussle. The blanket covers your back and you instantly feel warmer, nestled here against him.

The thought of him leaving makes a pang settle in your heart once more, heavy and sharp. “Jiyan.. will you be able to stay for breakfast at least?” you ask him, hoping, wishing, praying.. just an hour will do.

“.. I will. I’ll wake you up, aright? We’ll cook something together..” There’s promise in his voice and it is undeniably prevalent and true, otherwise he would not be saying these things. Jiyan kissed your forehead again, hugging you against him and closing his eyes.

The upcoming morning suddenly became something to look forward to.

#jiyan x reader #-dragon.treasure #jiyan #jiyan imagine #jiyan x you #jiyan x y/n #wuthering waves #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuthering waves fluff #wuthering waves imagine #wuwa x reader #jiyan wuwa #jiyan wuthering waves #jiyan fluff #wuwa

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celestialprincesse · 1 day

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"No - Char, we already have cheese at home." You huff exasperatedly, trying to prevent your daughter's little fists from going at the babybel in the supermarket fridge for the third time in the two minutes you've been lingering in the dairy produce aisle.

"Red cheese!" She shrieks in protest, one of her hands clinging to the rumpled fabric of your dress, the other practically clawing at the glass of the fridge for her favourite cheese - cheese which you've got an abundance of at home.

Her little shopping trolley, which she insisted on having, overflows with snacks and the few essentials you'd needed to make dinner tonight, but mostly snacks. You'd only realised this morning that your fridge was almost entirely void of any sort of appropriate, adult dinner ingredients - a realisation you're glad happened this morning and not later, seeing as Simon was coming for dinner this evening for a not date but not not a date. Whatever that means.

You're pretty sure he's just trying his best not to freak you out - to ease you into the feelings blossoming in the space between you like a frightened animal. When you'd invited him for dinner? That had been an attempt at showing him that you wanted him, wanted to see his broad shoulders and messy blond hair in your apartment, as opposed to across the hall from it.

Another petulant little yell forces you from your thoughts, only to realise that Charlotte's petulance is actually excitement, something having caught her attention so much that she goes toddling off as fast as her little legs will carry her. "No - Charlotte!" You plead, trying to scoop her up before two massive, tattooed arms beat you to it.

"Easy, tiger." That deliciously rumbly accent soothes both Charlotte's excitement, and the worry roiling in your stomach. His eyes don't so much as relax you, rather melt you completely, until you're sure to be just a fleshy puddle on the linoleum supermarket floors. "Simon." You state dumbly, voice robotic and slightly detached as you take stock of the past few moments of having been on autopilot.

"Fancy seeing you here." He croons, slinging Charlotte to sit on his hip in such an easy manner - unfairly hot. Although, everything he does is unfairly hot. He's unfairly hot.

You're convinced your brain must've melted and dribbled out of your ears in the few steps from the cheese to the butter section of the fridges, because you're so dumbstruck and stupidly confused by his sudden presence (and how utterly fucking sexy he looks caring for you and your daughter with such instinctive ease) that you can't even seem to find your words.

"Charlotte wanted cheese." Is the first, and obviously the most embarrassing thing that comes out of your mouth, and the wry smirk that pulls at his scarred lips has you kicking yourself. Repeatedly. Hard.

"Mm. Course. Gotta get aaall the calcium in to get big and strong, hey Char?" He coos, and you feel as though you might've just died and gone to heaven, because never on earth did you expect, or hope, to see a six foot, semiretired SAS soldier so casually looking after your child as if she were his own.

After a few moments of gawking, and failing to hide said gawking, you reluctantly part ways with Simon, realising that not only do you need to get Charlotte to bed, clean the house, make dinner and get ready - you realise that you need to look good.

And put on fresh bed linen. With absolutely no ulterior motives in mind at all whatsoever. None.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

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ghouljams · 2 days

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https://www.instagram.com/reel/C4_yhJhMW9i/?igsh=MXd5YmszMDhidTJ5dA==

This is soo cowboy price. I bet his hands are the most rugged hands Duck has ever felt.

Ooooh I know that guy, he's putting dog paw pad medicine on his hands to make them rougher. It's supposed to help puppies with delicate toes, but I guess if you want sand paper hands that works too.

You know I will never resist an opportunity to talk about Price's hands...

John's hands have always had callouses. As long as you've known the man you've felt the uneven, rough, planes of his hands as they skated over your skin. You've seen the way he picks at the sturdy skin at the base of his fingers, the way he digs his thumb into his palm to rub at the scarred skin. You've felt the ebb and flow of calloused fingers, softening when he's home, only to be rougher when he comes back from deployment. When he grinds the heel of his hand against your clit, the drag of it sparks a different tingling heat than anyone else could.

Working on a farm certainly hasn't softened the man's hands. Rope burn, chicken scratches, nips from the goats, tossing hay, checking equipment, pulling weeds. Your man's hands are rough. Blisters dotted the space between his callouses the first summer you took him to the farm, and even now you find angry red marks inside John's thumb. His knuckles split in the winter because he refuses to wear gloves, and you every so carefully swipe vaseline and lotion over the angry skin. You get the feeling sometimes that he does this on purpose just so you'll doctor him.

You love those rough hands though. You love the slight yellow at his finger tips from his cigar habit, you love that uneven scars and callouses, you love the way his thick fingers always spread wide to squeeze whatever soft flesh he's landed on. You love that he touches you so delicately, that his fingers press to your lips as soft as rose petals and only enter when you open your mouth to let them slide over your tongue. You love that he murmurs to you, presses his lips to your cheek even as his fingers thrust in and out of your mouth. You love that you know you're only slicking them for him, know that he'll catch the drool that dribbles over your chin in his calloused palm and smear it against your cheek where he'd kissed you.

Really you don't see why you'd want a softer hand to hold. John's hand squeezes your breast and you arch into the feeling, enjoy the way the rough edges of his palm drag over your nipple, the way his spit slicked fingers circle the hardening bud and pinch. It's not for any sort of masochistic fascination that you love it, but for the pure simple reason that they're his hands. You can name the scars on them, count the callouses and blisters you've treated. So you know that when his beard scratches against your cheek and his lips touch your ear, you'll fold to those work worn hands every time.

"Lemme take care of you momma," He rumbles, voice rough and so very promising. He asks as if you'd ever say no to him. As if the part of your legs isn't a forgone conclusion despite the way he situates himself between your knees. His fingers glide over your skin, perfectly delicate when he wants to be, and find their way to spreading your slick folds.

You know he likes being gentle with you, likes knowing you still bend as easily as you did when he first met you. The rugged slide of his fingers against sensitive skin makes you shiver. He draws them up your slit, pushes them back down, firm slow strokes as you pant against his ear. He kisses your temple, coaxes you to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Each stroke of his fingers burns through your blood, your skin on fire for him. Every place he touches is a match strike against red phosphorus, lighting up with a blaze you'd never want to contain.

You're always so wet for him. So soft and warm, he can't help wanting to be a little rough with you, but moments like this, with your lovely voice so soft and imploring in his ear, he can't help feeling a little indulgent. You reap the rewards of that indulgence. Your hips twitch to follow the stroke of his fingers, angle so that he flicks the tip of his finger against your clit, and he lets you. He follows your guiding whines, presses his finger in teasing dips against your hole, collects slick to ease the glide of his fingers against your clit, and whispers praise with twist of your hands.

Calloused hands are your absolute favorite when their fingers are sliding into you. Each inch slipping against your walls, stroking and prodding at your softness, lets you feel the roughness of his fingers. You grind your clit against the heel of his hand, and he pushes it against you firmly. You swallow down the pleasure that bubbles in your chest, blink the stars from your eyes, the needy whines from your throat. John's fingers thrust into you hard, the sudden switch from his gentle exploratory strokes to the quick targeted thrusts forcing out a surprised moan. You dig your fingers into his back, pull vicious red marks with your blunt nails to hear the shaky breath he takes.

Roughness for roughness, aggression for aggression, his fingers move against you, thrust hard and fast into you until you're moaning and panting. The burn of friction, the targeted attack on your sweet spot, when his thumb finds your clit you whimper. John's fingers pull back, circle your clit and spread your slick over your skin, working at the bundle of nerves until your legs are starting to shake. Your stomach feels like it's been turned to boil, something molten burning outward through you. John thrusts into your cunt again, slow teasing strokes that leave you desperate for more until he pulls them out and returns to your clit.

He works you up only to ease you back down, bringing you to the edge again and again. He seems to count the seconds it takes to make you shake, timing them so he can gauge where you are at any moment. You reach to grab for his hand and he snatches your wrist, strong calloused hands pinning yours to the mattress. Your hips buck, twist to try and get more. John hooks a leg over one of yours and holds you firmly in place. You know well that gentle doesn't mean he isn't in complete control of you, or that he won't make you beg for what you want.

You had more shame in begging when you started dating, now it comes as second nature. "Please John," You drag your lips against his cheek, one arm still locked tight around his shoulders to keep him close, "let me come on your fingers, please."

"Know the magic words momma." You can feel the curve of his smile, know you have one to match as you run your tongue through his beard.

"Please Captain." You murmur. His swallow is audible, the heavy pinch of his brow at his title on your lips. His fingers twist inside you, thrust quick and shallow to hit your sweet spot every time. Tight, tight, tight, your stomach coils and coils until you're begging your body to let go. You know it won't, not unless he gives the word.

"Come on baby," John orders, "on my fingers, just like you wanted."

Everything uncoils, the tension snapping as your muscles arch your back, your legs shaking and your vision starry. Pleasure courses through you, you feel it drip out of you and know you've soaked his fingers. You do your best trying to catch your breath as his slick fingers tug at his belt.

Take care of you, he says, but what he means is "let me ruin the bed spread".

