#THANKS FOR READING

[palmolli]

Something is wrong with Sun. (Sky's Zelda)

Okay... so this is lowkey highkey far-fetched and a wee bit stupid... but I'm posting anyway because free will and uh... for fun.

These two pages are what sparked this dumb theory. You'd expect Sky and Sun to be exchanging letters regularly given their CLEAR attachment issues.

(Evidence of the attachment issues)

That's not "young love", Time. It is trauma. I doubt that was hyperbole given the crap Sky did to get Sun back home during the events of his game. The two are inseparable, basically two halves of one whole. Separate them if you dare.

OH WAAAIIT. They already are!!!

So why isn't Sun sending him letters? Now, there is a possibility she HAS been sending him mail. We just haven't seen it. Or, the postman just isn't visiting Sky's era since... he doesn't exist there, and he seems to only be giving out mail to the Links in the eras he exists in. And most Skyloftians just stuff a letter in their bird's beak and send em off with a pat on the back. They have no need for a mail man they have mail birds... but STILL...

Could there be an alternative, less factual, and reasonable explanation for her lack of letters?????

Uhhhh... honestly, this is more of a fanfic idea than a theory so.... why not.

THE SHADOW KIDNAPPED HER! YES! UH... PLOT DEVICE!!! CUZ SHES UH... HYLIA REBORN... AND STUFF... POWER SOURCE? REVENGE? PETTINESS? SIMPLY JUST TRYING TO BAIT SKY?!?!?!?!?

anyways... this is... so stupid... but... whatever. I've actually been really drained recently, so... no art... no writing... sorry. I needed to post like... SOMETHING. (yes, I posted that Hylia drawing, but I posted it a few days after drawing it) my creativity is gone, and all my writing drafts are so cheeks 💔 so.. eat up... I guess.... sigh MY HEAD HURTS

[tenderheartedbrat]

men breathing heavy!! men moaning!!! men whimpering!!!!

[mintfullyyours]

Thinking about patching up ex-husband Simon Riley. He comes in with the cloak of darkness not close to sunrise, a witching hour of sorts. Three slow deliberate knocks on the other side of your door. No more and no less. Staring at the mahogany frame, you could ignore him. It would be for the best.

But ghosts tend to haunt all night.

So you'll let him in.

You always do.

Bloodied knuckles with a nasty gash on his upper eyebrow. He'll hoist you onto the bathroom countertop with your legs spread as he steps between them. Firm hands grip your waist, grounding you in your stupid decision to let your ex back into your life. Again. He doesn't flinch as you swipe the alcohol soaked towel over his eyebrow wound. Determined eyes search your face in hopes you'll crack under his gaze.

"Ask me what happened." He whispers.

"No." you dab the towel more firmly on his eyebrow as it soaks the raging red liquid.

Simon grabs your wrist and leans down, his lips pressing into the shell of your ear. "Really?" Your heart pounds in your chest, as your body betrays you for your ex -- feeling a heat set every fiber of you ablaze. His teeth grazing your skin as he noses his way down the column of your neck and breathes in your unyielding scent. He knew the effect he still had on you and you hated yourself for it.

"Birdie really doesn't wanna know what I did to that bloke you went out with last week?"

part 2 here!!!

[just-some-thoughts-maybe]

Pictures

How the 141 boys got their favorite picture of you + where they keep it when they’re away on missions.

Wc: 1.9k

Simon “Ghost” Riley-

You had been taking pictures all day on your date. Blown through at least 100 pieces of film. After all, the zoo was quite the place.

Decidedly, your favorite place had been the reptile house. You stayed in there longer than any other exhibit. While you were watching the reptiles, Simon was watching you. The way your face lit up when you found a hidden snake or learned a new fact about them. The way you’d laugh at all the stupid jokes the staff put up around the exhibits. He stared at you like he was trying to memorize every detail of the day.

Before you left, he bought you a snake plushie. It was long enough to wrap around you, very soft, and a little weighted.

When you got back home, Simon decided to stay for a bit. He sat in your computer chair and talked to you. You sat on your bed, your head hanging off the side, just flipping through the pictures you had taken, admiring your trophies. The snake plush lay behind your neck and off your shoulders.

After thinking back on the day and how much he wanted to remember it, Simon had gotten an idea. “Gimme tha’ camera”

You sat up, moving so aggressively the plush almost fell off your shoulders. You put it back. “Why? What's wrong?” You handed him the camera off the bed. He took it and looked at it, trying to figure out how it worked. Once he was confident he knew, he turned it on you.

