#after all of this i can safely say i hate him just as much as trump

[banquetwriter]

saw you asked for viktor x reader requestssss, may i ask for some fluffy modern au ones? love your blog!!

AN: tysm !! and yes i love for modern au!viktor bc maybe he has a chance to be happy :((

warnings: i mention the pandemic a lil and some sad stuff about his disability but over all fluff :), ooc viktor bc im not used to writing him rip

i feel like in any universe viktor has nightmares, in a modern world he would wake with a jolt of fear, drenched in sweat. eyes dark and sunken in. his leg is killing him and he sighs peering at the time. 2:34 am. ahh of course he cannot possibly get a full nights sleep.

he doesn’t want to wake you of course. you need your sleep, more than him but he just can’t handle it. the pain sometimes it’s just too much. he rubs his forehead reaching for his phone and dialing your number. to his delight and concern you awnser almost immediately. “viktor?” your worried voice says through the phone.

“are you ok? did something happen.” you ask, your voice isn’t tired- like it should be. “no- just another bad dream i’m afraid. why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked with a small amused smirk.

silence met him on the other end “darling you need to sleep-“ he tries to reason before you cut him off complaining about how he never sleeps.

definitely still a work-a-holic… can’t for a moment pull himself away from work. in a modern world he is definitely still a scientist… maybe working in the medical field? possibly! the tech world seems most likely….

he’d always have accesses to the newest gadgets and do-dads. stuff that blows your mind but for him? another tuesday. and for being as technologically advanced as he is he doesn’t care much for tv show or modern movies…

he’d like the classics of course but he strikes me more as a classic ligature guy… maybe just some self projecting but some gothic lit perhaps?

he also eats extremely healthy. and when he does eat it’s not to enjoy the food it’s purely to keep him going… and your snacking habits and fast food would amuse him slightly.

of course he’d get invited to speak at many tech (or medically i’m telling you i can see him in the prosthetic industry) events. jayce forcing him to get all black suit and tie fancy. which he would hate.

what he wouldn’t hate would be seeing you all done up pretty/handsome, wondering how he managed to trick you into falling in love with him.

viktor sat in front of his full length mirror (a space specifically for him to be able to down while getting ready) adjusting his tie before using his crutch to stand up. the only thought running through his mind was how much he didn’t wanna go

then he saw you rush out of the bathroom “ugh we are gonna be late” you said worried putting in your earrings or adjusting your own tie. but viktor didn’t here your complaint. he saw his beautiful partner. his love struck eyes followed as you rush to his mirror. he slipped a hand around your waist.

you turn to him finally done adjusting your outfit he just smiles back. “you clean up nice.” you whisper before planting a small kiss on his cheek. if you wear lipstick he admires the mark before regrettably rubbing the mark off.

and even if you don’t wear it he can feel the spot burn all night long as he watches jayce mingle through the crowd.

since his right leg is the leg he needs his crutch for i think it’s safe to assume he can’t drive. he most likely could when he was younger when he used the cane not the crutch but even then after a few years he most likely wouldn’t be able to

and even if it sounds a little uncharacteristic i think he would have a personal driver. he is definitely making bank in the tech (or medically yk yk) field, especially being an inventor.

so he wouldn’t have one to be an ass but simply because he cannot walk places and the modern world relies on cars… if you can drive he much prefers you to do it however.

during the pandemic since he is most likely immune compromised i don’t see a world where he goes out much before let alone after a global pandemic. which makes his anxiety worse.

it’s better for his pain to be able to run his business from home or a quarantined lab but his mental health suffers. when the band are lifted and your allowed to go out more he has a panic attacks a lot.

during zoom calls sometimes you’d be just out of frame holding his hand as you read or something. it took a while and a lot of convincing but he eventually started to go to therapy

ik big deal for mr i don’t deserve anything good in my life…

as his health declines and he is forced to stay home rather than choosing to stay home he becomes close to bed ridden. you quit your job to help care for him more full time. he hates it.

he hates the pitty looks from jayce and all the people that worked for hextech. he doesn’t have to worry about money of course… but he wishes the world would allow him more time.

i don’t know how modern the medicine is in piltover but i’m assuming it’s decently close to ours ??? and if so he would decline at about the same rate. if our modern world has better medicine than of course he takes advantage of it to a point

until having to pop 5 pills every three hours takes a toll and he slowly stops taking them.. but he always has you to remind him why he takes them. so after increasing his therapy sessions he starts to take them again.

i’d imagine he likes to spend every domestic moment he can. massaging your legs as they lay across his lap as you ramble on about whatever tv show your watching. chuckling at your reactions as he reads

being able to brush his teeth with you in the shower… just the pure domestic bliss he basks in. having a lonely childhood he is has never been more happy to experience a life with people he loves !!

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 21. Show Me

Summary: After rushing from the training hall, Dahlia is left alone to her thoughts. Or so she thinks.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

I had no idea how I ended up here. Just letting my feet carry me to wherever they lead me. Which apparently was the top of one of the towers of the Quadrant. It clearly wasn’t used much, but it must have been a place someone came to as there were some footsteps in the dust in the stairwell.

I’m sure the view was beautiful, but all I could do was stare down at my hands, the memory replaying in my head over and over again. The scream echoing loudly in my head over, and over again. I’d barely had my signet a day and it was already a shit show just like the rest of my life. Just when life was starting to be good for once. I was making friends, didn’t have to deal with the constant disappointed looks of my father and brother. I was actually living my life. Now I doubted anyone would want anything to do with me after that.

They must have developed a signet like I had recently. Emetterio knew of my signet after last night, knew it wasn’t entirely safe for me to touch anyone except Bodhi really. His signet was the only one I could trust in my hands. But clearly the other cadet had manifested one without realising. And I’d thrown it back at them without even realising and caused everyone in the Quadrant to look on in horror as they screamed and screamed. I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to block the memory from my mind, but it does nothing. The scream still echoing loudly in my ears.

I startle as the door next to me opens. I half expect to see Xaden who I knew had tried to follow me out. And at first I think it is him with how tall the person is, but as they fully step through the door, it’s the last person I expect to see. They shut the door behind them before walking over and lowering themselves to the ground as they lean up against the ledge with me, legs sprawled out in front of them. I look up at them to see them staring down at my hands. I’d only ever seen him glare or tease me, so the worried way he looks at my hands is new to me. A softer look to their features I’ve not seen before, as if they were relaxed despite the worry. And I hated to say how much I liked it.

“I’m sorry.” He mutters, an almost pained tone to their voice.

I look at him confused, unsure why he’s apologising to me. “Sorry? Why are you sorry Garrick?”

His shifts his gaze to look at me, and I can see the pain in his hazel eyes. I can see how sorry he is, as if he feels like this is his fault. But there’s something more there. I know the look in his eyes isn’t just to do with what happened to me.

“I’m sorry, because the signet you replicated was mine.” He confesses, averting his gaze as he leans his head back against the stone ledge, looking up at the roof.

I stare at him in disbelief. One because I’d been so adamant I’d replicated the cadet I’d been up against. And two…. Because this was a side of him I had never seen. Not once in my months here had I seen him be anything but the arrogant lumbering oaf I’d assumed him to be. Didn’t think he cared about anyone but himself and the few he kept close. But I can see how worried he is. How bad he feels. There’s no way this is an act. Especially when I lower my gaze and note a slight shake to his hands. I almost want to reach out and grasp them in mine, but after what’s happened I doubt he’d let me. And I internally kick myself for wanting to do so. Just because he feels sorry for me and what’s happened, doesn’t mean he won’t go back to treating me any different once tomorrow comes. Just like my brother and father.

“The same thing happened to me.” He starts, his gaze still set on the roof. “We were doing training while challenges were on hold. Only a few squads were with us. And I had no idea my signet had manifested.” He pauses, taking a deep breath before looking down at his own hands. “We were doing hand to hand combat and at first it was fine. Both of us landing hits on each other without any issue. But as it went on and got more and more intense, I felt something shift in me. Something had changed. And as I pinned them beneath me, their screams echoed around the room as they writhed in pain beneath me.”

Garrick squeezes his fists shut, the tremble now more emphasised due to it. As I look at him I realise what had happened today was almost a copy and paste of what had happened to him last year. No doubt reliving the memory as the screams had echoed around the training room, watching as I pinned them to the ground in a similar manner. Not only was I shaken, but Garrick was to.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper.

He turns his head and lightly laughs. “The last thing you need to be is sorry. You did nothing wrong.”

I shake my head. “But I did. I didn’t think. I should have thought about what could happen when I touched your arm. But I didn’t. I didn’t think and now I’ve probably traumatised some poor cadet, and you.” I ramble, finally breaking free of the slump I was in. “Everyone probably thinks I’m a freak.”

He chuckles lightly, my eyes narrowing at him as I glare at him slightly. “Aww you care about me. How sweet.”

I huff and push off the ground, “And there it is. Sorry for trying to be nice.” I snap as I go to storm off.

I barely take a step before his hand grasps my arm halting me in my tracks. I try to pull my arm free, not wanting to accidentally hurt him but he just grips my arm tighter.

“I’m not trying to be an ass. Just thought a joke might make you feel better.” He states bluntly as he stares down at me.

