#and this is fighting back and taking a stand and trying to take control

[writingwordsgayly]

if you had told me when I leveled buildings I'd be living in a small village helping rebuild after a calamity I would have killed you, but once I opened my eyes I had to start fresh, no more fearful glances, just Jim behind the bar sliding my drinks to me while I shit talk the dart game going on to my left, they try to pull me into playing, but I'd rather keep competition out of my life, I've chosen the slow life and I will be sticking with it, besides, I'd hate to bruise there egos, because my biggest trick was throwing knives once upon a time. the bell jingles as a group walks in the sound of their laughter fills the air, I glance up, expecting one of the other builders to join me, but my blood runs cold as see him, the one who foiled so many plans, the one who believes me to be dead, he had no part in my retirement, in fact I had already taken him down for my monologue when it all changed, trailing behind him is his party, the warlock sees me first and does her best to draw attention from my side of the bar, she witnessed my shift, played a part of it even, I stand up to shuffle out the back when the party is drawn into the warlocks story, but the dart players can't take a hint and get louder thinking I'll be joining them, I dodge tables as I run for the door, but I hear many foot steps following me, I do not look back, Jim calls out that I better pay my tab later and I throw a few coins over my shoulder, just incase in unable to pay once they catch me.

fresh night air hits my face but I dare not stop, the sounds of the heroes follow me as I run where none in the town will overhear what's to come, I dodge a few crossbow bolts, I bless the empty roads as I make it home, still faster then the team that swore to end me. I turn at my door, ready to accept what is to come, the warlock is first, looking terrified, you see we had the same patron, that is what shifted my perspective, I notice her emblem first, the foe of that patron, gorturth who had offered me freedom of what my patron had twisted me to become, he had manufactured my life to for his narrative, to be the God of a champion, gorturth offered me wisdom,and a quiet place to think, and reflect on what would follow the truth, I see the warlock paladin also turned to her.she smiles slightly seeing my symbol of the same god once again, her friends gather in the clearing, weapons drawn and spells ready, I hold empty hands to the sky, accepting my karma, but a loud shout echos around us, the woodcutter stands in front of me axe in hand

"why are heros menacing a charity worker?" he starts,calmly he was the first to meet the new me, he saw the scars and fear, the brokenness of a fractured truth. the heroes start talking over each other, but he points at the paladin and they quiet down.

"I reckon you have a good head about you" she starts stuttering as she tries to figure out how to explain our mutual betrayal.

"hoath manufactured him into being a villain, he shaped him to be as he was, I was never a true paladin just a misguided warlock..." she quiets down, looking at unimpressed faces. "he saved you!" she points at the head hero, telling a truth I never would have, he pulls the arrow back, aiming it straight at my heart.

"how dare you mind control susan you fiend! I bet you have this whole town under your control. you will never change, once a villain always a villain" he shouts, the party goes quiet as he looses the arrow at me, ignoring the civilian standing in front of me, luckily always quicker then the hero's I push him out of the way, the arrow meets its mark, in my shoulder, never one to go for a kill shot, the cleric is the next to speak

"stop! he would have never tried to protect someone, will you just listen you? he can't escape and he's not fighting back!"

I swallow and begin to speak, the truths tumbel out, the woodcutter takes my hand halfway through,to stabilize me as I speak until I am hoarse, never one for many words, the shortest monologues imaginable is how I worked, I tell them of being abandoned and taught how to to kill, rewarded for it, and how we realized on that night it was all a gods plot, incentive to build fancier temples.

the party stands quiet, as do we all, no clue what follows the truth, the cleric walks towards me slowly, my husband goes to stand in front of me again but he understands these are my consequences to face, the cleric meets my eyes, her eyes are searching, trying to find my hidden motive, see my eyes darting to the clue that will give her the edge, but her eyes soften after a minute, glancing between me an my love, he knows the truth, it's one of the first things I shared once I Decided my new start would be here. she begins to pull the arrow out of my shoulder, and heals it with her magic, my husband invites them in, it seems his secret motive is to gush about my kind Deeds to embarrass me.

You, the villain, faked your death and started over years ago. But you never expected the hero to stumble into your new favorite bar, laughing with their friends.