“Go on, lovie.” you look at him “What do you want me to do, Si?” you sit criss-cross on your bed

“Pose for me” he mutters. You tilt your head, scrunch up your nose a bit and giggle. It's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard, no matter how many times he's heard it.

Flash.

You raise your eyebrows as he takes the picture and begins shaking it. After a moment he looks at it, pausing before… “That’s the one.”

“That's the picture?” You raise your eyebrows, “I didn't even get to pose” you whine. You try to take the picture from him, but he won't let you get it. He holds it above your head and shakes it more, hoping to make it finish developing faster. When it does he looks at it.

“Nah, ‘m gonna keep it. ’S wha’ I want to remember.” after he chuckles, and it’s deep and rumbly.

Simon keeps the picture in the right side of his vest, always keeping you close to his heart. It’s the first thing he looks at when he wakes up, and the last he looks at before he goes to sleep.

Captain John Price-

John was always excited to come home to his wife after a particularly taxing mission. You were in bed, cuddling and talking about whatever was on your minds when you both heard a crash. John was instantly on edge, ready to investigate.

He signals for you to stay in bed and be quiet while he looks.

When he gets back, he’s less stressed and more sad. “ ‘m sorry…” he holds up your broken Polaroid, the same one he'd gotten you for your birthday a year ago.

“No…” you whine, more than a little upset. You look from the device to him. “I'm sorry John.”

He sighs deeply and looks back at you, putting the camera on the desk before crawling back into bed, and pulling you against him. “I have the day off tomorrow…maybe we could get another one?”

In the morning, you guys go shopping at the mall. The first place you go is the shop John had gotten your camera from last year. After getting it, you immediately open it and load it with film.

The camera and film were the only things you had gotten before going home.

“This is exactly like my last one,” you say, sitting on the couch, playing with the camera. John sits next to you settling into the comfort of your presence. “Yeah? Is that alright?” you pull the camera away from your face, looking at him. “More than alright. It's perfect.” you say before backing up a little bit before snapping a picture.

“Wh-what was that for, darling?” he asks, still blinking from the flash

“Just to have…” you say, shaking the picture. You put the camera on the couch between the two of you before looking at the picture. While you were distracted he picked up the camera and turned it around on you.

“Hey-” he calls out, trying to get your attention

You look at him.

Flash.

You blink away the spots in your vision before finally seeing him again.

“And what was that for?” you ask. There's no accusatory tone, only curiosity.

“Just something to have…for when I'm away from home.” He looks at the picture before handing it. “If you don't like it I can take another, but….” you take the picture and look at it. It wasn't that bad. You hand him the photo back. “If it's the one you want, who am I to deny you?”

You pause and smirk a little “Maybe I'll let you take another to keep you better company on…lonelier nights.”

“Tha’ right?” he asks, already dragging you to the bedroom.

He keeps it on the inside of his hat. When he first got the picture soap annoyed him for looking at it so often.

Johnny “Soap” Mactavish-

You first came to the base to help the 141 with paperwork and clerical tasks, soon you became a very valuable member of the team, and a friend to most on it. Johnny especially had taken great strides in ensuring you felt as welcome as possible. This would include sitting with you in the cafeteria, sitting in your office during the long nights, or just talking when you needed a distraction.

Soon, daily walks became a habit. He would meet you at your office on your lunch break, and the two of you would just walk and talk. It was during one of these walks that you got the text Price needed you to look over something in his office. Johnny decided to walk with you there.

The two of you made haste, but you stopped before a seemingly impossible choice, either you take the elevator, or the stairs.

“You want to risk the elevator today?” You look at him, truly leaving the decision up to him. You were in heels that made going upstairs hurt, but the elevator was super sketchy with a tendency to break down…it also had some really weird stains.

He thinks for a moment. “Aye, let’s dae that” you hesitate, glancing between him and the rickety elevator. He tilts his head a little “Should be fine, eh?”

“Apparently they just fixed it…so maybe?” you look at him, then to the stairs. “I’m following you, Johnny.” you say to the Scott. He nods at you, a smile flashing across his face.

He gets on with far too much confidence, almost a scary amount. You follow him, being sure to avoid those stains that definitely look like blood, but Johnny swears aren't.

When you get in and the doors shut, Johnny, ever the prankster, decides to mess with you. He looks you in the eye. “Hey, lass.” You look at him. He has a mischievous smile. ”Johnny, I don’t know what you’re planning, but no.”

“Don’ worry, Bonnie, we’re fine.” He smirks

Famous last words.

He jumps in the elevator, as soon as it starts moving. If it were anyone else, it probably would’ve been fine, but his 200 pounds of muscle might have been a little too much for the poor elevator.

