#Baby corner protectors

[deskcablemanagement]

Two Finest Baby Products To Buy – Baby Silicone Bibs & Baby Corner Protectors From Online Stores

It’s great to get ready for a new bundle of joy. Who doesn’t enjoy admiring cute baby clothes? They really are so little! Baby will also require a few additional items like Baby corner protectors and Baby Silicone Bibs.

[bejeweledblondie]

Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcannons

A/N: these are loosely inspired from real life experiences I’ve had living on a military base, these men have a on & off switch it’s crazy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW

• Simon first saw you while he was in the States for a training exercise, he was out at one of the local bars with some of the other soldiers he was with

• Soap had actually asked for your number first & since he was so intoxicated you turned him down

• Simon apologized for Soap & that’s how you met

• he did have a heart attack when he found out there was a bit of a age gap between you two but quickly got over it when he realized how mature you were

• it was a long distance relationship at first (from personal experience it sucks in the beginning)

• there were times when he couldn’t talk due to the risk of potentially exposing his teams location so you had to write letters every now & then

• you cried constantly whenever you saw some horrific news in the paper about what was going on overseas, the anxiety was awful

• but when he returned the reunions were euphoric

• you have a bottle of his cologne & aftershave so you can always feel close to him

• and you’d spray your perfume on the letters you sent so he couldn’t always smell the paper when he was missing you

• it took him sometime to open up to you about what had happened to him in his past, & your respected that

• when he first met your family, he was shocked by all the support he had received from them

• he asked your parents to marry you the first time he met them & showed them the ring too (ofc they said yes)

• he proposed to you in private after a nice dinner, he got choked up during the proposal

• your dad specifically was elated, he got to brag at how bad ass his son in law is

• your mom if she’s a teacher, had her entire class send cards, candy, anything they’d need in care packages Soap nearly cried when he opened the sweetest letter from a little girl (this actually happened irl my mom’s class did this & one guy got really choked up)

• Simon always would be your fiercest protector

• since he’s like an freakin tree he will guide your head with his bear paw of a hand in crowds

•he CANNOT sit with his back facing the door it stresses him out

•this man is strapped 24/7 whether that be a knife, bear spray etc. he’s ready

•he has a trauma kit in his car because “you never know”

•Simon is 1000% one of those apocalypse preppers you have freeze dried food, medicine, water, etc. he’s always on edge

• he sleeps with a damn rifle next to y’all’s bed

• you have a whole security system too

• your guy’s apartment is impeccable like you could eat off of the floor

• hell your guy’s bed has damn hospital corners

• Simon adopted a cat so you don’t feel as lonely when he’s deployed

• He’s your chonky boy & you do send plenty of photos to Simon when he’s deployed

• Gaz & Soap tease him about him living his “cat dad” life

• you start trying for a baby two years into your marriage

• Simon does fall victim to the “curse of the infantry” (which is not a negative thing btw it’s a running joke that infantry soldiers have all daughters) he makes girls

• he was deployed during your pregnancy & was worried sick he nearly missed the birth of your daughter

• that little girl is the most well protected baby in the whole world, the Task Force gifted him not just baby stuff but damn security for the nursery

• He watches your baby from his phone in the nursery on deployment, he was silently crying once when he was watching you sing a lullaby to your baby girl

•Price had to comfort him father to father

•In reality Simon has a very hard cold exterior at work for the sake of keeping his mental health for the profession he’s in but deep down he’s always held a soft spot & your relationship just brings it out

✨NSFW ✨

• there is a big size difference between you two & it drives him insane

• the first time y’all had together he didn’t want to break you in half

• when he returns from deployment y’all go at it like rabbits for multiple rounds, your poor pussy was so sore afterwards

• has a massive corruption & daddy kink

• he’s an ass man I don’t make the rules here so any position where your ass if the focal point is his favorite

• y’all have made so many sex tapes for him when he’s deployed, he has a whole folder on his phone & jerks off to them in the bathroom or the porta potty (it’s a canon event, trust me) to them

• he lets your cockwarm him constantly when you’re on the couch, when he’s working, hell y’all had even fallen asleep like that

• I know people say he has a Prince Albert piercing but alas per army regulation that is safety risk I think it’s more likely he’d use a cock ring on you

• during a military ball you two snuck off & fucked in a supply closet

• he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room after seeing you in your gown, it was red his favorite color

• and he just looked so fucking good in his dress uniform, that was the night you totally conceived your baby girl

• he groans into your ear when he cums & he’ll use his body to just eclipse yours

• “one more baby girl” & “c’mon pretty girl use your words tell me what you want”

• is a sucker for babydoll lingerie it brings your innocence & triggers his corruption kink

• moral of the story Simon Riley fucks

[ikramtipu23]

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[gardenofnoah]

“baby?”

he looks more like a cornered dog than a person right now, and yet against all sense, you approach. even like this, touya would never hurt you. it doesn’t even cross your mind—after all, he’s done this for you.

and what he’s done stains his hands and your new dress. he blinks down at both like he can’t quite wrap his mind around the hue of it.

“baby,” you repeat, as softly as you can manage, “look at me.”

he does, after a moment—you watch him come back to you, loyal as he always was. blue eyes find your own, and there’s something about them that is always so unmarred by all of this. touya may do terrible things, but his eyes are those of a child who’s only ever sought out praise.

“did he hurt you?”

it’d been a rare date that he’d decided to take you on, which really was just greasy food shared between you at the dive bar down the street. it mattered little to you—you were just as happy to lean against his shoulder in that torn up booth. the walk home was the problem.

you’d noticed some guy watching you in the bar. that was the thing about dull men—they never noticed touya until it was too late. he was never any bark—only devastating bite. he’d gotten up when you did, and followed you out into the street. he’d reached out to grab you by the jacket you wore—touya’s jacket—and there was no taking back that.

“no,” you murmur, “you’d never let him, touya.”

he nods, stiff. he’s still a little far away—even knowing that you weren’t hurt, it’s the thought of it that will eat at him the rest of the night. you’ve been here before—he’d pull away if you let him.

you don’t. you close the distance between you, tucking yourself under his chin and squeezing around his middle, all but forcing him to let go of the breath he’s been holding on to.

“oi—your dress—“

“don’t care,” you nuzzle into his chest, affectionate and preening. “you kept me safe.”

there’s a rumbling in his chest at that—something animal that keens at the recognition. he is your protector—he’d never let anyone hurt you.

he doesn’t touch you—he doesn’t want to ruin all the effort you took to look so pretty for him—but he lets you hang off his arm the rest of the way home, careful to shield you—from the road, from other people, from anything.

at all costs, touya protects what he loves.

[leth-writes]

yandere batfam x reader who's scared of them

BRUCE

If you don’t know he’s batman, he’s absolutely confused. He doesn’t really understand how you could be terrified of his civilian identity, who is notably soft and ditzy. It’s hard for you to explain how scary it is, looking at his smiling face in the middle of a gala and feeling this ice running down your spine, the deepest, basest part of you just screaming at you that there’s something wrong with him. It’s the way his emotions don’t reach his eyes, those cold, calculating eyes… It feels to you that he’s, at any given time, calculating how likely he is to get away with you murder.

That isn’t what he’s thinking. He’s thinking about how angry he is that everyone’s not treating you with the respect you deserve; he’s seen more consideration given to a coatrack! He’s contemplating yelling at your parent(s) to get them to realize how uncomfortable you are. That paternal sense just jumps right out and he’s wishing violence on anyone who would dare to so much as breathe at you wrong. You can see the promise of violence brewing on his face, you just mistake who it’s targeted at. He promises he would never hurt you.

Being frightened of batman is a lot more understandable, he is quite creepy. He tends to blend in with the shadows, and having a vigilante running around beating people senseless can be pretty terrifying. If he catches you being robbed, for example, Dick’s going to have to pull him off of whoever hurt you before he sends them into a coma. Seeing all that blood flying is definitely pretty scary.

However, Batman also serves as a protector for the city, especially children, and he does view you as a child, no matter your age. You’re his child, and he’d never want to scare you, so he exaggerates his movements and puts a bit of noise in his step so he’s less likely to scare you

He also gets Damian to approach you; while Damian may not be the typical child, he’s more than capable of acting young and vulnerable and that brings down your guard, allowing Bruce to ingratiate himself with you. Damian’s just excited to be close to you, he doesn’t even care you’re babying him and giving him stickers. He wears them with pride and shows every one to Alfred and his various animals.

DICK

Everyone is so confused as to how you could find Dick, smiley, jokey Dick, so scary. He’s so kind and gentle, perfect with children… maybe it’s the way you can see right through that facade into the intelligent seething rage boiling away within him. People often forget that Dick, as a young child, was more than willing to commit murder. He’s grown a lot since then, but sometimes that rage peaks through, terrifying you. You can also tell the bruises aren’t from sex or gymnastics like he says when the paparazzi ask, but from fights. You haven’t heard anything about the people he got into a fight in, which leads you to believe they never got up again. You’re wrong, but you can definitely feel the violence pulsing just underneath his skin. Every vigilante has it, you’re just able to sense it.

As Nightwing, he’s used to people asking him for selfies or yelling at him to do a backflip. He isn’t used to people trembling, terrified, in a corner as he approaches. You seem to view him as a dangerous vigilante, an extension of the Bat, first and foremost. Dick has to work hard to get you to trust him; he purposefully messes up some of his fights just so you think he isn’t as dangerous as he is, and he doesn’t let you in on the fact that the escrima have electricity. It puts you at ease if you think he would have a hard time taking you down. He relies on that goofy aspect of himself, pulling it up more than he normally would, almost tapping into that little circus performer who he buried deep down so many years ago.

JASON

Yeah, he gets it. His reputation, while useful, does preceed him. He’s heard the rumours; that he’s a zombie, a vampire, a ghoul, some creature back from the dead to kickstart some apocalyptic event. He usually finds it laughable, but seeing how terrifying you are does hit him hard.

He’s done so much to bury who he used to be, but for you, he taps into that side of him. He reads Jane Austen in public, volunteers at homeless shelters that he normally only donates to, anything to give himself a softer image. He even lets his hair keep its natural curls, letting them grow out slightly, to give him a softer silhouette. He also starts dressing more like Bruce; soft sweaters tucked into his pants, accentuating the pretty streak of white in his hair.

He’s also more than aware of how scary his scars can be, and tries his best to distract you away from them; for a little while, you rarely see him fully face-on, he turns his head just slightly so you can’t see them as clearly.

The Red Hood is terrifying. He’s aware, he knows, he’s dealing with it for you. He stops with the killing almost entirely and spends more time just patrolling your neighborhood, trying to get you used to the positives his presence is associated with. He lets Clark finally publish those positive stories about him saving a kitten or something, all to rehabilitate his image. He doesn’t care that his reputation is taking a hit, he only cares about you not being terrified of him.

TIM

???

Tim isn’t used to people being scared of him. Plenty of people are intimidated by his ruthless businessman act, but he never uses that around you. He tends to play up that scrawny, dorky nerd side of him; most view him like a little vulnerable puppy, not a threat!

You can probably sense that analytical presence behind his eyes. Tim, while technically being the most hands-off, is also the one who does the most meddling behind the scenes. He’s working to get rid of those shitty friends, blackmailing them away from you, and making sure to surround you with people he trusts, particularly Cass, Kon, and Steph. They talk him up, but more importantly, he knows they’ll keep you safe if he can’t.

You can probably tell your new friends are hiding something, and you sense that Tim is at the center. You’re not entirely wrong. Like Jason, he dresses in soft, cozy clothing and spends hours practicing his soft, gentle smiles, all in the hopes of you thinking him too weak and exhausted to be a threat.

He’s had criminals dislike him as Red Robin, but most civilians either appreciate him or ignore him. Most opinions are actually quite lukewarm, as while he does play a role in policing crime, he works more in the background solving cases and using his computer and photography skills. He makes sure to be seen being soft to children and animals more, maybe even volunteers in suit at an animal shelter, all in the hopes you’ll see that caring heart shining through.

CASS

Cass is so soft in public no one could ever be scared of that side of her unless they’ve already been kidnapped, in which case she slowly wears them down by having her family talk her up and by being the one to bring in gifts and food, creating a strong association between her and those good feelings of stress relief. Works like a charm, especially because you learn to read her; then, you learn to read the softness in her smile and her posture, showing that kind heart.

in stark contrast, plenty of people are scared of Black Bat, including civilians. Her normal silent presence and lack of facial expression can come across quite creepy. There’s no way around that, so she only introduces you to her secret identity after you’ve been kidnapped.

[misspygmypie]

A One-ce Upon A Time Celebration

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x reader, Lando Norris x Baby Maebry, Max F x Maebry Charles and Oscar make an appearance :) Words: 1647 Request: By the lovely @landossainz "for meet and greet universe, can you write where it is Maebry's first birthday and they celebrate it with their families and friends." Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

On this special day the Norris family backyard was transformed into a fairytale wonderland. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the sound of joyful laughter as Lando and Y/N prepared for a celebration that would mark their daughter Maebry’s very first birthday. Their chosen theme, “One-ce Upon a Time,” promised to be a magical day and they had spared no costs in bringing their vision to life.

Lando was the epitome of Prince Charming in an outfit that looked like it had been plucked from a storybook. His ensemble featured a dazzling jacket with golden embroidery, a crisp white shirt and a smile that seemed to outshine everything. He moved with pride, his heart swelling each time he glanced at his little princess.

Y/N, ever the elegant queen, was dressed in a flowing pastel gown that shimmered with every step she took. The gown was adorned with delicate embroidery of magical creatures and enchanted forests and her crown of flowers added a touch of fairytale magic. She floated through the garden, her eyes twinkling with happiness as she greeted guests and ensured that everything was perfect for their daughter.

Maebry, the star of the day, was a vision of cuteness in her stunning gown of layered yellow tulle and blue ribbons, resembling her favorite Disney princess: Snow White. Her head was topped off with a giant red bow that made her look every bit the princess she was wanting to be. Her tiny red shoes twinkled with each step she took and her face was a picture of wonder as she explored her “One-ce Upon a Time” world.

Noah was dressed as a brave knight, his silver armor shining in the sun. He had a toy sword strapped to his side and his little chest puffed with pride as he took his role as protector of his baby sister very seriously. He was the guardian of the day, always nearby to defend Maebry from any imaginary dragons or mischievous trolls that might dare to disrupt the celebration.

The garden buzzed with excitement as guests arrived to experience the fairytale wonderland. There was a “Royal Tea Party” corner where children and adults alike could enjoy tiny pastries and sip from small teacups. A “Prince and Princess” dress-up area especially made the little ones happy, they were able to pick crowns and capes to join the royal festivities. Nearby, a “Storybook Reading” nook featured comfy cushions and enchanting tales read by Y/N’s close friends, adding an extra touch of magic to the day.

Lando’s parents, who had traveled to Monaco from Bristol to celebrate their granddaughter’s special day, were absolutely besotted with Maebry. Cisca had been knitting a blanket for Maebry since before she was born. Today she was thrilled to finally present it to her granddaughter, her eyes brimming with tears of joy.

“Look at this beautiful girl,” Cisca cooed as she wrapped the soft blanket around Maebry. “I’ve been working on this for so long and it’s finally here. You truly are our little princess, darling.”

Maebry giggled as she felt the softness of the blanket, reaching out to touch her grandmother’s face. Lando’s father Adam, with a proud grin, showed off pictures of Maebry to the other guests. “Have you seen these? She’s grown so much since the last time we saw her. And just look at her in that gown!”

A group of Lando’s Formula 1 friends arrived, among them Max Verstappen with his girlfriend Kelly and daughter Penelope, Carlos Sainz, Daniel Ricciardo and also Charles Leclerc who immediately started gushing over Maebry.

“Wow, Lando, she’s absolutely adorable,” Charles said as he crouched down to Maebry’s level. “Are you sure she’s only one? She’s already got her own fan club.”

Maebry’s giggles grew louder as Charles made playful faces and he gently lifted her into his arms, rocking her back and forth. “This little princess is stealing all our hearts today.”

Oscar Piastri, Lando’s teammate, also made a grand entrance and immediately made a beeline for the “Prince and Princess” dress-up area, where he enthusiastically took a toy crown and cape, playfully pretending to be a prince alongside Maebry.

“Look at me, I’m the prince of this land,” Oscar declared with a grin, playfully spinning around. “And I’ve got the best little princess by my side!”

Lando, watching the interaction with a smile, was surprised at first. Oscar was usually more of a quiet type but everytime he was around Maebry he turned into the fun uncle instantly. 

“Thanks for coming, everyone,” Lando said eventually to the other drivers, “it means a lot to us that you’re here to share this day with us. Maebry’s been looking forward to celebrating with all of you.”

Charles waved a hand dismissively. “It’s our pleasure! We wouldn’t miss it for the world. And you know, she’s already got us all wrapped around her little finger.”

“Absolutely,” Oscar added, adjusting his crown, “she’s the real star of the show. I think we might have to make her our team’s official mascot!”

Maebry’s birthday party was in full swing and one guest was extra excited. Max Fewtrell, Lando’s best friend and Maebry’s godfather, had been eagerly waiting for the perfect moment to present his special gift. Dressed in a perfect Flynn Ryder outfit Max smiled as he approached Lando and Y/N, who was holding Maebry.

“Hey, guys,” Max called out, catching Lando’s eye. “Can I borrow Maebry for a moment?”

Y/N, not hesitating at all, gently handed Maebry over to him. “Of course, she’s been looking forward to seeing her favorite uncle.”