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #captain price mw2 #captian price #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price smut #f!reader #john price #john price x reader #john price smut #john price cod #john price x oc #oc: duck #cowboy au #cowboy!price

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ilyhaitanii · 2 days

Text

both ends || toji f. kong s.

nsfw. pure filth sorry. i had a dream abt this and i needed to write about it // oral (m!receiving) implied overstim (?) penetration, reader is implied to be married to shiu

shiu’s not very fond of sharing you. his sweet little fawn, twitching and sobbing underneath his closest friend makes him a tad bit angry. sure, it’s not your fault inherently. shiu did agree to this, but something about watching the two of you fuck like rabbits and shiu’s inability to even whisper in your ear or tuck your hair behind your ear has him feeling a bit desperate.

there’s a obvious difference in the way toji and shiu fuck. neither one is very rough, but the manner in which how they handle you, the filthy words that spew from their lips come out in very different tones. shiu’s is light, playful even especially when he gets a good look at your fucked out face, he grind and chuckles. toji? oh he’s a whole different breed.

his words are the dirtiest that flith could be. worse than gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. he never says anything inherently degrading, but it’s that sultry, raspy voice of his that just makes even the simplest of words sound downright filthy.

“there ‘ya go, mama. stick your tongue out for me,” toji’s fingers slide against the warm muscle of your mouth, your tongue instantly swirls around his digits. the muffled, muted sounds of your mewls has shiu’s cock throbbing. it’s almost painful how hard the man is.

“atta girl. let’s keep that pretty mouth busy, yeah?” the thin curl of toji’s lips has your pussy fluttering around his thick cock. the scar on his lip makes him ten times more attractive. not to mention the scars that covers his chest and biceps. you try not to ogle too much at his body as you don’t want him to laugh at you again. shiu chimes in,

“push it down more. she’s cuter like that.” the older gentleman stands up, finally having enough. he needs to feel you against him. even if its against the tips of his fingers or the palms of his hands, he needs you. “her throat gets real tight. makes you wanna put other things in here, huh?”

he doesn’t exactly speak to toji. shiu’s eyes are locked onto your hazy eyes. a soft hand comes down to your forehead, wiping any sweat and stray hairs away. toji chuckles, pinching your sides as his fingers delve deeper into your mouth.

“why don’t ‘ya turn her around and shove something in there. would save me fromm having to choke her.” toji’s quick to flip you onto your tummy as you land with a small huff. he pulls your hips flush to his, cock pushing itself back inside your soaked pussy.

“good idea,” shiu mutters, watching as you shakily put your weight into your arms. toji’s quick to pin your arms behind you, pressing your body into a harsh arch. when you whine and struggle against him, shiu’s hands tangles itself into your hair.

“open wide, honey.” he says in a soft voice as his tip leaks pre onto your lips. you open big and wide for your husband, enjoying the heavy feeling of him inside you. behind you, toji wastes no time, nails dug into your skin.

he snaps his hips back and forth, fucking deep into your soaping hole. it’s downright disgusting how thick the white rinf around the base of his cock is. shiu on the other hand is too distracted by how hot and wet your mouth is. your to gue swirling around his shaft, pressing the tip of your tongue against his tip makes shiu go wild.

you can feel the slight brush of his balls against your chin when he tilts your head backwards. shiu’s cock hits the back of your throat, almost making you gag.

“fuck, baby. you’re so tight,” shiu groans, snaping his hips in and out of your mouth.

“you should invite me over more often, shiu.” toji grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier. he tugs you closer to his hips just as shiu pushes your head down further. you feel like you’re being ripped in half with the way both men want your closer to them. “best fucking pussy i ever had,”

#toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk toji #shiu x reader #shiu x you #shiu kong x reader #shiu kong x you #shiu kong smut #shiu smut #jjk shiu kong #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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galedekarios · 1 day

Text

meta master list

early access content & cut content

i'm strong enough. i'll carry on alone - a meta about gale's strength of character

i cherish you - a look into gale's ea romance

gale & curing the orb - what the game had originally planned for gale

cut reactions & dialogues - 23 cut conversations from ea

the loss scene - major cut scene from ea

the deer stew scene - major cut scene from ea

gale's three tadpole dreams - cut content from ea

gale's key art

unused gale's scene / datamined cut scene found in the game's full release files

tara's cut content for companion gale

gale centric

gale & his parents - morena & his father

the netherese orb - consequences for gale's magic

gale & physical ailments caused by the orb

the nautiloid - where was he & where did he see the protag

gale - where was he kidnapped? ( 1 )

gale & yartar, the city attacked by mindflayers - where was he kidnapped? ( 2)

gale's love language - acts of service

gale's arcane hunger and its consequences

the missed potential of orin kidnapping gale

gale & masking - tell me more about yourself

epilogue - class specific skills gale learns from his s/o

to know you love me for the man that i am, not the magic i command... none have loved me so purely before - a closer look at gale & his relationship with the protag

gale & his love for his friends

gale's youth & time spent before the game's events

gale as professor at blackstaff academy

gale as a born sorcerer with a wizard's education

epilogue - gale, raphael, elminster and mystra

last night alive / act 2 romance scene cinematic notes

last night alive / act 2 romance scene devnotes

the drow twins scene

gale's scars - ea & full release

what do you need? - the red thread through gale's greetings

relationships with companions & npcs

gale & elminster - mentor, friend & paternal figure

minsc & gale - a meta about their relationship with each other

karlach & gale - a meta about the relationship between the two

gale & karlach - epilogue specific lines

what was i after all but a mortal plaything in sacred hands? - parallels between gale and shadowheart

gale & withers - epilogue specific lines

gale & the ash, the magma mephit

gale & lae'zel

gale & family

gale & morena

gale & tara - general dialogue

tara being protective of gale

gale & tara - epilogue banter

gale & tara - epilogue ambient banter

tara & her little love

tara can speak common but doesn't want to

tara likes to snoop through gale's things

dialogue collection of tara & gale

items

gale's epilogue outfit - items decriptions & analysis

god!gale's outfit - items details & analysis

gale's animation vs standard wizard animation - a comparison

the chosen's earring - idle champions item descriptions

tara in idle champions - item decriptions

armillary sphere - coliar, karpri, anadia

gale's companion icon

the epilogue room

piano playing

waterdeep

waterdeep's splendours - what makes waterdeep special

waterdeep's festivities and celebrations

ahghairon's lost nose - who was ahghairon?

gale, waterdeep & coinage - a meta about waterdeep's coins and gale's wealth

manycats alley & a hc

wedding traditions in waterdeep - the wedding band

waterdhavians and their way of life - class & station, character & temperament, other races, smalltalk

doth thy mirror crack - ambient dialogue & waterdhavian saying

waterdeep after the game ends - trouble is brewing

the hospice st laupsenn & gale's stay there

shorts

gale & home

the finer things in life

until we wake again, my love

scent - tim downie's hcs

colours associated with gale - tim downie's hcs

gale's themes - tim downie's hcs

epilogue - bookworm gale sneaking into various libraries & book shops

epilogue - epilogue description of professor vs god ending

epilogue - new hobbies

a look at gale's lifespan with an elven partner

quiet is not always peace

romance epilogue details - a closer look at outfits outfits & animations

idle animations - a closer look

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #tagging in case someone is interested #i'll try to keep this list up to date as much as possible

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quill-and-quiver · 2 days

Text

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: baldur's gate 3 | astarion acunín x gn!reader 𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: When Astarion lets it slip that he hasn't seen his own face since he became a vampire spawn, you take it upon yourself to be his eyes. And, as you assure him, he has a very good face. 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: artist!reader (sorta) | if u noticed anything i missed, pls let me know! 𝚆/𝙲: 2k — 9 min read time .·:*¨༺➻𝙰/𝙽: i'm so sure someone's already done this but ever since this scene triggered for me in like act 1 i been THINKING bout it. i combined some of the dialogue results for this one. he also never is not pretty like ??? r u joking. AND reqs are open! 🤍 mills

✧❦༺ 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙 |.☽.| 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 |.☽.| 𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 ༻❦✧

While you sit atop your bedroll trying to relax at camp, your eyes drift over toward Astarion’s tent. To your surprise, you catch beams of moonlight reflecting off of a shining surface. Intrigued, you get up from your seat and make your way over to him. As you approach, you slow your steps and carefully peer around his figure to see a beautiful, ornate silver mirror. Of course, there is no reflection within it aside from your own face.

“Looking for something?” the vampire spawn purrs.

Your eyebrows raise, and you tilt your head inquisitively as a smirk curves across your lips.

“How did you know I was here?” you ask.

“The only benefit to a mirror when you have my…condition. It doesn’t quite make up for the lack of reflection, mind you.”

You hum to yourself and nod. He turns to face you, dropping the mirror to his side. His eyebrows are knitted together, that signature anger decorating his handsome feline features.

“Do you miss it?” you ask, folding your arms over your chest. “Your own face?”

“Preening the looking glass? Petty vanity?” He scoffs. “Of course I miss it. I’ve never even seen this face - not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.”

“What color were they before?” you ask, the question slipping out before you have the chance to stop it.

“I don’t know…” he drops his gaze and his eyebrows furrow in deep thought. “I can’t remember. My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I’ve lost.”

He throws the mirror onto the dirt beside him. It lands with a dulled clink as Astarion’s face floods with fury. You breathe a sigh and gulp. Then, you cautiously step forward, craning your neck and narrowing your eyes to focus on him. He angles his head, quirking an eyebrow.

“What?” he asks quietly.

“Just looking.”

“And what is it that you see, exactly, when you look at me?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you formulate an answer. Suddenly, you can see all of him at once. Your artist’s soul drinks in each and every detail. You study his almond-shaped eyes, the delicate and noble curve of his nose, the grooves in his lips, his pointed ears and angular jawline. Your heartbeat pounds into your ears, and your chest tightens. You admire the way each part of him comes together to form that face, that cruel beauty. You can practically see the penciled lines on a scrap of parchment, the colors you would mix to get his skin tone right, the way you would paint him without the bite scars on his neck. The finished piece flashes before you. Your fingers twitch with anticipation.