[acid-ixx]

— masterlist !

every time i think about my series (again &. again), and the reader's fear towards the color green (or anything associated with damian, their half brother), i think about just how more painful it would be if you share the same features with him that he shares with bruce that amps up the angst element.

it doesn't have to be any major features, it could be small, but noticeable. something that has you reeling in yourself.

maybe it's the shape of your fingers or your brows, the plump of your cheeks, or maybe how your skin flushes the same way his does. maybe it's the way your eyebrows furrow like him, or the quirk of your lips whenever you smile a shadow of his smirk.

it doesn't matter because the more you look, the more you notice.

and the more you remember his glinting, green eyes standing by the arch of your doorway, menacingly watching over your shifting, paranoid body; ready to strike at you like you're prey, ready to eliminate your undeserving presence in the manor.

and of course, it's not a big deal, but for an overthinker like you, someone who's always trying to overcorrect, forcing yourself to not be associated by your family— cutting off every interest, or object, any damn thing that reminds you of them; sharing similarities with appearances, something so intimate, something that could've been just yours, with your youngest brother no less, your tormentor, just makes you want to rip that part of your body to seams.

it inadvertently makes you wish you were never bruce's child, too.

just so you could never see damian in yourself, just so your heart doesn't hasten every time you look in the mirror and find yourself staring at those features for hours. until the image of yourself twists into him, until you're the exact copy of the assassin, of the demon child, of the boy you have to unfortunately call your brother.

and every time you do so, there's a haze fogging inside your head, there's this sickening urge to hurt yourself, to change your appearance even if it's a part of your that cherishes the image of your mother too— if it means taking away the unwanted stems that remind yourself too much of him.

the truth is, you don't hate him, or rather you can't bring yourself to, out of pure, convoluted fear.

you despise the way he makes it feel like there's spiders crawling in the back of your throat, or how your body automatically locks up at the slight mention of his name.

even if you see him as just that, a young boy raised to be corrupted; his youth doesn't disregard the fact that he is the incarnate of danger, the same boy who threatened to end your life at first meeting. whose words cut sharper than blades, whose sword is perched on his back; an unspoken promise to cut more than the skin of your neck if you dare try to fight back.

that even though he's significantly younger, he still holds too much power, enough to destroy your life for something you couldn't even control— your inability to be like them.

you don't hate him, you can't.

but it's easier to hate yourself for it instead.

because if it's so hard to despise him, then it's better to blame yourself for your shortcomings. if you fear looking at yourself, the shadow of your features distorting into damian, then you deserve to feel it.

if your hands find themselves ripping at your hair (the strands, god, the ends of your hair reminds you of the spikes of his, you want to die), then let it hurt you, let it destroy your being until you're nothing but dim, sunken eyes and blood-soaked clothes. let the hatred fester to the point your body transforms into an alien-like appearance just to forget him.

it doesn't register within you just how much you're subjecting yourself to the same tortures you were forced upon in that putrid manor.

the same way you let the torment living in that cage repeat like a cycle, again and again, never truly moving on from your past; a sick narrative you're never escaping from.

after all, you can never run away from the past. it bites you back, with the same, or even stronger force, until all that controls you is fear.

fear that forces you to look in the mirror, stare at yourself, nitpicking every notable feature in your face, in your body, that reminds you of them. fear that's enough to turn you emotional in all your good days, that ruins a happiness you haven't felt for a decade, even more.

fear will always control.

damian will always have control over you, he'll always have the upper-hand.

sometimes, the innocent, young boy you try to find behind the exterior of hatred turns out to be a hideous monster all throughout.

unfortunately, you see that monster in you, too.

a/n: we love complicated relationship dynamics!!! i just woke up and was like, "wait, i have an idea." LMAO. idk half of what i wrote, did i eat with this drabble? maybe. ignore my sudden disappearance sometimes, in another life i'm a hermit crab who hides in its shell probably.

— if i wrote damian here to be too "evil," it's because it's written in the perspective of the reader and their trauma. i don't want him to be this one-dimensional character, he's one of my favorites after all, but i need to establish the relationships and writing drabbles like these help a lot in portraying how they see each other. damian sees you in a different light (you make him weak), and you do too— but both see each other in some twisted perspective of loving each other because you're both still siblings at the end of the day (i'm gonna write more about this too).

[anonyme-glace]

Christmas Gift

Spending Christmas break with my dad, which I’ve done tonnés of times before.

Except ever since I’ve gotten older, I can understand more and more why my friends call him a DILF. He’s built, trades man, thick legs and strong body, tall and, I can’t believe I notice this, hung.

Three weeks ago I was with him for the weekend and got to his house earlier than normal, he was showering. I couldn’t help myself, I peeked in, curiosity driving me, and maybe a bit of lust. Foggy shower door, his groans, and his hand down low. I knew what he was doing. I felt my stomach flutter.