Max cradled Maebry in his arms, his face lighting up and everyone could see how much he adored her. “I’ve got something really special for you, little one,” he directed at the girl just as he was sitting down at a table. “It’s not every day you turn one, after all.”

He reached into a large, pink gift bag and carefully pulled out a beautifully crafted storybook. The book was bound in rich, deep blue leather with gold lettering on the cover that read, “Maebry’s Magical Adventures.” It featured illustrations of mythical creatures, enchanted forests and twinkling stars.

“Look at this,” Max said, showing the book to Maebry as she gazed up at him with wide, curious eyes. “I had this made just for you.”

Max opened the book to reveal its contents, which were not only filled with personalized stories but also featured memories of Max and Maebry together. The first few pages contained charming tales of a brave little princess who looked remarkably like Maebry, embarking on magical quests and discovering new lands. Each story was accompanied by illustrations that included subtle nods to special moments Max and Maebry had shared so far, like their first meeting or a day spent playing in the park.

On the final page was a special dedication from Max, written in elegant script:

To Maebry, my dearest goddaughter,

May this book be the start of many magical adventures. Whenever you open it, remember that you are loved beyond measure and that there is always a world of wonder waiting for you. With all my love,

Max

Max’s voice softened as he continued, “I thought this would be a great way for you to have a little piece of magic with you every night as you grow up. And when you’re older you can read the stories together with your parents. It’ll be a special keepsake from your first birthday.”

Maebry’s eyes widened in delight as she traced the gold lettering on the cover. Lando and Y/N watched and Y/N couldn’t hold back the tears from forming in her eyes. “That’s an amazing gift, Max,” Lando said. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Max looked up at his best friend, his eyes shining with sincerity. “She’s my goddaughter, after all. I want her to have something magical to remember this day by and something she can cherish as she grows up. I’ve been showering her with gifts and little surprises since she was born and I’m not going to stop, ever, but I wanted this to be extra special.”

Y/N reached out and gave Max a heartfelt hug. “Thank you, Max. It’s perfect. Maebry will treasure it forever.”

Max carefully placed the book into Y/N’s hands and she held it close to Maebry. “I hope you love it as much as I loved picking it out for you,” he said softly, giving the girl a loving kiss on her cheek.

Maebry clapped her hands with joy, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at her new book but soon Max whisked her away to rejoin the birthday activities.

As the sun began to set Lando and Y/N took a moment to themselves. They watched as Maebry played with the other kids, her eyes sparkling with happiness. Lando’s gaze, however, was not just filled with pride, it was also tinged with just a touch of sadness.

“It’s hard to believe my little princess is already one,” Lando said softly. “It feels like just yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital. Watching her grow up so fast… it’s both wonderful and a little heartbreaking.”

Y/N noticed the look in Lando’s eyes and gently took his hand. “I know,” she said, her voice soothing. “It’s incredible how quickly time passes. But look at her now, she’s so happy, surrounded by people who love her. We’ve made so many beautiful memories already and there are so many more to come.”

Lando nodded, his gaze returning to his daughter as she giggled. “You’re right. Today has been perfect and I’m so proud of her. I just wish time didn’t move so quickly.”

“We can’t stop time but we can cherish every moment,” Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder.

________

AN: Thank you so so much for requesting this @landossainz UGH I was so excited to write this, I may have gone a biiit over the top lol! I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

Taglist: @eloriis @pacifierbby @landossainz @littlegrapejuice @barcelonaloverf1life @poppyflower-22 @itsjustfranzi @vickykazuya @sltwins

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 1

Part 2

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (wedding night, loss of virginity, mild dub con, PIV, biting, praise kink), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: what do we say to big scary murderers? all together now: i can fix him. the smut is at the end so just keep scrolling to the bottom if you wanna pass (: originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

A collective gasp resonates in the hall upon the utterance of the proclamation. The blonde boy basks in the reaction. I release a breath, hand on my churning belly, as I stand there in front of the Iron Throne. The agitation that filled me threatened to spill from my lips when I curtsied to the king. But by the gods, I manage to mutter, "you have honored me with such a decision, your grace."

King Joffrey smirks, "yes," he shifts in his seat, "I have." He stands from the throne and raises a beckoning hand, "dog!"

All eyes turn to one corner.

The rustle of fabric and the clink of steel fill the hall. I watch as he walks towards me. I watch the large man, clad in darkness from head to toe, hand on his hilt, face adorned with a large burn, come to my side but pay me no mind. He turns to his king, "your grace."

"My king," queen Cersei mutters to her son, "he is a member of the Kingsguard, he cannot--"

"My word is law, is it not?" the boy says.

His mother looks at him then us, and says no word.

Joffrey grins, "I present your new ward," he raises his arms, "orphaned at war, parents and brothers dead, house left with no heirs. She turned to me for counsel," he points to his chest, "for she would die on her own. And now I give her you," he clasps his hands, "to have and to hold in holy matrimony."

The room is dead silent.

"Consider it a gift for your loyal service," he turns to me, "a rather generous one, given your infliction," he turns back to him.

The man on my side nods once.

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes."

I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine father."

A loud and shrill laugh echoes in the chamber, demanding everyone's attention. Joffrey wheezes until he's red and tumbles back into his metal chair. He catches his breath and nods, "he- mmm, he would," he chuckles.

The king settles himself and waves us off, "go forth and make arrangements then, my lady. Your protector awaits."

I flinch at the way the wooden door is opened. Sandor stands before me, in a dress shirt and a scowl, leaning against the opening of his chamber door. I look away and curtsy, "good morrow, Lord Sandor," I steal a quick glance at Lucy by my left, "I've had my handmaiden prepare f-"

"Hound." 

I lift my eyes to his face. The sour expression he held is amplified by the scar on his side. His eyes burn into me. "They call me the Hound," he grunts, "y'know that?"

I clasp my hands in front of me and open my mouth before muttering, "yes. Yes, I do."

"Then save me of this lord business," he straightens up and walks off inside his chambers. I watch him as much as I can from where I stood outside his room. I pipe up when he is no longer in eye's view, "may I come in?"

"Door's open, isn't it?"

I look at Lucy hesitantly, motioning she stay outside. I push the door wider and walk in, seeing Sandor was now getting dressed.

I stare at him for a moment, pressing my hands closer together, "would you like for me to he-"

"I'm not the king who has a bitch for every task."

I clench my jaw at his icy words.

Sandor begins to do his clasps, "why are you here, girl?"

He does not look at me after asking. I purse my lips before replying, "I am heading to the tailor to pick fabrics and-"

"Why isn't the tailor coming here?" he asks, still focused on dressing himself.

Sandor finally turns to me after fixing his top. I look up at him, feeling a dread build in my belly, "I wanted to go outside."

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head. He takes steps closer.

My lips part. I blurt, "the palace is too stuffy."

"Stuffy?" he retorts, "I wonder how large your house is if you find it stuffy here."

I shake my head, "I did not mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" Sandor says, tilting down to look upon me once he is close enough. I am unable to withhold myself from stepping back. I mutter, "there are many... looming presences. It's overwhelming."

"Looming, she says," he grumbles. "Well, little lady, you're going to be shackled to me, and I'm shackled here. You'll have to get used to these looming presences."

I turn away from him and take a breath. Must he speak to me like I'm a child?  "I understand that."

"No, I don't think you do," he says.

I look back at him. His gaze is as hard as ever.

"The moment a thing like you is outside the castle walls, thieves and rapists will fight to getcha," he walks off, "get your footman to escort you right in front of the shop and back."

I furrow my brows as he heads to the door, "wait, what about you?"

He stops right in front of Lucy and turns back, "what about me?"

"I'm going to the tailor to be fitted a dress for our wedding," I explain, "I came here to bring you along with me," I point to the woman at his side, "Lucy has made food for you to-"

"Why would I go with you to a tailor?"

Will he ever let me finish speaking? I hold back my annoyed expression, "you need to be fitted for your wedding at-"

"I'm not your dress up dolly," he grumbles, face pinched in disgust, "I'll be wearing my armor and that's that."

We stare at each other for a moment. I watch as Lucy glares at Sandor from behind. I clench my jaw tightly before curtsying, "as you wish, my lord-"

"Hound," he barks.

I look at him in shock, "you wish me to call you hound?"

He narrows his eyes and scoffs, "it's what I am-- what you're marrying, isn't it?"

I debate his words, unsure if he meant it or if it was a trick, a reason for him to be angry at me, "may I call you by name?"

He feels disdain burn up from his belly to his throat, "what? Too good to admit that-"

"That is not what I said!" I quip hotly.

The hulking man is rendered silent. He did not expect that. Still, he decides not to respond and walks away.

I scoff when he does so.

Lucy makes a face at him before coming up to me, offering a remorseful look, "he's a brute, milady! Rugged and ugly and mean!"

"Lucy," I warn as she takes my arm and escorts me out. She closes the door on our way and makes a face, "he's a thickheaded oaf!" she glares behind her to no one, "he's lucky-- blessed by all gods to be promised to a lady like you, and he treats you as though you were the degene-"

"Lucy!" I quip, yanking her by the arm.

She is finally silenced because of this. We both halt in our spot.

I hiss, "if someone were to hear you, if he were to hear you..." I shake my head, "he is my lord now. He is your lord."

Lucy grumbles.

"If it could be, I would not marry anyone," I tell her under a hushed voice, "but you know that cannot be."

We begin to walk down the hall. I continue, "I had thought I'd end with an old lord, eager to inherit my estate and esteem," I shake my head, "shocking as it was to be thrown like a bone to him..." I look out the open windows, "at least... the Hound... can protect me," I look back to Lucy, "protect us."

Lucy's face falls solemn. We hold each other's gaze for a moment. She then offers, "you're right. Them forest monsters will cower in fear at the mere sight of the 'ound."

We head to the castle gates, "do you think the guards will let us-"

"We'll walk, Lucy," I reply.

"What?! But the Hound said-"

"He expected me to have footmen and you know well that I don't. I do not think it would be appropriate to instruct the servants here to go out of their way for us. Besides, the shop is not far, you know this."

"But, Lady, I- I can drive the carriage again!"

I shake my head, "don't be ridiculous, Lucy. Do you know how silly we'd look galloping in a carriage for just a few streets down the city?"

Lucy is unable to talk me into any of her ideas. We ask the guards let us through the gate then walk to the tailor.

Once there, I am greeted by the tailor and immediately attended to.

Lucy and I go through the fabrics together. I laugh at her sentiment that all the fabrics would look good on me.

"Here," the tailor says, placing a strip of fabric on my shoulder, "I think this would suit you well, lady."

I look at myself in the mirror just as Lucy says, "that's it! That's the one!"

"Lucy," I chuckle, "you've said that about all the fabrics thus far."

"And I meant it every time!" she retorts, "but this one, this one is truly better than all the rest."

I look at myself in the mirror, "this one is actually quite pretty," I agree, "it's a very pale shade of red, but I quite enjoy it."

"It is all the rage with the ladies at court," the tailor says.

I smile, "very well. I should like to have this for my wedding dress."

Lucy squeals and applauds.

"A fine choice, my lady," the tailor nods and finishes measuring me.

The moment Lucy and I exit the tailor shop, we are scared by a loud holler. We turn to our side and see the mighty Hound, leaned against the wall. He straightens up and marches towards me.

"My Lord Sand-"

"What did I tell you about going outside the castle?" he barks, glaring down at me. His nostrils flare. His jaw clenches. My stomach rolls.

I give him a look and push Lucy behind me, "there was no dange-

"That's what you think. But tell me, what do little girls know but to play dress up?"

I whimper when he grabs my arm and drags me like an unruly child all the way back to the palace. I do not try to fight him. I know I will only hurt and tire myself if I do.

"Maybe I should let the peasants have at you," he mutters, side-eyeing me hotly, "teach you a lesson."

"Let her go!" Lucy shrieks.

He threatens to strike her when she tires to pull me away. I shout in protest. Sandor huffs and decides to simply continue dragging me.

The moment we are past the gates, he releases me roughly, making me yelp. Lucy grabs my arm and checks if I am injured.

Sandor eyes every one of the men present, "I'll make a jump rope out of the entrails of whoever fucking lets her out again."

The Hound storms off, leaving me and my handmaiden reeling and everyone else uneasy.

Sandor walks down the halls across the keep. He notices a guard looking down from the window. He wonders if he should push him for no other reason than the fact that he can.

He doesn't. He goes downstairs. He furrows his brows at the sight of men huddled together, looking at something in the gardens. He realizes it's most likely the same thing the man upstairs was looking at.

He walks their way, because he has to anyway, but is, frankly, uninterested in whatever the fuck has these men gawking.

On his way to his insufferable master, he passes Baelish, who is seemingly chipper to see him. The man smiles, "greetings, Hound."

The Hound ignores him.

"Pretty little thing in the garden. A darling flower, ready to be plucked," Baelish smirks as he watches the large man pass, "our king truly blessed you with such a match."

His expression does not change but his ears do ring at that as he walks down the hall.

He wills himself not to think of it, Littlefinger is a leech, but by the end of the day, his words are still ringing in mind. How irritating it was, suddenly, that he did not look at whatever the fuck it was those men were gawking at.

He's fuming at the sight of more men flocked by the garden when he reaches that hall again.

"OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!" he growls, thrashing past anyone who was slow and stupid enough not to get out of his path in time.

Sandor's eye twitches as when he sees what the commotion is all about.

"So, the princess said to him, 'away with you. I would rather never feel your kiss than yearn for something I will never feel again.' " I read the last section of the page. I flip to the next part and offer a smile to the children leaned on my lap listening to my story.

"Why would she tell him to go away?" Benji asked me from my right.

Lucy, beside him, chuckles and brushes his hair back,

I offer, "well, the prince had to go away. I suppose the princess just wanted it to be done with."

To my left, Ophelia, the boy's younger sister, pushes the book in my hand down so that she can see the picture. I show it to her just as Benji says, "she should have kissed him."

I chuckle, "well, maybe she will. There are a few more pages le-"

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I gasp and look up. A protective form of ire burns through me at the sound of Sandor's words. The two siblings in my arm squeal at the sight of him and cower into my breast. I glare at him, "there are children here!"

"I can bloody see that," he looks down with contempt, "what? Are they your bastards?"

Lucy takes hold of the children.

"They are not bastards!" I rebut, "they are my childhood friend, Lady Deena's children, who, mind you, travelled far to King's Landing for our wedding!"

"I don't give a fuck about Lady Deenas or Lady Danas. Couldn't you have read to the rats in your damn chambers, girl?"

I give my handmaiden one look and, immediately, Lucy takes Benji and Ophelia along with their fairytale book. They scurry away to their chambers as the children clamor.

I stand from the stone fence we had been sat on, "we wanted fresh air."

"You wanted attention," the Hound quips.

I am wholly offended by his accusation. Now that I was standing alone in front of him, my confidence from having something to protect dwindles. I don't get to ask from whom he thought I wanted attention because he's soon berating me all over again. He quips, "does it please you to know all the guards in King's Landing want to fuck a baby into you?"

I am appalled by his venom.

He grabs me by the arm and begins hauling me off. A squeak spills from my lips at his brute force. Part of me wishes to fight back this time; I do not want him to humiliate me by dragging me around again. And yet I find myself unable to do anything more than latch my fingers into his iron grip, trying to at least loosen it.

Sandor, of course, does not budge.

"Is it a crime to read to children?!" I whine out in frustration, finding it immensely difficult to keep up to with his wide strides.

He does not make a sound, save the sound of his boots on the stone floors. I pant as we hike up the steps, yet still, I find myself explaining, "I would have done the same to our children!"

I do not see that Sandor reacts to this because I am too busy trying to match his pace.

I thank the gods when he finally releases me. When I catch my breath, I realize I am in front of the door to my chambers.

"Do not stroll around as if you actually live here," Sandor quips, raising a finger at me.

"But I do-"

"Last time I checked, you're not marrying into royalty," he cuts me off.

I watch the large man walk off right after speaking this. I rub my arm as I feel my eyes water. More than his heavy grip, I was once again hurt by his jagged treatment. My voice breaks as I shout out, "wou-ld you at least tell me what exactly I've done to have angered you so?!"

He does not slow, nor does he look over his shoulder when he barks back, "I don't want to see you fucking reading to those children again."

Needless to say, I crumble into a fit of tears the moment I get into my chambers.

When Lucy comes to my side on my bed, he curses the Hound and does her best to console me. She rubs my back as I weep my woes out into my pillow, "oh, Lucy, he doesn't just despise me, he despises children!"

Lucy scoffs, "why am I not surprised."

She regrets saying this when I turn to her with wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. She gives a guilty expression, "milady, I-"

"That's all I ever wanted," I sniffle, "all I ever dreamed of-" my lips quiver, "being a mother. Having children. You know this."

Lucy bites her lips tightly as I continue to sob. She mutters, "pardon my foolish words, lady."

"Oh, what does it matter-" I rub my philtrum, "you're right. This is not a surprising development."

"You can still get him to give you his babes! Men like making babies, not really taking care of them. And of course, I would never leave your side. I would help you raise your darlings, protect them from him," she speaks sincerely. I knew her words meant to comfort me but in truth, I don't think they do.

It seems she can tell that, which is why she's apologizing all over again.

I shake my head and place my hand on her cheek, "it's alright, Lucy... you needn't worry... it's all... going to be alright.

Sandor and I look starkly contrasting at the altar. He is dark and brooding, clad in hard armor and a perpetual frown. I am bright and jittery, wrapped in pale reds and nervous smiles.

The septon binds our hands together in fabric. We turn to each other as we speak our vows.