“I see you,” you reply. “The creases when you laugh. The way your hair curls around your ears. That dangerous smile.”

His gaze softens, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He straightens, heaving a deep breath, and places his hands on his hips.

“Very good. Now just tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day.”

You smile and chuckle.

“You have nothing to worry about, Astarion. It’s a very good face.”

A full smirk breaks across his features, tugging one corner of his mouth upward. He eyes you mischievously, his gaze flicking up and down your figure, before he turns to pick up a book. You take that as your cue to leave and make your way back to your own tent

Though you try to settle down by reading a book you nicked off a drow corpse by the Ebonlake Grotto - The Great Furnace of Grymforge sounds incredibly important - you can’t keep yourself from looking back at your vampire companion. His words continue to echo in your head, over and over again.

I’ve never even seen this face, not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red.

The painting of him that you had imagined earlier flickers through your mind once again. You raise your head and peer around to see that most of your other companions have gone to bed for the night. You figure you should probably get some sleep too...

Despite your exhaustion, you find yourself reaching for a scroll of unused parchment.

You secure the paper to your wooden easel and open the paint set you tote around in your pack. After making a quick trip to the river to fill a bowl with water, you fish out the brushes and pencils you’ve collected. Once prepped, you take a deep breath and begin to sketch the preliminary lines. As you fill in the finer details, you take care to be as accurate as possible. Every so often, you sneak a peek at Astarion to ensure you’re doing the elf justice and to check on small details, though you are able to do most from memory. You could never quite explain it, but his image appears so clearly in your mind, every detail almost perfectly preserved like a painting in and of itself. He’s settled into the ideal expression as he reads, his features ghosted with deep anger but balanced with a controlled calm.

By the time you’ve finished the sketch, the rest of your party has fallen asleep, Astarion included. He’d walked toward his bedroll encircling the bonfire an hour ago. And, though he tossed you an inquisitive glance, he said nothing. Within a short time, he’d fallen asleep alongside the others.

You take to the paints beside you. In an artist’s flurry, you work quickly but carefully, taking full advantage of every shred of inspiration that you have at the moment. You do your best to match his colors under the soft candle and moonlight. You fully intend to revisit the piece during the day with more favorable lighting.

A few hours later, you’ve all but finished. Until you realize that you’ve left something extremely important out. Though you have sketched in his dark, piercing eyes, you’ve neglected to color them. Your shoulders fall as your conversation from earlier replays in your mind.

Your eyes lock on the blood red swatch of paint immediately, but you wonder…

You look back at the canvas, recalling the image of his face once again. Closing your eyes, you allow your mind to fill in the gaps. You envision Astarion in Baldur’s Gate, with a carefree smile and fine clothes, as the sun shines graciously upon his face. A smile spreads across your lips, and you instinctively reach for a color from your paint set. Satisfied, you open your eyes and get to work.

You haven’t even realized that you’ve fallen asleep until you wake from a kick to your boot. You jerk, your head and neck immediately pounding.

“Well, good morning, sleeping beauty,” Astarion’s familiar voice croons into your ear.

As you shift to sit up, your eyes blink to adjust to the harsh sunlight of the dawn as it rises over the landscape. When you attempt to straighten your neck, a pulsing pain ricochets through you. You grunt and reach a hand up to massage the sore muscles. You’d fallen asleep sitting up in a chair, your head obviously flopped to one side for several hours. Your eyes rake over the camp, observing the fact that everyone else is still resting. By the time you’ve gained enough consciousness to process what’s happening, you realize that Astarion is staring directly at your piece. You gasp and lunge, twisting your body to cover it.

“Oh, that-that’s not...finished. I was planning to make some last minute changes to it this morning, em…” you stutter as your heart pulses at a million miles a minute. You’re suddenly extremely embarrassed by yourself and wondering if you might have taken things a step too far by spending your entire night painting your…friend. Astarion just raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, it looked awfully finished to me, darling.”

He gestures for you to move out of the way, but all you can muster is a shake of your head. He frowns before grabbing onto your bicep and pulling you to the side. Though your brain says to fight him, your heart wants, with everything in you, for him to see it. For him to like it. You drop your gaze in shame, picking at your fingernails. He stands on his back foot. His eyes roam over the piece, his face expressionless. You clear your throat.

“You mentioned last night that you hadn’t seen your face since…well, I thought maybe you’d like to. I know it’s probably not a very good likeness, so please don’t take offense to it. And I wasn’t quite sure what color to make your eyes, so I-”

“Yes,” he muses quietly, in a tone so silent it’s almost imperceptible. He reaches toward the painting, his fingers hovering over the eyes. His shoulders droop. “They were green.”

You inhale sharply. You’d painted them green.

“I’d forgotten until now. Until you…” He tears his gaze away from the painting to take you in. Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel frozen under his unwavering eyes. “Until you helped me to see myself.”

He maintains your stare for a few more moments. You couldn’t miss the way his eyes soften and turn glassy. Nor the almost pink tint that fades into his cheeks. Astarion gulps and considers the painting once more.

“Is this how you see me? Genuinely?”

You inspect the painting yourself now. Last night you had felt so critical of it, fretting over the colors not being exactly right or the lines not matching up as you want them to. You often feel that way about your art. But now, in the daylight, you find yourself falling a little bit in love with this piece.

You drop to your knees alongside your companion, gently reaching out to cup his cheek. He stiffens at your touch but as you scan his features, you feel him ease and…is he leaning into your palm? Your thumb absentmindedly brushes across his cheekbone. He avoids your eyes. With a shaky breath, you look to the painting and grin.

Your inspiration served you well. It’s a spitting image as far as you can tell. You’ve managed to include the wisps of curl that brush against his pointed ears, the faint lines alongside his nose and mouth. Most of all, you’ve captured the sparkle of joy, the light so dim it’s almost vanished, that gleams in his eyes. Even after all that he’s been through.

“Yes. Because this is how you are. To me.”

His head whips around to you. His hands find yours, sandwiching your fingers between his own. Despite his bloodless complexion, his touch is warm and gentle. You step closer to him without even really intending to. He allows a rare smile, a genuine one, to turn up his lips. Your heart skips a beat as he bends down and brings his lips to your cheek. He presses a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your eyes flutter closed as you drink in the sensation of his lips on you so sweetly. He pulls back, sliding his cheek onto yours.

“Thank you," he whispers into your ear.

As he draws back, a yawn from one of your companions shakes you back to reality. Astarion’s smile remains. His eyes sparkle just in the way you’ve painted them. He squeezes your fingers before releasing them. You clear your throat, willing your sweating palms to dry themselves. You carefully lift the painting and hand it to your vampire spawn companion.

“Here. Keep it. I was planning on giving it to you anyway,” you say.

“Well, since I was the most inspired muse for your delicious little painting, I will,” he teases, flashing a sinister smirk which shows off his sharpened fangs. You chuckle breathlessly and nod.

He begins to walk away but pauses and glances at you over his shoulder.

“Oh and, next time, if you need a model, just ask, darling. I’d be more than happy to pose for you any time. In any position.”

Astarion snickers viciously as you feel your eyes go wide and mouth pop open in surprise. As he struts away, you rub your palms on your heated cheeks. He’s such a tease and yet…perhaps you’d take him up on his offer.

tags: @anukulee

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion acunin fic #bg3 fic #quill and quiver

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batsycline69 · 3 days

Text

Night & Day

Summary: Jason's night doesn't go as planned. As a result, neither does yours.

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 4,365

Content/warnings: profanity, canon-typical violence, mentions of blood

Jason wakes in a sweat.

He’s had this dream before; his body throbs, slick and sticky with blood. Each hit of the crowbar jerks his body.

He pushes himself up from the bed, his feet meeting the cold wood floors beneath him. He huffs, his head falling in his hands as he slumps towards his knees.

There’s no blood. Hell, there aren’t even the scars to prove what he went through anymore. It’s just Jason trapped in his own mind. The laughter echoes in his ears long after he wakes up, but the pain eventually fades into the back of his mind, a lingering nagging as he tries to grip onto reality and find something to distract himself.

Lines of light fall across the floor from the streetlamps pouring in through the venetian blinds. He’s been meaning to get curtains. He feels too exposed, even if the blinds are always shut.

When he was first resurrected, there were only so many memories he had to comfort himself with. Anything from his life with Bruce was immediately off limits, so he usually sought out Talia. The comfort she’d managed to offer him after all of that just by showing a little kindness.

A few days ago, he met you. You’d been kind to him too.

He told you to just call a ride instead of taking the train. He knew what happened in this neighborhood at that time of night. But you didn’t listen.

Jason knew you weren’t going to get onto that train without a hitch. He chose following you over the stupid drug bust. He figured there’d be time to take care of them later. He’d been right, of course, but after that, he froze.

You hadn’t been intimidated by him at the shop. But you’d seen him—the real him—and flinched. Not that he can blame you. It was a hell of an introduction on his part, barrel of his gun up against some guy’s head. In a city like Gotham? God, he could have been any creep.

But he’s him. He’s the same he’d been at the shop, but you don’t know that. And you can’t.

That doesn’t stop him from thinking of you. As he wakes from his nightmare, you’re there, and he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because your kindness is so straightforward. It’s not shrouded by trauma and odd gestures meant to translate to kindness. You talked with him, laughed with him. You got him food that you insisted he eat.

You’re better off without him. There’s a natural path for the two of you to never see each other again. It’s more work to not lose contact with you. Even with every part of him saying no, Jason makes the effort.

How’s your tattoo healing?

It’s still dark out, but it’s nearing 6 am now. As he sends the email, he hopes you get the idea he’s some sort of early riser. Maybe you think he’s less of a mess than he is. He’d let you think that, if you wanted to.