The last time I’d been this close was in the hallway the day after threshing, and I’d forgotten just how tall Garrick truly was as I crane my neck to look up at him. And just like last time, being this close to him affects me more than it should.

“It doesn’t matter, as soon as we walk out of here you’ll go back to hating me and treating me like you normally do.” I say as I try to loosen my arm from his grip.

He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t hate you Dahlia.”

I freeze at his words. In all the months I’d been here, not once had he used my name. Always calling me little Aetos, or some other colourful word. Never by my actual name. And I hated how it caught me off guard. Hated how much I liked it coming from him.

He releases my arm, clearly satisfied I won’t storm off anymore. “At the start, yeah I did. But I’ve realised I never hated you. I hated your name. Your last name. Who I thought you were. Who your father is. And dare I say, I was wrong about you.”

“Is this you trying to apologise?” I ask, staring at him like he’s gone crazy.

Cause clearly he had. Or maybe I had. Maybe I’d been knocked out on that mat and this was just a dream. There was no way these words were coming from Garrick. Garrick who despised me from the moment I stepped off the parapet and he knew my…. My name. I’d barely looked at him but there was no hate in his eyes the first time I’d looked at him. He looked curious and amused as I’d tried to avoid giving my name to him and Xaden. But the moment Dain had uttered my last name, it had changed. Every time he’d looked at me since then there had been hate in his eyes. Until now. And I hated to admit that now as I looked up at him, there was none of that there. For once Garrick Tavis was looking at me like he didn’t hate me.

“I can retract it if you want? But yes, this is me saying that maybe I was wrong about jumping to conclusions about you based off a name.” He admits with a shrug, clearly trying to play it casual.

“You aren’t doing this because you feel bad about the whole signet thing?” I ask, still not sure what he’s saying is true.

“I won’t deny I feel extremely bad about what happened. But it’s not why I’m doing this. And I get if you don’t believe a single word I’m saying to you right now. Just felt like right now was the only time you would listen to me.”

He wasn’t wrong though. As he’d joined me up here I’d let him. I hadn’t scoffed and moved on time I usually would, hadn’t made a smart ass comment to him. I’d watched and let him sit next to me and talk to me properly. Too caught up in what had happened to care. And honestly, I’d wanted to company despite running off.

I walk over to the ledge, looking out over the Quadrant as I think over his words. Despite everything something deep down told me to accept his apology and put all this behind us. What the hell was wrong with me? Why did I want to suddenly forgive him and move on? Maybe Bodhi’s insistence I give him a chance had finally worn me down.

“Ok. “ I utter, turning to look at him. “I’m not fully forgiving you. But I’m giving you a chance Tavis. As they say, actions speak louder than words.”

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal

[takamor]

cw/tw: dark content, afab gn reader, yandere-adjacent keigo, mentions of murder, very unhealthy relationship, dubcon with a little dash of noncon (keigo continues to bite reader after they say to stop), blood but it’s nothing super gore-y, smut, lots of biting, dacryphilia, sadomasochistic keigo, fingering, oral (fem receiving), idk this post really inspired this and it spiraled before i could even think of a plot, very little proofreading

he comes home covered in blood. it’s not the first instance of it, and it certainly won’t be the last, but it seems to leave you breathless every time he walks through the threshold of his your home, crimson mixed with gold, pupils blown wide and feathers quaking, looking every bit the apex predator his quirk allows him to be.

you don’t dare ask him who it is this time. it doesn’t really matter. as long as he can justify it to himself, no amount of tears or begging will ever sway him. you learned that lesson the first time this occurred. yelling at him, pleading, even throwing whatever you could grab only prompted him to pin you down so both of you were coated in his sin, and the smell of copper violated your nose as he stripped you of your morals and clothing. if anything, it only seemed encourage him, every time your nails nicked his skin and you begged, “keigo, please, don’t—” he was even kind enough to kiss your tears away afterwards. “you’ve got to understand,” he tried to bargain with you, but it was hard to see any shred of reason when there was still blood splattered across his cheek. “please understand, dove.” gold shining through ruby-stained skin, and all you wanted was to rub it all away with a warm washcloth, deny ever seeing it, because it was all for you.

this time, his golden eyes search your face, looking for any signs of disgust or rejection, as if that would ever be enough to make him stop. long, talon-like fingers twitch at his side, restless, still pumped full of adrenaline and murderous intent, needing to be buried in something before they seek more marrow to snap. the air between you two is heavy and swollen with so many words buried in reluctant enamel, hidden from the world and from each other’s ears, but not each other’s hearts. he knows you, knows how much you hate the metallic smell that is slowly becoming a cologne for him, and you know him, know how much your hatred for this only serves to fuel this fiery need to make it up to you somehow, to show you that there’s still good in him, he’s not a bad guy, he’s just protecting you.

“keigo.”

you somehow make his name sound a like a curse, like something shameful, something to be locked way in the back of a closet never to be seen again. his wings visibly deflate, and his fingers are wrapped around your arms before you have time to register he’s even moved. frantic gold locks onto your eyes, pleading, panicked at the thought of you being so cold towards him.

“keigo, that hurts,” you whine, and his grip loosens, but not enough for you to fight him off. you aren’t even sure if you have enough strength to even try fighting him off. it’s all slowly becoming a numbing routine.

then, the apologies start, as they always do.

keigo’s body shakes with uncertainty and the fear of abandonment, and he crumbles into your arms like a haphazard stack of cards, the weight of his body causing you to crumble as well. he’s not completely lost all sanity, not yet. he knows what he does is wrong—at least, morally it is. but, fuck, don’t you understand how cruel and thoughtless this world is? don’t you know just how corrupt and disgusting the underbelly of hero society is? he gets to see it every day, gets to go out and see how thin the line between chaos and peace is, gets to see what horrid people do to pretty little things like you. he plays the role of a hero and a villain, and that boundary blurs everytime greed comes into play. everything he does is to protect you, from keeping you in this safe location not even the hero public safety commission is aware of, to killing anyone who threatens your well-being. can’t you see that, dove? can’t you see how much he loves you? he’s sorry, he’s so sorry it has to come down to this but, goddammit, you’re worth it. he’d burn down this entire world and start something anew from the ashes if he has to. just please understand, dove, please.

“shh, kei, i’ve got you,” you coo into his blood-matted hair, because what else can you do at this point? keigo has made sure you have no other options. “i’ve got you. i’m here.”

the quaking calms enough for you to pull his head into your lap and brush the stray hair from his eyes, but the echo of fear still shakes his bones, causes his voice to tremble ever so slightly as he speaks. “you understand, don’t you? you understand why i—” he gulps and squeezes his eyes shut, as if he can’t stand the thought of not having your sympathy. “why i have to do this, right?”

you nod and run a finger through the copper-stain on his cheek. he shudders under the touch. “i know, baby.”

at that, his eyes fly open and he’s sitting upright, fingers wrapped around your arms once again, golden eyes borderline manic as they flit around your face. “see, you—you understand, right?” a pink tongue darts out to wet his lips, compliments the red on his cheek in a heart-wrenching way. and he’s so desperate for your approval, needs to hear your praise and coo over him, claws and pulls at the front of your shirt in a pathetic attempt at remaining in control of the anxiety gripping at the sides of his neck. “you understand?”

your hands come up to cup his face, and he preens under his touch, melts under the feeling of the pads of your thumbs brushing his scarlet cheeks. it twists your heart in a way that makes your rib cage feel too small. “of course i do, baby,” you coo, and it’s all he’s wanted to hear. “i understand. you’re just trying to keep me safe.” while i stay complicit with this fucked up game.

rough lips crash against yours in an enamel-shattering kiss, and you crawl into his lap to get a better angle. the taste of copper explodes on your tongue, and though you aren’t sure whose blood you’re tasting, it’s hard to care when keigo is whining so prettily under you. he breaks the kiss just to toss your shirt and bra off of your body, exposing your breasts to the heady air of the living room and his hungry mouth full of greedy teeth.

then, the sex starts, as it always does. as it always will.

you don’t even make it to the bedroom. he takes you right there, right on the living room floor, right at the scene of far too many crimes to count.

“tell me i’m good,” he pleads as his lips suck at your pebbling nipples. “fuck, tell me i’m good.”

trembling fingers bury themselves in his blond locks, a combination of a hiccup and moan leaves your lips. “you’re so good, kei, so fucking good.”

and because he feeds off of your approval just as much as you feed off of his desperation, sharp teeth pinch at your skin, embed themselves in the tender flesh of a lover that can clearly see how fucked up all of this is but is too jaded to care. compliant and mailable in the face of obsession and possession. just like how he likes. just like how he needs.

“you’d be dead without me,” he murmurs against the swell of your breast before biting another mark into it. “helpless without me. need me to keep you safe.”

your hips rut at the stinging sensation of belonging to a hero with a skewed sense of morality, and a broken moan stutters out of your heaving chest. “need you so badly, kei,” you whine, and the teeth buried in your skin pinch even harder at the admission. “nothing without you!”