His groans were so loud; his deep voice ringing out in the shower, talking to himself.

Fuck that feels so good baby….

Oh my god.

Keep going….

Oh my god he’s dirty talking.

You’re making daddy feel so good…

Oh my god.

…Carly.

Holy shit. What.

…

Hey Carly, sweetie, how’s it going?

I snap my head towards him, coming out of the memory.

It’s going good, dad, thanks for asking. I’m super excited to exchange gifts later, I’ve got the perfect thing for you.

Aw sweetie you didn’t have to get me anything.

I felt his eyes on me.

You’re gift enough.

I know Daddy.

…

I’ve been planning this for weeks. Now that I know he feels the same way about me. I’m gonna be the best little girl for him. I went out lingerie shopping with the girls a few weeks ago, they think I’m trying to impress Jack from fifth period. What the fuck am I doing.

Standing in my doorway, red lace plunge bra, matching panties, handcuffs in hand. He’s sitting on the couch, watching some stupid movie. I call out.

Turn that off, I’m coming out with my gift, close your eyes.

They’re closed sweetie.

I walk out, keeping my steps light, shivering with excitement. I stop in front of him.

Hands out daddy.

He laughs, a husky, sharp, inhale. Okay.

Quickly I place the cuffs on him. His eyes shoot open and I step back. He’s speechless, eyes trialing up and down my body, and I see his pants get a little tighter.

Do you like your gift daddy?

Fuck baby what are you doing? He breathes out and moves to get up. I push him back down and straddle him.

Mhm I heard you in the shower, daddy, you want me.

I don’t know what you heard sweetie, this is wrong, and illegal, and you need to get off of me. I trail my hands down his chest. You need to get off me, honey, you can’t be doing this. I’m your dad.

Daddy I can feel you. I lean into him and whisper, against my cunnie. Let me take care of you, this is your gift.

Not that he put much fight up in the first place, but his resolve loosens, and he leans back. I slide off his lap, knees hitting the floor.

I rub my hands all over him, my face rubbing his crotch. You gonna let me have it daddy? Yes baby, take daddy’s cock out. I reach for his pants but change paths and quickly unlock his hands from the cuffs before resuming.

Fuck daddy, it’s so big. I take it in my hands and begin to lick up and down, taking his balls in my mouth, and using my thumb to play with the tip. Yes baby just like that. Why don’t you take it in your mouth? I suck on the throbbing head, maintaining eye contact with him. I go deep as I can, choking myself on him, until he grabs my hair and takes control.

I can’t believe I raised such a slut. Where did you learn this slut?

I’m so sorry daddy, I’ve been with other boys.

Oh wow, you’re such a whore, you couldn’t even save yourself for me. Well I’ll just have to fill you up until you forget them, won’t I?

Yes please daddy, please give me your cock, I need it.

Good begging, come lay down and spread yourself for me. I do as he says, taking off my panties, laying back, and spreading my legs open for him. He slaps his heavy cock against my cunt before laying it on my stomach.

Look how deep I’m gonna go. Just about hits your belly button baby. I gasp and look down, just as he lines himself up with my pussy.

You’re gonna take it so well baby, all of it, all for me, forever and ever.

[sapphiresaphics]

Gonna re-post this here as its own separate post for those who want to understand what the Black Rose arc was about.

———

Ambessa discovered the Black Rose, a group of Noxian mages that go against the beleifs of Noxian culture to keep people in check. The Black Rose act as a sort of secret society that controls Noxian culture from the inside. Making sure that nobody ever rises too high in their eyes.

Ambessa doesn't like the idea of someone telling her she can't do something, so she has an illegitimate child with a mage. That child is Mel and Mel inherits magic powers as a result. The idea being that Mel could eventually be used to fight the Black Rose.

As the Black Rose start to suspect something is up, Mel is sent off to live in Piltover. Hidden away from them.

Mel, thinking she's been banished or abandoned by her mother, strives to put Piltover on the map by manipulating the counsel and working towards bettering Piltover's technological progress.

Meanwhile, Mel's brother starts to look into Mel's history and discovers the Black Rose stuff and get sucked into their web. He is ultimately killed as the Black Rose try to figure out if he was the illegitimate child or not.

At this point, Mel has championed Hex Tech and turned it into a great economic boon for Piltover. But when Jinx attacks the city and Hex Tech is stolen, chaos starts to throw things into disarray.