Part of him also worries about you. Not in some wild way, but after your close call with the guys at the train station, he doesn’t want you to be scarred for life. That may be overdramatic, but the point remains. That’s normal shit for him, but that’s not something you signed up for. That’s just the bi-product of living in Gotham.

His body collapses back into bed in a heap, his breath finally evening out. He’ll try to fall back asleep for at least an hour before he realizes it’s probably hopeless and gets up.

Mornings like this, he cooks. It passes the time. Dealers aren’t making deals this early. The shop doesn’t open until ten, but he sure as shit doesn’t want to be sitting around dwelling in his thoughts for longer than necessary.

So when Jason finally rises out of bed, he goes to the kitchen. He pulls out eggs and bread. Bacon, tomatoes, and cheese. Good salt, the salt that costs extra. He doesn’t have a lot of good these days, so he takes it where he can.

The Gotham underworld is lucrative, no surprise there. Jason has access to things he never would have as a kid. The sort of stuff he was introduced to at Wayne Manor. Except now Jason has them on his own terms. He didn’t need Bruce for it.

Bacon is on the stove sizzling as Jason’s old coffee machine gurgles. He’ll drink most of the pot by the time the sun rises. By now, there’s enough for him to focus on that he can push the dream to the back of his mind. He doesn’t need to think about the past. That’s why he has his plans. He has a future to look forward to. And if he has to be alive again, he’s going to make something of it.

Just the light above the stove is on. Jason likes the dark. Old habits and all that.

He fries up an egg until the ends get crispy. Toast, egg, sharp cheddar, bacon, and hot sauce. He takes a mug of coffee and his sandwich over to the small table up against the window and watches as the city wakes up.

It’s the most normal his day is going to look. These moments where his brain isn’t completely fixed on the job. He’s not trying to parse through whatever lying scumbag is coming into the shop. There’s no blood. It’s quiet.

The quiet is nice until it isn’t. Until it’s too quiet, and there’s nothing besides the quiet.

When he woke up, buried six feet under, it had been quiet. Except for his breathing. The claustrophobic weight. The crushing weight of the dirt as it pressed against him, as he fought to the surface.

You reply while he’s out taking his smoke break.

The tattoo itches, but it looks good, you say. I’ll send a picture once it’s healed.

His second appointment of the day, the one he goes to after he sees your email, is the type he usually sees. Some asshole that wants a skull on his arm to prove he’s tough. Someone who definitely isn’t you. But it’s not his place to wish it was. He feels ridiculous being so attached to you like a lost little puppy.

He wants to think of an excuse to see you again, but his mind is blank. Can’t just lure you to a dark alley for a chat like the people he’s normally trying to get in touch with. Yet again, just trying to be a regular person, he falls short. He doesn’t know how to navigate this. He spent the years he was supposed to figure this shit out in a box beneath the earth. As much as Talia taught him when he came back, he didn’t get flirting lessons.

There’s so much he doesn’t know about you. Sure, he could dig around and fight out a thing or two. That’s what Bruce would do, but he’s not Bruce. He doesn’t want to do that with you. He wants to just be Jason in your eyes, so that means keeping Red Hood as far away from you as possible.

Are you taking care of it?

It’s not flirting. It’s not smooth, either, but it does keep the conversation going.

During his next appointment, he has to push you to the back of his mind. The guy ends up being a small-time dealer. A guy who works for a guy who works for a guy sort of dealer. His license was scanned when he came in for the tattoo, and that means Jason has his address. There’s a lot he can learn from a license, assuming it’s real. Lucky for Jason, the dealer wasn’t smart enough to use a fake. Now he’s got a new lead, more heads to bust.

After the shop closes, he goes home. As he’s researching, he gets another response.

Yeah, I’ve been going swimming every day and using dish soap to keep it clean just like you said.

He smirks. You’re a smart-ass. That’s part of what he likes about you.

As he eats the leftover fried rice he heated up to the light of his laptop, he thinks about your appointment. The way you’d laughed over your dinner. The mischievous look in your eye as you teased him. He wished he had paid closer attention to that look because when he thought of you now, he saw that look of fear. That look directed at him. Guilt sat heavy in his chest because of it. You couldn’t trust him when he said he wasn’t going to hurt you. It was a good instinct. As much as it hurt, he wasn’t going to blame you for it.

Tonight, he’s going to kill. Becoming a crime lord isn’t pretty work, but he’s not about to shy away from it. If he has to spill blood, that’s what he’ll do. But he isn’t willing to risk that colliding into his memories of you either.

You’re separate from all of this.

Jason doesn’t regret being there for you at the train station. How could he? But at the same time, now you know, and that’s a liability. He doesn’t think you’d go around asking everyone, but he also doesn’t know you, and that fact remains even when his mind runs away from him to focus on your skin. Sure, Jason’s got the training to be able to read someone, but he’s not one to get too comfortable about such things.

This whole thing is still new. It’s precarious. Jason’s been back in Gotham weeks. There’s still plenty to be done, and he doesn’t need to be distracted.

Jason’s night doesn’t go as planned.

The dealers he’d been meeting with had gotten sloppy. A crew that got way too comfortable talking about sales in public. Batman got wind of it, but Jason was one step ahead. He got out minutes before Bruce arrived, and he didn’t leave anyone left alive to talk to. It’s messier than he’d like, but he doesn’t leave evidence. Whatever trail Bruce has picked up through them will run cold.

Just when he thinks he gets away without a hitch, he runs into the boss of the men unlucky enough to cross his path. He gets a shot in, but not before the boss grazed his thigh with a bullet. It bleeds, but it doesn’t go deep. Still, he can’t ignore it. He takes shelter in a residential area. He can keep a lower profile here if Batman is in the neighborhood, so he finds a dark alley to lick his wounds. He steams over how much carelessness has set him back, when a door slamming breaks his concentration.

And there you are.

You don’t see him in the darkness. You’ve got a bag of garbage in your hand heading towards the dumpster just a few feet away from where his back is pressed against the wall. It’s only a matter of time you see the faint glow from his mask, and he’ll see that same startled look on your face. He doesn’t want you to look at him in fear again.

The bag of trash clamors into the dumpster as you toss it in. You turn over your shoulder and freeze at the sight of someone standing just out of sight. And there’s that look. That same startled, caught in headlights look that’s been haunting him since he left you at the train station. He can’t stand it. So he raises his free hand and gives a small wave.

“Just me,” he says.

Recognition crosses your eyes as you fully find him in the shadows. “Oh,” you say, the sound getting drowned out by the light rain falling. Unconsciously—at least, he hopes—you take a half step away from him.

Yeah, maybe Jason should have thought this through a little more. So careful when he’s making his big plans, but all of the sudden, with you, he’s got his foot in his mouth and his brain where it shouldn’t be. Last you ran into him, he had been hidden out of sight, appearing suddenly to come to your rescue. And maybe doing the same thing outside where you presumably live isn’t a good look.

He should have gone on a rooftop somewhere.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he says.

It’s not a lie, but it’s not like the full version of the truth would offer you any comfort. I don’t think you’d like to hear that he’s on the run from Batman for killing a few guys. But is you potentially thinking he’s stalking you any better?

Your body is still rigid, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of your coat. “What are you doing down there?”

He wonders if you’ve got your pepper spray on him. You’d know better than to use it against him from your first run-in, but maybe you’re holding it now as a comfort. He’s not going to humor himself by believing you trust him. Even if he knows you’re safe with him, you don’t.

“Seemed like a good spot for a rest,” he replies.

The shadows across your face make it hard for him to really see where you’re looking, but he sees your back stiffen.

“Is that blood?” you ask, and now he’s sure your eyes are on his leg, fixed to the spot he was grazed. The concern is evident in your voice. Your eyes grow wide, and Jason all but sees the internal spiral happening on your face.

“Don’t worry, it’s mine,” he replies.

You stand, open-mouthed for a moment, the features of your face twisting further into confusion and worry. “Don’t worry?” you ask in disbelief. Your voice pitches slightly.

“Relax, it’s just a bullet graze. I’m fine.”

A moment of silence passes. Jason waits for the bleeding to slow a little. But once time passes without any sort of response from you, he looks up to catch your eyes wide in disbelief. Which is probably fair. At best, he sounds like an asshole being so casual about something like that. Sure, it’s Gotham, but even that’s a little much. Your obviously freaked out, and here he is acting cavalier.

Jason nods once. “Sorry. The people I’m usually around don’t get bothered about that sort of thing.”

You nod once, your arms crossing over your chest. “I bet.”

God, this is such a mess.

Your eyes flicker up from his wounded leg to the glowing white space where his eyes are beneath his helmet. Jason wishes so desperately to know what’s going on in your head. Do you see him as some sort of monster? Is there any bit of Jason you see beneath the helmet, even if you can’t actually know it’s him? Or has he blown all of this?

“Are you...okay?” you ask.

“I’ll be fine,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about me.” He thinks it’s silly you would in the first place. People have never worried about Jason; he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself. You shouldn’t be the first one to take on the hopeless task of worrying for him, especially not over some graze. Especially not some graze relative to all of the other things that’s happened to him.

If this is what happens when he a bullet grazes his leg, he can’t imagine what you’d think of everything else.

“So...what’s your deal?” you ask cautiously.

“My deal?” Jason replies, even though he knows exactly what you’re asking.

“Yeah. I mean...what kind of guy in a mask are you?”

There’s a rough, modulated laugh from behind the helmet. “Well, I scared off those guys the other night, didn’t I? What kind of guy does that make me?”

“You scared them off with a gun.”

“And? They didn’t hurt you either way, right?” Maybe there was no room for you to see anything in Red Hood, and maybe he was foolish to think otherwise. He wonders if that still leaves any hope for you and Jason.

“And you conveniently are in the same place as me at the same time. I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“So you think I’m stalking you, huh?” he asks with a light laugh.