My heart races when we are told to kiss. I suck in a breath and get on my tiptoes to reach his lips. I crane my neck up; he makes no effort to lean down in return. Still, our lips meet and in that moment, I am his.

The audience applauds us, the sound of King Joffrey's laugh is apparent even through it. Our wedding was not a grand event; the king wanted it to happen in haste, and I could not afford to make it a grand anyway. There were also not so many people in attendance, and yet it felt like the whole world was watching me in this moment.

The celebration feast that came after was terribly tedious and severely unenjoyable for me, and for Sandor. Everyone else seemed to enjoy the merrymaking though, namely the king, and I suppose that was enough.

I did nothing but smile and thank my guest from my seat next to Sandor. He did not speak to me, let alone anyone who came up to us with congratulations on their lips. All he did was eat. I suppose it could be worse. At least one of us could stomach eating at this moment.

The only life I felt was when I was introduced to a babe of one of the ladies. The sweetling had only seen 4 moons and she was as sweet as can be. She was so precious. I just had to hold her. I was inspired to even stand and frolic a bit with her in my arms.

Her mother and I conversed much about babies and child rearing. My stomach rolled in a mix of excitement, dread, anticipation, and worry all at once, knowing this was to be the next part of my life now.

I enjoyed all the stories she told me. I was flattered when she said I would be a great mother, for her child in my arms did not fuss one bit and she was known to be quite fussy. I giggled at all the wonderful memories she had with her other children who, she said, were even fussier than her daughter. I nodded solemnly at her advice in child birth and breastfeeding, making sure not to let a single word go unheard.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Sandor was watching this all from his spot with the cup of wine before him. He did not avert his eyes once; he watched each and every move.

Well, it was unbeknownst to everyone excluding Lord Baelish, who was rather amused by it all, which was why he decided to act.

"Lady Clegane," Lord Baelish comes up to me and raises a hand, "might you spare me a dance?"

I turn form the babe in my arms to him. I smile a small one, "I'm afraid my darling friend here makes me unwilling to do anything but coddle her."

The child's mother on my left laughs, as does Baelish. He links his hands together, "well, judging from your darling friend's temperament, I'd say you would be a fine mother."

"I agree," the lady says.

I grin from ear to ear, heart soaring at the sentiment, "I would like to be nothing more."

Baelish presses his lips into a smirk, "may the gods bless you with many children then," he raises his hands "and may they all take after your sweetness, grace, and beauty."

The way Baelish speaks those words were intentional, as was everything was with him. The comment leaves an air of tension between us. The man basks in it and decides his work is done here.

"I-It is kind of the king to assign a larger room," I muster up as I walk into my new chambers-- our new chambers.

Sandor follows after me, locking the door behind him. He hums, "I doubt it was the king that thought of it. It was probably the queen."

I stand by the end of the bed. I brush the sheets with my hand. I mutter a correction, "kind of her to think of us."

When I turn, my breath hitches at the sight of Sandor standing right behind me. I suck in a sharp breath as I take in his expression. His face is barely visible in the dark. I can only see as much as the moon allowed. Still, I can tell he is stoic, hard, and predatory. This was it.

My hands tremble. I fiddle with my fingers, "shall I-" I bring my palms to his chest plate, "help you out of your armor?"

Sandor does not respond to me.

"H-husband?"

He takes my hand, taking a shaky breath from my lips along with him. He leads me to his claps and shows me how to undo them before releasing my hand to do it myself. I continue to undo all the claps until his armor is off him. When he is left in his shirt and trousers, he snatches my wrists before I can undress him any further. I freeze in my spot.

My belly churns at his touch. It is reminiscent of the times he has dragged me by the arm, and yet the firm grip is a notch gentler. The way is brows furrow is barely visible because of his burns, but I see it. He leans down and his dark hair spills over his scar, "do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

My breath hitches. I take a moment to even my breathing before responding, "yes."

He hums and lifts his nose, "what's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly. I am shocked when he swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

I look up at him with wide eyes as his own rake me up and down. I feel incredibly self-conscious under his scrutiny. I want to push him away and hide under the sheets. Yet still, I am rendered frozen in my spot.

"Tell me honest, have you ever done this before?" he speaks rather softly.

I feel my body burn. I shake my head, unable to speak.

Sandor allows me a second. He believes it yet finds it hard to believe. "I would not judge you if you did," he adds.

I shake my head faster.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't--" he grabs my ribs and spins me around. The action makes my heart hammer. He pushes my hair to the side, over my shoulder. I squeak softly when he begins to undo the back of my dress. He completes his thought, "-- you're a good girl."

Though he was loosening my ties, I was finding it harder to breathe. He very soon slips my dress off my shoulders, leaving me in my shift. After doing so, he begins to remove the pins in my hair. It takes a while for him to accomplish it. I count the clinks that come from him dropping the clips onto the floor.

When he is done, he gently combs through my locks and lets my hair run loose. It was then he nudges me, "on the bed. On your back."

I shudder and crawl on the bed. I watch him take his shirt off the moment I lie on my back. I immediately turn away and close my eyes when I notice his bulge. His hands undo the string of his trousers.

I press my thighs together. I feel my heart pound. It pounds intensely between my legs.

"Aren't you curious to see what it looks like?"

I curl my legs up at his words.

I gasp and flinch when he grabs my ankles, my eyes ripping open to see what he was doing. He straightens my legs out and pulls me down; I gasp once more when he does so.

I catch sight of his opened trousers. I see the way the hair on his wide, battle-scarred chest trails down to the thick, dark hair beneath his navel. I see the imprint on his pants clearer. I shut my eyes again.

I hear him pull his trousers down. I feel the bed dip as he crawls over.

My hands dig into the sheets as he knocks my legs apart. I am passive and obedient; I make room for him. I can hear my pulse from my screwed eyes.

Goosebumps form on my skin when Sandor's hot, calloused fingers brush up my thighs. He lightly kneads my flesh. The action almost makes me moan. He stops and pushes my skirt up when he feels something by my hips, "where did you get this?"

I feel him ghost over the deep scar on my left hip. I cover my face in the crook of my elbows, "I was attacked."

He does not respond.

"That was the day my family died."

Sandor feels bad for asking. He feels a bit more when the thought does not prevent his cock from hardening. He adjusts his grip, hiking my shift up higher. His hands claw on my hips but only one remains. His mouth waters.

I gasp and slap my thighs close, or at least try to, when I feel him brush something firm and damp against my pulsing core. He uses the sheer size of him to prevent me from actually pressing my thighs together.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh-" he tuts, "this is for your own good. Believe me."

My toes curl and my hands dig into my pillow as he fondles with me. The sensation makes my body twitch and the wet squelching sound that pierces my ears fill me up with an unnamable sensation. Soon enough though, I feel myself become undeniably aroused.

My hips begin to roll and my back begins to arch.

Sandor grunts and licks his lips, loving every moment of his private show, "good girl."

His words strike up my belly like lightning.

Lewd sounds begin to dribble past my lips. I feel my body begin to tingle. The sopping sounds intensify.

"Feel good?" he asks, "you like it?"

I find no room to deny it. I instantly respond, "yes."

"Good," he trails off.

My grip on the pillows loosen when he begins to slow. I bring my hands to the side when he falls to a stop. Just as I am about to look down to see what was wrong, my heart races all over again when he hooks his fingers behind my knees and nestles between my thighs. He positions against me. I feel him guide his hardened length into my folds.

I let out a loud groan when he slips into my wetness. He grunts and cusses as he sinks down, balls deep. My nails claw at his shoulders. He pushes my knees back to the mattress. Surprisingly, the weight of him is not suffocating, in fact, it was welcomed... it was delicious.

I whine viscerally when he begins to buck his hips slowly.

"Mmm, fuck," he pants, "so fucking tight. So pretty and wet and warm, my sweet virgin."

My jaw drops at his words.

"My sweet lady wife," he growls, "all," he drags out, "mine."

My breath strains and escapes my throat hotly. My sounds match each of his thrusts; they are deep and lewd. Sandor's male ego is through the roof because it if. He slowly picks up the pace.

I am a mess of whines at the feel his manhood stretching and prodding into me. My body shivers every time he collides with the tender spot in me. It feels so good; it's nothing I've felt before.

Sandor grunts and shifts on his knees. He adjusts me beneath him like I weighed nothing, and maybe I didn't to him. I slip out a scream when he batters into me with such delicious force.

"Shhhhh," he hushes shakily, hands forcing my hips down in place so I didn't shoot off as he snapped his hips into me. With every hit of flesh, his stones knocking into me, his wet skin, slapping into my dripping folds, I feel my body burn and tighten more.

"Don't be too loud," he scolds emptily, for in truth, he would love it if he got something even louder. He leans lower, "wouldn't want you to wake all of King's Landing." But please do.

His words momentarily push sense into my mind. It doesn't last. I can barely mask my loud cries and he fucks into me. My nails dig into his scalp. He lets out a sound because of it.

Sandor shifts again. This time, his buries his face next to mine. He presses against me, chest to chest, grabs the bed frame with one hand, my knee with the other, and rams into me so hard, the bed creaks and knocks into the wall.

My eyes roll back and my open mouth latches onto his shoulder. I naturally then sink my teeth in is taut flesh. It does wonders to muffle my sounds but it pulls out some from Sandor.

"Gods, girl. Yeah," he heaves, "sink your," he gives two particularly rough thrusts, "fucking teeth into me."

My breathing grows erratic after this. An intense pressure begins to build in my belly.

"S-Sandor- Sandor-"

He hums and maintains his intense pace, "come girl. Just a bit more. Come around my cock like a good, dirty girl."

His words push me on the edge. I crumble and convulse beneath him exactly like it, a good, dirty girl. My voice is just as shaky as my thighs are. My body bursts into an intense, burning pleasure. 

My body drips in sweat and slick and spit and tears, all purely out of bliss. All the air is pulled out of my lungs as I fall into this feeling.

Sandor curses. His thrusts grow erratic. I would scream if I wasn't so winded and exhausted. He stabs so roughly into me, I flinch because it feels like he's hitting the very depths of my mind. Then, he breaks into a growl and I feel him throb so strongly until his movements come to a halt.

Once he is still, I am obliterated. I cannot move. I can only feel heat and pulsing. I feel terribly sticky and so full. I love every inch of it.

I sigh and lean into him. I can imagine now why many paid for this pleasure, why people had so many children. My fingers scratch into his nape. I rub my face against his cheek; I feel the texture of his burn. Sandor stiffens.

The next moment, he pulls away, and it was then I realized doing that, nuzzling into him, was obviously a mistake. I gasp at the sudden lost of contact, the emptiness. I watch him jump out of the bed, as if I was fire and I had burned him. I press my thighs together and push my skirt down, feeling shame wash over me as I watched him tuck himself into his trousers like he was eager to leave me.

And he looked exactly like he meant to leave me at this moment.

"Where are you going?" I ask him, but my voice is so small and unsure that he doesn't hear it.

He grabs his shirt and puts it on. He heads to the door, unlocks it quickly, and insults me by saying, "good night."

[yandere-daydreams]

I think Nanami infantilizing kink could come from an overprotective place... like after him or his darling go through a near-death experience he becomes convinced that he needs to keep his darling safe at all costs and it eventually translates into baby proofing his apartment

hear me out tho... wouldn't it be hot if he was... i don't know... just a little... selfish...?

i definitely think it would start from a place of genuine fear for your life/safety, hence the kidnapping and why all the sharp corners in his apartment are covered with a nice, soft, impact-proof foam, but the aesthetics of it - the babydoll lingerie, the all-pink wardrobe, the stuffed animals littered across your bed - that has to come from somewhere less benevolent, somewhere more self-indulgent. he understands that you're confused, that you don't fully grasp what he's doing for you just yet, but he can't control what the sight of your watery-eyes and pouting lips as you struggle not to cry in front of him for the nth time does to him. he wants to act like a saint, to show you that he only has your best intentions in mind, but then catches you curled up on the couch in his office, wearing one his shirts (it must've ""accidentally"" found its way to your wardrobe, possibly on a day where all of your other, more conservative clothes were miraculously unavailable) and looking so innocent, it'd be impossible not to do anything. he wants to keep you safe, to make sure you never have to find out how dangerous the world can be, but he's been weathering the worst of its cruelty for months, now. as your gallant protector, doesn't he deserve his own type of reprieve?

[cafeacademia]

𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐲

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 𝐱 𝐒𝐡𝐲!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 || 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Jason comes back from his patrol and finds you desperate for him, only he's just as desperate to find himself after a hard night of being Red Hood and the best way for him to do that is with his favourite girl.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Smut, oral (fem rec), rope bondage, suit kink - Jay wears his domino mask under his helmet, overstimulation, about 3 billion terms of endearment, some?? size kink if you squint, some roughness, dom/sub dynamic - Jason is a soft dom in this, Reader uses a vibrator at the beginning, sex at the end. I think that's everything but lmk if I missed anything!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: Approx 2.5k

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: This is my first ever Jason fic!! I'm?? Very nervous? I hope this is good? Honestly I'm releasing this into the void and then running away. Please enjoy I had a lot of fun writing this 😌 thank you my lovely friend @that-sokovian-bastard for the encouragement and for reading all of the snippets I sent you.

He touched you with fingertips that had gripped the edges of death. His skin, marred, tortured, tattooed; brushed against yours. He touched you with the hands that had delivered the veil of death, and yet he was so gentle. His gaze, while intense, difficult to read, was soft on your eyes. Jason was a dichotomy. He breathed vigilantism, he bathed in the shadow of his brother, he made himself the fear of the vile. A man of justice defined by sin.

He never pretended to be perfect. At night he was the Red Hood. Protector, ally to the good, with his edge of sarcasm and pit of anger against the depravity that festered in the alleys and underworlds of Gotham. And the rest of the time, he was just Jason.

Just Jason, who loved you, who helped you with everything, who made you feel loved. Just Jason, who fucked you deep into the mattress, barely out of his Red Hood suit, helmet discarded, gloved hand pressed around your throat as he grunted your name to you like a prayer, a promise, a devotion.

He’d found you that night up late waiting for him, spread out on the bed, heat clinging to you as you cried and tried, tried so hard to reach your euphoria. He’d watched you for a moment, tears in your eyes as you edged yourself with your vibrator, but the only thing your toy was doing was making you sensitive, bringing a burning ache to your clit. You needed more, and more was delivered, his low husky voice gracing your ears.

“You poor little thing,” His voice deep, warning, an edge of sweetness. “Jay-.” So breathy, so desperate as you clung to the sheets, the grip of your delicate fingers around your vibrator so hard he could see how tense you were. “How long have you been like this for, baby? An hour? Two?” He asked, voice almost sympathetic as he leaned against the doorframe, helmet in his hands as he eyed you, domino mask still framing his gaze. “Since- since you… Left.” You could barely get the words out, gasping as your vibrator struggled to bring you even close to the edge. “My poor baby, you can’t let go without me, can you?” His voice was teasing, almost mean but the way he spoke down to you almost made you more desperate. He approached you, slowly stalking closer to the bed, placing his helmet on the nightstand. He saw the glistening tears in the corner of your eye, pout wobbling as you edged yourself torturously and all you wanted was to orgasm, but you couldn’t. “Are you crying, sweetheart? Let me take care of you.”

Jason, who forced you to stay still with the vibrator still on your clit as he tied you up. Jason, who had no patience and yet he was slow, meticulous with the knots that he decorated and adorned your skin with.

“You want this, baby? Want me to make you forget everything? You know what it means, don’t you?” He asked, voice deceptively soft. You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him. Jason needed words, needed your spoken promise, breathy and soft on your lips. “Words, baby.” His words brushed against your sensitive clit, a whine escaping you as you ached, throbbed for his attention. “I know… what it means.” You nodded, voice barely above a whisper, confirmation that you knew he wouldn’t stop once he started. Your pleasure was his pleasure and he basked in it.

“Good girl.” He spoke the words in a grunt as he indulged himself in you, tortured you with his tongue, sucking your poor abused clit between his lips. The overstimulation was almost unbearable, but in the best way. His gloves pressed against your hips, holding you down, your legs tied to perfectly expose your soaking, desperate pussy to him. Precious whines, whispers of his name passed your lips as he bathed your clit in unrivalled attention. Jason loved the way you pulsed against his tongue, so overworked, so desperate that you could barely take the rugged strokes and flicks he gave you.

“Let me have it, baby.” His voice was harsh as he spoke, desperate for more. He needed to feel your release on his tongue again, again, again. Jason needed to hear his name on your lips, needed to watch you squirm as you took the pleasure. He brought you closer and closer, tongue stroking you with need. He felt you tense beneath him, your breath hitching as you reached the edge, the way your fingers gripped at nothing as your orgasm tipped over the edge. You cried out, gasping, moaning as he worked you through your high, bringing you back down with the gentle caress of his tongue.

“There you go, little one.” He spoke deep and soft as he used his thumb to gently soothe over your pulsing clit, the bud aching with pleasure, thrumming with intense overstimulation and it felt so good. You think he’s done, his chin and lips covered in your glistening release. He keeps his gaze on yours, eyes dark and heavy lidded as he brings his gloved hand up to his lips, teeth biting into the leather and pulling his hand out. Throwing his glove to the side, his fingers gently tease at your entrance and you let a soft gasp out as he gently pushes his fingers into you, tongue meeting with your overworked clit and he hums with satisfaction when he hears you let out a strangled moan at the intense feeling.