News of the attack and stolen technology makes its way back to Ambessa. Grief stricken and terrified of the Black Rose, Ambessa realizes she can finally use Mel's ambition for her own personal gain. She needs Hex Tech weaponry so she can stand up to the Black Rose once and for all.

So Ambessa arrives in Piltover's and starts getting in the ear of Jayce and pushing him towards violence.

And because of her, Jayce makes a hextech weapon and goes into the undercity to take on Silco.

Pissed off Ambessa did this, Mel disowns her mother and her heritage and tries to fix the wrongs. And just as things are looking like it's gonna be okay... Jinx bombs the counselors chamber.

Mel's powers unlock and end up protecting her and Jayce, but nobody else. Ambessa uses this chaos to push for more violence. As Mel continues to stand in her way, Ambessa chooses an even more risky plan.

Ambessa sets the undercity up for an attack on the memorial, which pushes things even further. Mel is no longer in control and Hex Tech weapons are now a real thing.

But the Black Rose have caught on to what Ambessa is doing. And at first they possess the body of a merchant head to try and get close to her, but it fails.

Ambessa is able to kill her and this causes her to panic and nominate Caitlyn to be a general.

Having failed to directly attack Ambessa, the Black Rose falls back on Mel and kidnap her. This happens to coincide with Jayce, Heimerdinger, and Ekko being caught in the Wild Rune.

Ambessa now has control of the city, but she's lost all her magical weaponry. Nobody is smart enough to make weapons for her using Hex Texh, and her magical daughter is gone! So Ambessa falls back on using Singe to make chem-weaponry and eventually tries to make an army that can't be killed.

Remember, Ambessa's only real goal is to get rid of the Black Rose. She doesn't care what happens to anyone else in the pursuit of this goal. Which is exactly why the Black Rose is getting more and more desperate. All their attempts to sideline Ambessa are failing, and now it seems like if she keep going down this path she will unintentionally unleash Viktor's machine Herald onto the population of the world and destroy everything!

So when Mel, in captivity, finally unlocks her magical abilities and proves that she was the illegitimate child Ambessa had, the Black Rose have one last chance to stop Ambessa. Recruit Mel to do it for them. They tell Mel that Ambessa's ambition will ruin the world, and they give her a token that she can use to stop her.

Mel returns to the city of Piltover and tries desperately to reason with Ambessa, but she's too far gone now. Ambessa will not stop. And her war with Piltover is fast approaching worldwide destruction.

During the battle, Caitlyn sacrifices her eye to rip off the magical armor Ambessa had been using and Mel uses the magical amulet the Black Rose gave her to stop her mother.

But Mel is an empath. She also doesn't want the Black Rose to succeed, so she steps in and prevents the Black Rose from killing her mother. She saves her mother from the Black Rose, but the damage is done, and Ambessa dies in her arms.

Mel, now realizing she is magical AND in charge of Ambessa's army, heads back to Noxus to potentially challenge the Black Rose once and for all.

The End.

[divinitysotherside]

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

JUST WANT YOUR PUSSY !

ᯓ★ . “if i were a zombie, i’d never eat your brain, i just want your pussy ?”

pairing . choso kamo x reader

warnings . smut – mdni , choso and reader are both of age , zombie choso , zombie apocalypse , choso can control the fungus or something cause he’s a half curse , reader’s first time , mentions of overstimulation , pussyeating , established relationship

choso was still not back. he had just told you that he’ll look for food and other supplies you both need, but it’s been 4 hours, and he’s not back yet.

you look outside of the window of the house you and choso were staying in, seeing the horde of zombies roaming around. the apocalypse truly was brutal.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

after a few more hours of your anxiety kicking in, choso finally got back. “choso! i was worried sick!” you yell, pouncing on him playfully as he entered the house.

“sorry to worry you,” he smiled, caressing your back as you clung to him. “i needed to fight some zombies while coming back.”

you peppered his neck with kisses, making sure to hug him tightly, showing him just how much you missed him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

it wasn’t until choso was alone in the bathroom, taking a shower, when he noticed the hidden bite on his arm.

shit, he was infected.

his discovery soon fell in vain, though, as he felt his mind going blank. “fuck,” he cursed, relief washing over him when his skin didn’t turn green.

maybe because he was a half–curse, who knows?

but he started drooling, and he knew he could only control his hunger for a while. so he hurriedly barged out of the bathroom, searching for you.

“my dear,” he called out, panting as he finally found you.

you look up at him, confused. “yes, choso?” you ask, tilting your head.

that was until you noticed him drooling, and he obviously looked like he was struggling or.. fighting something back. panting and everything.