“I don’t see how that’s funny,” you reply.

You don’t trust him. There’s no hesitancy to voice your skepticism. He has to admire you just a little bit, even if it is a stupid idea to be arguing with the guy you know is carrying a gun. Now he’s the one who’s going to start worrying about you, as if that wasn’t already the case.

“You live in a shitty neighborhood. You’re gonna see guys in masks around here.”

“It’s Gotham. Most of the neighborhoods are shitty. Are you always this evasive?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

There’s a pause as you look him over carefully. Even if you don’t trust him, Jason doesn’t want that to be the case. He wants you to believe that he’s not a threat to you. Not on purpose, at least. He showed up at the train station because the thought of those guys laying a single hand on you made his stomach roll.

He wants you to trust him now like you had trusted him with your skin.

“Listen, I was working in the area. Swear to god, it was a coincidence. I needed someplace quiet to patch up. I didn’t know you were here.”

You don’t seem totally pleased with the answer, but he can tell you could maybe eventually buy it. Again, you watch him carefully for a minute. Gotham is singing her usual song around you, sirens and rain hitting the rooftops. Somewhere a few blocks away, Jason swears he can make out a fight.

“Are you blinking under there?” you ask, sounding a little unnerved by the constant glowing where he can see what’s going on.

He laughs lightly. “Yeah, I’m blinking under here.”

“I tried to thank you the other day, but you were gone already,” you finally say. “So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jason replies, even though he had heard it. When you were focused on the train rolling in, he’d slipped back into the shadows, waiting until the sounds of the train had long died down just to be sure there wasn’t anything else that was going to interrupt your trip home.

There’s another beat before he speaks again. “So are you okay?”

You look at him, slightly surprised. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just glad you were there when you were.”

Jason nods. “Yeah, me too.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, your eye darting nervously back to his leg.

“I already told you, I’m fine.”

Your weight shifts. You’re hesitating, still not ready to accept his answer. “Do you...need anything?”

He wants to tell you not to offer help to guys like him. You’re being too nice, and not every guy is going to be like him. Maybe he’s just flattering himself, but he gets the idea this isn’t a universal openness. You’re testing the waters, weighing everything he says and does. He thinks about how you must be putting together one hell of a pros and cons list in your head right now.

Jason imagines what would happen if he said yes; maybe you would scurry up to your apartment. You would come back with three towels even if you thought he only needed one. You’d get him water or some food to keep his energy up. What would you bring out to share with the stranger who has a gun?

But Jason shakes his head. “I’m all set,” he replies. “Jacket’s got a lot of pockets.”

Thunder cracks overhead. You startle from the sound, gaze turning towards the sky as rain starts falling down harder around you both. With Jason’s helmet on, he’s not much bothered beyond the drops blurring his vision slightly, but you’re exposed.

“You should get inside,” Jason says, nudging his head back towards the door you came out of.

And, of course, you pause. He sees the way your eyes flicker nervously to his wound.

Jason shakes his head. “Don’t do it,” he says.

“Don’t do what?” you ask indigently.

“Invite me in to be polite and all that.”

You scoff. “Invite you in? Are you kidding me? You’ve given me next to no information about yourself. You’ve openly admitted you hang out with people who aren’t phased by getting shot--”

“’Hang out’ is an overstatement--”

“I am not inviting you up to my apartment. I’m sure you have dangerous friends you can stay with.”

With the helmet, you can’t see, but Jason smirks. You are warming up to him. The you from the shop is getting pulled out little by little. He’s glad to see you again.

When he doesn’t respond, you turn towards the door a little. “Well...good luck with your leg,” you say, fishing through your coat pockets. The movement picks up a little more, followed by a soft curse under your breath.

“Locked out?” Jason asks. He doesn’t bother to hide the pleased tone in his voice.

“I left my keys inside,” you grumble.

Jason rises to his feet, careful to stay off his wounded leg as much as possible. “Bummer,” he says. “Want me to pick the lock?”

You turn back over your shoulder, looking like you’re trying to suss out whether he’s joking or not. With the helmet on, he’s sure it’s hard to tell.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reminds you. “Just gonna get the door open for you, and then I’m out of here. Promise.”

A bright flash of lightning illuminates your face, and you nod. “Okay.”

You take a step back from the door, letting him at the lock, gnawing on your lips nervously. “What if someone catches you?”

“I’m not worried about it,” he replies.

“And if someone catches me with you and I get evicted? I’m a little worried about that.”

“I get I’m not exactly at the top of the list of trustworthy individuals, but I’m going to need a little more confidence from you.”

There’s a crash of thunder. The rain gets even just a little bit heavier as Jason fiddles with the lock until it opens. It only takes him a few seconds, but you don’t comment on it. He’s not sure if it’s because you’re not surprised he can do it that quickly or because you’re exhausted with everything you’ve learned about him in the past few minutes.

You look at the open door, then back at him. “Thank you,” you say. It’s a little reserved, but he sees the echoes of you sitting in his station at the shop. A hint that maybe his chances aren’t so doomed as he worried.

“You’re welcome. Stay out of trouble.”

One last time, your gaze drops down to his thigh before looking back up. “You too,” you reply, letting the door slam shut behind you.

He should take this as his sign to leave, but he lingers a minute. It’s long enough for him to just barely hear a window slide open overhead.

Above him, he sees your head peek out over the ledge of your fire escape. Your building has the old kind, the wooden ones that are without a doubt a safety hazard. When you see him looking up at you, you quickly disappear out of sight again. The shyness is a little endearing, he has to admit. Not that he’s been doing a great job fighting it to begin with.

He can’t tell what you’re doing, but he knows you’re still out there. The top level is about as tall as the tracks above him. You live close to the station. That makes him feel a little bit better about your trip home after your tattoo. At least the time you were exposed to more trouble was cut down because of that.

There’s a little movement up on the fire escape. You hang something off the edge, but he can’t quite make out what. He sees the top of your head as you climb back through your window, and then the faint glow coming from your window goes dark.

Jason waits one second longer, trying to decide whether he’s meant to see what you’ve left him or not. He decides he is, and makes the trek up the rickety ladder. Some steps give a little from rot. Even if his leg isn’t wounded too badly, he does feel it each of the steps up. He wonders if you left everything up on the fourth floor where you live to spite him for being so nonchalant about getting hit.

When he finally makes it up to where you’ve left him a surprise, he sees your curtains are drawn shut. There’s no sliver of light peeking through. He wonders if you turned the lights off so he couldn’t see you trying to stay hidden while getting a look at him.

Hung over the railing is an umbrella. One he knows you didn’t have with you when you were out with him. You put it out here for him, even with his helmet on. Maybe as a thank you for helping you inside. Maybe as a way of toeing the line of you saying you won’t invite him in.

He could be anyone, but you gave away where you lived. He’d done enough for you to trust he wasn’t going to take advantage of this knowledge. But as the rain starts to get a little harder, he leans up against the brick of your building and opens up the umbrella. He can keep his leg dry until the rain lets up, at least.

Sitting out of the rain in the safety of your rickety fire escape, Jason makes the decision he’s going to ask you out for a drink tomorrow morning. Not him, Red Hood, but the tattoo artist. He knows for certain he’s not going to be able to keep you off his mind now.

He hopes tonight, he dreams of you.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider giving this a reblog 💛

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason #x reader

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ecstarry · 2 days

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"Regulus' Birthday" - a sweet microfic set in the same universe as my fic Dare to Stay // @fromagony @godsofwoes // 486 words

“Happy Birthday, love.” Regulus was awaken to the soft voice of his James. His James. His James waking him up. With a gentle kiss, on his birthday. In his bed. He slowly opened his eyes as a smile adorned his face.

“Good morning, Jamie.”

It was their first big celebration together ever since they shared their first kiss a few months ago. They had longed for each other too many years to waste a single day apart. James was good at making up for lost time.

“Get dressed, the boys have a surprise for you.”

He quickly put on some pants and James’ shirt from yesterday. He loved nothing more than smelling like him first thing in the morning. James held the bedroom door for him, and as Regulus passed him by, James grabbed him from behind, placed his chin on Regulus’ shoulder and very gently whispered “I love you.” Three words that never failed to send a shiver through Regulus’ spine.

Regulus turned around, his hands instinctively cupping James' face. "I love you too, Jamie."

“Let’s go, love. I can feel the boys getting impatient.”

Giggles and tiny voices grew louder as they walked down the stairs. When they reached the last step Regulus stopped dry. The entrance had a big banner reading ‘Happy Birthday’ in fun colors, and ‘we love you’ written under it in what was clearly Harry and Draco’s writing.

Before he could even process the overwhelming warmth that was filling him, two little boys rushed towards his arms with such a force that he fell over.

“Happy birthday Uncle Reggie!” Said Draco as he kissed his cheek.

“Aaaaah!” Harry just screamed as he also launched himself towards a fallen Regulus. Harry hugged him tightly, a gesture Regulus held onto dearly just as much as the first time it happened.

“Okay, let’s give my fiancé some space on his big day. Let’s go show him his surprise.” James helped him up and they followed the boys towards the kitchen.

Like two miniature guards, Draco and Harry stood on opposite sides of the pantry door.

“One, two, three!”

“Surprise!” Sirius said as the doors opened and ran towards Regulus to embrace him.

“I thought you were going to be away,” Regulus whispered to his brother’s ear while holding onto him.

“I have never spent a birthday away from you, I was not going to start now little brother.”

Regulus couldn’t help the tears falling down his cheeks. He remembered the loneliness and desperation that filled his fifteen year old self. He was now living a reality that once upon a time felt like a fantasy. Something unattainable, something someone like Regulus Black would never deserve.

He now had everything he had ever longed for.