“that’s fucking right. remember that.”

rows of porcelain made to mark snap at your neck while long fingers pinch and twist at your nipples, a deadly combination that has you rutting in his lap like a dog in heat, panting out his name, pulling at his blond hair, begging for more, more, more keigo, please more! he doesn’t listen however, your pleads only fueling him to keep poking and prodding at you until you bite and snap back just like how he likes. just like how he needs.

so he keeps biting, keeps pinching, makes his way down to your stomach, where he bites some more until there’s saliva and blood glistening on your skin under the harsh light of his your living room. and then his tongue soothes all of the marks he’s made, cleans the blood he’s smeared in his haste to stake his claim on you, golden eyes never leaving your face as he consumes you bit by bit.

you’re trembling in his lap by the time he licks his way up to your jugular, incisors brushing against the shell of your ear, gooseflesh running down your shoulders and arms.

“tell me i’m good,” he whispers before gently nibbling at the sensitive skin, and though he clearly has complete control over you right now, it’s as much of a plea as it was before, desperate at the edges of the syllables, something frail buried in between the words.

another whine echoes behind your lips and something akin to a sob causes your teeth-marked chest to shake. “you’re so good to me, keigo.”

the final bite to your jugular is the hardest of the onslaught, and it has you crying out loud in his arms, fingers clawing at him hard enough for his skin give way to hardened keratin, hiccups of “keigo, that hurts! please! fuck, that hurts!” echoing off of the walls of his your house. the vibrations of his groans against your neck lets you know he enjoys you fighting back, gets off on feeling you struggle against him, loves when you scratch and claw at him like a feral cat in need of taming.

he can feel your erratic pulse between his incisors, like a bird beating itself against the cage that traps it. bad-dum-bad-dum-bad-dum-bad-dum. he bites harder. kei-go-kei-go-kei-go-kei-go. salty copper splashes on his tongue, the stinging sensation of your fingernails breaking his skin open sets the tender flesh on his back on fire, and he hears the animalistic growl reverberating in his chest.

“kei—s-stop,” you sob, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, and his eyes roll to the back of his head. “that fucking hurts. stop! stop!” god, he loves when you’re like this—sobbing and scratching and fighting and pleading. it’s a high nothing else could possibly match. “kei—”

but he keeps going, despite how much you claw and hit at his back, how much you twist and turn in his arms, how many tears slip down your cheek and mix in with your blood on his tongue. he’s a predator with his prey between his teeth, and he intends on enjoying his kill tonight.

adrenaline pumps through your veins thick and hot. keigo is never satisfied until he knows he’s broken you a little, but you aren’t sure just how much of you there is left to break. his incisors are digging into your neck, drawing blood out and dribbling down your neck, and you’re afraid he might just drain you completely.

“keigo—stop, goddammit!”

fists pound against his back in a feeble attempt to get him to stop, but it’s the feeling of your nails breaking through the skin of his cheek that eventually gets him to relinquish his hold.

fat tears roll down your cheeks as his tongue soothes what’s sure to be a bruise, crimson smearing across your neck and chest. quiet sobs shake your frame in his arms as his fingers trace serene patterns across your bare back, a direct juxtaposition to the hot pain radiating across your hot flesh.

“shh, shh,” he coos, fingers petting the back of your head as he rocks your body. “i’ve got you, dove.”

“i hate you.”

“i know.”

and as a reward for your efforts to fight him off, he has you folded in half, knees pressed against your shoulders, bottoms to the side because he can’t starve off this hunger any longer. he needs you.

he devours your cunt as if it contains his very salvation. his tongue laps at the pearl of your clit, flattens against it until you’re preening underneath him and reaching out—to stop him? to encourage him? he isn’t sure, but he catches your hand and laces his fingers with yours anyway. with a mixture of your juices and blood swimming in his mouth as his tongue draws patterns into your cunt, he thinks he could get high off of this. he thinks he might already be.

“kei! kei—fuck! oh my fucking god, keigo!”

he hums against your heat. “i know, baby, i know.”

just a little more.

tears flow freely down your face as you feel keigo’s breath fan across your sopping pussy. your thighs are trembling, fingers shaking in his as he continues to pin you down, and you think he likes it best when you’re vulnerable like this. the hardness you feel bumping against your rear as he delves more into your cunt indicates he does. you think you like it, too. the way your heartbeat drums away in between your legs indicates you do.

bad-dum-bad-dum-bad-dum-bad-dum. his slides two fingers in your sticky walls. ei-go-kei-go-kei-go-kei-go.

“tell me i’m good,” he moans out while his fingers curl inside of you. “fuck, baby, tell me i’m good, please.”

“you’re—shit!—awful, keigo takami,” you hiccup out. “i hate—fuck! right here, please, please, god, yes!—you.”

his thumb stretches out to rub at your puffy clit, and you swear you see stars explode behind your eyes, beautiful nebulae that his hands created. “i know.”

every time he bows his back to lap at your cunt, he feels the stings of your scratches stretch and pull, evidence of your distain towards him, and it’s like having a reminder of how much of your love he has to earn. he’s so close to it, he knows it. just as close as you are to cumming for him.

“there we go,” he hums as he feels your walls fluttering around his fingers. “c’mon, give it to me, dove. give it to me.”

try as you might, your body obeys before you can resist him, and you’re cumming in the palm of his hand, cumming against the very same mouth that just drew blood from you. shame washes over you the second you come down from your high, but you don’t have a moment to dwell before keigo is coming up for air, his mouth covered in your juices and blood, porcelain shining bright through the crimson. and, by god, he looks gorgeous—comparable to lucifer himself before his fall—lapping up his fingers, pink tongue poking out and licking up any remaining blood it can reach.

it’s not fair.

and he knows he’s got you, pupils dilated, bite-ridden chest heaving, legs still trembling with the aftershock of your orgasm, heart fluttering in the base of your blood-stained throat. his fucking masterpiece.

shaking hands tug off his pants and underwear, fingers clumsily pulling apart buttons and shoving down fabric, as if he can’t even comprehend not being inside of you for a second longer.

fitting him is always a stretch, but he loves taking his time, loves feeling how your body struggles to accommodate him. he isn’t big by any means—fairly average, all things considered—but your body still hesitates to accept him, still identifies him as a threat—an intruder.

“kei—,” you gasp out.

he kisses away your tears, leaves a bloody imprint of his lips smeared on your cheeks. “i know, baby.” he sinks in a little more, testing. “tell me i’m good.”

you grind your teeth together to keep a moan at bay. “no.”

but despite how much your heart fights it, your body accepts him at last, and he bottoms out with a loud groan.

then he’ll have to earn it. just like he always does. just like he always will.

as his cock slowly, almost lazily, drags against your walls, his mouth worries at the new wound on the side of your throat, kisses and licks and soothes all of the stinging made by greedy enamel. it’s almost enough to forget how much pain he had caused. almost.

“feel so good,” keigo moans out and snaps his hips against yours. “fuck, you make me crazy.”

your hamstring burns at being kept in such a position for as long as you have been, but the pleasure keigo provides is enough of a reward for your pain. as twisted as the hero is, he knows all of the right spots to hit, knows how to angle his hips and how to cradle your body so you're just barely hanging onto your own sanity. he's had more than enough practice, after all.

“kei—please,” you mewl out. “need you!”

the bones of his hips dig into the plush of the back of your thighs, and he chuckles darkly as he hears you hiccup again. "thought you hated me,” he replies with a shit-eating grin. “thought i was awful.”

shaking fists reach up to pound at him again, but he just kisses your knuckles instead. a part of you melts a little. “you are,” you gasp out as a well-aimed thrust has you spasming around him. “and i do. but that doesn’t mean i don’t need you.”

something inside of keigo shatters at that. he pulls out just enough to lift you up so you’re no longer folded in half underneath him, but rather seated in his lap instead, so he can watch firsthand just how much you need him. there’s nothing gentle about the way he re-enters you, all needy lips pressed against bloody skin and sloppy thrusts trying to find their way to your bliss. your arms wrap around his neck, pull him closer to you, and his mouth immediately goes back to his bitemark, back to soothing the sting of needing him.

“tell me i’m good,” he begs one final time, golden eyes pleading with you as his hips thrust up into you.

“you’re so fucking good, kei,” you obey, and it’s the best phrase keigo has ever heard, his own personal hymn, especially when it’s said earnestly instead of verbosely.

spurred on by this new motivation, keigo’s thrusts become more frantic, more needy, desperate to earn so much of your approval his heart may burst into ribbons between his ribs. he fucks your body underneath his once again, lips pressed against yours, but this time your thighs are around his waist and his hands are tangled in your hair, sharing the same breath, moaning openly into each other's mouths, swapping bloodstained admissions of love and affection as you lose yourselves in each other.

“fuck, dove, you’re like a vice on me,” he groans as he feels you flutter around him. “let it go for me, yeah? show me how good i am.”

when you cum this time, you have wholly accepted that it’s keigo takami covered in blood and tears making you do so. his name leaves your lips in a series of sputtered gasps and moans and pleas, cunt gripping onto him with no intentions of ever letting go, and he loses himself in his own release as he feels your fingernails digging into his back.

he cleans you up in a shared warm bath afterwards, the imprints of his teeth still on your body and your scratches on his, and he thinks it's romantic, how you've both left your marks on each other. his nuzzles against your neck.

“i love you.”

“i know.”