There’s a loud SNAP and the elevator jerks up. You stumble, but Johnny catches you.

I pull back quickly when you realize how you’re looking up at Johnny right now.

You make a terrifying realization. The elevator is not moving anymore...

You two were stuck on the elevator for 4 hours. Of course, it was during this incredibly opportune time that he decided to ask you out.

When Price texted Johnny, asking if he had seen you, Johnny took a selfie with you and sent it to him explaining that the two of you were stuck in the elevator.

Three months later, you're his girlfriend. And that selfie? It’s a keychain that’s attached to Johnny’s belt loop. Easier to look at his Bonnie lass that way.

And the elevator? It’s been closed since.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

This dinner had been planned months in advance. It was one of the nicest restaurants in London and he would sooner cut off his hand than forfeit the reservation.

It was your anniversary, and he would be deployed…or so you thought. Turns out, the mission ended early, at least that's what he would later tell you, and he was already on his way home to you.

You were sitting on the couch, watching TV when there was a jingle of keys at the front door. You were immediately on alert, no one has keys to this place other than you and Kyle, and Kyle was supposed to be gone…right?

You watch as the door opens, the fear immediately dissipating when you see that familiar hat accompanied by the smile that made you swoon. Instead, your fear is replaced with an overwhelming joy. As fast as he gets the door open youre barreling towards him. He catches you into a crushing hug, laughing into your hair and giving you kisses on the crown of your head, muttering about how he missed you too.

He checks the time, cursing under his breath. “You need to get ready, love.”

You look at him for a few seconds before you remember what the day is.

“Kyle, you’re probably tired…I don't want to-” Kyle cuts you off.

“I slept on the plane. We're going.” he says with an air of finality.

You try to argue more, but he's ignoring you and shoving you towards the shower.

When you finally get to the restaurant, you realize how much planning Kyle had put into this. He has specifically reserved the table you had ranted about to him on one of your first dates. He also made sure they had your favorite wine, which was put down as soon as you sat at the table.

When you look at him, it's nothing but stars in your eyes, and that to him makes everything worth it. Everything he had to do to get home, to get to you. (even if that does mean he owes Soap a favor now.)

As the night continues, you notice his usually calm demeanor change to one a little more on edge. You've never seen him this nervous, not since he first asked you out anyways.

Finally, after a couple of hours, the desert gets brought out.

Written on the plate, in curly, chocolate writing was a single question that would forever change your life.

Will you marry me?

You look at Kyle, he's holding a ring box, looking especially scared, his eyes only daring to meet yours when you place your hand on his.

When you nod with tears in your eyes he stands up, hoists you to your feet, and brings you in for a kiss.

Little did you know, right then, there was a picture taken by the restaurant staff. The picture would quickly become his favorite. He printed it before his next deployment to keep with him.

He keeps it right under the Union Jack velcroed onto his vest to remind him of what he's fighting to return to.

(Just a little Drabble while I work on my larger projects- got some bangers coming out in February if I do say so myself- Hope you enjoy!)

[visionsofmagic]

day 2: ryomen sukuna [breeding kink]

࿓ synopsis • sukuna just wants a womb to put his babies in but it changes when he fucks you.

―❦ nsfw, explicit language, f!reader, heian era!sukuna who has fours arms, concubine!reader, contains of a bit dark themes, licking, marks, pet names, humiliation, sukuna is being sukuna, a bit of fluff, sex addiction, fingering, cum, overstimulation [‘is all I guess?] • 1.8k • the first time I am writing for my favorite villain from jjk. Excited but there can be mistakes. enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“fuck brat!” a dark chuckling, mocking you as his crimson four eyes look at below - at the mess you are making because of his thick cocks inside your walls, deep enough to make it ache like hell yet magnificent enough to give you the pleasure no one can. “look at how my seed is coming out of your pathetic pussy.” 

he doesn’t wait for you to respond- to even comprehend what he’s saying, holding your smaller face by the chin as his palm stays on your cheek. 

he lowers your head down, making you look at his cocks disappearing inside your pussy, and a bit of his hot semen dripping from it to his abdomen. 

“it’s-“ you try to say, sounding husky since you have only moaned, and screamed in the last few hours. closing your eyes, a jolt of electricity mixed with pain and pleasure runs through your body, even in veins, when he moves his hips, thrusting into you one more time before making you sit on his cocks once again - oh, his two damn big cocks should’ve ripped you apart if he wasn’t this gentle, surprisingly calm and gentle because he wants you to stay alive - you will have his legacy inside your womb after all, the reason why he fucks you for the past few hours.