There, one day in July, standing in the kitchen of Potter Manor, Regulus Blacked had no more scars left to heal. He was happy. Entirely and blissfully happy.

here's the complete fic that started it all

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hattiewritesalot · 3 days

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am i allowed to cry?

Eris Vanserra x fem!reader

Summary: After a particularly harsh punishment from his father, Eris is left choking on his own emotions, and the guilt that comes with them. Pain is weakness, until it comes to his mate, Y/N. Set before the events of ACOTAR

Warnings: parental abuse, mentions of Beron 🤢, lots of angst, lots of hurt/comfort. unedited lol

A/N: I’ve had this idea in my head for ages and I figured I should finally write it (title is from guilty as sin by Taylor Swift)

———————————————————————————

Eris’ shaking hand clutches at the cloak he’s wrapped around his aching form, stumbling and limping back to his chamber, desperate to get somewhere private before, Cauldron forbid, any of his brothers see him.

The lashes on his back sting with the force of a thousand needles, the prickly pain curling around his spine and puncturing his muscles.

They’ve never hurt like this before. Maybe he’s getting weak.

Eris Vanserra would rather die than be known as weak, but right now? With gory gashes up his back? With bitter tears pooling at his lashlines? With a broken heart to match the shattered fragments of his childhood? He’s nothing but weak.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

He’s a dishonour to his family, to his court, to his people- to his mate. His precious mate, with her soft hair and sweet smile. She’s always been too good for him. His father himself had uttered it under his breath the moment he’d introduced Y/N to his family.

He hopes she isn’t in their chambers.

He hopes she’ll never see this weakness that has possessed him.

He shoves the heavy door open, eyes darting around the vacant room. Thank the Mother, Y/N must still be on her evening trip to the library. He moves quickly, tossing the bloodstained cloak on the floor, and turning towards the mirror.

The pale skin of his back is torn, the crimson of his blood coating just about every inch of it, covering the splashes of freckles and old scars.

Eris can’t control the tears that start to trickle down his cheeks.

This is dreadful. Not the gashes, those he’s used to. But the tears. He’s not allowed to cry. When did he become so weak!? When did he let himself become so susceptible to the raging emotions that have taken hold of his soul? When did-

“There you are, I was wondering when you’d be back-“ Y/N walks out of the bathroom, a bright smile on her face, but she’s too quick for him to hide.

Her face falls. She sees the blood. She sees the wounds. She sees the tears.

She sees the weakness.

Eris can’t speak. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is a loud sob.

Weak. Weak. Weak.

But then, her gentle voice fills his ears, and her hands cradle his face, lips kissing away the tears on his cheeks. “You’re okay.” She murmurs. “You’re gonna be okay, honey. I’ve got you.” He sobs harder. She fetches a cloth, hastily soaking it with cold water, and starts to swipe at the blood on his back, letting him bawl into the crook of her neck like a baby. “I’ve got you. Let it out, Eris. You’re allowed to cry.” No, he’s not. He’s weak. Weak, weak, weak-

“You’re so strong, baby.” She whispers.

…what?

“You’re so strong, so brave. You’ve been holding this in for so long.” She kisses his hair, continuing to gently wipe the blood away. “My strong mate, I love you so much.”

“No-“ He chokes out. “No. I’m weak.”

“Why do you think you’re weak, Er?”

He frowns. Isn’t it obvious? “I’m crying.”

“You just got beaten by your father. I’d be surprised if you weren’t crying.”

“But still, I shouldn’t be crying. I shouldn’t be weak.”

“I cry. Do you think I’m weak?”

He gapes at her. “N-no-“

“Exactly. Case closed. You’re not weak either.”

He’s silent for the next ten minutes while she treats his wounds. He watches her pretty face, pondering what he did to be so lucky to be her mate.

When she’s done, she pulls him down on the bed with her, positioning him to lie on his stomach between her legs. She twists his red hair in her fingers. “So strong.” She repeats. And the heir to the Autumn Court says nothing, nuzzling his nose into his mate’s neck. If she thinks he’s strong, then by the Cauldron, he supposes he is.

———————————————————————————

i am an eris vanserra stan first and then a person

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris vandaddy #eris x oc

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to-the-stars8 · 2 days

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Reviving Love

Jason Todd x Reader Chapters AO3 MDNI 18+

Chapter 11

Jason didn’t like not being in control.

When things weren’t under his control that meant the plan had been fucked. As Thalia had taught him, sometimes not being in control wasn’t bad if you could use your other skills to manage it. In regards to his job as a crime lord, vigilante, anti-hero— whatever the fuck he was, he could handle it without a second thought. He had experience with vigilantism. Recent experience, anyway.

With love, the same couldn’t be said.

As Jason pondered on the subject, he quickly realized that his infatuation with you didn’t stop at innocent liking. No, this wasn’t the same teenage, high school love that only involved hand-holding and shy kisses. This was serious—adult.

Jason couldn’t get the picture of you bent over your kitchen counter out of his head. When he closed your eyes he could practically hear your moans and skin slapping against skin. Jason wanted to breathe you in, taste you, feel you in ways that would make anyone blush.

And, the thought terrified him.

At the ripe age of twenty-one not once had Jason known the touch of a partner. He’d been too focused on work and the thrills it provided. Granted, it wasn’t like there was much time for romance between him being dead at fifteen and him being an infamous crime lord. Now, thinking about touching you in such an intimate way scared him.

He could hardly sleep over it. Every time he’d lie in bed Jason’s mind would battle it out on the subject of wanting to have sex and, when he finally managed to sleep, he couldn’t help but dream of it.

In his dreams, you whispered the filthiest things in his ear as he sunk into you. Your hands would run over his body, touching every scar and muscle, as you begged for more. Jason’s mind, when he was asleep, could openly admit that he wanted to fuck you. When he was awake, it terrified him to think of such an admission.

“Fuck,” Jason seethed as he sat up in bed. Running his hand through his hair as he looked down at the tent in his boxers.

There was a battle if he should just ignore his hard cock and slide back into sleep, but his body begged for some release. Slowly, like he could have been caught at any second, his hand slid into his boxers. When Jason’s hand gripped the base of his cock, he gasped. He hadn’t realized just how sensitive he was.

He shouldn’t have been thinking of you under him because he didn’t know if he could do it. His biggest fear was that this whole thing with you was a dream. He wanted to be vulnerable with you, but he was afraid just when he got that little piece of comfort it would be ripped away from him.

You weren’t like Bruce, Catherine, Joker, or Shelia. You were you. All he had were happy memories when it came to you. You were his first date, friend, and kiss—all of those sweet, comforting memories that got him through the roughest moments were due to you. Even now, you were his first date since he’d been back, and the one reviving his love life.

Sucking in a breath, Jason imagined you again. It wasn’t voluntary, but he didn’t push it away this time. Freeing his cock from his boxers, Jason gasped at how aroused he was. His cock was throbbing, the pink tip oozing precum, and all he wanted to do was finish. Running his hand back up his cock, Jason imagined it was you jerking him off.

“Fuck, you’re hard,” You’d say into his ear. You’d kiss his neck, hand moving fast to get him off.

Jason whined. “Oh, fuck, babe. Just like that.” You’d moan into his ear, hand gripping his cock a little tighter, and suck a hickey into his neck. Jason’s mind went into a haze as he continued to jerk his cock.

Closing his eyes, he wished that you were there now. That, while his walls were down, you could be there to comfort him, kiss him, love him. Love, the word made his eyes snap open with a groan. Fuck, Jason would love you so good, and the thought of doing so made aroused him further. There wouldn't be a day when you didn’t know just how loved you were. All things beautiful deserved to be worshipped, and, goddamn it, if you didn’t deserve that at the very least.

Jason’s hand was gliding over his cock, his precum acting as a lubricant, and closed his eyes again. He pictured you breathing against his ear, begging to be near him as you kissed his neck.

“I miss you,” You said in his imagination. “I want you, Jason.”

“I want you, too,” He whispered before letting out a long whine. Damn, he was getting close. “I want you so fucking bad. I’ve missed you so much, baby.”

You chuckled against his ear, pressing your imaginary lips against his jaw before saying, “Show me just how much.”

Jason opened his eyes just as he came, coating his hand and boxers in cum. He breathed through his teeth in an attempt to hold back loud, aching moans. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he tried to imagine you again, but, like the fleeting height of his pleasure, you were gone. In an instant, his walls were up again. Jason let out a short breath of air before getting up again. He needed to clean himself up because the last thing he wanted to do was to wake up with this sticky reminder.

When he returned his phone lit up on the nightstand and he grabbed it as he sat. Two messages had just come up on his phone, one from you and one from Dick. They were minutes apart, and Jason found the coincidence slightly amusing. He swiped on your name first, reading your message.

I saw this and thought of you almost instantly lol

Under the message was a picture of a big angry-looking cat with the caption ‘socially awkward’. Jason chuckled, albeit not totally picking up what you were putting down. He simply replied with a ‘lol’ before opening up Dick’s message.

So, when were you going to tell me about you and your new little girlfriend?