“choso? are you okay?” you ask, concerned. standing up, you look into his eyes, examining him.

“n–no, you need to get out of here. i’m infected!” he blurted, stepping away from you. “i know i can.. only stop myself for a limited a–amount of time, so get out while you still...can!” he grits his teeth, obviously fighting the virus back.

“choso, no! i won’t leave you here! you think i’m gonna do that when we already did so much together!?” you ran over to him, pulling him in a tight embrace.

you know you should leave if you still wanna see another day, but fuck it, it’s either you die with choso or you won’t accept death.

“b–baby, leave, please..” choso murmurs, his hands tightening on your skin as he holds you. it’s clear that he can’t fight the virus anymore, but he tries.

“no, i won’t! i love you, choso, and i will prove that!” you cried, clinging onto him tightly. “you have already p–proved that to me!”

choso tries to push you off, but his attempts are futile, and he then starts to lose control, his mind going blank, his mouth drooling.

he then pushes you away, his force stronger than before. “c–choso, i’m not leaving—” you look up, seeing choso’s eyes, lacking irises. he looked messed up, and messed up bad.

the virus has taken its effect.

“shit,” you curse, switching up on yourself as you scan the room for nearby weapons. as you reach for your metal bat, choso grabs your arm, forcing you to look up at him.

“fuck off!” you barked, struggling as you try to hit him with your free hand, but he catches it again. his skin was still like before, and it’s probably because of his half-curse blood.

he pounces on you, making you fall to the floor with choso pinning your arms above your head. he was growling, already out of his mind as you look up at him, terrified at what happened to your lover.

“c–choso! get off!” you yell, but it reached deaf ears. “ choso ” was already out of his mind, and this was definitely not him.

“w–waant you,” he managed to grumble in a distorted voice—is he still there? can he fight the infection? “choso!? listen to me! g–get off!” but his grip only tightened, enough to leave bruises.

“sorry,” you hear him mutter as he leans down to bury his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. his warm tongue then drags along your soft flesh, from your neck, your collarbones, to just above your breasts.

“hungry,” choso whispers, one of his clawed hands coming up to rip your shirt off slowly, exposing your chest to his gaze. “c–choso..” you mumble, your breath hitching once his hand squeezes one of your tits.

his tongue then swirled on one of your nipples, before sucking on it fully. you watch as he continues to satisfy his "hunger", his iris-lacking eyes then dropping lower.

he leans down, his hands gripping your thighs as he positions himself—his face between your legs. “l–let me,” he growls, already burying his face in your panties.

as soon as you nod, he rips your panties off, licking your slit. he groans at your taste, determined to have more of you. he dives in, his tongue messily swirling your pussy in a desperate attempt to eat you out.

you moan, your hand flying to tangle itself in his hair, bucking your hips against his face. you bite your lower lip, the man—zombie between your legs beginning to enter your cunt via his tongue.

your legs trembled as you neared your orgasm, his tongue relentlessly licking up your juices caused your grip on his hair to tighten—moaning as you came.

and as choso hungrily takes everything you had to offer, he didn’t stop eating you out.

with a zombie that technically can go all night? good luck.

a/n . tysm for reading this fic ! i wasn’t able to post anything because our wifi went out for 5 days and i couldn’t post :(

[broidobe]

𝔯𝔲𝔡𝔢

requested! thank ya!

☾90s axl is cold with a quiet, shy reader he’s drawn to, but after being cruel to her one day, he makes her cry and apologizes, showing a softer side as he comforts her☽

☾warnings: emotional abuse, verbal aggression, alcohol use☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

you don’t understand why he’s like this, why he acts so hot and cold with you. most days, it’s like he can’t decide whether he wants to be a total jerk or just leave you alone altogether. he doesn’t let you in—doesn’t let anyone in—but something about you makes him keep you close. you’re different, and he knows it. your quietness, your softness... it’s not something he’s used to, but he’s drawn to it, in a way he’s never been before.

most days, he’ll snap at you for no reason. a rude comment here, a sharp word there. it’s like he’s testing you, trying to get you to react, to show him something. you never do. you just take it, because you don’t know how else to be. you’re not like the others, the ones who fight back or laugh it off. you stay quiet, always, like you’re not sure how to exist in this chaos that surrounds him.

and he hates it. he hates that you won’t push him back. but more than that, he hates that you never seem to care. you’re different, and he can’t figure you out.

then, one day, it all snaps.

he's drunk—too drunk, as usual—and you’re sitting there, just trying to get through another tour night. you’re tired, and the tension in the air is unbearable. you’ve been quiet for too long, and axl notices. he leans in, his words slurred, his breath too close to your face.