“is it too much?” mocking again, his tongue on the abdomen takes a lick from your abdomen, traveling to your breasts from there, sending another mix of tears and moans.

“suku – aghh!“ a slap on the ass, “my king! oh, it’s - it’s too much! I can’t - I can’t -!” 

he only laughs at your poor attempts, “you can’t?” he asks, not a question though, only a treat as he sounds like pure poison. one of his hands holds you from your neck harshly enough to make you shake in fear for a moment while the other free one caress your hair - the opposite actions of his two arms gives you a dizzying sensation that takes your logical side from you, giving you pure insanity in return.

“be grateful that I fuck you whore,” his other two hands hold your waist as he makes you move forward and backward, riding you slowly. you only hear your own breaths as if there is nothing left inside your lungs, eyes already blurred that look at his bastard but attractive face, hands standing beside you because you have no brain to use them, not anymore, not after he fucked you in 5 different positions already. “there are thousands of women and men who beg for my cocks, you know that, right brat?” 

his hands move from your waist to your ass, grasping the flesh tightly – too tightly to leave red marks as you believe after feeling a sudden heat rushing to the skin he is holding, however, he doesn’t care at all – why he should anyway? you’re just one of his concubines – maybe his favorite one for the moment, and him showing you mercy and a bit of affection – unlike he does for others – doesn’t mean anything; you’re just there to take his hot semen every now and then, whenever he wants to fuck that pussy and brain of yours so that you can have his legacy inside you, heir to him – lots of heirs.

“puff –“ he says, scoffing after that, picking you up – a pathetic and cuckdumbed woman in his arms, he thinks, gazing at your half-closed eyes, agape mouth – salvia running out of it, “disgusting,” he says in a low tone but contrary to his words, his actions are proof that he likes what he sees because he keeps going and going until his eyes travel from that open mouth of yours he wants to put one of his cocks in, to your breasts full of biting marks that turned to red, moving to your pussy from there.

his cocks’ tips standing beneath your pussy that is pouring his semen ‘cause it is too fucking much.

shaking his head in arrogance, he puts your body on his lap with a bridal style, left hands staying on your back while a free one stays on your pussy, caressing it and he watches how your body begins to shake again, a hand is put on his chest, holding his wide open sleeve’s side tightly as if you have right to do that, and even your head fall into his shoulder, breathing rapidly yet lowly as he holds your body close to him.

why he does that – why he allows you to do that; remains unanswered.

he doesn’t think much, not now, he has a desire to put that damn semen into your wide-open pussy.

holding your thighs apart, his fingers – two long and thick fingers enter into your messy slit, white wetness joins into hot walls one by one, and it continues until sukuna is satisfied with it. “do not fucking dare to move now, woman.” he treats you. he sounds he is one step away from breaking your neck if you do move. you should fear him, you know, oppositely, you do otherwise, giving astonishing state to sukuna, making him freeze for a moment when he feels you getting closer to him, a hand travels on his neck, and a head sits on his shoulder, you even open your legs wider.

you don’t say anything, the mouth is too dry to speak aloud; he gets it though – and that gives satisfaction to him, and his responses end with a new position.

being the definition of menace for desires live within him, and you witness it when he puts you on the carpet, hovering below you as he cages you between his four arms, then, one of them appears on your abdomen, pushing it into the floor – gently yet it feels terrifying.

you look into his crimson eyes, hoping to see sanity inside them – what a fool you’re to try searching.

no, no – you think to yourself, conscious coming back even though you're high – he will not fuck you as a concubine now, he will fuck you as if you’re his queen, you’re so sure of it and the words slipping out of his smirking mouth prove you right.

“I will fuck so many babies inside this womb that you won’t be able to even walk, pretty slut,” a compliment, huh, sounds different than you thought, still, gives a jolt of happiness throughout your entire body that lying beneath his massive body, ready to take him one more – or maybe even more – time.  “I will make a fucking queen out of you with my children. don’t you worry whore,”

the only thing you can remember is seeing his big smile – entertaining before the only thing you can comprehend is his presence below you, behind you, under you – hands conquers every part of your body because you’re his – the one who will give him heir, stay beside him, being a fucking queen of kings of curses. “you’re entirely mine now. mine to have – fuccck! – mine to fuck! and mine to breed.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina !

[gleafer]

THERE’S NO “I” IN EFFORT

Part 5: THE END (or is it?)

Go to Reddit/r/Goodomensafterdark search smut war art for BONUS ENDING

Also, epilogue and outtakes will be dropping soon on my Patreon, so if you want to join us, now is a great time to jump on in!