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iliketangerines · 3 days

Note

I’ve read the onsen AU featuring the Earthrealmers and I like it a lot. Can you also write the same thing but with the Outworld men: Rain; Havik; Reiko; Shao; Reptile; Shang Tsung ?

my obedient servant

a/n: easing back into the writing mindset

pairing: nitara, rain, havik, reiko, general shao, shang tsung, syzoth x gn!reader

warnings: suggestive, dubcon, biting kink

you try to catch your breath and calm yourself as you stand to the entrance of the hot springs, shifting in your place as you hold the tray of tea cups

your outfit barely covers your figure, and the collar around your neck reminds you of your place every time you breathe

the only solace you have is that Syzoth will be nearby as you serve tea to Shang Tsung and his collaborators

speaking of, Syzoth finishes brewing the pot of tea and puts it onto your tray, giving you a small nod of reassurance as you take a breath

you turn to the entrance and walk in with careful steps, keeping your gaze low to the ground as you present yourself to Shang Tsung and his friends

Quan Chi isn’t here, but you shiver as you remember your last encounter with the sorcerer, perhaps Shang Tsung had sent him something to do

Shang Tsung hums approvingly at your outfit and orders you to serve his friends quickly, and you comply, taking hurried but careful steps on the slippery ground as their conversation continues

you first pour a cup of tea to a man with dark skin and black hair, and he looks at your with warm brown eyes, thanking you for the tea and holding the cup gently in his hands

all you give is a silent nod before moving on to the next person, and he gives a disapproving grunt at the sight of you

he has a hard face, deep lines of anger settled into his face as long with the scars that litter his body, indicating his past role as a slave

you wonder what he thinks of you, with the collar around your neck and the way you bend so easily to Shang Tsung’s will after so much time being underneath him

his hands take the tea cup from yours, and you glance up just a short moment to see how he stares at you

his eyes are angry, disapproving at the sight of you, and you quickly pick up your tray to move onto the next person

your hands move quickly as you feel the next man’s impatience falling off of him in roves, and you hastily give him his tea

he grabs it away from you, his blue eyes stare straight through you, as if you’re a person not worth even acknowledging, and somehow the collar on your neck feels heavier than before

you move on to the large man next to him, a pair of horns curving upward and body covered in rough scales, and even sitting in the baths, he still feels bigger than life itself

he takes the cup of tea from your hands roughly, and similarly to the blue-eyed man, he doesn’t acknowledge you at all and continues talking to Shang Tsung about plans

you reach a woman with wings that flutter in the water, and she stares at your neck hungrily, her lips parting to reveal a set of fangs as she licks her lips

she turns to Shang Tsung as you give her her cup of tea, and she asks who you are, eyes roving over the figure of your body

you shiver and go over to Shang Tsung, kneeling by his side and giving him his tea

he tells them all that you are his personal servant, that you do everything he tells you to do, and he gives them all a tilt of his head a smirk

suddenly, the blue-eyed and draconic man have placed their gaze on you, eying you up and down, while the scarred man gives Shang Tsung a look of contempt

the woman asks if Shang Tsung would be so kind as to lend you to them, her breaths coming out a little shallow as she stares at your neck, and you struggle not to tremble in your spot

for a second, the sorcerer says nothing, just staring at them while humming thoughtfully, and then he smiles and says he can learn to share if they can offer something in return

the woman agrees almost instantly, promising something of value as your ears fill with a buzzing and you try to focus on your breathing

she crawls out of the hot springs elegantly, wings shaking off the water as she stalks toward you and then nearly falls on top of you

her sharp nails dig into your skin as she buries her face into your neck and takes a deep breath of your scent

you can’t help but let out a small sound as her tongue licks at your pulse point and her teeth graze against your sensitive skin

you’re trembling, trying to stay still and be good, to not get into trouble, and the woman hums in approval, baring her teeth and moving the collar to the side slightly to sink into your flesh

it hurts, burns almost, and you finally let out a loud whine, your hands flying up to grip at her shoulders to try and deal with the pain

your eyes squeeze shut, and you whisper out a please as she drinks from you, moaning at the taste of your blood

she drinks her fill, body pressing further into yours as she finishes up, and when she pulls away, she almost looks drunk, eyes hazy as she stares into yours

you’re not in any better state, feeling a little sick and woozy from the loss of blood, and she compliments your taste, saying you taste so sweet and warm

you can barely hear anything as you hear some others offer something in exchange to have a taste of you

all you can hear is the ringing in your ears, and the woman is still holding onto you tightly

the others start to crawl out of the pool towards you and Shang Tsung, and you were right, the draconic man was larger than life, his shadow casting over you

you can feel their smiles as they crowd around you, each of them wanting to have their fill of you first

the woman hisses at them, saying that she isn’t done, before taking you out of the crowd, wrapping a towel around herself hastily before dragging out of the hot springs to wherever

you can only catch a glance of Syzoth, a look of worry on his face, before the woman turns a corner and Syzoth disappears

she drags you through the familiar hallways to a room that you had cleaned this morning, and she shoves you in haphazardly

you can barely react before her lips are on you again, sucking and biting gently at your skin to mark you up, and her hands are all over your skin

she pushes you backwards until you both fall back onto the bed, the excessive pillows cushioning your landing

she rips at your clothing, revealing your chest to her, and she goes to nuzzle into your chest and lick along the skin

you whimper, and your hands clutch onto the sheets, too afraid to hold onto her and incur her wrath

the woman continues down the length of your body, kissing along your stomach and leaving small little love bites everywhere she could manage

she reaches your bottoms and rips them off in a similar fashion to your top, and you squeak as she spreads your thighs and nuzzles into them lovingly

she licks at the skin, sniffing along your thigh, before humming in delight and sinking her teeth into you

you moan at the feeling, face burning as she chuckles into your thigh at your arousal, and your bring the back of your hand to press against your eyelids to try suppress the embarrassment

finally, the woman pulls back, licking at the excess blood before moving onto your other thigh and biting into the flesh as well

you’re beginning to feel woozy, to feel tired and like the world was blurring along the edges, and you whisper out that you can’t go any further

if she heard you, she ignores you and continues her feast on your blood for another minute, moaning into your thigh when she finally finishes drinking you

she stays down there, just watching the blood trickle down your thighs before crawling up to face you and nuzzle into your neck

her teeth press into your skin but not breaking it as she cuddles into your warmth, and you’re not sure what to do

usually, Shang Tsung would just leave after he’s with you, but this woman just keeps cuddling into your warmth

experimentally, you bring your hand up to cradle the back of her head, and she doesn’t react, just dozing off into your neck

this wasn’t so bad, if you could get past the nauseous feeling in your stomach and the way your head felt so light

unfortunately, you couldn’t say the same for the others that had made a deal with Shang Tsung

you learned their names very quickly as they ordered you to their rooms or would drop in for a discussion with Shang Tsung and then by yours for a quick fuck

Rain was gentle, loving, soft with his words and as sweet as the finest Outworld wines, but there was something bitter in his movements

perhaps it was the way he bruised your hips as he gripped onto them, or the way he grimaced and sucked hickeys over the marks of your other lovers

and then there was Reiko, angry and rough and almost stiff in his movements

his calloused hands provided no relief for you as he only chased his own high, and he loved to bite you as Nitara did, but with none of the tenderness of the Vaeternian

he shouted angry insults and demands to you, wanting everything you could possibly give

his superior, Shao was softer, made gentle with experience, and he gave you some reprieve for your troubles, moaning into your skin as he made you see stars

the general’s marks were deep, lasting, and his size never failed to make you tremble in his arms as you cried

but he would kiss away the tears, a low voice telling you that you were doing well before he continued with finding his own release

Havik never showed, but sometimes you would see him around

he would send you a sympathetic look, give Shang Tsung a disgusted look, but he kept his quiet, clearly angry about you but not in a position to bring up your entrapment

but sometimes, he would find you in the hallways and gift you a sweet, a treat here and there, and then he would leave

then, of course, there was Shang Tsung, never as sweet as Rain or as comforting as Shao or as direct as Reiko

he kept you guessing, always subjective and slippery in his wants, and the sorcerer enjoyed the pained look on your face as he pinned down your hips and punished you

he was cruel and cold toward you, delighting in your suffering, but you still listened to him, stuck under his control

the only reprieve was that Syzoth was here to patch you up, hold your hand and keep you warm in the coldness of the dungeons

he never pushed, never prodded, just held you as you heal from your wounds, and pet your hair

Syzoth was so sweet and gentle and would often tell you stories of the road, of the circus and his travels to sooth you to sleep

he was your comfort in the hard lines and rules under Shang Tsung, and you appreciated him for it

perhaps you would be able to escape with him one day, back into Outworld and get away from it all

but for now, you are stuck in the cold dungeon with him and on beck and call for Shang Tsung’s wants and needs

#mortal kombat #mk #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #shang tsung x reader #rain x reader #havik x reader #reiko x reader #syzoth x reader #general shao x reader #nitara x reader #tangerine writes #tangerine answers #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n

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fuji-sen · 1 day

Text

MONSTER UNDER THE BED

a scar x reader oneshot / miniseries ༉‧₊˚༉‧₊˚.

based on the music video: Monster under the bed by Emily Mei.

fandom: wuthering waves (game)

characters: reader, Scar (delinquent and jock-ish?), Rover, mentions of Baizhi.

setting: modern au, characters (most) are in a college setting.

warnings 🖤❤️: stalking, yandere themes, drugging, kidnapping, obsession, lovesick???, scar, off the scene violence, suggestive intimacy or gifts (used underwear), suggested sex behind the scenes.

disclaimer: made when wuthering waves recently got out, so characters may seem ooc in the future. If it does seem ooc, I'll maybe consider rewriting it in the future.

˖⁺ ・🔪⋆ ♡ 💌・ ⁺ ˖

You stare at the man who towered over you, your body was sprawled on your bed, the sheets in a state of disarray, your room was dark except for the soft moonlight that poured in from your window. Your hair and skin was wet, and you were in nothing but a towel as you had gotten out of the bath.

Fluffy locks of peppermint colored hair framed the man's face very well, his eyes, mismatched just like his hair, stared deep into her eyes with a nearly indescribable emotion.

His hands held your wrists, pulling your arms above your head, his weight nearly holding you down. His lips tugged to a smirk, "I got to say, you put up quite a fight, and a cute one at that but.."

"You're no match for me little lamb."

a year ago...

It was just the start of your second year at college at Jinzhou Academy. Your hands smoothened the creases of your uniform as you stood at the entrance of the main building. Numerous students walked by, some had different colored hair, others had scars or echos for pets or assistances, some were focused on their textbooks and school work.