“You can take it, can’t you, sweetheart?” He asked gently, breath teasing your poor, swollen clit. “I can, I can take it Jay.” You nod. You’re a good girl, you can take it like a good girl, you know you can and you whine as you’re consumed by the pleasurable haze. It’s too much, but not enough all at the same time. It’s so sensitive, but so addictive, you can’t let him stop. You don’t want him to stop as he takes you between his lips again, fingers fucking deep into your cunt, calloused fingertips brushing your spot, stroking you closer and closer with each pass.

You had spent hours fighting for a release, but now the tension built and receded with each orgasm, with each stroke of his tongue on your clit. Jason worked you relentlessly, stopping to gently capture your sensitive bud between his lips and suck, hard. It almost hurt, it almost felt unbearable, but the beautiful noises it roused from deep within your chest only encouraged him as you fought against your bonds for purchase more than release. “That’s a good girl, taking everything I give you.” He groaned, pausing the torture only to continue, his eyes meeting yours, domino mask framing his eyes beautifully, hair messy from being freed from his helmet.

He traps you there, the rope biting deliciously into your skin as you jolt with every pass of his tongue, fingers fucking you relentlessly. Your senses are overwhelmed with Jason. His scent, his touch, his voice, he’s everywhere, he clouds your mind, the haze overtaking you, sending you into a blissful myriad of stars, only half aware, your attention only on the way he pulls you closer to another orgasm, coaxing you gently until you reach it, so so desperate.

Jason swipes over your soft bud, fingers pumping so hard you’re barely seeing straight and with a moan-turned-scream, you find another release. Your breath is hot, it’s ragged as he laps at you gently, letting out a satisfied hum, but it’s not enough. “One more.” Jason gently thumbs your poor abused clit, body trembling as the overstimulation washes through you again. “I can’t.” You gasp. But you can. “You’re doing so good, little one, take one more for me and then I’ll fuck you, I promise.” Jason speaks lowly, the lower octave sending a thrill down your spine. There was something so sinful about Jason looking up at you from between your thighs, lips glistening with your release, eyes dark behind his domino mask, his Red Hood suit still on him as he tormented you. It was his voice, the way he spoke to you in such a sweet way as he ruined you, words falling from his lips, warm and smooth like honey, like ambrosia.

“One more, baby?” He prompted. “One more.” You nodded obediently, lost completely in the euphoria he had blessed you with, voice shaky and closer to a moan than words. “That’s my girl.” Jason hummed, pleased that you, like usual, were his good girl and you did everything he asked you to.

He soothed his gloved thumb over your pretty, aching little bud as he fucked you with his bare fingers. Jason might have made you promise to have one more orgasm, but he never promised he’d give it to you as quickly as the previous ones. The leather of his glove rubbed excruciatingly slowly over your hypersensitive skin and Jason revelled in the gasps and the way you trembled and jolted with each slight touch. “You poor thing, neglected for hours and now look at you, you’re taking it so well.” He was rambling, he was high on your pleasure and you knew he’d be reluctant to let you orgasm so soon. He’d keep you right where he wanted you until he was ready to lead you, tumbling into your meridian high.

Jason edged you slowly, languid movements seized you with pleasure and you thanked the heavy constraint of the ropes around you, holding you down, giving you purchase. The rope hugged you, enveloped your body, mimicked and extended the strength, protection and warmth Jason poured into the way he embraced you. You were trapped in your haze, bathed in ecstasy as you felt him circle your clit over and over, fucking into your slit, fingers hooked and stroking you closer and closer, back arching at the pleasure, breath ragged and uneven as you slipped further into your haze.

“Please, Jay.” The pleading had tumbled from your lips and you were barely aware that you’d even spoken the words in your daze. “Please what, baby?” He asked softly, voice teasingly sweet, almost mean as he coaxed you closer but not close enough. “Please, wanna cum.” You begged, breathy and barely discernible between your gasps and sweet, soft moans. “You asked so nicely, sweetheart. Been so good.” He spoke, gentle words contrasting his voice, rough and deep, tone rugged and steeped in lust. “Stay still and I’ll let you.”

With his words you obeyed, submitting to his promise and you sank into the embrace of your rope bindings as his tongue met your throbbing bud. He didn’t even need to give you long, quick flicks, the barest touch bringing you to the edge as he lightly soothed your aching clit with the tip of his tongue. You came with a gasp, the orgasm surging through you like flames, licking at your insides, flushing you hot with desire, relief, euphoria.

“There you go,” He hummed against you, gently helping you down from your high, craving more but knowing he had to keep his promise. Another night he would hold you here and satisfy the soft, pretty bud between your thighs for hours, but tonight he’d promised to fuck you and he would give you everything you asked for tenfold. “So pretty when you let go.”

“Relax for me, gonna give you everything you want, baby.” He was the perfect contrast, a man of duality. He could be possessive, rough and give it to you with aggressive thrusts and a grip that could bruise, but Jason could also be sweet and gentle and he could do both all at the same time. He knew you loved to be told what to do, you loved being his good girl and Jason loved that you were so willing to do everything he told you to do.

“Please, Jay.” You begged, voice soft, sweet, innocent and Jason groaned at the sound of you. “M’right here, my needy girl.” His voice raspy, dangerous even as he freed his cock from his suit. “Look at me, need you to look at me.” He told you and you obeyed easily, eyes meeting his as he slowly pushed into your soaked pussy. The gasp turned moan that left your lips was music to his ears and he grunted with relief as he allowed himself to sink into you until he filled you completely.

“Look at you, taking me so well.” His words came out in a grunt as he struggled not to lose composure. He held back his need to be rough, to let out the adrenaline of the night, but the way you moaned as he released the rope around you, pulling the cord from your skin, its roughness a contrast in of itself, soft in its caress as it brushed your skin, allowing you to finally touch him. You pulled him in, clawed at him, a silent plea for more and Jason couldn’t resist.

“Jay, please.” Your voice was soft, sweet and it was all he needed to convince himself to lean into his desires and give you what you wanted. His features, hardened and bold, were washed with pleasure and warmth as he took you. Reaching up as he thrust into you, rising breathy, pretty moans from you, you pulled his domino mask off him, looking into his eyes as he claimed you. “Wanted to see me?” He asked, voice gruff and heavy, backed with the sound of skin on skin. You nodded, a soft pout on your lips. “Needed to see you.”

His gaze connected with yours, warm and loving as you moved in tandem, his fingers dipping against the skin of your thighs, holding you perfectly. Jason Todd was many things, but your hidden facet of him, deep beneath everything else, he showed you his genuine kindness, his unfiltered love, vulnerability, his affection beyond the flirting and possessive touches.

Jason’s desperate movements became more controlled, more intentional and he made love to you, taking you as his, giving himself to you. After a night of patrolling, of playing as Gotham’s protector, a shadow bathed in red and black, Jason sank into you, clutching at the need to be himself with you, to be Jason, the man who’d stolen your heart with his lopsided grins and grumpy bad boy attitude. And as your highs peaked and your moans filled his ears with a blissful ring, he came closer to his high.

With each stroke, his demeanour softened as he left Red Hood behind and became Jason, your Jason. “Love you, baby, love you so much.” He was rambling as the pleasure took hold of him, as the pleasure of your orgasm sent him into a blissful haze, chasing his own release, he spoke with a voice imbued with his love for you.

As he found his release, your pretty moans complimenting his groans, you whispered to him the words that soothed him entirely. “I love you too, Jay.” And he was complete.

Jason was a contradiction, he had broken pieces, he had scars that had shaped him, and yet this man that scoured Gotham for its evil lay bare, perfectly faceted and scarred and wonderfully real. For you.

[yanderestarangel]

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ㅤ♡ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐊1 | 𝐁𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐗 𝐆𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

TW : angst, psychological horror, kidnapping, obsession, forced passion, stalker, yandere themes, dark concept.

Bi Han wouldn't give you many choices but to belong to him.

It all starts with his slight, quick obsession with you regardless of how you both met, whether you're a Lin Kuei or not, you're in Bi Han's sights now.

If you're a non-Lin Kuei, it all starts with Bi Han doing the rounds looking for a fugitive from the outer world and by unfortunate coincidence you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and that's when your hell began.

Bi Han was hanging around the village where you were visiting some friends you hadn't seen in a while and decided to leave at lunch time until he found himself in the crossfire, with an exoterrian being cornering you.

You really didn't even react, expecting to be killed, but as soon as you closed your eyes you heard the scream of the man behind you and found yourself freed from his grip.

Everything very fast and very unbelievable for you.

Until you fall unconscious on the floor due to so much adrenaline.

You woke up again to the smell of alcohol in the air with an unpleasant chill through your body and a needle in your vein, probably IV.

When you regained your senses you saw a masked figure, blue clothes and tall, standing looking at you. The scare was enormous but the penetrating gaze was even more so.

The man introduced himself as "Grand Master Lin Kuei" of some shit you didn't give a shit about.

You just wanted to take it home.

You were really thinking about what time you could leave while the muscular figure explained what had happened but it seemed like he was examining your entire body looking at you from top to bottom, like a wolf.

Bi Han ended by saying that you could go home but that he would take you there himself.

What made you worried, you lived alone and a strange man with a mask and blue ninja clothes said he would take you home for some reason.

You denying it would only make the situation worse.

He would use the card: "-I'm a protector of the earthly plane, I need to make sure you're well enough, it's my job."

And finally he took you.

And it all started there.

You felt like you were being watched from then on, you felt eyes and you even cried in fear because of the damn sensation.

Bi Han looked at you through the shadows, it didn't matter covering all the windows or locking the doors, he would see you, enter your house and look at you in your deep nightmares where you cried because of him

And that, my dear... It was adorable for him.

And that's when it went from an obsession to something even more unhealthy.

He knew very well what he was doing and that this game was one-sided, but he wasn't going to stop.

You found yourself trapped in a life of being watched, but you didn't know by whom.

Until they entered your house. Two masked men captured you and broke practically everything looking for valuables, you cried with your hands tied behind your back while one of them shouted and insulted you.

You wanted it all to end.

Until you saw a tall silhouette knock out one of the men from behind and easily knock the other out as he hurriedly ran to meet you.

It was Bi Han.

You cried like a baby in his arms, as you watched him calm you down, that everything was going to be okay, that now he was there.

Your house was broken and you didn't even have a place to sleep.

Bi Han found himself so happy.

You knew nothing about him but he literally everything, everything about you.

What did you like, what did you hate where your family lived, he had a wikipedia about you.

It took a few hours at the police station while they questioned you about everything, Bi Han didn't want to let you go, but you insisted on pressing charges.

Bi Han was strangely close to his side.

The man offered you shelter in some Lin Kuei base, which was suspicious enough.

"-You'll be safe there and I'll be by my side."

You found yourself lost.

So you accepted.

Little did I know that all of that had been Bi Han's setup with Lin Kuei ninjas of a lower level, who did everything as their grand master ordered.

He approached you, taking advantage of your fragility by being your shoulder to lean on, since mysteriously your friends had cut ties with you too.

And he had a hand in it too.

When his house was renovated by insurance you were ready for your routine again.

But Bi Han didn't.

And when you saw it, you were no longer in your room at the Lin Kuei base, but trapped completely in a bed and in an unknown house, your last memory of it being a cloth and lots of chloroform on it coming from behind.

And soon Bi Han entered the room, you felt relieved but soon saw the psychopathic look of your "savior"

You asked to be released.

But he just ignored you, giving you a forced kiss, cold and hungry lips leaving you breathless, while a thin thread of saliva showed on Bi Han's tongue as he pulled away from you.

Screaming, crying, it wouldn't help.

You lost your Autonomy when this man saw you the first time.

He would manipulate you in every way possible, be it threatening your family or even depriving you of human touch.

And that would be your life now, being Bi Han's obedient doll.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[iwaasfairy]

congratulations on your 15k milestone fairy!!!! i’m such a fan of every single one of ur fics, I’ve been here ever since u started publishing mirror and indelible and it’s been such an amazing ride!!! ur the best fairy, hope u reach 150k now ♡´･ᴗ･`♡

for the event maybe could u make megumi + stepcest? make it as dark as u wish haha <3~

:<<< I have a very sad kitty image that I wanna put in here but I can’t buT iMMMM Big emOtional yOUre so swEEETTTT

tw (step)cest, jealousy, manipulation

Megumi knows he has you wrapped around his finger. It’s not particularly hard to see in the first place, watching you ‘hmm’ and gawk each time you do as he asks. He doesn’t think that you’re stupid, but you are naive, and just like the lot of them - you didn’t get enough attention from daddy. Ever since Tsumiki moved out, you’ve become even more clingy, sticky and pushy with your affection.

“You know that’s not going to stop me, right?” He asks, and watches how your big eyes flutter up at him like you’re trying to take a shutter the sight and print it into your brain. It takes a few seconds for your pout to appear, and heat to start prickling on the tip of your nose and ears.

“‘M not trying to stop you,” the hands you had wrapped around your tits to protect your modesty drop, as you glance down and step out of your panties too. “It’s cold in here, niichan~”

Megumi clicks his tongue, before putting the toothbrush back into the glass. He can do that later. “Then get into the bath already, shitty sister. I don’t know why you’re twirling around here in the first place.” He can’t help the snappy tone when it comes to you, truly, he does try. But the meaner he is, the softer you become. And how’s a man supposed to ignore your glittering puppy-dog eyes? He truly can’t.

“Are you getting in too?” you patiently ask, sliding into the hot water with slightly wobbly legs, like you’re a baby fawn taking its first steps. Megumi never really felt called to be a protector… but you are something else entirely.

His answer comes before the thought. “Of course I am. Move over.” You do, and he strips down and gets in like he says - but instead of any of this calming his hard-on, he’s only getting harder when your skin slides up against his and you sway the water when you get comfortable against his chest, dropping your head back onto his shoulder. “Gotta clean you up. Move your arms.” And his hands follow, kneading the soft skin of your tits with slightly rough touches.

“Nii nii?” He responds with only a hum, and runs his hands down your body a few times to slide your legs apart so he can fit a hand in between and trail his fingers over your pussy, putting more pressure on your covered clit until you start to melt against him a little. After a few soft gasps, you turn your face to hide against his throat. “Did you use to take baths with Tsumiki neechan too?” Your voice is too soft to make out any true undertone, but he still feels a slight smile tug at his mouth corners.

“Hah?” Of course he didn’t. While he appreciates both your older sister, he’s pretty sure she would have killed him if he had tried. She might still kill him if she finds out what dirty thoughts he’s put into your head now, too. Only you could be doe-eyed and obedient enough to let your big brother trick you into playing with your tits and pussy after hours. He pinches your clit between thumb and pointer until you squeak, and it sends you slipping down and out of his touch with a frown.

“‘Gumi niichan~ That hurts!” Your bottom lip wobbles as you stare at him, and more heat starts collecting on your cheeks until you look all flushed and drowsy and a little bit too distracted.

“That’s what you get for asking stupid questions.” He keeps your eyes for a second, before you finally look away in embarrassment and run a hand over your eyes. But when you try to get up, he pulls you back down into him and sloshing the water around more. “Hey, what- are you jealous?”

“No, ‘m not jealous!” You’re convincing exactly no one. And his grip on your wrist stays even though you try to wrong loose, before you eventually give up and you blink away tears. “God, let go, niichan. I don’t like you.” He takes hold of your head and pulls you closer until you’re nose to nose and he’s unable to keep the slight smile from showing up on his face.

“Gimme one kiss, c’mon.” You give him the saddest, most pitiful peck - before he leans in more and squeezes your face. “A proper kiss.” Those long lashes almost brush his when you look up at him and suck your bottom lip. But be it wanting to be done quicker, or actual want, you go back in and let him capture your mouth with his until he can push his tongue between your lips and force them open. Until you’re relaxing against his hold on you and your tits get pressed to his chest - slumped against the naked body of your own big brother.

After a bit of letting you kiss him back, he taps your cheek. “Get onto your knees, we gotta clean me too. You do it so well with that pretty mouth, right?’

[anjelicawrites]

Board made by the amazing @zaldritzosrose. Thank you so much! It is amazing!

Paring: modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader

Synopsis: Period kink collaboration with my amazing dragon friends! Based on an ask @lady-phasma received; read the rest of the works here. Aemond sees in how much pain you are during your period, and decides to lend you a helping hand or better, fingers.

Warnings: period smut, fingering, blood, mention of blood flow, kissing, overstimulation, reader is a bit anxious and ashamed of being on their period, a tiny bit of gore (Aemond says that he has to clean his eye socket and prosthetic), a dash of possessive!Aemond.

A/N: reader is AFAB, where needed, they/them pronoun used. Reader is nondescript but Aemond has to bend a little to hug them.

You’re writhing on the black bed sheets, your naked back arches and slides on the silky material with every gentle motion of Aemond’s long fingers inside your cunt.

NSFW and 18+ only please!

You weren’t too sure when he proposed to help you deal with your period pain, you were feeling so self conscious about the flow and the mess you would, inevitably, make; now? You don’t even remember where you are, your body is a floating bundle of nerves, no pain, no thoughts, only pleasure.

Aemond had kissed you, senseless, as soon as you were back from work, cranky, in pain and tired. He had cornered you against the door by putting one bent arm over your head, while his other hand had cupped your chin to make sure you were staring at his face.

“Welcome back, ñuha ōños, my light.” He purred.

“Hi baby.” You answered, with a small voice.

You knew what he was trying to do and he wasn’t being that subtle about it, if you had to go by the erection pressed against your center.

“Long, hard day at work?”

You couldn’t look into his blazing eye, the naked need and hunger there, yet you were mesmerized.

“Yeah, my back is killing me.”