“why are you always so damn quiet?” his tone is harsh, cutting, like he’s trying to provoke something. anything. “what’s wrong with you? you think you’re better than us?”

you flinch, the sting of his words settling in your chest. but you don’t say anything. you never do.

"god, you're such a fucking ghost," he mutters, his eyes narrowing in frustration. “don’t you ever get pissed off, huh? do something.”

you can feel your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. it's too much. the insults, the coldness—it’s too much to take today. finally, a tear slips down your cheek, and before you can stop it, another one follows.

he stops, his expression shifting from anger to something softer, something like guilt, but it’s only for a second.

“shit," he murmurs under his breath, taking a step back. he runs a hand through his messy hair, looking at you like he’s just realized what he’s done.

you can’t control it anymore. you cry. the tears are hot, embarrassing, but you can’t hold them in. not anymore.

he sighs heavily, cursing under his breath. you don’t look at him, don’t even dare to. you just keep crying, the soft sobs shaking your shoulders.

then, before you even realize what’s happening, he’s there. axl. standing in front of you.

he doesn’t know what to say. he’s not good with this—he never has been. but he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight, pressing his face into your hair.

“i’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low and rough. “fuck, i didn’t mean to…”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hand trembling slightly as he wipes away a tear from your cheek. his usual arrogance is gone, replaced with something raw.

“i’m an asshole. i know that. but... don’t cry, okay? please.”

his words are soft, genuine for the first time in a long time. he doesn’t want to hurt you. not really.

you nod, sniffling, still not sure what to make of this sudden shift. but you don’t pull away. you can’t. not when he’s holding you like this, like you actually matter.

[whispersleo]

sleep paralysis

Summary: A quick 1.9k fic about how Rook, in this case a human (trans man) crow mage, struggles with sleep paralysis induced by a demon's presence, blurring the lines between dreams and reality. Trapped in this state, he desperately tries to take control by hallucinating Lucanis.

Rook x Spite mostly lmao ⭑.ᐟ Masturbation, vaginal sex but uhm It's more of a hallucination of the idea of ​​sex sooo... sex is up to the reader's interpretation HAHAHA, second hand embarrassment (probably), no second part, what you read is what it is.

── .✦

Rook had been asleep. He had knocked himself out with alcohol hours ago and had recently woken up, unable to drift off again. After countless attempts of tossing and turning on the couch, sleep finally overtook him.

When he opened his eyes, the room appeared blurred. He got to his feet, hearing a clamor outside—metal clashing and the unmistakable sounds of a fight. This wasn’t The Lighthouse. He was in Treviso, standing in the middle of a street overtaken by the antaam. He braced himself for combat, grabbing his usual staff. The soldiers turned toward the mage, but instead of attacking, they erupted in raucous laughter.

Rook’s eyes widened—first in confusion, then in shock—as he realized he was completely naked. He hastily covered his chest and made a clumsy attempt to shield his lower half.

When he refocused, he was back in the room. A sigh of relief escaped him as he stood up and headed toward the door. The sounds outside now felt familiar—plates clattering, a knife rhythmically hitting a wooden cutting board, the soft crackle of flames from the stove. But as he stepped into the kitchen, all those sounds vanished. No one was cooking. Even the fire in the hearth was out.

His brow furrowed as he moved toward the door at the far end of the dining area. “Lucanis?” he called out softly to the assassin. He pushed against the door, but it remained firmly shut, as immovable as a solid wall. Stepping back, he prepared to kick it open when something damp beneath his feet caught his attention. Looking down, he saw a pool of blood spreading rapidly across the floor. “Lucanis!” he shouted, panic now clear in his voice.

His gaze darted toward the fish tank, his body rigid with unease. This is a dream, he told himself. It has to be a dream. There must be a demon lurking around here. Frustration seeped into his thoughts.

He tried to stand but found himself completely immobilized. His mouth wouldn’t open; even keeping his eyes halfway open was a struggle. Rook stared at his body, draped in a blanket, unable to move a single finger. The fish in the tank began to twist and morph into monstrous shadows swimming toward him. He could feel an oppressive presence behind the couch, its gaze piercing through him.

His eyes shut involuntarily, and when they opened again, he was on his feet, bolting out of the room. The scene he stumbled into was one of horror—a demon of despair loomed at the center of the blood-soaked room, now destroyed beyond recognition. The bodies of his companions lay scattered around.