[heartnanase]

scaramouche

i dont know what this is but my love life has been cooking recently so i decided to write again after months (i’ve been left on delivered for 16 minutes so you guys get angst)

“look seriously? don’t be like that— hey! wait! it wasn’t my choice! the fatui? i wanted you to be safe!”

“im getting married. deal with it.” you said while quickly walking, holding onto the sides of your heavy wedding dress, not even 3 minutes into putting on your outfit and you already regret wearing heels. “who? tartaglia huh?” he looked like a fool, you assumed he did at least. getting the courage to look at him was difficult. “it’s ajax.” you coldly say. you could picture his eye roll in your head as he mumbles a “whatever.” all you could do was watch his shadow in the corner of your eye trying to match your pace, while he reached to grab your hand. you angrily turn to him. “no! no just go! its been five years and now i’m just supposed to believe that you suddenly want me again?” all he can do is stare at your teary eyes, all he can do is chuckle. it’s weird, you had no clue why you were crying. was it cause the way he trims his hair now is different? was it cause his voice has changed, it sounds restless; was it cause it’s been so long? or was it because your heart still beats the same for him as it once did years ago. it didn’t matter how you felt anymore, you had a husband. well you will have a husband. so—

“listen okay? i just needed you to be safe” he cuts off your thoughts. scaramouche is nervous, he thinks he’s hiding it well with his smirk but he’s really not. you watch as he awkwardly try and fix his posture and grins at you, shoving his hands in his pocket hoping you didn’t notice his shaky fingers. you couldn’t stay here with him much longer, ajax would be furious. it’s not like you loved ajax, nor did he love you. it was a mutual agreement that your marriage would be perfect considering you and ajax both came from respectable families. however your dad always hated scaramouche, and you wish you listened to your father about how boys like him are pieces of shit. “you don’t get to decide that!”

scaramouche scoffs, “so what? what would that make me if i was the reason you died?” you slowly gulped as you both stood in science. he sighs and continues, “look i love you okay i still do and being away from you was one of the hardest things i’ve done!” you kinda always hoped the break up hurt scaramouche, even if it was just a little bit. you hoped that seeing you with someone else makes him bite his inner cheek. so it makes you feel better about drawing doodles of him. and making playlists dedicated to him. and learning the stupid piano just so you could play his favourite songs. “you have no right… no right to come back into my life!” your lip quivered, “it took me so long to fall asleep without you. do you know how difficult it is to eat with a heavy heart? maybe you didn’t kill me physically but the world stopped spinning the day you left so if you’re trying to come back the moment i’m starting to feel okay i’m not letting you.” of course you still loved him, but he was the reason why you put such restrictions on love. and now you cant even break your own rules, not even for him. scaramouche opens his mouth to speak but a voice calls out for you.

“hey! ajax is looking for you!” a guest you didn’t even know yelled from across the room. you look at scaramouche one more time before walking past him.

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero!

Part 7 - Three Stooges And A Minty Accident

Just a warning, there will be an allergic reaction in this chapter, I don't know if it does call for a warning or not but I just want to be safe! Also, Characters are somewhat ooc, so, sorry for that!!

Water drips onto the tiled floor as you stand in the broken down bathroom of the apartment. Your hands grip onto the sinks and you look at your puffy, icky complexion.

You'd like to say you had taken the humiliation with grace, just simply walked it off. But you didn't, you couldn't stop the tears falling down you heading home and you're sure if there were anymore tears left to cry you would still be crying.

Honestly though, what were you expecting? You had a feeling something bad would happen, it's the Waynes after all.

Your phone is now unusable so you can't even contact your friends Sherri and Tia, both of whom you haven't spoken to much in the past couple of days.

You feel bad, the girls had been there for you since day 1. You're sure that if you had told them about your hero persona they'd support and try to help you - because that's what friends do.

You sigh as you decide to take a warm shower, you can already tell you're going to get sick but can only hope that somehow the spider bite would stop it from happening too harshly.

The water is warm on your skin as you stand there disassociating. You wish you stay there forever but your parents definitely wouldn't appreciate you raising the water bills.

You get out and dress in something comfortable - and more importantly, dry.

The whole day has been a shitshow and you just want to die. But, you are anything but a quitter - at least, you hope so.

Deciding to open up the laptop you see the time is already 3pm, that means school is out! Sherry and Tia are probably online now, so, you message them on the laptop.

You desperately needed a distraction from everything so Sherri, Tia and you decide to head to a nice cafe - one that doesn't have a bucket of ice cold water waiting to fall on you.

Heading to your room you put on your shoes and fish out $10 from a small piggy bank in your wooden chest. You head to the nearby cafe, a pep in your step as you go.

Meanwhile Duke was hanging out with Steph and Cass, the two girls wanting to invite him along to one of their outings, they had gotten pedicures, did some shopping, walked around a park and were now stopping at a cafe to get some drinks.

They hadn't checked the GC all day - in fact, they had silenced it due to the amount of messages going through.

Steph orders a chocolate milkshake, Cass orders a mint tea and Duke decides to order a hot chocolate. He was meant to be patrolling today but today was oddly peaceful so he decided against it.

The three sit down at a nearby table, unaware of the three people waiting in line behind them.

You however were not so oblivious. As soon as you walk in your face falls and a bad feeling washes over you - something bad is about to happen. Your spidey senses didn't need to enact for you to tell.

Still, you power through. Your friends are excited about this cafe and you don't want to be a buzzkill..

"(Reader)? Helloooo?" Tia waves a hand in front of your face jokingly as you snap out of your dread-filled state. You chuckle and roll your eyes playfully "Stop it Tia! You aren't funny!"

Tia gasps and dramatically puts a hand on her chest and pouts. "(Readerrrrrrr), you're actually so mean! Are you a secret villain or something?"

Before you can respond Sherri comes back, having ordered the drinks for you all. The cafe is crowded and you guys either have the choice of sitting next to a group of suspicious men or the three heroes.

Before you can weigh in Tia and Sherri already move to the table next to Steph, Cass and Duke so you have no choice but to sigh and follow, hoping nothing bad happens.

Duke glances over at the three who had sat at the table next to theirs out of curiosity. Upon seeing (Reader) he stiffens up slightly - out of everyone he's the one who has some of the least beef with (Reader) because he's convinced that if (Reader) just talks to Aranea then they'd stop being such a hater.

Yet, he knows Steph will make a deal of it if she sees (Reader) there, with snarky remarks made loud enough for the other three to hear, glares and dirty looks and possibly even confrontation. Cass wouldn't really react, she doesn't have much of an opinion on (Reader), at least not that she speaks on.

So overall, he's gotta try and not have Steph notice. Luckily, despite the cafe being to busy everyone already had their drinks and food. It was only Duke's group and (Reader)'s group left to be served. And as luck would have it both orders came at the same time.

You're laughing with your friends, trying to not draw attention to yourself - you could feel Duke glancing at you from time to time and pray that he won't start anything.

You get your drink, excited to finally get (Favorite drink) after so long. These days you rarely have the chance to get it, either not having time or not having money.

Sherri is joking around with Tia and you take a sip of your drink, too engrossed with the conversation to notice something off until the third sip.

Pausing you stare down at your drink and lick your lips. "Uh guys, this isn't my drink.." You state, looking at them. Normally it wouldn't be such a big deal but this time it was - you just had three regular sized sips of mint tea.

Mint is an allergy you picked up from the spider bite. Something you are now deathly allergic to.

At the same time Cass has already noticed that it isn't the drink she had ordered. She noticed straight away but Steph was too busy rambling on about some high school drama to let anyone else get a word in.

It's not that big of a deal for her, it's just that this drink wasn't her favorite. Looking to the table next to her she sees (Reader) with their friends, the cafe is very loud so she has to strain to listen to their conversation but by facial expressions alone she can tell.

Nothing good is happening.

Sherri is freaking out, like seriously freaking out. She gets up from her chair and quickly goes to call an ambulance, only stopped by you gripping onto her arm - it's too expensive to go to the hospital by ambulance.

Tia is by your side trying to make sure you stay conscious, she's also searching up remedies to try and help.

Your tongue is swollen, your mouth is itchy and your throat feels like it's closing in. Your abdomen is screaming in pain and you feel like vomiting, you can't breath yet you need to cough. You feel dizzy, your pulse beating slowly in your ears. It's too much..

The commotion draws attention of onlookers including Steph and Duke - Cass was already watching.

Duke is horrified - your face is purple-ish red! You're scratching at your neck like an animal and your friends are freaking out so much that you'd think you were turning into some kind of monster!

Steph is shocked - when did you get there?! Also, whats happening? She doesn't think and just immediately gets her phone out and films it, she knows she should call an ambulance but this could help in the future! Plus, surely someone else had called paramedics.

Cass' eyes are widened in shock, and she feels frozen in place. Her instincts want to kick in, having been skilled in quick response. But she doesn't do anything but stare. Should she do something? Yes. Will she continue to be a bystander? Also yes.

Eventually Duke has enough of people just standing around and watching you have a severe allergic reaction - or atleast, that's what he guesses it is. He steps up to you and gently grabs your arm and pulls you outside. Your friends stay behind to clean up any mess - even though they desperately wanted to follow you and Duke.

An ambulance arrives and Duke sits in the back with you. You're freaking out, he supposes it's due to the allergic reaction. He's only a third right.