You weren’t lying. You have been on the pill for years, which had been a big help, and had pumped yourself full of pain relief, yet you didn’t feel totally comfortable.

“Let me help with that.” He growled.

“Aemond…” You whined when his hands grabbed your hips to push you as close as possible to his hard body.

“Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't lend you a hand.”

You recognized the tone: he was in full negotiation mode.

“It’s disgusting.”

“I have to clean my eye-socket and prosthetic. I call that disgusting.”

“It’s unsanitary.”

“I will wash my hands afterwards.”

“I will make a mess.”

“I love when you do that.”

“It’s not proper.”

“Aren’t you the one who taught me that ‘being proper’ is a silly society construct?”

“Aemond, it’s blood, from my vagina.”

“So? Eye-socket, remember? I am not afraid of some little blood.” He cupped your cheeks with his big hands. “Look, you’ll never know if you don’t try and I’ll stop if you tell me to. I want you to feel good.”

You felt the heath spread all over your body at the eagerness you heard in his voice: Aemond wanted to help, he had always been your protector, your sworn sword, your rock, you knew he hated when he felt like he wasn’t doing that, even when there was no enemy to fight.

“Kiss me?” You asked, needing to feel safe in his arms.

“Gods, yes.”

His arms moved to envelope your body, his back bent a little to reach you comfortably and his lips, Gods his lips, soft and warm on yours, kissing you slowly, until you parted your mouth to welcome him in.

You moaned when your tongues met, your body held upright by his only, your knees wobbling dangerously.

“Let me take you to bed and treat you like the queen you are.”

You giggled when he swooped you up and carried you bridal style, you hid your face against the side of his neck to breathe in his masculine scent and leave small kisses on the soft, alabaster skin.

With the utmost care he laid you on the silk sheets and undressed you, kissing and nibbling every patch of skin he could reach, making you laugh when he started tickling your sides and you had to threaten him, or he wouldn’t stop.

You felt self conscious when he removed your panties and you noticed that the inside of your tights were stained with blood (pill or not, the flow is always out of control).

“Are you still with me?” He asked, with a soft voice, as if he didn’t want to startle you.

“Yeah.” You hated how unsure you sounded.

“Will you show me then, ñuha ōños? Will you spread your legs for me and show me how beautiful you are?”

You couldn’t look into his eye when you, slowly, let your legs fall on the side, displaying your curls, wet with fresh blood.

“You take my breath away, dōna jorrāelagon, sweet love.” He murmured.

You dared take a peek at his face and took in his mesmerized expression, the enlarged pupil of his eye and the way he licked his lips, absentmindedly.

“Do you truly like it?” You loathed the embarrassment in your voice: you shouldn't feel the way you do!

“Yes. You’re always beautiful. Look at me.”

Slowly, feeling your whole body lit up, you let your eyes bore into Aemond’s lonely one and almost choked when you saw him lick his fingers with long laps of his pink tongue.

“You can scream and cry as much as you please, I will stop only when I know your pain is gone.”

You let your body fall on the mattress with a moan: Aemond is always a man of his word, he will drive you crazy and bend your body to his whims.

“Give me a kiss, dōna jorrāelagon.” He said, covering your body with his.

“Yes, Aemond, yes.”

His still clothed front lay on yours, the expensive cotton of his shirt was so soft against your naked breasts, his tongue was gentle in your mouth, easing you into relaxation as his long fingers slowly traveled from your knee to your center.

He leisurely followed the lines of your muscles, kneading the knots of anxiety he found along the way, teasing around your needy center until you started moving your hips, trying to catch his wandering fingers; you moaned when he, finally, spread your lips. You couldn't see them, but there were tendrils of blood and come already formed, his index finger squelched with the obscene amount of it when he slowly breached you.

You were so warm around him, warmer than ever and so responsive: you’ve never clenched this tight around him, he had to work your muscles open, slowly, gently, his lust inflamed by the needy sounds you were making.

“You’re sucking me in so eagerly, my love.” He drawled in your ear and you tried to hide your face. “None of that. Let me enjoy all of you.”

Your first orgasm hit you unexpectedly, fueled by his gentle movements and the hungry expression on his beautiful face.

“Aemond…” You begged, when he didn’t stop fucking you, he simply slowed down to help you ride the high.

“Shhh, shhh, ñuha ōños, one is not enough. I know what you need.”

Slowly, one by one, his middle and ring finger entered you, to crook in a come hither motion that had your hips jump off the mattress when he started massaging your G spot intensely, precisely, with one goal in his wicked mind.

Your body writhed under his, your hands grabbed at his arms to scratch as you felt the intense burn of pleasure explode inside of you, your whole body burning with it, until you came, with a long scream.

Aemond didn't truly still inside of you, he kept massaging your walls, slowly, scissoring you, eyeing you like a hawk: he didn’t want to miss a single blessed out expression on your face, not when you were the picture of pleasure, his personal Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, and you were calling his name so sweetly, as if he was your only tether, your safe haven.

Aemond had you dance on his fingers for hours, slowing down and hurrying up, until your body was a writhing mass of nerves and tears, your blood and come had formed a puddle under your ass.

You're his masterpiece, your body his temple, your pleasure his only goal; he smiles softly when you try to say his name, but only a dis-articulated sound of pleasure slips from your tired lips.

“I'm here, I'm here.” He tells you softly.

He lets his thumb massage your puffy clit, so overused the light touch has you clench painfully around him as he lays over you.

He's still dressed, his nice shirt splotched with your blood, his slacks too uncomfortably tight for him to move without a moan of pain: not that he cares, only you and your pleasure exist, he's the mere conduit of it.

His lips find yours in a sloppy kiss, you tongue subjugated to his can barely move, his fingers so deep inside of you drive you mad, your pain all but forgotten; when his mouth lands on your breasts you keen, back barely arching to meet his ravenous mouth and teeth. Your hands slot in his hair to control his movements and he sucks harsher, leaving marks all over the soft skin. The dual sensation forces your body into overdrive; your brain is already so drunk with pleasure that you start shaking violently when Aemond's fingers pick up speed again. In vain you try to beg, you cry, your abused walls inflamed by his constant use clench so tight he can barely move or spread his fingers, his thumb brutal on your clit, fast horizontal sweeps that send shock waves up your spine.

Your eyes open wide, through the veil of tears you can see his focused expression and the hungry smile on his soft lips. Desperate you grab his biceps, your voice failing you when you try to scream the pain, and the pleasure you're feeling.

“The last one, ñuha ōños, give it to me!” He roars.

Through the turmoil you want to scream that you can't, he's ruined you, God please Aemond have mercy! No more! But your body is not yours anymore, it's his instrument to play, you’re simply along for the ride.

When pleasure explodes you arch so much you're sitting, body ravaged by the pleasure your muscles shake, your cunt clamps so tightly Aemond can't move his fingers and it's only his will that stops him from coming untouched at the sight of you coming undone, with fresh tears streaming down your cheeks.

You flop on the bed, spent, leaking obscenely when Aemond can slip his fingers out of your overused hole.

His fingers are covered in a mix of your blood and come and the mess has leaked down his palm and back of hand, almost to his wrist; when he spreads his fingers there's red tendrils adorning his digits. You have turned him into your masterpiece, a miracle he could never deem possible, marked him in a way no one ever did before and never will.

You're making distressed sounds now, so cold and lonely on the big bed and Aemond immediately grabs your spent body and sits you with your back to his front, curling protectively around you. He murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, he kisses all the soft skin he can reach: pretty, pretty and amazing you are, perfect in any way: his own, personal, miracle.

“You did so good, do you know that?”

The gentleness in his voice, the sweet tone he only uses in these circumstances, are the line that tither you back to reality, to him, your only love.

You try to say his name, to voice your needs, but your brain is too muddled and drunk on endorphins to properly work.

“Do you want to do something for me, ñuha ōños?”

Even as drunk as you are, you can feel the devilish tone and you can't help but nod: you’d do anything for him, even kill, if that meant keeping him by your side.

Aemond smiles at your eagerness, even floating in a sea of pleasure, your only goal is to make him happy, as he is you; he knows he could ask you the most heinous things, and you'd accept: but he would never do something that would harm you, mentally or physically. Not in a million years a Goddess would bestow their gaze upon a ruined thing like he is, yet you did and he will never risk losing you, or hurting you, he’d rather lose his other eye than let that happen. When he pushes you to check your limits, he does it because he knows it’s to help you better yourself, the same way you make him a better man every time you choose him over another, or tell him when he fucks up.

“Lick this mess clean, issa jorrāelagon, my love. Will you do that for me?”

You nod and babble your consent, sticking your tongue out for him, a part of you trembling in the wait.

Iron and a tangy taste hit your tongue, not a bad combination, foreign though, addictive in its novelty, to the point that Aemond has to slow you down when you choke on his fingers and you whine when he tries to have a little taste himself.

Your tongue licks fast and hungry, not leaving a particle of yourself on him until he's clean and your lips are red with your blood, only then Aemond lays you on the bed again and puts his head on your sternum, listening intently to your heartbeat slowing down.

“How are you feeling?” He asks when he feels you try to adjust your position.

“I’ve never been better.” Your hand flies to his mouth. “Don't say a word. Not one.”

As one would expect, Aemond says something intelligible against your palm.

“Why are you still dressed? Oh my God!” You shriek when you see the mess: he looks like a serial killer!

Aemond simply shrugs his shoulders and throws the shirt on the floor: he has another ten in his wardrobe, he can afford losing one.

“Oh God Aemond I am so sorry!”

You can't curl on your side because he's keeping you pinned against the mattress, but you can cover your face with your hands, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“None of that!” Aemond's hands are strong in yours as he forces you to look at him. “I have enjoyed every second of it!”

He silences your objections with a sound kiss and by tickling you until you squirm and laugh under him: you make him so happy just by existing, he wouldn't want anyone else in his life but you.

“Aemond?” You ask, alarmed, when he moves down your body until his face is hovering your drenched pussy.

“Since you were so ravenous, I need to have a little taste.” He smirks at your whine. “Just a quick one, and you need a clean you up, let’s call it me repaying your favor.”

His hands grab your tights and pull them on his shoulders, opening you up to his hungry gaze: just a quick taste and he’ll let you sleep. This is just your first day, he has a whole week to eat you out until you're all he tastes.

Aemond taglist: @fan-goddess, @xcharlottmikaelsonx, @qweencrimson

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose

[rogueshadow1124]

SHE'S BACK

[THE BATFAMILY SERIES]

Summary: a few months ago Y/N left for university, leaving her family to begin something new, but now she's back.

Word count: 3621

Warnings: mild swearing, (not proof read)

"And there it is..." Y/N muttered, shutting the door of the taxi behind her, slinging her duffel bag over her right shoulder with an exaggerated huff. Her bright orbs trailed over the manor before her, wavering over the vines that travelled up the sides of the building and momentarily glancing at the windows which had no source of light seeping through. To be honest it wouldnt be expected at this hour, it had just turned four o'clock, in the morning that is. "My humble abode."

The girl walked up the pathway, hopping up the steps of the front porch area. Her left hand slid into the pocket of her jacket to pull out a worn metal key, slotting it into the hole in the dark oak door, she wiggled it slightly smiling once she heard the churning of the locks before an audiable click sounded into the silence of the night.

Pushing down onto the silver handle, sighing in relief when the warmth of her childhood home hit her right in the face. She had missed being at the manor, she missed everyone she had left behind- not purposely. In the early summer, a year ago to this day she had recieved a letter from one of the biggest universities globally, it was one of the best ones around- at first she hadn't at all planned on leaving, not wanting to leave her father, her grand-father figure and her brothers behind.

Her youngest brother Damian ended up finding the letter when he was snooping through her room one night, she told him plenty of times that he wasnt allowed to do that but he didnt seem to understand privacy nor did he bother to listen to anything he is told to do. The next day Damian took the letter to bruce and informed him about how she had been accepted.

When she was confronted about it- basically being cornered on the couch by not only her father and youngest brother but also her other three brothers and the family friend Alfred who worked as the butler in Wayne manor, she was eventually persuaded to take the offer after denying and pushing it off many times, the others had told her that it was a once in a life time opportunity that she couldnt give up and assured her that they would be perfectly fine without her, which wasnt exactly a lie, though there were some struggles once she left.

Bruce had gotten so used to the morning visits from his daughter, it was the sake routine running- he would get a knock at his office door, not even being able to respond before the door was opened in in walks Y/N in all her glory, a tray full of food in her hand that also with held a glass of orange juice, without pulp just the way he liked it. Then he would get a mini lecture from her where she tells him how it's important that he doesnt over work himself and that he gets a break or how he shouldnt skip meals because it wasnt good for his health. He always got annoyed at this but when she was gone, he sure did find how much he missed her.

Alfred had taken her leave better than the others, of course he did but that didnt mean he didnt miss her. The butler had been in her life ever since she was just a small child, they had a kind of tradition where they would bake once a week and test out making new baked goods, sometimes it went awfully wrong but that didnt stop the fun, it was a laugh.

Dick was only older than her by a couple of years, he didnt like the fact that his, what he liked to call 'baby sister' was venturing off into the big wide world, he knew that nowhere was safe no matter how nice it looks but he had to trust that she could look after herself and although he had seen her fighting in action many times, he still couldnt come to face the fact that she could always help herself, he was her protector and no matter what she said he would always be there to protect her.

Jason was her first younger brother, he looked up to Y/N alot and was worried that she would forget about him when she left, she was one of the few people he didnt want to loose and now she would hours away from him, not being there to 'annoy' him and be on his back 24/7. Tim knew that this was what's best for his older sister, she would be able to succeed and achieve what she needed to in order to create the best life for herself, he missed her but he knew this was what's best for her.

Now Damian had made it look like he wasnt at all bothered or affected by the fact his oldest half-blood sister was leaving but deep down her really was. Nobody knew that ever since she left he would sneak off to sleep in her room at night and cuddle up to her teddy bear that still slightly held her citrus scent- atleast he hoped nobody noticed. He respected her, she was always there even when he didnt need her and he had only just gotten used to her being around that now he was at a lost without her.

Y/N's eyes squinted, closing the door slowly behind her as not to make any loud sound. She looked to the end of the open hallway, smirking when she noticed the kitching light was on. That only meant one thing, she wouldnt have expected any less from Alfred, he was always the first one to be awake in the house, it was like he didnt need sleep- when she was younger she thought that he was some kind of metahuman or alien. It's funny if you think about it.

She strolled towards the opening to the kitching, peering through, eyes meeting the butlers back as he was turned away from her. She smiled to herself, coughing lowly making Alfred spin on his heel, hand coming up to his chest subtly, eyes wide when he spotted the girl.

"Miss Y/N. What are you doing here?"

"Its winter break, decided to come home. Kinda missed this place." The duffel bag slid from her shoulder, slumping to the ground. She rushed forwards and embraced the man in a much needed hug, he chuckled light heartedly returning the gesture, patting at her back.

"You could have given me a heart attack." They pulled away from one another, Y/N letting out a laugh at his statement while his face turned stern, arms coming up to cross among his chest.

"Your an old man Alfie, they might get more frequent." She laughed harder, hands clutching at her stomach. The butler rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the girls antics, this would be one things he hadn't missed, her humor and comments. The girl looked up immediately letting her laughter die down when she spotted the look on his face. "I'm joking, I'm joking."

"It's a pleasure to have you back Miss Y/N." A smile broke out onto his features, one just as sincere being returned.

After her interaction with Alfred she picked up her duffel bag and lazily threw it over her shoulder, making her way out into the wide hallway and towards the stairs. She hopped up the in a rhymatic motion, skipping a couple steps ever now and again- making it to the top she spotted her room, the one she had accustomed since she was a child, the door was open ajar, a hint of light passing through the gaps.

Her eyes squinted slightly, a small smile crossing her features.

She crept towards the room, pushing the door open- eyes immediately trailing over the navy walls that were covered in band posters and paintings she had created herself. Her Y/E/C orbs landed on her bed, which had an odd lump in the centre, her brows creased as she let her bad slide from her shoulder and plop to the ground before making her way to stand beside her bed.

Out-stretching her hand, she grasped at the corner of the dark sheets, tugging it back to reveal her youngest brother curled up in a fetal position, arms wrapped tightly around her Teddy bear.

"Oh Dami." Y/N chuckled, sitting down on the edge of her bed gently as if not to wake the boy. She reached out a hand, gliding it through his dark spiky locks, humming in content when she felt him move under her touch, leaning up into her hand, she grinned whispering- "Not so big and bad after all huh?"

She watched as he stretched out, eyes peeling open to show off his ocean blues. At first he seemed to still be in a half-asleep state, eyes wandering around until they set on his older sister, widening in surprise as his body jolted up from the bed, scooting backwards away from her for a split second, hands coming up to rub at his eyes.

"Y/N?" His voice croaked hoarsly. "W-when did you get back?"

"Hmmm." She looked down at her wrist, eyes oogling at the watch that layed on her lean wrist. "Arrived in the city about an hour or so ago, got here say twenty minutes ago."

"I-I..." Damian stuttered, internally debating whether or not he should hug her- he had missed her dearly, not at all wanting to show it as he had a reputation to uphold but he hadn't seen her for what felt like forever- to her utter surprise his smaller form launched at her, arms wrapping around her shoulders, head snuggling into the crevice of her neck. "I-I urm- I missed you."

"I missed you too Dami." Her arms wrapped around him, pulling his body closer to her own, near to the point he was sitting in her lap. A few seconds passed, a nice and peaceful silence falling between the two, the girl ended up pulling back to look down at the boy who had a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips- which was indeed rare. "Aw Dami, you miss me so much to give me a little smile."