When he found himself back on the couch, he wanted to cry but fought to clear his mind. He was a mage. He had to fight. He had to wake up, or the demon wouldn’t relent.

Think, he commanded himself, grasping for a way out of the paralysis. He recalled the advice of another apostate among the crows, who once said he escaped such states by hallucinating something… arousing. At the time, Rook had laughed and mocked the suggestion. But now…

He stared at the shadows inching closer, feeling the insistent presence that kept him trapped in the liminal space between dreams and waking reality. If he couldn’t escape, he could at least try to hallucinate something he wanted.

His mouth filled with saliva. Lucanis. He focused intently on the man, forcing the thought to take shape until, with the slightest flicker of his eyes, the vivid image of the assassin appeared before him. Lucanis stood there, dressed in his usual resting attire. The only details out of place were his glowing lilac eyes and a pair of wings sprouting from his back. But Rook wasn’t about to argue with his imagination conjuring yet another demon-like figure. He was simply pleased that he’d managed to summon the image at all—a personal triumph he had no intention of sharing with anyone else.

Lucanis, or rather, Spite, looked at him static and silent, as if waiting. Rook felt his cheeks redden and tried to fill with courage, knowing that none of this was real. He could shape it as much as his darkest desires wanted.

He concentrated, imagining he could move his hand under the blanket, just enough to slip it under his pants and begin directly to masturbate. Rook visualized what he would usually do, place three fingers on his clitoris and rub making circles opposite to where the hands on a clock would go.

The lines between reality and dream blended again. He had no more clothes on him and no blanket, and Spite was in front of him, his eyes focused between Rook's spread legs, on his fast moving hand. Just seeing him like that, watching him attentively while he masturbated, was enough for the mage to feel his area became thoroughly soaked. He parted his folds and inserted one of his fingers, his head going back gently. He wished hard that it was Lucanis' cock instead.

The next thing he felt was the man's body settling in with his legs on either side of his hips and lifting him up to settle his ass over his thighs, set on his knees on the couch. It felt almost real. The sensation stunned Rook. He swore he could feel his sweaty skin on Lucanis' clothes, smelling the scent of the other crow, his hands cupping his waist, touching him.

“Please,” the words left his lips in a low, desperate exhale, watching the other man's face. Spite smiled at him, then unzipped his own pants. Rook supposed he couldn't claim his hallucination had a voice either, but would kill for it, to hear the sounds the assassin would make while aroused.

He felt his eyelids heavy again, too heavy. He couldn't fight to keep his eyes from closing.

A hand touched his face. Slowly, he managed to open them, focusing on the possessed man in front of him again. Spite ran his thumb across his lips and Rook smiled softly, before he felt the demon penetrate him. His gesture contracted, his mouth opening to let out a moan. He was so wet that taking Lucanis full length inside him was only a pleasurable sensation.

“Yes, yes, more,” he whispered, his head resting back on the hand that held him. As Spite began to move, his chest heaved, his back curving. There was no rhythm to how their bodies met, sometimes being faster, then slow, deep and shallow intermittently, but he was delighted, aroused and ecstatic. He moved his mouth, taking the demon's thumb and licking and sucking in a vulgar way.

Rook heard Spite chuckle in a restrained way. He suddenly could hear his breathing, heavy and agitated, mingling with the intense sound of the onslaught, like wet slaps. He saw the demon lean in to kiss his neck, and that gesture alone brought him over the edge immediately, whimpering as he had his release, his whole body vibrating. Spite grunted as he felt Rook squeeze him and pushed as deep into the man as possible to finish inside him, filling Rook.

His vision cleared. He was fully awake now, well covered by his blanket, his hands away from his area. He sat up, his breathing labored, his face red and his skin sweaty.

He felt his pussy stinging and wet, so much so that it might look like he peed in his underwear.

Rook squeezed his face. He just had an orgasm only hallucinating that Lucanis, possessed by Spite, was fucking him in an attempt to escape from a demon of despair that had him trapped in sleep paralysis.

Rook rubbed his face roughly, exhaling in frustration. "At least it worked," he muttered to himself, rising to clean himself up.

Moments later, he entered the dining room, nearly on a jog. Lucanis, busy preparing breakfast, turned toward him with a curious glance at his agitated state. Rook let out a heavy sigh.

“Is something wrong?” the assassin asked.