"(name)!" A voice called you over, and you turned to greet your friend, Rover, who had a mop of black hair and enchanting gold eyes. They made their way towards you, "sorry I kept you waiting!" they apologized.

You shook your head with a smile, "it's alright Rover, what kept you busy?"

"Almost got into trouble with Scar.." The black haired student sighed in annoyance, your brows raised as your interest was piqued by the mere mention of the name, 'Scar.' He was one of the more famous delinquent or troublemaker at Jinzhou. That's all you knew, you were relatively quiet, bordering on introvert, and although you did have friends, you never made it a mission to seek more having been buried by your curriculum.

"I suggest you stay away from him." Rover grimaced, noticing your curious look. You quickly scoff "oh come on, I'm not stupid." you brushed their expressions off.

"Well, well, well" an unfamilliar voice was heard by you two, and you find another student, in a much more incomplete and messy uniform and a rather bloodied state, approach you. Specifically Rover.

The scarred face student wrapped an arm around your friend's shoulder, "how could you snitch on me Rover~! and I just thought we were warming up to each other!" he sighed playfully hurt.

You scanned his appearance, his tie was loose, merely hanging on his neck, the top buttons of his shirt wasn't buttoned, and instead of the blazer or vest, he opted for a striking red jacket/coat, His hair was messy yet looked so fluffy, with the colors of red and white. His eyes were mismatched, perhaps heterochromia? he had red and grey hair, complimenting and matching his hair.

"Get off me Scar!" Rover's words fell on deaf ears as Scar laughed. "Oh come on, you're just rubbing more salt on my wounds" Scar said, a hand on his chest "and after I made the offer for you to join us!"

"I don't want to join!"

You weren't paying attention, continuing to scan the male, he had gold earrings and black gloves, he also had a black bag around his chest, and you could see the numerous scars around his arms perhaps from hard labor or countless fights.

On his face was a large scar, but it seemed to only enhance his beauty, his hands were stained with almost dried up blood, some of it was smeared on his face.

Your brows furrowed, 'what is this feeling..?' you wondered, as you placed a hand on your chest, looking conflicted. Your cheeks were starting to get flushed and your heart was beating rapidly.

"Are you okay (name)?" Rover shrugged off Scar as they made their way to you, worried clear in their eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine." You reassured him as you still continued to look at Scar, who finally turned his attention towards you.

The smile on his face had widened, "and who's this little lamb?" Scar asked and feeling threatened, Rover put their arm in front of you, as if guarding you from the slowly approaching student.

Scar easily slapped Rover's hand away, he leaned towards you, enough for you to smell ashes and smoke. "your name?" he asked, his smile seemed to mellow into a more charismatic one, less of the manic one like before. It seemed more like a mask.

You gave him your name despite Rover's objections.

And seeing as how hopeless it was to stay, Rover took you away, you'd glance back as you walk, and your eyes would meet mismatched ones.

"It's a shame our short date had to come to an end." He pouted as you got farther and farther.

Whether or not he was serious, you didn't care to know. You find yourself focusing on your own feelings, researching at google, you find that the answer was that you simply fell for the scarred student.

You couldn't tell Rover however or seek guidance, they didn't seem to like scar and you didn't trust your other friends.

You could remember how you got to that point in the future.

It started with the little things.

It was your and a few of your classmates' designated cleaning day, but you find yourself alone in the classroom, your cleaning mates decided to play hooky yet again. You frowned but shook it off, there was nothing that could be done. You begun to push the chairs in the desk and erasing the blackboard. But the eraser was filled with chalk so you opened the windows and began hitting the eraser so the dust would fly off.

And then your eyes seemed to catch a peppermint haired boy, and you couldn't stop staring as he played soccer, he skillfully dribbled the ball pass his opponents and kicked it, scoring a point for his team.

leaning forward and eyes squinted to try and get a better look at him as he raised his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, and then-

A gasp escaped your lips, jumping away from the window, as if sensing your stare, he turned to look at your direction, you started to sweat, some part of you hoped that he wasn't looking at or for you, but there was another part of you, a small and tempting voice, that spoke, making you think he was looking at you intentionally, like he knew you were there.

And so you continued on with your cleaning.

Your everyday routine started to change, adapt as you continued to increasingly seek out Scar. Not in a social or chatting way, but in a stalker type of seeking out.

Rover and your other friends could sense your change, but was unable to point out what changed specifically, and you learned to hide it.

The gallery of your phone was slowly filled with candid shots of the apple in your eyes. That one previously empty space in your cabinet was starting to get filled by trinkets and printed out photographs and sticky notes of your 'senpai', your love.

Trinkets such as used bottles or pens or handkerchief you stole from him while he wasn't in his classroom. Sticky notes that filled with compliments and notes about him.

Scar note #1: he doesn't like bitter food or overly sweet and fatty foods.

Scar note #5: he's a member of the sports club while also being in a gang or group named Fractsidus.

Scar note #7: he's having difficulties with science but excels in PE.

You got more bolder as you become more skilled in stalking him, you'd start to leave gifts or anonymous notes inside the drawer of his desk or bag whenever you could. Your gifts vary depending on your mood,

sometimes it was meticulously written notes for his science class, one you had to work hard to learn yourself and even have to ask Baizhi for help, other days you'd leave snacks or bottled drinks for him, food that you knew he liked.

once you were bold, and perhaps becoming more sick? perverted? horny? in love, you sent a pair of your underwear. used ones even, with a particular scent and a white patch.

And yet, your gifts garnered no outward reaction from Scar, at least, from what you could tell.

Even helping him clean or patch up his wounds, or directly communicating or interacting with him face to face, although he regarded you with playfulness or amusement, to you it didn't seem like he was interested in you at all.

But it did not deter you, it motivated you even, like a moth to a flame or perhaps Icarus and the sun. You knew he was dangerous or just bad for you, but it didn't stop you, you wanted him, and you were willing to do whatever it takes to have him.

The notes on your closet became more erratic and less cutesy, the handwriting deepened, almost ripping the paper.

My love <3

So handsome 𖹭

I will have him.

MINE.

You find yourself investigating, procuring questionable materials like a stun gun and thick long rope. You begun to fall into a rabbit hole, and you began to slip in terms of cautiousness, but perhaps that will be for another oneshot~

˖⁺ ・🔪⋆ ♡ 💌・ ⁺ ˖

And then you did it, you finally snapped as you heard that someone planned to confess to Scar. You grabbed a small bottle that had grinding up sleeping pills and headed to school. You finally decided you were going to get what you so desperately wanted.

. . .

You knew Scar's schedule well, and so you knew the perfect time to strike. Scar usually stayed at School very late at night, seemingly doing something on his laptop in the library. And so while he was away having went to the bathroom, you grabbed his bottle from the desk, opening it to hear a fresh pop and then you sedated it.

You left as quickly and as quietly as you came, hiding behind the numerous shelves of the library, you managed to peek through an opening, watching him return, behind his back you could see him reach for the bottle and.. he drank it.

And when he soon fell asleep, you took him away to your apartment. You closed his laptop quickly, putting it in his bag which you also brought to your apartment with you.

After maneuvering around the cameras and stuffing him unceremoniously in a guitar case which he surprisingly fitted in?? Scar was on your bed, and you were slightly out of breath, your hand reached to brush his locks away from his face "I'm sorry I had to put you in a guitar case" you softly apologized, "ah~" you leaned towards his face "you are so beautiful" your fingers would graze his scar, and then he stirred.

With wide eyes you quickly tied him up and tape his mouth, you began to stretch your arms, and mentally you decided to go take a bath.

As you get a towel and headed to the bathroom you closed the lights of the room and went out, quietly closing the door.

In the bathroom, you quickly stripped off all your clothes and after filling the bathtub with water, you dipped your toes and then entered the bathtub. You sighed in relief, praising yourself on a rather productive day.

Once you were done you got out of the bathtub and wrapped a towel around yourself, cursing as you remember you forgot to bring a change of clothes. And you walked back to your room, ignoring the wet puddle you tracked in the hallway.

Entering your bedroom you find that something was off but seeing him sleeping soundly on your bed you relaxed, you headed to your cabinet, maneuvering in your dark room to not bother your sleeping love.

As you were about to open your cabinet someone pulled you, and you find yourself in the present predicament.

back to the present

"You're no match for me little lamb."

You stared at him, a bit pale, cheeks flush at the intimate position you were in, your mouth was open but you were unable to express any words.

"Got nothing to say huh?" he laughed in amusement as his grip on your wrists loosened. "Did you think I was that careless to get kidnapped by you?" He questioned and you looked at him as the gears in your head started to turn.. "you let me?"

"Of course, you were such a devoted little lamb, I just had to reward you." He cooed, his other hand cupping your face and you purred, leaning into his warm touch.

"I see" you said softly and you find yourself relaxing, if he willingly let himself get kidnapped by you, then there was some mutual feelings or respect,, right?

Scar hummed, taking his hand away from your cheek causing you to pout, "now how should I reward you next? you did a lot for me after all, such a good little lamb." he said, his hand made its way to your neck, his fingers trailing down, leaving fire in its trail as your body began to feel hot.

You squirmed under him as he reached your collarbone, it taunted you, almost daring it to go further down and perhaps under your towel.

"What do you want?" he asked, there was something burning in his eyes, a look you were familiar with.

"You."

He laughed but didn't seem opposed or disgusted, if anything he seemed pleased, "Good, but if you want me, you have to give yourself to me in return." he told you.

"You already have me."

His eyes crinkled in some sort of twisted joy, and then it confirmed it. The look in his eyes was one of twisted love and obsession, one that mirrored your own, if not overpowering it.

That night was when you officially tied the knot of this twisted love.

He was yours, finally.

And finally (officially) you were his.

˖⁺ ・🔪⋆ ♡ 💌・ ⁺ ˖

Sorry for the low quality gif at the top, I may or may not make a part 2 and 3, depending whether you guys like it or not. Ehe~

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