Hope you enjoyed the ride!😘❤️

[elizzsush]

Deadpool coded reader:

Reader: dramatically and sadly, “Day 925, the bats show no sign of releasing me- a totally normal and amazing citizen from this prison.”

Reader; “he has left the second scariest Robin to guard me, Jason.”

Red hood: a little offended; “Second?”

Reader: shuttering looking like she’s reliving something, “Damien is like a angry dog, he bites.”

Reader: “also is this lega- and he walked away. Hey! I want to speak to a lawyer!!”

Reader: now yelling “I have rights!!! I think- do you have rights in Gotham?”

_______________

Batman: finally shows up.

Reader: “hey It’s You! You know if I head a penny for a rich completely normal guy who is the center of a multi million  franchise of hero’s- while also being a hero himself through the means of money… well Id have two pennies!”

Dick: “what…?”

[icycoldninja]

How would dmc guys carry their partners? ❤️

Dante: Over-the-shoulder. He treats you like a sack of potatoes and thinks it's hilarious.

Vergil: Bridal style. He's authentic and romantic; gentle, yet supportive.

Nero: Piggy-back rides. You guys are basically the dream Disney Channel couple, except edgier and more violent than your average youngsters.

V: Physically cannot carry you. The most he can do is kinda drag you along with your arm over his shoulder like you hurt your ankle or something. Anything else is impossible.

[adestroy]

[cesiscribbles]

GO SPOILERS AHEAD (I mean... kinda spoilers?)

After all the set pics we saw over the last few days with David's and Michael's hair and overal appearance there were a lot of "Them turning human" theories going around.

I personally prefer both of them to stay Demon and Angel as they are but I also had an idea for a Human theory~

Some people are concerned about the "What happens when they die?" question because it would suggest that Azira and Crowley have to turn back to Heaven and Hell, so here is my theory:

What if, at the end of their adventure of the Finale, Azira and Crowley do something really big (big combined miracle maybe?) that turns every Angel and Demon in existence (including themselves) into humans? Changing the very core and structure of Heaven and Hell.

This way there would be no more your side - my side, black and white, good and evil. No more miracles.

Just humans.

This way they could make sure that there will be no more war between the two lots or apocalyptic plans that could endanger Earth and all the life on it.

It's like our universe and only God knows what will happen when we die, as the big mystery of life.

[ellssbellss]

Lavender Roses - Masterlist

-> summary: "Now I could be wrong, but I think we may be witnessing the beginnings of love here." You met his eyes, and realized how true those words really were.

or, you're an honor student who just happens to fall in love with your best friend, kyo.

-> updates: once a month! see schedule

- - - - Starting Today, You are a Host! (pt. 1, pt. 2, pt.3, pt.4,)

- - - - The Job of a High School Host! (pt. 5, pt. 6)

- - - - Beware The Physical Exam! (pt. 7, pt.8)

- - - - Attack of the Lady Manager! (pt. 9)

- - - - The Twins Fight! (pt. 10, pt.11)

- - - - The Grade School Host is the Naughty Type! (pt. 12, pt. 13)

- - - - Jungle Pool SOS! (pt. 14)

- - - - BONUS! Weekend Movie Night (here)

- - - - The Sun, The Sea, and The Host Club! (pt. 15, pt. 16)

- - - - A Challenge from Lobelia Girl’s Academy! (pt. 17, pt. 18)

- - - - A Day In The Life of the Fujioka Family! (pt. 19)

[goddidntdothis]

BLOODMILK | A PATHOLOGIC FAN COMIC | 17 PGS. | The Mistresses discuss a thorny matter.

[mintfullyyours]

I don't know where this falls in the time line of ex-husband!simon but he's been brewing in my mind and I love him so much. You can read the first part here: patching up exhusband!simon and as always thank you for reading!!

& lmk what you guys think about ex-husband!simon.

thinking about the night of your first date out while "single." You sigh, putting the car in park and resting your forehead against the steering wheel. Jeff. That was his name, right? He wasn’t a bad guy—asked the right questions, paid for dinner, had a steady job that kept him local. A fine first date. Predictable. Safe.

Then why did it feel so… empty?

Rubbing your temples, you tell yourself this is for the best. Stability. Normalcy. That’s what you need. What you deserve, too. Maybe, in time, you’d even believe it. Sliding your key into the door, you frown. It doesn’t click. A chill slithers down your spine as you push it open, your stomach knotting at the sight of the dim light bleeding into the hallway from your bedroom.

You already know who’s inside.