In actuality you're freaking out due to the hospital bill - and by extension your parents - as well as the fact that DUKE THOMAS is in the back of an ambulance with you.

Why? You have no clue. Your spidey senses don't go off but you're still scared, you hate the whole Wayne clan with your whole heart. After the issue with Dick today the last thing you need is to be in the back of an ambulance with Duke.

Yet, as your vision fades the last thing you see is Duke's worried face.

~

Taglist (Still updating)

@rissareader @delias-stuff @hogwarts9 @marsmabe @randomlyappearingartist

[melissa-titanium]

i probably look fucking crazy but. "kicked out of the nowhere" ln au .

SERA IF YOU SEE THIS HI MY FRIEND THANKUOU FOR LISTENING TO MY RAMBLE <3

both of them are like. late teenage years in this one. dw im not being weird about it i hate when aus do this shit for the sole purpose of making it romantic/weird. id say 15-16

six ; i think bcos shes taller and shit she couldn't exactly. wear the raincoat anymore. so somewhere along the line she and mono picked it apart and turned it into something else on her outfit -- pants? shirt? i dont know, but that's why her shorts are yellow. she kept her hair short like it is in canon because growing it out is uncomfortable and way too warm for her comfort. also sensory shit from having hair against the back of her neck. after leaving the nowhere she wears a big ass hoodie. it's more efficient than a raincoat because raincoats are LOUD AS HELL.!!!!!!! but still has a similar feeling to her raincoat AND has pockets :) crocs are. well. crocs. if you know me you know. i actually dont think they would be all that efficient when it comes to walking around but . idk. i think she would just carry them around for the purpose of walking around more safely if the ground is hard or something she's just as quiet as she usually is. over the years of living in the nowhere i think six has actually gone on to be the more physically adept of the two. we obviously know she's way faster than him, but his time in canon implies he's got more physical strength in his arms than her. i think this changes over time -- the reason she's so sickly & weak at the start of the game (not even fast enough to catch up to mono really!) is bcos of her lack of confidence and how long she spent in the cabin. the longer she stays with mono honing her skills she goes back to kicking ass. after a while, she can lift hammers with much more ease than mono can and she probably pokes fun at him for it. HOWEVER, he eventually gets that growth spurt which allows him to run faster thsn her (long legs. holy shit hes gangly) and he pokes fun at her for being short.

mono ; longer hair. he's got No Nutrients so his hair grows real slow so hes basically never cut it. he likes it longer bcos . opposite of six! he is Always Cold. like naturally cold but its still uncomfortable. SERA I SAID THIS 2 U ALSO but i think he's a walking relic. his only exposure to people, real people, is people on tvs. considering the sounds and general theme of all the stuff in the pale city/ads and stuff, i think its safe to say he only has reference of the real world from like. western 60's-90's. both him and six i imagine have severely poor language comprehension and grammar but if he DOES talk he probably talks like a kid trying to imitate their businessman father from the 70's. and as such; he dresses like his wardrobe is a time capsule. his outfits r still dark and cover his limbs but he looks like a total dork. fucking overalls and shit LOL. i don't have any ideas for face coverings at the moment but maybe he wears sunglasses & a face mask if he sees it necessary? i very genuinely feel like he'd be fine without face coverings. most people would think he's a cosplayer, seeing as he's kind of sickly looking (basement dweller appearance) with like eye contacts or some shit. idk

also funny thing id like 2 mention. their genders are Strange. when you live in the nowhere, "society" isnt exactly "pushing gender norms" onto you. chat what the fuck is a he/him? i only know Running From Monsters . in my previous notes for what they'd be like in the real world (seen below) i think this would be a very funny thing 2 explore . someone refers to six as maam and she completely ignores them (doesnt know what that means. six internal monologue voice All i am is Six so freaking call me Six) ((they're still little kids at heart i dont think they'd like to swear))

more notes here

[a-shadowedvales]

when jane's powers return in season four (and because they were regained by her confronting and accepting her past, rather than being retraumatised with it!) they're stronger than they ever were. when she starts getting a handle back on them, she very quickly comes to realise not only have they affected her, but her mother, too. one of the biggest losses that came about with her losing them was the fact that she could no longer visit terry in the void; while there was no real communication there, it did allow jane to sit with her, and gain a little more connection than she could in the real world. when she first visits the void after their return, it takes her three hours to find terry, something that is both unexpected and incredibly worrying. but when she does, it's something of a miracle. jane's increased strength and control over the void actually wakes terry up from her catatonic state, but only in the void. there's no way to help her mother physically, but she does do so (unbeknownst to her) mentally. terry is reborn in jane's newfound control over the vale of shadows; she becomes the woman she once was, and while her body remains frozen in a "good dream", her mind connected to jane's own allows her some freedom. jane is able to speak to her mother in the void, is able to be held by her, and while it's still unfair and jane cannot stay in there forever, it's something. this only lasts for about eight months, as each visit slowly begins deteriorating terry's physical and mental state, and jane's health begins declining after spending hours upon hours in the void each and every day.

when jane finds out these visits are actually killing her mother on the outside, she deems to stop, but terry expresses the importance of them being able to speak, that she'd prefer to die on the outside, if it meant she could have just a few months with her daughter like this. terry and jane's connection was always so strong, which ultimately led to terry "waking up" in the void, but even jane's newfound strength cannot save her from the harsh realities. each visit nearing the end of those eight months, terry fades more and more, becomes weaker in the void, and her real body eventually gives up. jane's in the void when her mother eventually passes on, and physically feels their connection weaken, like some part of her suddenly becomes lost in the shadows, a part she'll never find again. jane falls into a depressive state for weeks after her mother's death, given she's technically lost her a second time, but soon comes to realise she was lucky to have even shared those eight months together. it was better than nothing at all. there is a proper burial and funeral, (and when jane dies, she's buried next to her mother) which allows jane some sense of closure. she never fully recovers from losing terry, nor from the fact that she never had a proper relationship with her, but she does eventually find some peace with it all.

[im2tired4usernames]

Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die

[nomairuins]

have i ever related to any other characters ... who remembered

[swagging-back-to]

i doubt he will care. it isnt like hes asked permission or approval when sending billions of dollars in weaponry and funding over the past few months

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[sugurizz]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬 ✧ Feat. JJK MEN

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ── Jjk Men in their -real- Daddy era. (Am I secretly having a baby fever LMAOO)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ── fluffy stuff, pure wholesomeness and affectionate dads.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

It's safe to say that sometimes you're raising two babies - only one of them is a big buff pouty one.

Daddy Toji sneaks to the kitchen in the middle of the night, leaving you both sleeping in your shared bedroom and then slowly closes the door. He promised himself he'd only take one *unnoticeable* spoon of your newborn's baby formula but ends up stuffing his face with the forbidden powder in the heat of the moment. He tries his best to hide his tracks by shoving the tin somewhere far in the cupboard.

He *oddly* always makes sure to be the one preparing his baby's bottle the next day - 'Oh darling, don'tcha move a muscle...I'll be right back with our baby's breakfast!'

You smile and raise a brow, already suspecting something. Daddy Toji is not much of a morning person. much less when it comes to baby chores...

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Gojo is always there whenever you change your baby's diaper. He keeps laughing and giggling like a 6 year old, curiously learning from his baby momma how to take care of his little child. His sky blue eyes are staring at your skilled hands, handling your precious little one with infinte care. He keeps smiling in awe, chuckling every time your baby farts and making the funniest faces just to make them giggle.

He takes a million pictures of his baby every day; we're talking his whole camera roll is just his baby's face, cutesy hands, tiny feet, smiling, eating, sleeping on daddy's chest, drooling on his shoulder...the list never ends.

His baby looks so smol when he holds it in his huge hands. He has to bend all the way down just so he could pick them up cause obviously my dude is the tallest man ever.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

He'd take full care of your newborn just to see you rest and relax. He told you to teach him everything he needs to know so that he'd be perfectly fit for his new -and best ever- occupation; your baby father. He's got however only one pet peeve; getting his little one to burp after feeding them.

The reason? He was doing it once, holding the baby while gently patting its back...until he suddenly felt a warm liquid slithering down his shirt - the expensive one you dearly gifted him on your wedding anniversary- and to his surprise it was none other than his little one's vomit dripping down his shoulder...

Now he makes sure you hold a napkin behind him whenever he does it.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨

He's by far the chillest Daddy EVER. Carries his little one whenever he goes. Gets super jealous when your baby starts calling for you, or wants you to hold them instead of him. He's determined to make them say 'daddy' first, but deep down knows it'd melt his heart when he sees the little version of him utter mommy's name for the first time.

Staying awake at night putting his baby to sleep just so you can get your full nightly rest is something he'd never miss out on. He hates seeing you tired or sleepy and puts both of your needs before anything else.

Daddy Geto is always calm and smiley, no matter how much mess his baby makes or how long it'd take for him to clean it up - sometimes makes you seriously wonder how he manages to be so damn chill all the time.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

For a husband twice your size with four arms and eyes he sure should take most care of your little offspring - He does tbf - His baby is always laying somewhere on his body or at least near him; sleeping against his chest, nibbling on his thumb, drooling on the side of his shoulder or sitting on his huge lap.