"Tch, in your dreams Wayne."

"Not at all have you changed but I guess I wouldnt have you any other way." She pulled him back in, placing kisses around his face to which he tried struggling away from her, making laughs erupt in her throat at his reaction to her teasing.

"Get off of me!" Damian pushed ta her shoulder, a loud thump sounding in the room when she ended up falling to the floor from the impact while he boy stayed on the bed, on his stomach as his head dangled from the edge.

"Ouch." Her laughing ceased, arm crossing over her chest to lay a hand hand on her now throbbing shoulder.

The sound of Y/N falling from the bed, caught the attention of the lightest of sleepers within the house- The girl stared at her youngest brother, eyes squinted, brows furrowed and mouth a gape. As she went to stand up, the sound of her door creaking open caught both of the siblings attention, Y/N again falling back to the floor.

"What's with all the-" In walked the eldest adopted son, fisted hands rubbing at his eyes as he let out a longing yawn- his sleepy demina instantly switching to a more lively source of emotion when he spotted his 'little' sister sitting on the floor, hand clutching at her still throbbing shoulder. "Y/N?!"

Dick launched himself forwards, hands reaching down and clutching to her arms before her pulled her up into his embrace to which she let out a slight yelp at the rushed movement, harshly being lifted from the carpeted floor.

Oh how he had missed his sister, she was always on his mind- he tended to worry about her alot and had actually at some point contemplated driving to the university to snatch her up and drive her back home where she would be in his sight at all times, though in reality it would be him clinging to her and definetly not the other way round.

"D-dick. Air. I need air." Y/N stuttered, hand patting at his bicep. The male instantly let go, holding her at arms length, letting his eyes skim and check her over. A giant grin etching over his features as he pulled her back in to give her one last squeeze before letting go. "Damn do you have a strong grip boy."

"Dont you 'boy' me. What happened to answering my calls, hmm?" Dicks hands came to rest on his hips, his foot tapping on the floor impatiently. Y/N could only look up at him in confusion, her mind going to only a day ago when she last spoke to him.

"I-I spoke to you yesterday morning."

"What about last night, I called before patrol." He consulted further, eyeing the girl up and down as she scoffed out a chuckle.

"Oh yeah silly me, I'm not aloud to sleep now. I thought this was a free country." She rolled her eyes, shooting damian one last glare before storming towards her door, walking out into the dark halls of the manor making a beeline for the door to the left hand side of her room, barging inside like she owned the place.

There she spotted a bed, in the middle layed a slight bump under the covers, a tuft of raven hair showing from the corner as light snores echoed the room. Y/N grinned curtly, waltzing over towards the bed where she pulled the covers down slowly, humming at the content look that plagued her younger brothers face in this vulnerable state- it was a rare sight indeed, for Jason to look so calm and collected, he always carried this cold and hard exterior, he liked it that way and had been the same ever since she could remember.

"Jay..." she coo'd, one hand reaching out to run through his hair lightly, in an almost motherly way. He let out a low groan in response, turning his head to the side to burrow into his pillow away from the touch so he was able to get back to his slumber.

"Five more minutes Y/N/N, s'too early." Y/N rose an eyebrow at the boys antic, pursing her lips when she felt him tense, halting his sleepy movement. His body suddenly turned fully towards the girl, him still laying on his side as he stared up at her wide eyed. "Y/N?!"

"Hiyah Jay." His lips twitched when he noticed she was really there, his arms slanting behind him so he could push himself up and against his head bored, hands rubbing at his face and ruffling his hair.

"Si-(yawn)-nce when were you back?" He croaked, looking at his sister with tired eyes although a now lazy smile hooked his lips. He reached out an arm, bending it at the meltdown around the back of her neck to pull her into his side making her chuckle and push against his torso to get away from his hold, accepting defeat when he kept her beneath his arm, a loose strand of hair falling in her eyes to which she blew at.

"Missed you too." The girl grumbled, poking his ribs. "Got back earlier this morning."

"Such a softie." A voice echoed from the doorway making the siblings heads turn to see Dick and Damian standing there. Damian had his arms crossed with an eyebrow raised, his face contorted into his usual sour tone and Dich held a hand to his chest teasingly, wiggling the fingers of his other hand towards Jason who scowled and pushed Y/N away.

"Shut the fuck up Dickwad." Jason growled lowly, standing from his bed and stretching with an audiable hum and groan in relief at the stretch of his achy muscles.

"Hey, wheres Tim?" Y/N questioned looking towards the eldest who shrugged, looking down to the youngest who tutted, rolling his eyes in an obvious sign of annoyance.

"Probably in the cave, may aswell live there at this point." Damian pushed off the door frame, putting his weight onto his left side, hand coming to be placed on his right hip as he nodded behind him in ignition for his sister to follow him.

"You do know I know where the cave is, right Dami?" She laughed, walking towards him watching as he turned on his heel and stormed away with a huff. She stayed standing on the spot for a second with a blank look on her face before blinking with a shake of her head and speeding in the same direction Damian had.

She walked down the dark hall, turning at the stairwell where she spotted the spiky haired broody boy standing at the bottom with the same sour look on his face. Also taking note of the pattered steps of her two other brothers behind her as they followed along. She sped down the oak steps, hopping down the last two with a smile as she turned to Damian who looked to have already turned and started walking towards the knight statue in the corner of the foyer.

He pulled down on the arm, waiting for the bookshelf to move away from the wall to reveal the circular gap where another stairway was seen, leading down into the infamous batcave. He lead the three down the length of the opening, and into the main area where a couple of couches could be seen around the coffee table in the dimly lit room and in the centre at the back near the jhettbrick walls was a podium where a whole computer and tech system was located.

In the chair was a lean body, hunched over the desktop.

"Hey replacement?!" Jason's voice boomed, echoing through the cave- said boy jumped from his seat, falling to the floor with a pained groan and a bunch of curses.

"Jason Peter Todd!" Y/N turned to slap at the boy, hitting his chest then his arm and then the side of his head. Jason jumped back, arms coming up to shield himself from her as he grumbled. With one last glare sent in Jason's direction, she pointed at him sternly, turning on her heel to look at the boy on the floor, staggering her way up the small slope to crouch down by him, placing a hand on his back.

"Hmmm wha-" Tim's head lifted slightly, his eyes being blocked by the loose strains of dark locks that had fallen down messily, one of his hands swiping them away to allow him to see his surrounding clearly, though all he could actually see was his sister, who he hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime. "Y-Y/N."

"You alright Timbo?" And within seconds she was taken back by him shooting up to wrap her in a hug, his head resting tightly on her shoulder, hands grasping at her jacket.

"Your back." He whispered, trying to move more into her embrace, near enough sitting in her lap.

"Yes Tim I'm back." She breathed out, giving him a final squeeze as she pulled away, holding him by the shoulders at arms length giving him a full serious look. "And what did I say about looking after yourself Hm?"

"I-I well I-urmm..." under the harsh gaze he stuttered, looking towards the ground guiltily, scratching at the back of his head muttering out a 'sorry'.

"Mhm, well I suppose I can forgive you." She squinted her Y/E/C eyes, piercing through the boys shard ocean blues but couldnt hold the cold, stern look for any longer, letting a large smile break onto her face, messing his hair up with her hand before pushing his head away gently. "Seriously though, are you okay? You took quite the fall there."

"Y-yeah I'm good." He smiled.

"Good now i just gotta find-" she hauled herself up from the floor, dusting off her trousers, spinning to face the others only to find a familiar face staring right back at her, the boys standing behind the figure. "Dad."

"Y/N." He sent her a half smile, eyes following as she rushed over towards him, hurling her smaller form into his bigger one, arms wrapping around his waist to which he returned only his were placed around her shoulders, one hand resting on the back of her head. A singular tear slipped down her cheek as she nestled her head further into her fathers chest, she felt his chin atop her head, as he squeezed ever so slightly she could hardly feel the move. "You've grown."

"Y-yeah. I couldnt stay small forever." She stood away from him, hands clasping infront of her as she chuckled. "I was only gone for a few months."

"A few months?!" Dicks voice suddenly tuned through, going from his normal tone to a high pitched one as he dramatically pushed by Bruce and took Y/N's face in his hands, looking at her intently, orbs switching between each of her features. "No no no- A few months too long. It felt like forever!"

"Get off of me." She slapped at his hand, scowling up at the taller male. "Always the dramatics with you. I'm back now arent I?"

[deanscherrypie420]

Her Protector <3

A/N: I said I was inspired.. I couldn't help itttt.. Enjoy this little mess <3

Characters: Castiel, Reader Y/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester

Paring: Castiel X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, PDA, teasing, arguing, obliviousness, SPN hunting, mentions of spirits, mentions of murders, injuries, brief description of injuries, (Let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: After joining the Winchester brothers full time on their hunting journey, you are quickly introduced to Castiel. Now, he won't leave you alone. Everyone notices it, and now you have to figure out how to bring it up.

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She'd only been on the road with the Winchesters for a few months now. Living in the bunker was nice, but she never truly got comfortable. She always felt like it was too good, too nice, too... too normal. Well, as normal as a hunter could get.

Currently, they were in a diner eating breakfast. They had been brought to California because of a spirit who killed young women, angry for a reason they didn't know yet. She didn't know why, but she was determined to figure out the motive.

Pulling her away from her mind, Dean snatched the book she was reading out of her hand. "Seriously, we're eating. Put the book down." Dean sassed. Y/N rolled her eyes, "Since when did you give a damn about manors?" She retorted. He chuckled and shook his head.

Sam was about to speak when a man appeared in the seat in front of Y/N. She nearly spit out the mouth full of Sprite she just sipped, covering her mouth with her hand. She swallowed and turned to look at the brothers. Dean just chuckled and wrapped an arm around the man, "Y/N, meet Castiel, Castiel meet Y/N."

Castiel sticks his hand out to shake hers, and she awkwardly accepts. "Nice to meet you." Her voice was raised at the end, almost as if it was a question. Castiel nodded eagerly and pulled his hand away.

After a few minutes of awkward conversation, she noticed how Castiel hasn't stopped looking at her. "Do I have something on my face?" She asked with a playful tone. Castiel raised an eyebrow and shook his head, "No, your face looks pleasant."

Sam and Dean broke out in a fit of laughter and Y/N couldn't help but laugh along. The angel looked around at the group, confused as to what he didn't understand. "What? Was that supposed to be humorous?" He questioned.

The group laughed and teased him for some time. It was nice, relaxing even. Castiel did not feel that way though, he was so confused and trying desperately to understand the humor in it.

Such an interesting first impression.

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She'd known Cas for a few months now. They had gotten close, he often spent time with her in her room, reading or just sitting and watching her while she occupied herself.

Right now, she was reading on her bed. She was laying on her stomach, her ankles crossed in the air behind her. Castiel had appeared in her room without her knowing, sitting quietly at her desk.

He began studying her area, looking at all her different items and possessions. He lifted up one of her notebooks, them all being stacked neatly on the corner of her work surface. Opening it, he scanned the doodles that circled the words. A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

He set the notebook down on his lap, glancing over at Y/N to make sure she was still engulfed in her book. Satisfied, he reached over to grab a pen from her collection. He studied the ink inside of it, a beautiful storm of baby blue ink mixed with sparkling glittery stars.

He began creating little drawings next to hers, small clouds and a smiley face that mirrored the ones she had drawn previously. He smiled, an odd sense of pride washing over him.

He closed the journal and set it back down. Then he reached over and set the pen carefully back into its container. When he pulled back, the sleeve of his trench-coat caught on a pencil and caused the case to knock over.

Immediately, she jumped back into an awkward crawl looking position, groaning when she realized it was just Castiel. "Cas, what did I tell you about randomly showing up?" She said as she got up, walking over to her desk to clean up the mess. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, knock on my door."

He nodded, a frown playing on his lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." He moved to help her, quickly setting the container up right as she gathered the utensils and placed them neatly back in.

She sighed and faced him, "It's okay, just be more careful." She turned to walk away and tripped on Castiel's foot, falling to the ground and grunting.

Castiel quickly got up and pulled her back to her feet. "Are you okay?" He hurried, turning her to face him. She laughed dryly and waved his hands away, "I'm fine, really, I'm fine."

"I just need to be more careful."

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Ever since that incident, even though it was such a small thing, Cas has never left her side. Even more so when they're on hunts, and especially when she gets hurt.

"Fuck! Sammy!" She groaned, her head falling back onto the cold tile of the abandoned hospital. Sam quickly rushed towards her, lifting her head from the floor and into his lap. "Damn it, Y/N." He muttered, stroking her hair in an attempt to soothe her.

She groaned as Dean put pressure on her abdomen, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. "Dean, that hurts!" She spat at him through bared teeth. He scoffed, "Yeah, I bet it does."

Cas appeared, back towards them. He looked around, turning his body and realizing what was happening. "No." Was all he could say before he was down on the ground, nearly shoving Dean away from her.

His hands pressed down on her stomach and she hissed, pain shooting through her body. When the white light appeared beneath his hands her brain got foggy and she couldn't exactly recall what was happening.

After a moment, Castiel had picked her up off the ground and was carrying her to the Impala. He gently stroked her back, his hand tracing the same clouds he drew in her notebook months ago onto her skin.

She recognized instantly that's what he was creating and she let out a breathy laugh, "The clouds.." He smiled and nodded, "Yeah, the clouds. I figured you would like them."

He was correct.

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"I'm fine! You guys don't need to baby me!" She groaned as Cas walked her into the diner, his hand gently squeezing hers as she whined. "We aren't babying you, we're taking care of you." Sam retorted, rolling his eyes at her complaint.

As they sat down, Cas sat down next to her, still holding her hand. Both the brothers looked at each other and then Dean stared her down. She hated that secret language they spoke with their eyes. She tried relentlessly to decode it, but always failed.

"What?" She questioned, and Dean's mouth flattened into a thin line, raising his hands before slapping them against his thighs, all in one swift motion. "Look, whatever you and lover-boy got going on, it's none of my business." He said with a nod towards the angel.

"Dean, really?" Sam said in an instant response to his brother's comment. Cas's eyebrows were raised before he spoke, "Who's lover-boy?" Y/N rolled her eyes, squeezing his hand in a reassuring way, "Nobody, he's teasing you - us." The older Winchester laughed, his first hitting the table as he glanced at his brother. "Is Cas feelin' a bit jelly?"

"Jelly..? Like.. the-" Cas started, but he was cut off Y/N, "Castiel, do not entertain him and his bullshit." She warned, finally pulling her hand away from his. Cas's face shifted, a small frown dragging down the corners of his mouth. His hand explored up her thigh and connected her hand back with his. She glanced at the vessel before sighing with an eye roll, "Cas-"

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Castiel was laying on the bed next to her, trying to understand the comicality of the film they were watching. Y/N was a laughing mess, and even though he didn't understand, he loved her laugh.

It was so beautiful to listen to. So beautiful to see. The way her cheeks bloomed with red, the way around her eyes crinkled, the way the T.V light lit a sparkle in her eyes.

He noticed that about her, how she just glowed. Her smile, her kindness - oh and his favorite - her touch. When she hugged him or ruffled his hair he adored it. Craved it, even.

He talked to Dean about it, figuring he would be able to explain it. He was so confusing. Sam had to simplify his brother's version and dumbed it down for Cas.

He felt romantically attracted to Y/N.

"Cas?" Her voice cut through his pondering mind. He looked over at her, the soft expression on her face causing a tingly feeling within his stomach. "Yes?" He responded simply.

"Sam talked to me earlier. Said I should tell you how I feel." She stated, returning her focus back to the movie. He cocked a brow, his eyes squinting a bit. "Feelings? What feelings?" He felt that familiar nervousness he usually felt when she got more intimate with him. It wasn't a bad nervous, but a jittery, kind of excited type of nervous.

She looked back up at him, a gentle smile on her face. "Have you ever kissed anyone, Cas?" He thought for a moment, a warm feeling flooding his cheeks. "No, but I've seen people kiss. It's really interesting actually. The way two humans show affec-"

He was cut off by her lips crashing onto his. He froze for a moment, but he quickly grasped onto her hips and pulled her up to his lap, his fingers digging into the plump flesh.

"Fuck, Cas," She murmured and his eyes darted to hers. "Did I hurt you?" He frowned and she giggled, "I don't think you ever could." He smiled and continued savoring the taste of her mouth, his hands moving to her waist.

Suddenly, she was flipped onto her back, a gasp escaping her lips, followed by a giggling fit. He groaned, a primal urge flooding his senses. His lips eagerly moved down to devour her neck, small kisses and bites causing her giggling to increase.

That only fueled him more, peppering kisses down and into the crook of her neck. He then trailed them back up and claimed her mouth once more.

This was a different, more passionate kiss than before. Her hands trailed to the back of his neck, gently tugging on his hair to pull him away from the kiss. "Cas," She giggled, and he just murmured something in response, continuing to worship her mouth.

Once he finally pulled away for air, he nuzzled his face into her chest and she smiled down at him. "Mmm.. You taste exquisite." He praised, his lips placing another kiss to her collarbone. "Exquisite?" She teased, and he nodded wholeheartedly.

She laughed and kissed the top of his head, her hand gently scratching the back of it, her fingers occasionally twirling strands of his hair.

Within a few minutes, she felt herself dozing off. She wished Castiel was able to actually sleep with her, but she knew he'd stay beside her anyway.