Your breath hitches as you swing the door open, and there he is—Simon, sitting on the edge of your bed, his broad shoulders hunched slightly forward. The faint gleam of metal catches your eye. Your engagement ring. It rolls fluidly between his fingers, like a an awful habit he never broke.

His gaze lifts, pinning you in place.

"Took it off, did ya?" His voice is eerily calm, but there’s something coiled beneath it, something ready to snap. "Wonder if he knows you still wear my name."

Your stomach tightens. You take a good look at him—really look at him—and the past five months apart have not been kind. His beard is thicker, his jaw sharper, his frame even larger than you remember. Like he’s been drowning in something darker than loneliness.

"Simon, I’m not in the mood. You can't be in here, shouldn't be in here." Your voice is firm, though your chest heaves with the effort to keep it that way. "Just because you refuse to sign the papers doesn’t mean we’re still together."

A slow, humorless chuckle rumbles from his chest. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and lets the ring settle in his palm before closing his fingers around it.

"That’s where you’re wrong, love."

He stands, and in an instant, he’s in front of you, so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body. His scent—familiar, overwhelming—wraps around you like a pretty string tied in a bow.

His hand trails up your arm, slow, deliberate, until his fingers ghost over your pulse. His eyes drop to your lips, then flick back up, dark and unreadable. The silence was deafening. It was as if he knew the power he still had over you, or at least your body. Simon wedges his muscular thigh between your legs, and your hips buck ever so slightly.

You whimper and he smirks, knowing your body would never betray his.

"You think a piece of paper makes you any less mine?" His grip tightens, not enough to hurt—but enough to remind you just how easy it would be.

"Any less of a Riley?"

You swallow hard. He leans in, lips a breath away from your ear.

"Tell me, dove— and he honest, because you know I hate liars, did he make you feel anything at all?"

tag list

@ebodebo @meheheasasa @thegirlintheshadows101

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

bite me!

vampire!nightwing x fem!reader

MINORS DNI.

just so you know: contains BLOOD, OBVIOUSLY. also tw: knife, attempted mugging. unprotected sex, a very MINOR praise kink. nightwing is a vampire. that’s all

1500 words, all dedicated to a certain discord channel

it feels like a dream. the warmth of his body weight between your legs as he pushes your back into the mattress, combined with the heady feeling of pain? pleasure? that’s flooding your senses. you know how you got here at least. you know who you are, where you are (in your bed, in your apartment) you know who the mayor is, who’s on top of you (nightwing) but still. something about it feels out of your grasp, your willpower melting into something syrupy that’s no doubt making your blood taste even better, you can only guess. your limbs feel heavy, detached from your body, and you feel your pulse at your neck, where nightwing’s lips are suctioned, his teeth deep in your vein. you’re happy to help him—he helped you, after all.

the cold metal of a blade presses into your neck, and you feel fear. you’re hot, so hot, but chills run up and down your body every time you (barely) exhale (not wanting to move an inch) and you know your hands are cold, clammy. this asshole probably just wants your bag, your wallet, your keys with the charms attached. (and you’d been willing to give it to him too.) but as nightwing hopped down from his perch on the nearest fire escape, you’d been pulled into the thief’s defensive position, a knife at your neck. nightwing, light on his feet like a ballet dancer, had been creeping closer towards you, ever-so-slowly. the man you were being pressed against was getting more frantic, you could feel it, and nightwing made his maneuver: getting his stick into the crook of the man’s knife holding elbow, yanking his arm away from you. in the process, the blade broke skin, and you felt the warmth of your blood start to ooze down your neck. you slap a hand to it, hurriedly pawing through your bag for a handkerchief. you’re aware of nightwing fighting the crook, the muffled sounds of their scuffle registering in your ears. metal on metal clangs as his knife is knocked to the concrete, and you hear nightwing mutter directions to his location into his earpiece, the white eyes of his domino mask narrowed as he looks at you.

you’re not sure how he knew where you lived, but you’re there, and you know he sees the pleading look in your eyes. you feel indebted to him, you were beginning to see your life flash before your eyes. adrenaline was coursing through your body, pounding through your veins, pushing blood out of the barely-there cut in your neck. you’d blinked, and ended up under him on your bed, his large hand cradling your head as he softly set you down.

it’s barely a pinch, barely a pinch when his teeth break skin, the area already numb. he’d lapped his pink tongue over the dark, drying blood on your neck, a spark igniting low in your belly.

you can feel his hard length rocking against the heat of your own crotch, the need for more radiating from the both of you, something palpable, solid. he moans into the crook of your neck, where his teeth are latched, and the warm breath across your flushed skin feels sinful, inviting. you wrap your otherwise idle hands around his torso, his strong, defined torso. the need for him grows stronger as his hips continue to rock against yours.