He's got a 6th sense whenever it comes to his baby being hungry, thirsty, sleepy or needing anything at all. Instantly knows the reason why his little one is crying and most of the time is very quick to make them happy again.

Absolutely hates poopie smell and calls them a brat whenever he senses their diaper getting heavier. 'Aggh you little runt!' You can't help laughing at him getting overwhelmed with such a tiny thing and start teasing him over it.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐘𝐮𝐮𝐭𝐚

There's nothing that Yuuta loves more than children. He has always wanted to have kids and couldn't wait to create his very first and own one with you. He's in LOVE with seeing you taking care of them; almost admiring every move and every word you say. He smiles like an idiot whenever he sees you holding your baby, breastfeeding them, playing with them or even laying next to them.

His favorite game is to hide somewhere in the house and let his little one look for him. He does it so suddenly and quickly, leaving them puzzled with big round eyes - comes out of his hideaway when they start sobbing and laughs at their little red nose and pouty cheeks.

'Aww why is my little cupcake cryiiing?...Daddy's right here!'

[evilminji]

Ooooh~ Drink mix up? >.>

Because! Wes DID, in fact, get that dream job. HAS learned... after many, many hours of "beat about the head and shoulders with an ethics pamphlet by his great aunt", to keep his mouth shut! Family curse of Sight? WHAT family curse?

He doesn't see shit! Mind your business.

What're you? A cop?

Look, he sent Fenton a gift basket. He was a shitty, shitty "I have to be RIGHT and nothing else matters!" Stubborn lil asshole of a kid. He got better. Grew up. No one is there best Self during puberty. He DOES, in fact, regret it.

Which is WHY, he is deliberately ignoring Kent's terrible, awful, paper-thin, "who meee~?" Aw shucks BULLSHIT excuse of a disguise, like it isn't blatantly obvious he's Superman. Yep. Nothing to see here! Nothing but us chickens! Mmmmm, morning coffee! Delicious.

But see, here's the THING.

The Itty, bitty, teeny lil PROBLEM...

Wes grew up in Amity "Totally Not Supernatural Hotspot For Centuries" Park. He is... to put it mildly, genetically? A freak. His biology is ALL fucked up. Everyone's is. And it WAS NOT made better by the Fenton's playing fast and loose with their hell basement. The Ectoplasmic NUKE that was that portal.

There is a REASON his morning coffee? Is COVERED. Contained. Fenton brand, LEAD LINED, specialty cups. The sort that can't be EATEN from the inside out. Eroded after a few uses. They're ugly as sin, but they work. He even ordered a few covers from Star's etsy shop. (Apparently he wasn't the only one who hated how ugly they looked. Good for her though, he heard it was doing well.)

He SAYS this? 'Cause his morning brew is less... straight COFFEE... and more... how to put this? A blend? Brew? Potion, really. Like an energy drink. From hell. Or, partially at least, the Zone. It's the combination of roots, seeds, and a few dried berries. Kinda like a tea, actually!

Tasty. Adds this nice fruity, warmth. A zing. Goes GREAT with the coffee. And it really perks you up... if you are Limnal. If you AREN'T? It'll desolve your esophagus like swallowing straight acid. And that's not TOUCHING the... witch-y, more Seer specific bit of the blend.

That stuff is medicinal. You know, "calm the mind" and "mental clarity". That sorta thing. With a good ol helping of "don't blurt out everyone's secrets, you spacey bitch! For the love of God, those are our INSIDE THOUGHTS!". Which? Really helpful! Infinitely less likely to get decked. It's a family staple.

Poisonous, though.

They're fine cause they've basically developed an immunity to that part, but like? Wouldn't recommend. It's why he NEVER shares his drinks. Food? On occasion. If he PLANS it and knows not to add and interesting spices. But DRINKS? Never. Weston family brews are basically NEVER safe.

Which? Begs the Very Important Question ™!

Who's Coffee Is This?

Cause it SURE AS FUCK AINT HIS!

You never realize quite how fast you can go from "completely calm and kinda sleepy" to "bomb strapped to my chest, primal panic AWAKE" until it happens to you. His coffee was ON HIS DESK. People have passed by. He talked to them. Cups put down and picked up. Lazy early morning. He doesn't even register, really, as his chair crashes to the ground.

He's shouting.

People confused. They don't realize yet. His head whips around, looking for that distinct cover. Before it's too late. Before someone takes that fatal sip. He spots it. Bolting from his desk. Crashing through coworkers, over desks. Chaos and outrage. "It's 'just' coffee!" They cry.

Kent turns, confused. Pretending. Raises his (HIS! Oh god!) cup to his lips, unknowing. Wes SCREAMS a warning. But he doesn't listen. "It's 'just' coffee" They never listen. Curse of Cassandra. God's damn it. This is why his family fucking CONVERTED!

He TACKLES the man of steel.

RIPS his cup away from him, knows his eyes are frantic. How much have you had?! Spit it out! Wes voice ECHOES in the sudden silence. I'm a META, Kent! It could KILL YOU!

And oh, Oh NOW they get it. Or perhaps it is the burn in his mouth that finally registers. He rolls, spits oil slick nebulae that eat away the floor. There is blood mixed within it. It took mere moments. Superman stares, transfixed and horrified, as Wes shakes. He... he should probably get off of him.

He'll move in a moment.

When his legs no longer feel weak from terror.

The news room is in chaos. Lane kneeling by her husband, Perry trying to do damage control. He... he's probably gonna lose his job, isn't he? Wes wants to cry. Protection laws only go so far, after all. And warning his boss about his dietary needs means jack shit, after an incident like this. Beloved as Kent is. Not that anyone likely believed him.

They never do.

And now he's nearly killed Superman.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @dcxdpdabbles

[suni-writings]

Stop hating me.

jude bellingham x fem!reader

wc: 2.1k

+18!! mdni

(content warning: smut, fingering, unprotected sex [have safe sex pls])

ps: it's been a while since i wrote smut pls be nice about it

“Bellingham, we shouldn’t-”

“Save your regret for later, princess,” he cut her off, quickly finding her lips into a sloppy kiss.

Pinned against the wall, with his muscular body pressed against hers, she knew salvation wouldn’t come. There was no god, no force of the nature that could stop what was bound to happen. That could stop them.

“We both are going to regret this,” she mumbled between the kiss, her voice hoarse and low, panting. Why was she even trying to deny it?

“Jesus, princess. Can you shut your fucking mouth for a second?” He asked with a small smirk, his breath sparse. “So feisty. Always wanting to have the last word, always wanting to control everything…”

As the taunting words left Jude’s mouth, his right hand started moving slowly. From her neck to her collarbones, to the valley of her breasts, to her lower belly, applying just enough pressure to hear her pant once again. To hear her losing control, losing her morals and everything she had ever believed happened between them.

“Let it go,” he whispered in her ear, his plump lips brushing against her ear and gently biting her earlobe. “Let it go, doll. Let me take care of you.”

Everything was a mess. This wasn’t the moment nor the place for this to happen. She wasn’t even supposed to do as much as look at him. But something about his unbuttoned social shirt and his now wrinkled suit, the intoxicating smell of his expensive cologne and that goddamn smirk of his made her brain stop working, being guided by something so primal that she had yet to understand.

“It’s- a fucking club bathroom. Anyone could come in-”

Jude just groaned, annoyed and frustrated. He knew he had chosen the only woman who wouldn’t want to take him tonight – but he also knew that was merely a façade. If she thought he didn’t notice her lingering stares, the way she’d hold her breath next to him whenever she was slightly caught by surprise and the desire in her eyes, she was so wrong.

“Let them fucking come. They’ll see me and leave in the same instant. I don’t fucking care if there’ll be headlines about my behavior tomorrow.” He said, staring into her eyes, his tone firm. “Let me take care of you. Know you need it. See right through you, princess.”

She opened her mouth to come with a smart retort, but he was quicker. Jude’s hands went to the back of her thighs, suddenly pulling her and lifting her of the ground with ease. Guiding her to the sink countertop and gently placing her there – perhaps the only gentle act he had and would have throughout the night.

“The more you talk, the more I’ll want to shut you up,” he warned her with a husky tone, his finger under her chin to make sure she was looking at him. “And that’ll just make me tease you more and not give you what you want.”

She gulped and gave him a small nod. She’d never say it out loud, she’d never give him the pleasure of agreeing with him. So difficult, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. After all, he was more than pleased with the challenge of making her scream his name to prove otherwise.

“Good,” he said, his thumb tracing her bottom lip as she looked at him. Uncertainty, desire and frustration placed behind her eyelids. He could see all of that. “You’re so pretty. So desirable,” he whispered, his mouth so close to hers that she could feel his breath. “Wouldn’t want you spending the night with anyone else. It’d fucking kill me, princess.”

She barely remembered how they ended up in that bathroom. How they went from barely looking at each other to this closeness in the span of a few hours. She knew she had drunk as much as him – they wouldn’t be there otherwise. Not when they’ve always claimed to hate each other. If they were in their right minds, they wouldn’t even be in the same room.