"You're tired." The angel stated, resting his chin against her chest. "Yeah, I'm sorry." She didn't know why she apologized, but she felt bad. He would have to lay there on his own while she slept.

It was as if Castiel could read her mind because he quickly switched their positions. Y/N was now resting on top of him and she let out a quiet whine in protest. He hushed her and stroked her hair.

"Sleep, you need rest." He insisted. She tried to push herself off of him, but his arm squeezed her waist, pulling her back down. "Cas, I don't wanna-"

He kissed her forehead and pulled her closer, "Yes, you do. Sleep. When you are relaxed, I am relaxed." And with that, she fell into a blissful, peaceful sleep.

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Y/N woke up earlier than usual. She rolled over, stretching out her legs with a soft groan. She felt the angels arms pull her back into him, resting his head on top of hers.

A smile crept onto her lips when she realized the man next to her was asleep. He had put himself to sleep so he could rest with her.

...

She knew it wasn't normal to be in love with an angel, hell, it was far from it. Nothing in her life was normal, but she knew that how she felt with Cas was good, and it was really, really nice.

And that was all she needed.

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A/N: Okay so hear me out.. I am so exhausted right now, it is 2:52 AM.. You don't wanna know how long I worked on this..

I HAVE HAD THIS OPEN AND WRITING SINCE 10:30 (more or less.)

Please. Send help. I KEPT GETTING DISTRACTED, AND THEN WRITERS BLOCK AND OH IT WAS JUST SO BAD. I had so many ideas I wanted to write with my midnight motivation (I should trademark that) BUT NOW IM READY TO SLUMP.

I hope you enjoyed! GOOD NIGHT.

[dirtyvulture]

Natasha Romanoff x GP!Beefy!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 1718

Requested by @mostlymarvelsstuff: HELLO

so, the 17th is my birthday and I was wondering if you would be so kind as to write me a lil present:

Gp!R x Nat, where R gets woken up by Nat giving her head (Nat of course swallows everything) she then crawls up readers body and grinds against her abbs as R fondles her and before let's R slip inside she whispers Happy birthday to her. (Heavy on the praise from both Nat and R please, sensual smut if you know what I mean) 😁

AN: Happy birthday, fellow sinner! 🥳 I loved writing this request, I hope you like it! :)

Natasha can hardly sleep thinking about the birthday present she has in mind for you. The night before, she doesn’t set an alarm, afraid to wake you up prematurely. She snuggles up in your arms as you instinctively wrap them around her, pressing your front to her back, burying your face in the crook of her neck to inhale her scent as you fall asleep. The two of you have been together for almost a year now and Natasha already knows there’s no one else she wants to spend the rest of her life with. You are her best friend, protector, and lover. She didn’t think she would ever find someone like you and promises to cherish and return your love as you deserve.

She falls asleep for a few hours and when she wakes up, finds that you’ve rolled away from her, lying flat on your back, your chest rising and falling deeply as you’re completely knocked out. Natasha lifts herself slowly, licking her lips as she takes in your figure: the impressive width of your shoulders that she loves to hold onto when you’re absolutely railing her, your washboard abs she could grind on for hours, and perhaps her favorite part, the bulge in your boxers.  

She pushes away the blankets, exposing your entire body and moving to sit in between your legs, carefully slipping down your boxers, a little surprised that you don’t wake up when they get tangled around your ankles. She tosses them to some random corner of the bedroom before settling back, wrapping her arms underneath your heavily muscled thighs to pull herself forward, her mouth inches away from your soft cock. If you had been awake, you probably would have been able to feel the hot puffs of her breath over the head, but instead you snore softly and sink your head deeper into the pillows.

Natasha leans down and starts by running her tongue along your shaft, purposely avoiding the tip. She kisses and gently nips at your length, smiling as it grows with her stimulation and when there’s finally a glimmer of wetness at your head, she takes it into her mouth and starts sucking. She can never get enough of your taste and would gladly take you all day if you let her. You start to stir, instinctively shifting your legs apart and Natasha grins as she inches you deeper, bobbing her head to rub your tip against the roof of her mouth.

Your breathing picks up and your abs flex as you rock your hips up, subconsciously desperate to push yourself further down Natasha’s throat. When you finally begin to wake up, the first thing you notice is the lack of a blanket on top of you and the cool bedroom air against your chest. Then you’re aware of the heat between your legs, the wet silkiness around your cock and your hands shoot down to tangle in Natasha’s hair.

“Oh fuck, baby,” you gasp, trying to roll your hips but Natasha squeezes her arms tighter around your thighs to hold you down. Her lips stay sealed around your tip, her tongue swirling around the slit to lap up every drop you leak out. It takes you a few moments to even comprehend what’s going on as the fire in the pit of your stomach builds into an unbearable heat. Natasha tries taking in your full length–which is no easy feat due to your size–and her throat flutters around you.

“God Nat, that feels so good.” Your back arches off the bed, your muscles flexing like bands of steel to keep yourself from jackhammering down her throat until she chokes. “Don’t stop, baby,” you beg, the grip on the back of her head firm but not demanding. “Please don’t stop.”

Natasha hums in response, the vibrations almost causing you to lose your load immediately, but you hold back because you want to enjoy this as long as you can. You’re throbbing so hard you’re pretty sure Natasha can feel your heartbeat inside her mouth as she slides up and down your cock, coating it with her saliva, swiping her tongue over the head to catch every taste of you she can get.

Eventually, the stimulation is too much for you. Natasha knows you’re nearing your release because of the way your thighs start to tremble and your hips lose their rhythm. She draws back to focus on your tip, sucking strongly as you moan and pant, unable to find the words to warn her you're about to blow.

The first pulse lands on her tongue, hot and salty, and Natasha inhales through her nose, her lips descending on your cock an inch as the second pulse shoots down her throat. With every pump of your cum, Natasha takes you in further and further, until she’s finally succeeded in sheathing you in her throat entirely, her eyes watering as she feels your cockhead threatening her gag reflex. Once you’re done emptying yourself, you go limp and Natasha slowly pulls back, kissing your tip and it twitches at the sensitivity. She wipes her lips with the back of her hand, proud that she’s managed to swallow everything you gave her.

“Fuck, baby,” you say, looking down at her and trying to catch your breath. It was probably the best head you’ve ever received in your life and you are more than eager to return the favor, but it seems like Natasha has other plans first. She takes off her oversized T-shirt that belonged to you originally, baring herself to you, purposely brushing her chest against yours and lying flat on top of you. “That was amazing,” you whisper, cupping her butt and massaging the soft flesh there. 

“I’m glad you liked it,” she replies, jerking her hips forward so she can rub herself along your abs. You tighten your stomach to harden your muscles, giving Natasha a solid surface to grind on. At this point, she’s used to your strength and your impressive physique, but it still excites her to know that only she gets to see and have you like this. 

Natasha sits back, widening her legs so you can see how wet she is as she continues to drag herself along your abs. Her lips are practically glistening and it makes your heart race to see how desperate she is for you. She grabs your forearms, directing your hands to take her breasts instead, moaning when your fingers tweak her nipples and the calluses on your palms scratch her sensitive skin. 

“Just like that, baby,” Natasha says, rocking herself harder and when she presses back, she can feel the firmness of your cock against her ass. Despite finishing in her throat mere minutes ago, you're ready to take her again, a thought that excites her to her no end. “I love the way you touch me. I love the way you make me feel.”

“Me too, Nat,” you say, trailing your hand down her stomach lightly, brushing your fingertips over the raised skin of a scar to the left of her bellybutton. She's known to be insecure about the imperfections of her body, but you always remind her of how strong and resilient she is and not to be ashamed of her past. Your fingers continue down until they touch the opening of her heat, and she jerks forward and looks at you while biting her lip. Boldly, you try pressing your fingers into her but she stops you by shaking her head, reaching behind you and wrapping her warm hand around your hard cock. 

“I need this,” she says, giving you a slow pump that has you throbbing with need again instantly. 

“I’m all yours,” you say. “Take me, Nat.” You’re a little embarrassed how desperate you sound, but you know she loves to hear it.

“Oh, I will.” Natasha grins at you. “Happy birthday, baby.”

You sit up to kiss her and she falls back onto your lap, your cock nestling between her thighs. Her lips are wet with a hint of your taste still and she moans as she lets you devour her, slipping her hand between your bodies to line herself up with you. When your head prods at her heat, you involuntarily thrust your hips up and she pushes against your shoulders.

“Always eager, huh?” she hums as you pant helplessly. She knows too well how willing you are to please her. Natasha lifts slowly eases down on your length and the warmth that surrounds you is indescribable. You tip your head back and moan, and Natasha sinks her nails into your chest, clutching onto you tightly as she starts rocking back and forth.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Natasha praises, and you want to tell her the same but you can’t find the words. She’s so wet there’s almost no resistance as you slide in and out of her, but her walls cling to your shaft, eager to milk you for another load. “Lie back, baby. Let me ride you.”

You’re in no position (literally) to argue so you fall back onto the pillows, enjoying the view of your girlfriend bouncing on your cock. She leans back to brace herself on your thighs and you can’t help yourself from reaching up and cupping her breasts in your hands again, mesmerized and overwhelmed by all of the stimulation. 

“I fucking love you, Y/N,” Natasha says, and it still makes your heart race every time you hear her proclaim her love for you. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that she chose you over everyone else, and you are so grateful and happy to have her in your life. 

When Natasha starts clenching around you sporadically, you know she’s close. You thrust your hips up harder, meeting the underside of her thighs with a slapping noise. 

“Oh God, oh God,” she chants. Her body tightens and she arches back as she finally cums, gushing around your cock and you slow your movements to help her ride out her high. Natasha can’t stay upright anymore and collapses onto your chest, pressing her sticky forehead into the crook of your neck. You don’t pull out and let her rest on you, rubbing her back gently. 

“I love you too, Nat,” you whisper, kissing her temple.

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[fic-over-cannon]

Nothing Fucks With My Baby (Part 2)

link to part 1

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason has always feared he’d be the monster of his life. what he doesn’t realize is that between the two of you, you will always be the bigger monster, and you will love him anyway.

tags: violence, murder, implied child abuse, manipulation, implied sexual content

rating: mature | wc: 5.8k

a/n: this plot bunny took over my brain and wouldn’t let me go until i’d finished it. reader’s pov can get pretty twisted, so please mind the tags on this one and let me know if i’ve missed any.

Lucy Nesbit dies remarkably young. Only eight years old and she had drowned in a stormwater overflow. Poor thing, the adults had all said. Should have minded her step better, shouldn’t have been playing in dangerous places. The school had held a week of mourning. A tragedy. It hadn’t taken much effort to kill her. A sharp shove, then kneeling on her back until the bubbles stopped, and suddenly there went Lucy. Stones thrown at recess, scissors searching for your hair, harsh names and turned backs all stopped with just a few moments of effort.

The killing of Lucy Nesbit is likely the most important lesson you learned from that school. No one at the foster home had noticed you come home soaking wet, blood on the tip of your shoe. No one had asked you any questions when you didn’t gasp with the rest of your class as the principal announced the death of poor little Lucy, gone too soon. Nobody had noticed that you had been the one to make the world a less scary place. It is a lesson you keep close to you.

Only Jason Todd had noticed anything different at all. Found you in the corner of the yard staring down at the pavement during recess. Tucked his hands and looked up at the sky, squinted.

“Don’t need me to look out for you anymore,” he sighs. Nudges your shoulder with his and says “Lucy won’t be pickin’ on you again.” He’s right, of course. She won’t be doing anything important really.

“Sometimes I wished she’d die so they’d leave me alone,” you whisper. “‘Cause it was bad when you were there but when she’d wait for you to leave it was always worse. Does that mean I’m a bad person?” It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind before. Is there something so wrong, so terrible about you that the well-fed well-heeled could just look at you and know there was something awful about you? The same thing that led to getting left behind, bullied, belittled. Had Lucy Nesbit taken one look at you and known you were something to be destroyed?

“Nah. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be best friends with anyone bad.” He grins at you, front left tooth still missing from where you’d helped him pull it out three weeks ago. The bell rings, shrill and discordant, signaling the end of recess.

It’s only years later that you understand the tremble of her lips and the wobble of her chin before she would call you names, dig her nails into the meat of your arm, lead the other girls in pretending you didn’t exist. Lovely Lucy Nesbit, sweet cheeked with glossy curls, had been afraid. She should have been. The new girl who’d only moved to the Alley recently after her father’s embezzlement conviction, oh she should have been afraid of the children chewing her up and spitting her out like a rotten peach. Instead, she chose someone else to make afraid. The little girl with only one friend and no one waiting for her at home. All of that glitz and Diamond District shine wasn’t enough to bury the ugly truth of Lucy.

Jason Todd dies at 11 years old. He dies at the hand of the Batman, Gotham’s own protector.

Three weeks after Catherine had died and two weeks after he stopped showing up to school, Jason shows up at your foster home. More particularly, at the window of the bathroom you’re currently hiding in. The knocking startles you, hands coming away from where they’d been pressed to your ears to block out the fighting. He grins and waves at you through the window, suspicious smears across his nose and temple. You have to stand on the very tips of your toes to push open the latch but you manage it. He presses his face to the bars, hands wrapping around the solid metal.

“Jason?” you ask, tone tinged with wonder. “What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ wanted to tell you I’m okay.” Something smashes within the house and the voices raise. “Couldn’t stick around for long after the funer— after. Didn’t wanna stick around to see if they’d stick me in a place like this.”

“But what are you going to do? Where do you live?”

“Found an empty building that’s pretty warm. Sometimes I find stuff and Mr. Baker at the garage buys ‘em from me so I can buy loads of snacks. You know—” there’s a loud pounding on the bathroom door, staccato sharp, that causes you both to jump. One of the older foster kids yells at you to hurry the fuck up, then slams on the door again for good measure. In a hurried whisper, Jason continues “You know the old building across the park with the purple window sills? Come find me there.”

The night Jason Todd dies, you’d managed to sneak out again. Knew from previous trips the best way to get to the old house was to go out the back and use the garbage bins to boost over the fence. Jason’s not there when you let yourself in, hands careful to put the loose board back exactly the same. He does this sometimes. ‘Finds’ things to sell to Mr. Baker so he can come back with candy from the bodega to share with you. You settle yourself in to wait in the blanket you’d snuck out for him when there’s a noise from the lane behind the house. Clutching the scratchy blanket closer to you, you feel your way through the dark, breath held in your chest like a treasure. The slats nailed over the painted window sills have just enough of a gap that you can see between them without being seen yourself. What you see out in the night causes you to grip the old wood until splinters dig into your palms.

The Bat holds Jason in his grip even as he struggles, even as he swears. Jason’s angry, snarling face is nothing like his smiles for you. The Bat shakes him as Jason tries to twirl out of his grip, head lolling like a doll’s. Jason goes limp as he is bundled into the looming machine parked down the lane. The last thing you see of him is his eyes, wide and fearful.

Jason Wayne puppets the body of your friend for years after. He is not the boy that stood between you and Lucy Nesbit and matched her stone for stone. This Jason Wayne smiles for pictures without baring his teeth as a warning. He doesn’t remember cruel words or the way the world works. He doesn’t remember the lessons and the secrets the two of you had passed between you. No, this Jason Wayne doesn’t remember you at all. The only explanation is that your friend is dead. The fine sweet thing with his round cheeks and charming school uniform you only glimpse in the paparazzi photos printed in gossip rags half-melted into garbage heaps is not your friend. Just another leech of the city with pretty powder and paint, fattened on too much while there exists too little.

You get the news that Jason Wayne has died while at your third foster home since the one Jason had found you in. You find out the same way everyone else in Gotham does, the public broadcast of Bruce Wayne’s press conference. It steals the breath from you, the anger that slams into you. Heat surges through you and it is all you can do to uncurl your fingers from their fists. It hadn’t escaped you that four months after Jason Todd died there was a new Robin in town. That this Robin had a gaped tooth grin that would make even the dull mourning for a girl you hated seem bearable. The red rimmed eyes of Bruce Wayne on the staticky screen of the common room television confirms what you already know: Bruce Wayne is the Bat and he has killed your friend twice over.

Screaming into your pillow that night, your understanding of how the city works crystallizes. The Bat does not protect you, does not make your city better. He takes and he takes until there is nothing left for you. He throws out in a week food that would sustain you for a month, drops money on batted eyelashes and shiny new toys for him to destroy more of the city with. He is not the saviour some people say he is. He will not save you.

You are the Alley girl with the strange knobbly knees and the eyes that see too much. You will save yourself. You will keep your lessons about the ways the world works and what it takes to change them close to your heart.

The City of Gotham is never short of two things: crime and government money to prosecute it. Certifying as a court stenographer isn’t cheap, not with juggling your ejection from the foster system at 18 and having no funds to speak of. Second and third jobs keep you afloat until the scholarships and grants kick in. But by 20 your future is secured, government pension squirreling away into your accounts. You even manage to buy the house with the purple windows. It goes for a song on account of the murder that took place there all those years ago, but brand new flooring takes care of the more suspicious stains. It should be enough, to have saved yourself. It isn’t.

Every day you go to work and dutifully take down every damning word said. You record the lies and the horrors and the not guilty verdicts and every word you transcribe breaks your faith a little more. You have not saved yourself. The world has not changed, you aren’t any safer than you were at 13 and scared that the drunk man calling out crude words might actually carry them out on your walk home. No safety exists save for the pretty little lie you had painted for yourself. The only thing that has changed is that you are not scrabbling in the dirt.

Somewhere along the way, in the mess of bureaucratic paperwork that had become your life, you had forgotten the lessons you were meant to remember. Forgetting had not served you well. It takes a drunken night out gone badly to force you to remember.