“n-nightwing, i—”

he sticks his gloved, blue middle and ring fingers in your mouth, and you leave them soaking, moaning around their weight on your tongue. you’re stammering out what’s probably a question, a ‘please,’ pathetic begging. he knows what you need, and he’s tracing the waistband of your underwear under your pants, the sensation heightened from his mouth on your neck. he reaches up to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb across the flushed skin. he lifts his head, and you don’t feel his teeth leave your neck, but you feel empty, so empty, whining as he nods at you, so sympathetic. you roll onto your belly, up onto your elbows. as he looks down at you, humming with approval. a shiver starts up your legs, happy to please, and he notes it, leaning farther over you.

“you sat like a dream for me, pretty girl.”

he brushes a hair out of your face as you look back at him. the sight of you on your belly under him, big eyes looking into his, sends his cock jerking. but instead, he sighs. he was so hasty. so pathetic for the way the crimson of your blood, your wound, was highlighting the curve of your sweet neck. his actions have been very, very unlike him. so impolite, so improper.

“i would like to apologize for earlier, and ask you directly this time. do i have your permission to penetrate you?”

you giggle, feeling a little delirious.

“of course, of course!”

he smiles, slight but warm, at your eager tone. before you know it, the top half of his blue and black suit is off, revealing a highly chiseled body that makes your throat suddenly very, very dry. he rubs a warm hand on your back, pulling your underwear down to bare his teeth at your bared skin. supple, soft. you squirm a little, feeling exposed, when nightwing grabs a handful. looking very pleased, he leans over you, nibbling at your ear while he nestles his length in your crevice. his weight on you feels amazing, like nothing you’ve ever felt before. you no longer feel the frantic adrenaline tensing through your body like it had been twenty minutes prior. nightwing licks a stripe across your throat, and you moan involuntarily, shivering as he blows a cool stream right where his tongue had touched.

he grips into the meat of your ass, pushing up to expose your dripping cunt. nightwing slides a finger through your folds, his adam's apple bobbing as he realizes how wet you are for him.

he sits back, quickly pulling his pants off, exposing exactly what you’d been feeling. the tip a pretty pink, it’s shiny, gleaming with pre as he takes himself in his hand, pumping once, twice. you can’t believe your eyes: nightwing almost seems shy when he realizes you’re looking back, watching him. his cheeks are pink under his dark domino mask. it’s all you can do not to tackle him and take him on the floor of your apartment. he must see the look in your eyes, because he’s back over you in a flash, thick forearms bracketing your head. you lift your hips up, and he spreads your legs farther, holding out his hand to you.

“spit.”

you blink at him, but you comply, and he strokes your saliva along his cock before lining his tip up with your entrance. he pushes in slowly, such a gentleman, watching your reaction very closely as he gives you time to adjust. one of his hands snakes over, lacing his fingers with yours as you take a deep breath, nodding for more. he gives it to you, slowly, so slowly, until he’s seated to the hilt.

his teeth are latched back onto your neck, flames are licking up your spine. you’ve had sex before, sure, but this is different. very, very different. his hips are snapping into yours as you moan into his arm. you feel so full, his cock somehow stuffed into your hole as his teeth siphon blood from your neck. you lean your head back, barely able to squeak out a sentence.

“‘m close, nightwing—” his pace starts faster, the bed creaking with the force of his weight pounding into you, pounding you farther into the mattress. pleasure shoots from your head to your toes, the wave threatening to crest as he slows down (tease!) just to start up again, repeating the rhythm until you feel it, your toes curling. you cry out, nightwing sighing happily into the crook of your neck as you shake under him, coming apart from his ministrations.

your vision completely whites out, ecstasy vibrating through your limbs.

he sits back, his cum painting your dimpled lower back. his flushed cheeks and chest send your heart aflutter, watching him with your eyes half shut.