She remembered having a man hitting on her as she drank. He was attractive, for sure, but nothing that would make her give him any attention. She remembered smoking her strawberry mango vape when Jude abruptly took it out of her hand when he wasn’t even that close a few moments before. His tight grip on her wrist, not enough to hurt her, but enough to keep it there, guiding her away from the man, was something she couldn’t forget.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She asked him with annoyance as he guided them to a more secluded spot. God, she hated admitting it, but he looked so good in formal clothes.

“Taking you away from that fucking douchebag that was eating you with his eyes,” he retorted, the anger clear in his tone as he gave her back her vape. She quickly put it in her purse. “You have to stop smoking that crap, as well.”

“I’m sorry, but since when did you feel entitle to control my life in any way whatsoever?” She asked with a sarcastic smile, annoyed at his attitude.

“If you think, for a second, I’d let you leave the club with that guy, with someone that’s not even close to your level-” he stopped once he realized what had said. He licked his lips and sighed, his hands resting on his waist as she looked at him with confusion.

“Who would be close to my level, then?” She asked with crossed arms, tilting her head.

Jude just gave her a small, cocky grin that he always carried with him. Thank God for his drinks, because only then he’d have the courage to retort her so easily.

“Who do you think, princess?”

After that, it was all blurry. A mix of tongues against each other, the taste of his strong drinks, his cologne, his hands pulling her closer. The anger, the frustration, the desire – until stumbling upon the bathroom because they had no other choice when lust controlled them so easily.

The feeling of the cold tiles of the countertop and Bellingham’s confession brought her back to the moment, looking into his eyes.

“I wasn’t going to leave the club with him,” she said, her eyes falling to his mouth. So, so close that she could reminisce the taste of it. “I wasn’t going to leave the club with anyone.”

Jude seemed rather pleased by her reply, his body finding a way to be even closer to hers. Despite always trying to say they hated each other; it was always the same – like magnets being drawn. All they had been doing, this whole time, was prolongating the inevitable. He was fucking tired of it.

“Good,” he whispered, his hand slowly travelling to the insides of her thighs, dangerously close to her warmth. She held back a whimper and he grinned at the sight. It was almost as if she was already coming undone from a single movement. “Wouldn’t want anyone but me to have the privilege.”

She looked up at Jude, suddenly realizing how big he was, how easily he was towering her and she could barely see past his long shoulders. With a sudden movement, her arms were now resting on his shoulders, caressing them.

“Need you to say it’s mine, darling. Would you do that for me, hm?” He whispered in her ear, expecting a tantrum, some remark to show how bratty she was. But his fingers were too close to her core for her to even come up with something that smart.

“That what is yours?,” was the best she could come up with, acting innocent despite the way her voice cracked.

Jude, in response, only looked deeply into her eyes as he pressed two fingers to her covered warmth, feeling the damp that was formed.

“That this is mine.” He spoke lowly, pressing his fingers even harder, earning a gasp from her as her eyelids shut, as if she was still trying to hold herself back. To gather some self-control.

“It’s yours,” she whispered. Jude thought about demanding her to speak louder, but it was already so much than he ever expected her to say.

His middle finger tossed her underclothing to the side, his index finger already moving over to her clits with enough pressure, in slow, circle motions.

“Already so wet, princess. All that denial and for what?” Bellingham chuckled lowly, almost as if as taunting her, as if his own underwear wasn’t feeling extremely tight. “Tell me what you want.”

She sighed. She had been holding back for so long that she decided that it wasn’t time to play around anymore.

“Want you to fuck me,” she said, looking into his deep brown eyes in a silent plea.

And how could he ever deny her anything when she was looking at him like that?

He inserted two digits into her core, moving them around her walls, trying to know which spot pleasured her the most just from the way she had to shut her eyelids strongly. She felt so warm and looked so desperate that the bulge in his pants became even more apparent, if that was possible.

“I wish I could just slam myself into you right now,” he whispered in her ear as his fingers began to distance from each other inside her, scissoring her slowly as she gasped. “But I need to get you prepped. Don’t want to hurt you that much.”

When Jude said, her eyes fell to the prominent bulge, realizing how big he actually was and whimpering just from imagining. He chuckled against her ear as she clenched around his fingers, knowing exactly what went on inside her head.

After realizing she was almost about to cum on his fingers, Jude took them off her and she whimpered again at the sudden emptiness. He sucked his fingers as the other hand undid his belt in a single, quick motion. She rushed to help to unbutton his pants, and even more eagerly to help him take his underwear off just enough so his cock would jump out.

As it sprung out, she watched it in all its rigidness. It was bigger than she expected, and his tip was already leaking with precum. It hit her, then, that Jude was just as vulnerable and desperate as she was.

Her hand quickly grabbed his cock, moving slowly and spreading his precum around it so her movements came with more ease. To his own surprise, he moaned, not being able to hold back anymore.

Jude gripped around her wrist, taking her hand away from his member and lining his hips with her entrance. His tip teased her once, twice, threatening to finally go inside her. Eager and impatient, she moved her hips, so he was finally inside her.

He moved slowly as she felt like she was burning from inside out, having a hard time adjusting to his size. As he finally bottomed inside her, Jude gave her some time to get used to it. When she gave him a small nod, that’s when he started moving.

“Shit,” he mumbled in her ear, trying his best to not go too hard. She clenched around him, whimpering and moaning, not bothering anymore to hide a single sound. It was driving him insane. “You feel so, so good.”

“Jude,” she called him out, her eyes closed. He thought it was the prettiest sight he had ever seen – her hair all messy, her dress wrinkled, panting and desperate. If he wasn’t in the same state, he would be taunting her. Usually, that was how he was. But, for some reason, it was different with her. He needed to be inside her.

He didn’t even realize when exactly his thrusts became harder and erratically. He only knew that because she was moaning his name more often, louder.

When he accidentally hit her sweet spot, she saw stars behind her eyes, arching her back and rolling her eyes. God, if she had more of this, she would drool. She couldn’t think – not at all, not when he was slamming into her walls like that.

“Jude, I’m-” she clenched tightly around him, and he moaned.

“I know, baby,” he was panting as well. He needed to make her cum, and perhaps, more desperately, to cum. He didn’t know for how long he could handle it. “Cum for me, princess. You’ve been such a good girl, taking my cock so well. Cum.”

It felt more like he was ordering than praising, but, as soon as she came, he spilled inside her walls.

“Fuck,” Jude said, trying his best to grab for air as his head fell to her shoulders. She caressed him softly. Even though they were both a mess and could barely breathe, he chuckled from her act. Smirking, he looked at her and said: “Was that all I needed to do for you to stop hating me?”

[chaotic-birds]

1-800-red-hoods-gas-station-attendant-service

Your boyfriend's not fond of you pumping your own gas at night, so he insists you don't do it alone.

🩹 G/AUs: fluff, est. relt. 🩹 TW: reader (f) is called beautiful, pretty, princess, baby, doll (i love nicknames okay leave me alone 😭), mentions of blood and fighting 🩹 WC: 1.5k 🩹 A/N: Inspired by this reel (sfw). Just a little fun and easy read 💗 enjoy!

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

masterlist

Ever since Jason caught a group of people trying to rob someone at the gas station a week ago, he’s insisted you not get gas alone—especially at night.

Your arguments fall on deaf ears. He’s put his foot down and covered it in cement. There’s nothing you can say to make Jason change his mind.

“Hey, beau”—grunts—”tiful. Need somethin’?” Jason asks after the fourth ring.

You can faintly hear the sound of fists hitting skin in the background.

“You busy, handsome?” you wonder, eyes glancing at the low fuel light glaring at you. You already know his answer and the real answer before he speaks.

“Nope,” he answers followed by more grunting. “You home from your ladies' night?”

Upon seeing a gas station in the distance, you signal to take the highway's exit ramp.

“Not yet. I called because I’m low on gas and need to get some to make it home. I figured calling you while I pumped—”

“Where are you?” he asks instead, voice slightly strained.

“Near upper west side.”

“Come to the diamond district, and I’ll meet you there.”

You pull into an empty pump station.

“I’m already at a gas station, Jay. Just—”

“It’s not safe.”

“You’re tracking my location and you can hear—”

“It’s not safe to use your phone while getting gas too,” he continues to interrupt.

You heave a sigh and lean back into your seat, unable to stop your eyes from checking your locks. Although you’ve always been weary of pumping gas at night, you try not to be too paranoid. You hate being on edge all the time.

“Please, doll?” he pleads, breathing heavier.

There are curses in the background that don’t sound like Jason. His attackers must not like him much.

“Alright, but hurry. My light’s on,” you say. You sit straighter and shift gears to leave.

“I’m on my way now. Hey, Red Ro—”

The line cuts off, but you figure Jason’s recruiting Tim to take care of his loose ends. You feel bad for taking Jason away from his work, but you don’t want him to be upset with you for getting gas by yourself. He’s not fun when he’s grumpy.

Jason’s sitting comfortably on his motorcycle when you turn into the station.

When he sees your car, he stands and waves. You know there’s a grin behind his helmet.

The gas station is empty except for the convenience store worker. He looks at the vigilante suspiciously from inside.

You park at the station he’s at, turn off the car, and pull the lever that opens the gas tank. You climb out and smile at him, holding your card in one hand.

“Hi there, cutie. You come here often?” you tease.

He chuckles and swiftly pays for the gas before you can. You give him a disapproving look that he ignores.