A coworker pressures you to come out with the rest of the stenographers, a newly opened bar just close enough to the edge of the Alley to give the old money blood suckers the illusion of danger. The dance floor is crowded but you choose to stay hunched over your drink, wary of this glittering crowd. A man sidles up to you, rests his forearm against yours and offers you a smile that reeks of Texas oil wells and Manhattan construction firms. You look him in the eye as he fumbles through some pickup lines, nearly sick with the realization that he doesn’t recognize you. DUI, ran through a school crosswalk at the end of the school day, one child dead and two permanently disfigured. Got off with community service and a hefty donation. He wants to fuck you.

The police find him behind the bar the next morning, throat slashed and wallet missing, and chalk it up to a mugging gone wrong. He should have known better than to go flashing so much cash so close to where criminals live, the news anchors tut. Unable to withstand the scandal, the bar closes. You savour the top shelf whiskey bottle you’d bought at their closing, the same one he’d tried to buy you and drug you with, and attribute the glow in your belly to having done a good thing. His driver’s license finds a home under your living room floorboards.

The Red Hood arrives and the Alley almost seems to reverberate with the shockwaves. Still, pretty young things with a hankering for a bit of rough to tell all their friends about with champagne glasses in their hands and haughty titters wind up dead. You don’t recognize all of them from work, some of them you simply want power over. To reveal to these silver spoon fed creatures exactly how fragile their influence is. Disposing of them does not save you, but it makes you feel safe to know that the world does not turn solely around those shiny, fragile things. You are careful and you are not caught.

At the courthouse, you watch the aftermath of the Hood’s vendettas play out. Chat about cases with your coworkers between trials just to get a feel for what his game is. He’s an unknown to most of them, but not to you. You look at how the number of drug convictions of minors plummet this quarter, watch at how fewer pimps get brought in for killing their girls, note the way gang violence reduces down to just the Hood’s own orders and you understand. Whoever the Hood is, whatever he is, he knows the same lessons engraved on your heart. That the world is not safe unless you make it, and that the world doesn’t care what methods it takes to get it done.

Your first run in with Gotham’s newest crime lord isn’t planned. Quite specifically, you had never intended to make your way onto his radar at all. He had different plans, however. Taking out the garbage, you all but trip over his feet one late night. He’s slumped against your fence with one hand pressed against his neck. Blood dribbles between his fingers, dark under the fluorescent burn of the street lights.

The gun pointing at your head does not dissuade you from attempting to push him into a standing position.

“If you wanted to die in my yard, the least you could have done is climbed in through the back,” you say, voice measured and cold. “I’m not letting you bleed out in my front yard and make me a target for whoever carved you that second smile.” That jolts a reaction out of him, gun wavering from it’s unerring focus on your face. “So what we’re going to do is get you out of the open and then I’m going to call whoever you want to come stitch you up.”

A man of his size dwarfs the chair set in your kitchen but he will not be moved from his vantage point. Defensive, back to the wall and all entrances in sight. The wound still bleeds sluggishly. Determined not to have this man die in your kitchen, not when he’s actually out there doing some good in the world, you lay out your first aid kit and go for his throat. The gun jamming into the side of your ribs immediately lets you know just how badly you’ve not thought this idea out.

“You’re still bleeding, pretty badly too. I just want to take a look to see if I can patch you up long enough until whoever gets here can do something.”

The moment draws out, neither of you saying anything. With every breath you can feel the muzzle of the gun dig into you further. Something must read as sincere on your face, not that you’d ever be able to name what it was, and he reaches up for his helmet. Pushes a button at the nape of his neck to release it, before deliberately placing it on the kitchen table one handed. He smiles at you with bloodied teeth and, oh, that’s your boy.

“Well,” he rasps, “get to it.”

At that exact moment you press down with gauze, forcing a grunt out of him. Good. Jason’s scared you enough for a single lifetime. Trying to secure the gauze with medical tape and spite, you’re forced to lean into him until the feverish glow of his skin warms your own.

“Not afraid ‘m gonna bite?”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me because you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person.” Leaning back, you inspect your work. Shoddy, but it’ll do until someone actually medically trained can stitch him up. Finally, you let yourself actually look at him. Behind the domino mask you’d swear there’s slack jawed wonder. A brusque knock at the back door interrupts the moment and then great big hulking men are carrying Jason away. You know he’ll be back.

The next time you run into the man who might be Jason, you are tripping out of a bar on the arm of your next pretty bright thing, too whiskey-headed to tell that you’re nowhere near as disoriented as you should be after what you’d knocked back. He knocks over a homeless man’s collection bowl and snickers when the coins get knocked down a grate. Grabbing your wrist, he tugs, pulls you into the side alley and tries to pin you behind the dumpster. The broken bottle shard is already in your hand when the man drops down dead. A neat hole in his head sending droplets all over your blouse. There’s no way dry cleaning will save it. The Red Hood steps into sight, gun muzzle lowered. And just like that, Jason Todd — not Jason Wayne — is back from the dead.

Jason kisses you sweetly for the first time after he drives you home from the traveling fair that had set up on the outskirts of the city. The feeling of his lips — soft, chapped, heartbreakingly gentle — slots something broken back into the hollow between your ribs. He kisses you and the axis of your world shifts. He kisses you, and you know that he will look at you like you are everything good and kind that you pretend to be if only you will love him back. The tender thing in your chest growing claws, fanning hunger into conflagration. Loving him will save you both.

He pulls back and you let him. Look up at him from below mascara-lengthened lashes and allow yourself a smile. Fiddle with the hem of your dress and tell him haltingly just how much you’d enjoyed the evening and how excited you were to do this again. Jason’s declared himself as yours for the taking and you will not let him slip through your greedy fingers.

You let Jason court you. Accept the flowers he brings to your door with quiet murmurs of appreciation. Wear soft dresses that invite him to touch but are just enough out of season for the weather so he’ll wrap his own jacket around you. Send him off to patrol with packets of his favourite candies tucked into his jacket pockets and laugh with him over the meals he cooks for you in the same kitchen he had nearly bled out in. You would have done most of these things for him anyway, but now they are your weapons. Each action meant to pierce another hook into his heart until he is as unable to leave you behind as you could him. You will never believe the world is safe without him in it.

The number of Gotham’s most elite reprobates coming to unfortunate ends zeroes out. You’ve got the prettiest up and comer on your arm these days, with his many scars and fearsome attitude. Jason in his many forms makes the world a better place, makes you safer with every bullet lodged in a skull. He is not the same boy that yelled at Lucy Nesbit for you or split a chocolate bar with you in an abandoned house. The cracks show through. Violence drips out of his every pore despite his hand wringing to you late at night. You are his confessor and absolve him of any sin. A fangless creature is useless to you, though you would grudgingly love it nonetheless.

The first time Jason sleeps with you, you engineer it, encourage it. Why? Because it ties him to you. Binds him through sweat and flesh in a way that nothing else but the kiss of death can. Lean in and wrap your arms low around his stomach as he drives you home on his motorcycle. Linger in his good night kiss before inviting him in to see how the flowers he gave you are doing. Sweep your hair away from your neck as you bend down to place his mug of tea on the rickety coffee table. You close your eyes and smile where he can’t see at the feeling of warm lips pressed to your spine.

It’s slow. It’s sweet. You’ve never felt like a more precious thing than in his arms. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky and set the sun to burning. You kiss his scars and tell him to give you his stories when he’s ready. One day there will be nothing you don’t know about him. If Jason wasn’t in love with you before tonight, he is now.

You are told the tale of Jason’s deaths and rebirths only once, but it is enough to open up the yawning chasm of fear under you again. The world is not safe, not for Jason, not for you, not when so many of your enemies still walk this side of the grave. Gotham is safer after the Red Hood. Jason is still in as much danger as he ever was. The horror, the possibility that he could be cut down — by Falcone, by Sionis, by the Joker, by the Bat — it shakes you to your core. You want to scream, to rage. What you do instead is kiss Jason on the forehead and let him go to pieces in your arms.

Jason always says you bring out the best in him. If that is true, then he brings out the darkest parts of you. The parts that twist and grow cold until you see the world as sets of acceptable losses for acceptable benefits. In your eyes, any loss is acceptable for Jason’s sake. He becomes lighter after the revelation, no more secrets between you he says. Accepts your heartbreak on his behalf with teary eyes and a wry smile. The day he tells you that Bruce — his father, the Bat — had been the one to carve him open the time he’d turned up in your garden is the day he becomes wholly yours.

“Jason, Jason he shouldn’t have done that to you,” you say gently, cupping his wet cheeks in your palms. He won’t look you in the eyes.

“He was— he was lookin’ at me like I was the monster, like my murderer wasn’t standing there too,” he confesses. “I just wanted him to love me like when I was a kid.” He shatters. “I just wanted to feel safe again.”

“Oh honey,” you coo, shears tucked into your hand. “I love you, and you’re no monster to me. You know me, do you think I could love something truly evil? You do so much good, you help so many people and you ask for so little in return,” your gaze is tender, loving. “I’d keep you safe, Jay, if I could. And I’d do it because I love you. Someone that won’t do that, well, it’s no kind of love at all.” You see the blow land, have already calculated its trajectory and velocity.

“I don’t— but he loved me. He loves me,” Jason insists, plaintive and raw voiced. “Doesn’t he?”

“I think he might’ve once. When you were younger, sweeter. But Jason, everything he’s done since then hasn’t been love. If he still loves you, it wouldn’t matter that you came back different, came back changed.” You can feel the last threads of his relationship with the Bat fraying under the blades of your words. It’s time to make the final cut. “Can you really say he loves who you are now?”

Jason asks, once, if you ever thought about kids.

“I thought maybe I’d foster some day. Save some poor kids the same trouble I went through, so that others don’t run off scared like you did.” It’s a lie, of course, but you know it makes him feel better to think of you as anything but selfish. “Not now though, not with the way the world is.” You rest your head on his shoulder, curl your fingers into his shirt. “Besides, the life you lead is dangerous enough. It would be cruel to bring children into our lives right now. Maybe one day, if the world ever becomes a little safer.”

He hums, thoughtfully, and leaves the matter there. But the seed has been planted in the dark corners of his mind and one day they will bear fruit.

The house with the purple window sills is officially only a home to you, but Jason comes round for dinner, to spend the night in your bed so often, that it may as well be his home too. He listens to you talk about your long days at work, the court cases that worm their way under your skin and won’t leave until you purge yourself of them. Really, he’s more horrified than you were at the beginning of this at how badly broken the system is. You give no names, simply the crimes and the sentences, and even those details are too much to bear.

One night you come home from work silent. Red rimmed eyes dry and sightless, you collapse into him. It takes an hour, more if you count the time spent panicking over a hypothetical injury, to coax the story out of you. A snake in the grass of a financial adviser, stolen pensions, and three suicides. All charges dropped. The testimony of crying grandchildren still not enough to make a difference. It is the first time he demands a name from you. It is not the last.

The day your old foster father comes across your judge’s docket is the day the world finally feels less terrifying. He is acquitted, of course. The testimony of trauma victims are notoriously inconsistent after all, if the witness is truly traumatized and not just lying for attention. It hurts to hear his public defender say those things, but it does make what you have planned easier.

The moment Jason comes through the door you are on him. Clinging to him all weak limbs and fought back tears. He holds you gently and strokes your hair.

“I need… I need you to do something for me Jay,” you whisper into his chest.

“Just gotta ask baby.”

“I need you to kill somebody and I need you to let me watch.” He stiffens under you, but you will not lose him here. “D’you remember when you came to find me at the foster home, the one with the yelling?” He nods, presses a kiss to the top of your head. “That foster father walked free today, acquitted and all charges dropped. I need to know he’s not gonna stay that way Jay, that someone cared enough to stop him, or otherwise I’ll go crazy.” He exhales sharply through his nose.

“I’ll take care of him, jus’ like I take care of all those names you give me. But do you hafta be there? Isn’t it enough to just know he’s dead? I don’t wanna drag you down into the dirt with me.”

“You’re not tainting me, honey. You’re freeing me.”

You watch the man die, a slow drawn out thing as he begs for kindness. His pain means nothing to you. Only the final blow, dealt by Jason’s bloodied hands, shifts the burden of memory from you. You stop being afraid of this particular threat. The body is found scattered across the railroad tracks. Police mark it down as a suicide.

This victory is twofold. Your world is a little safer and Jason has killed for you, on your express order and with you as witness. There is no greater high than this, the power that sings through your blood. Jason will reshape the world to keep you safe. Now you will reshape the world for him.

It takes three more months of witnessing his work and not flinching before Jason brings him to you. In the end, it’s really quite simple. You ask for the chance to show Jason how much he is loved, to let you take care of this one thing to keep him safe. He puts up a token fight, insistent on keeping your hands clean of his business, but the two of you know that your hands are far from pristine. The Joker is bound at your feet by the end of the day. A quick drag of your wrist and he is just another thing to be taken out with Saturday’s trash to eventually be illegally dumped in the harbour. Jason sobs in your arms that night.

He is not the boy you’d wished to have returned to you as a child. Jason is not quite the Bat’s son, or the weapon of the League either. He is some half-raised creature of the city’s own design and you love him because of that. You know he does not see you half as clearly as you see him, but you will accept his wonderful naïveté for all the ways it will let you protect him. Protect you by extension. Jason’s trust, his devotion to you, it is everything you’ve ever wanted. It is more than you have ever expected to have. That forgotten little Alley girl, now the centre of someone’s world.

And so you plan. A list of names a mile long of people who make this city worse just by breathing. Kingpins and crime lords and all their networks, culled from your networks and court cases. Heroes and vigilantes who already work tirelessly to hamstring the work the Red Hood does, uncaring of all the lives he’s saved. A list that, when all of the occupants are dead, will mean you are finally safe in a world that belongs to Jason. Convincing Jason, with all of his infinite love for you, to wipe the slate clean of them all is still no easy matter. Instead, you let the Bat make your argument for you.

Another bar, another drunk cell-less jailbird, only this time you know that Jason is waiting in the shadows, that the Bat is in the rafters. The man stumbles, his too shiny shoes catching on the cracks in the pavement. Jason moves to raise his gun and a flicker of metal sends his aim wide. The man on your arm shies at the sound of gunfire but your grip is iron. A body slides between Jason and his prey and you refuse to let this one escape. The pen knife lodges beneath the jaw bone, catches on something and sticks. His death rattle is unsightly but he goes down easy, life slipping away down the sewer grate. A booted step, heavier than Jason’s, causes your head to snap up.

A wraith looms over you and it’s pure terror that sends your stomach into free fall. The Bat turns on you, advances until your back is pressed up against the brick. A gloved hand reaches for you but pulls back like stung when a bullet narrowly misses a finger.

“Last warning. Back. Off.” growls the modulated voice of the Red Hood. He prowls forward, legs eating up the distance. The Bat simply grunts. Back to the wall, you try to inch away, but the feeling of cold metal stops you. The cuff around your wrist cinches shut so tightly you can feel the bones of your wrist grind together. You whimper, high in your throat. Jason’s fist goes crashing into the cowl.

“I said back off!” the Bat catches his next punch, before returning a hit of his own.

“She just killed someone in cold blood, Hood. You’re protecting a murderer.”

“At least she did something, Bruce! D’you even know what that man did? What you let him do to this city?” he screams the last word then headbutts the Bat.

The alley descends into a flurry of blows, bodies colliding with metal and concrete. Neither of them notice you pick yourself up from knees and flee. Home’s not safe, not until Jason tells you. But he’ll come back for you. You’ve gotten so good at waiting for Jason, what’s a few hours more?

He finds you in the safe house he’d made you memorize the address of way back in the infancy of your relationship. Nerves have you sitting in the dark, too afraid that even a light will give you away. It is a cold kind of silence that blankets the small kitchen with its empty cupboards. Dried blood has started to flake off of your skin and you begin to pick at it. For a moment, the repetitive motions distract you until you can’t bear the prickly feeling on your skin anymore. With a clatter you rush to the tap, the trailing handcuff clanging against the metal sink. A stone rolls in your gut and you retch until there is nothing left in it. Everything rests on this. The future rests on this. You lean back and rest your forehead on the cool edge of the sink.

The sound of the window jimmying open causes you to jump, whirling around to face the threat. It’s Jason, only Jason, flailing around in the dark. The streetlights reflect off of his helmet, revealing the cracks in the patina. You launch yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his coat. He smells of blood and grime, but beneath it all, warmth. Jason crushes you to him, hand cradling the back of your head with a tenderness that overwhelms you.

“M’sorry I’m late baby,” he murmurs. “Why’s it so dark in here?” Unable to form words, you simply shake your head and press yourself closer. Fear has always dogged you, but never have you gotten so close to the source of it. Jason raises a hand and wraps it reassuringly around your wrist. “Let’s get some light and we’ll get this thing off of you,” he says while stroking a thumb over where the cuff digs into your skin.

You have to stifle a giggle at the absurd parallel to the night he tore back into your life. The two of you sat at a table tending to wounds inflicted by Gotham’s self-titled vengeance, the uncertainty of the future hanging over you. Hands gentler than they’ve ever been, Jason traces over the blooming bruises on your wrist, handcuffs discarded on the table.

“He’s never going to stop chasing me, is he?” you whisper, slow fear poisoning your voice. “He’s never gonna stop trying to take me away from you. Not while I’m alive.” Jason trails his grip to your palm and turns it over, brings it to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on your fourth knuckle.

“No, baby. Not while he’s alive.”