“did so, so well for me, darling.” he purrs.

you point him in the direction of the bathroom, and after helping to clean you up too, nightwing joins you in bed. he holds you close, an arm tucked around your middle.

coming from just penetration alone is very new for you.. but so is sex with a vampire. you never saw his full face, but you never needed to. he gave you something you never knew you needed, and held you afterwards like you’re something precious to him. the strong presence of his body at your back is so reassuring, exhaustion and peace weighing down your bones until you’re asleep in his arms.

a rose is on your bedside table, your companion from last night long gone. you’re not sure how he got out. your front door is locked, as are all your windows, but you don’t think about it too hard. you probably shouldn’t think about him too hard either.

post divider: @enchanthings <3

[snowfieldstories]

His scent & love language headcanons 18+ [gender neutral]

Spoilers for Dokja’s backstory and novel stuff

His scent --

Kim Dokja: lightning strikes and an unnamed freshness

This man is hopped up on probability aftermaths and the [‘Electrification’] skill; he smells of an electric current with a hint of char. As a constellation, there is an otherworldly-sense about him. One way this manifests is his scent. No one remains fresh in an apocalypse, but somehow Kim Dokja emits a scent of brightness and clean. He definitely takes pride in smelling nice to impress other constellations and his companions.

Yoo Joonghyuk: manly sweat/musk and exotic spices

HA, you thought this would be good because of his pretty face? Oh please, this man hardly takes a shower. Who has time to bathe when you're constantly fighting to end all the scenarios? His natural scent swings wildly between an unpleasant, stale odor and an intoxicating musk. On the days that smell leans unfavorably, it is his ['Cooking Lv. 10'] skill that tries to save him. He can pull fragrant spices out of thin air to supplement his dishes; the mouthwatering aroma of his cooking clings to his clothes long after the food has been devoured. Uh...best hope for some rain tomorrow. And every day after that.

.

His love language --

Kim Dokja

He loves to receive physical touch and words of affirmation from his partner. Dokja has a complicated relationship with the meaning of a loving touch; he's only known of its harshness or its absence. When he trusts his partner, he craves little intimacies—a supporting hand on his arm, soft kisses along his jawline, or falling asleep nestled firmly at his side. No touch is too much for Kim Dokja, and if he's not receiving enough from his partner then he has no problem going to seek it out from them himself.

As a child, there was no one who lifted him up in affirmation so he is especially susceptible to praise. A few words of encouragement or a compliment on his looks will send a flush of pink across his cheeks. His partner should take caution, however, because sometimes this desire for praise can turn needy when accompanied by more...carnal activities. This man is not above begging for it.

Dokja relishes in giving gifts and physical intimacies. Some may know him as Mr. Moneybags. Richie Rich. A third-generation chaebol. Sugar daddy…with and without the "sugar." [Uh, wait, who said that last one? *coughs*] Whatever his partner wants, it was packaged and delivered yesterday morning. Seeing his partner light up at receiving something they’d only had a mere, passing thought of makes Dokja giddy. It is truly a testament of “to be loved is to be known.”

The more Dokja knows his partner, the more comfortable he becomes with physical touch, too. He begins small with light bumps against the shoulder or sweeping back the hair from his partner’s eyes as they focus. As trust builds, he grows more bold in public—a kiss on the inside of their wrist and touches that border on possessive. In private, he is just as greedy to get his hands on his partner because he wants to make them feel good. Sure, he likes to receive, but this man is first and foremost a giver.

Yoo Joonghyuk

In the dictionary, right next to "service" is a photo of Yoo Joonghyuk. This should come as no surprise. He is devoted to giving acts of service and quality time to his partner. This man is pleased to help with tasks as simple as opening a tough plastic bottle cap, to cooking their favorite foods. But he will also spend 100 years ascending levels of transcendence in order to protect them better. He will dive into the depths of hell, travel the far reaches of the universe, for the chance to give them a happy life. And he will shove their hands away and spread their legs apart to give, because even in bed he wants to service his partner's needs before his own...

Ahem, going back to more serious things. Joonghyuk takes his quality time very seriously. Sure, one might say he has time to spare from a never-ending series of regressions, but he still doesn't want to waste a second when it matters to him. And his partner is someone who matters. Expect many companionable silences where he can derive the greatest joy from the comfort of his partner's presence. Being able to coexist in the same space is a luxury he covets.

As he loves to give, so does he love to receive quality time with his beloved, especially when they initiate it. His time with his partner is limited. No, more than that—it's doomed to end and repeat from ground zero. Every so often, he grows depressed from having to constantly build up the relationship from introductions. But by the next regression, he's more determined than ever to reclaim his partner in his life. Each moment spent, no matter how trivial or domestic, is stored as a precious jewel in his mind. Joonghyuk never wants to forget.

Honestly, there are more ways to give love to Yoo Joonghyuk. But it is up to his partner to figure that out. Joonghyuk has the mysteriousness and volatility of a black cat—luckily, his partner forever remains a fierce cat-lover, despite any other changes that befall each regression round.

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A/N; This was inspired by my characterization of Dokja in my fic, In Life and Death.