“Only for you, princess,” he replies.

You put your card away as he takes the pump and untwists the tank’s cap.

“You don’t have to do that,” you say, feeling guilty again. You figured he’d come and watch the area, not actually pump your gas for you.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “You can sit back down and jus’ look pretty for me, baby.”

“That makes me sound like a spoiled brat,” you huff but do as you’re told, keeping the door open so you can converse.

Jason leans against your car as he fills your tank.

“Well, you’re only half right. You are spoiled, but that’s the way I like it.”

You shake your head at his reply, but there’s a smile on your face. Truthfully, it’s a little nice to not have to worry about anything—to just let Jason care for you.

Your eyes scan his tall form, taking in his armored-covered body and shiny helmet. You notice a few dark spots on his gloves and clothes that you figure are blood.

“It’s a little funny seeing the Red Hood pump my gas,” you quip as you grin at him.

“What can I say? I’m here to help the citizens of Gotham in any way,” he jokes.

“You have a busy night?” you ask, recalling the phone call from earlier.

“Nothin’ too extreme,” he replies.

When your tank is full, he returns the pump and twists the cap back on.

He moves in front of you, resting one hand on the car’s top while he leans down.

“If it weren’t for that goober watching us like a hawk, I’d give you a kiss,” he says.

“Only a kiss? I’d pull you in the back seat and have some fun,” you say with a flirty smile.

He laughs and lowers his head more. You’re so tempted to kiss him.

“We’ll have fun at home,” he says.

“You’re coming back with me?” you ask, eyes opening wider with hope.

He shakes his head. “Sorry, princess. I still need to go help Tim. I’ll be back soon though.”

“Define soon,” you reply with a slight pout.

Jason drops in a squat so he can take your hands; the act is hidden by your door.

“An hour or two?” he says. “But don’t wait up. It could be longer.”

You nod solemnly.

Jason squeezes your hands, thumbs rubbing your skin tenderly.

“Text me when you get home, ‘kay?” he asks.

“Okay,” you say.

Jason releases your hands to rub your thighs.

“Thank you for calling me,” he adds.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want my boyfriend upset with me,” you huff halfheartedly.

Jason squeezes your legs.

“Just want ya safe, doll.”

“I know,” you sigh and place your hands over his.

“I better get going,” he says and reluctantly begins to pull away.

You grab his hands to hold him close.

“Ya know, you might as well just kiss me. I think the worker knows you’re not just here to pump a random Gothamite’s gas.”

Jason chuckles and takes a peek at the window. The worker still looks on, but now with a confused face. When he notices Jason staring, he averts his gaze. Though, Jason knows it won’t last long.

“Fine,” he relents and leans down.

You grin, reaching out to cup his helmet as you kiss the cool material. Of course, it’s not the same as feeling his lips on yours, but the sentiment is felt.

“Love you,” you murmur as you pull away and drop your hands.

Jason sighs longingly. “Love you too, beautiful. See you at home.”

“See you,” you reply.

Jason ends up following you for a while for extra precaution before heading back to his patrol shift. He doesn’t come home for another three hours.

When he does, you’re on the brink of sleep. Still, you turn in his arms so you can snuggle your face against his chest.

“Missed you,” you mumble.

His chest vibrates as he laughs. “You saw me a few hours ago.”

“And what ‘bout it, Todd?” you huff.

He pulls you even closer and rests his head against yours. His body feels so nice. You wish you could stay in his arms for days.

“Nothin’, doll. I missed ya too,” he says in a deep, tired voice.

“Hmph! Thought so,” you reply and carefully lift your head to give him a triumphant smile.

Jason releases an amused puff of air.

“Get some sleep, silly,” he says.

“Kiss first,” you demand, puckering your lips dramatically.

Jason grins and angles his face to give you a tender smooch.

Your lips spread in a grin upon feeling him directly.

When he goes to pull away, you whine in protest and chase after him. You capture his mouth again before he can get too far.

Jason laughs into the kiss, pulling you on top of him. His hands trail up your sides to cup your face. His warmth spreads from your cheeks to your heart.

There’s a dopey, sleepy smile on your face when you pull away.

“God, I love you,” Jason says with the utmost sincerity that squeezes your heart.

“Not as much as I love you,” you sing-song, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Yeah, right,” he chuckles and moves his hands back to your sides. He slides them under your shirt to feel you directly.

Instead of arguing, you lean down to kiss him once more.

“You’re comfy,” you mumble.

He can’t stop the happiness that shows on his face at your words. He gently eases you down by pressing lightly on your upper back and says, “Good. I like you like this.” 

He adjusts his head against his pillow and closes his eyes, arms holding your body to his like a teddy bear.

“I like being here,” you reply and lay your head on his chest. You love hearing the rhythm of his heart.

You feel him give your head a kiss before he gets settled. It’s not long before his breathing gets steadier, and his arms lax slightly around your body. As you join him in dreamland, you realize you’ll never feel safer than in his arms. 

A/N: I have this for my other blog, so I wanted to share it here too: For my “shy/silent” readers, I’ve created a feedback form where you can share your thoughts on my fics in a more anonymous and private way. ^-^

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[blushpawss]

period cramps

warning: fluff — soft!sylus taking care of you during your 1st day of period 🩷

main acc: @sushiyuzu

the cramps hit hard, making you double over in bed, clutching at your lower abdomen as the pain radiated through you. you’d tried everything—heating pads, painkillers, lying in every position you could think of—but nothing seemed to ease the discomfort. it was one of those days where your period felt like a heavy weight on your body, and no matter how hard you tried to push through it, you just felt drained.

sylus had been in the other room, giving you space, but it wasn’t long before you heard the soft padding of his feet as he came to check on you. you were curled up on your side, wrapped in blankets, but your face must have given away how much pain you were in.

he sat down on the edge of the bed, his crimson eyes filled with concern. “still bad?” he asked softly.

you nodded, unable to muster the energy to say much. the cramps had you feeling so weak that even answering felt like a chore. instead, you just closed your eyes and tried to breathe through it.

sylus didn’t push for more. instead, he slipped off his shoes and settled himself next to you, his large body filling the space on the bed. without a word, he placed his warm hand on your lower back, rubbing slow circles that were so gentle, you could almost melt into the touch.

“let me help,” he whispered, his voice soothing.

you sighed, grateful for his presence. the way he rubbed your back felt like he was trying to massage the pain away, his hand firm but careful. “it’s just really bad today,” you finally murmured, your voice strained. “nothing’s helping.”

sylus frowned, a flash of frustration passing through his eyes. “i hate seeing you like this,” he admitted, his silver hair falling into his face as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “i wish i could take it all away.”

you felt the weight of his words in the warmth of his touch. he always hated seeing you in pain, especially when there was nothing he could do to fix it. but even in moments like this, when all he could offer was comfort, he did it with so much care that it almost made the pain more bearable.

he stood up briefly, disappearing into the bathroom before returning with a fresh heating pad. he carefully placed it against your lower stomach, adjusting it until it was in the perfect spot. the warmth immediately began to soothe the cramps, at least a little.

“here,” he said softly, sitting back down beside you. “try this.”

you gave him a weak smile, grateful for the gesture. “you’re spoiling me,” you mumbled.

“you deserve it, sweetie,” he replied without hesitation. “especially when you’re feeling like this.”

he lay down beside you again, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist, pulling you close against his chest. his body was warm, solid, and the way he held you made you feel safe, like nothing else mattered but making sure you were okay.

“you know,” he said after a few moments of silence, “i read that massaging certain spots can help with cramps.”

you raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him through tired eyes. “did you really?”

he smirked, his crimson eyes twinkling with amusement. “i did. i looked it up earlier.”

“i can’t believe you looked that up,” you muttered, feeling a soft laugh escape your lips despite the pain.

“i’ll do whatever it takes,” he said with a shrug, then started gently kneading your lower back in slow, steady motions. “is this okay?”

you let out a long breath, feeling the tension in your muscles begin to ease under his touch. “yeah,” you whispered, closing your eyes. “that’s perfect.”

his hands worked magic, applying just enough pressure to relax your aching muscles without causing more discomfort. he was slow, deliberate, as if every touch was meant to ease your pain, and you could feel yourself starting to relax under his care.

“just let me take care of you, sweetie,” he murmured softly, his voice low and comforting. “you don’t have to do anything right now. just rest.”

you didn’t argue. the combination of the heating pad and sylus’ gentle massage was starting to lull you into a peaceful state, your body finally beginning to loosen up after hours of tension. the pain was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp, dulled by the warmth of his hands and the feeling of him beside you.

he shifted slightly, pulling you closer so that your head rested against his chest. his heartbeat was steady, a calming rhythm that made you feel more grounded. “i’ll stay right here,” he whispered, his lips brushing the top of your head. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you smiled faintly, your hand resting lightly on his chest as you snuggled into him. “i’m lucky to have you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“no,” sylus replied softly, his hand continuing to rub soothing circles on your back. “i’m the lucky one.”

the two of you lay there in comfortable silence, the world outside forgotten as he held you close. the pain might not have gone away completely, but having sylus there, his warmth, his touch, made it so much easier to bear.

“just rest,” he whispered again, his voice so soft, like a lullaby. “i’ve got you, sweetie.”