“No, just… a stupid nightmare,” Rook replied, shaking his head and moving toward the counter to make his usual tea. It was oddly comforting just to see Lucanis safe and sound, though he definitely needed his favorite drink to ground himself back in reality.

Lucanis didn’t push further, returning to the task of preparing plates for everyone. That was when Spite appeared in the dining room, a wide, unsettling smile on his face. The demon’s expression was both unnervingly cheerful and eerily quiet, making Lucanis frown.

“What did you do?” he asked, directing the question toward where Spite now lounged on the couch. For a brief moment, Lucanis thought he saw a flicker of panic in Rook’s expression, though he couldn’t fathom why.

Nothing, Spite replied. Just. Fun. I like Rook. He’s fun even when scared.

The crow scoffed, turning his gaze back to the mage. “Can all demons induce nightmares?” he asked.

Rook gave the slowest, most hesitant nod of his life. “They usually do it to us mages to try and break us or possess us,” he explained, his mouth dry. “Why do you ask...?”

Lucanis wrinkled his nose in irritation. “But can Spite mess with you even if he’s not trying to possess you? Because I think—no, I know—it was him. And if he’s bothering you like that, I don’t know how I’m going to stop him from invading your dreams, but I’ll find a way, because he shouldn’t—”

His voice trailed off as he took in Rook’s expression. The mage’s eyes were wide, his face so red it looked like steam might erupt from his ears. Slowly, realization began to dawn on Lucanis, a faint blush creeping onto his own cheeks. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure as he placed his hands on his hips and looked at the floor.

“It… wasn’t a nightmare, was it?”

He was having a nightmare! Spite interjected, standing up and stepping closer to Lucanis. The demon’s tone was indignant. A despair demon. Rook cried for your help. I heard him! Helped him! Didn’t do anything wrong! Just gave Rook what he wanted! Helped!

Lucanis stared, stunned, unable to process the weight of what the demon was implying, and what Rook was also implying merely with his expression.

“I’m so sorry,” Rook whispered before bolting from the dining room, accidentally bumping into Emmrich on the way out. The older mage stumbled, catching himself as Rook muttered a flurry of apologies before disappearing.

Emmrich turned a puzzled gaze toward Lucanis. “Uh… is everything all right? Can I help with something?” he asked, noticing the assassin’s unsettled demeanor.

Spite groaned dramatically. “Lucanis made Rook feel bad!” he exclaimed, his tone accusing, knowing that the necromancer could hear him.

Lucanis raised a hand. “Spite, please. Quiet. Now.”

“No!” the demon growled. “Rook didn’t do anything wrong! Neither did I! Why do you make him feel bad?” By the end, Spite’s voice carried a note of sorrow.

“Spite, I’m sure Lucanis didn’t mean to upset him,” Emmrich interjected, his tone placating as he turned toward the assassin, looking for confirmation.

Lucanis sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “I’ll take him his breakfast later,” he muttered, brushing a hand over his face. “Thank you, Emmrich.”

“It’s no trouble,” the older mage replied with a gentle smile.

[lingeringscars]

I am a soldier. I am the sun summoner. And I'm the only chance you have.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[pericky; a look into ricky's head during their meeting.]

---

"I'm glad you came, I wasn't sure you would." The wine pours, the sound of it drowning out the missing word in that sentence: back.

Of course, is the response, and the part of Ricky that's spent twenty years tearing itself apart to understand why vibrates with relief. It doesn't matter anymore. Of course, of course, he thinks giddily along with the words. He never needed to wonder why Pericles wasn't coming back in the first place; he was always going to.

I'm happy you invited me, and of course he thinks again. A lifetime of pretending he wasn't always going to either falls away. However harsh and lonely the world has been, all's right with it again; and the shy voice of the boy inside him that he's tried so hard to kill says, so quietly, I missed you.

[actual-corpse]

Telling people you're Christian: Blasè, dated, wrong. Instant dislike.

Telling people you're a true follower of Christ: Idk... What I'm saying but I'm trying to make a point about Christians not actually following the teachings of Christ and if they were True followers then they wouldn't be so far up everyone's ass with controlling and hateful policies like...

Homophobes think more about gay sex than actual gay people! And they're way too concerned about genitals.... and they're really creepy about children... ACTUAL children.

The projection is REAL. The call is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE! You're the problem! You're the person you're scared of!

They freak out over people "forcing trans on kids" as if they themselves aren't forcing unnecessary surgeries onto Intersex babies!!! Transphobes are the ones forcing kids to transition!!

If they truly believed in their "God" then they would not mutilate intersex babies! Because they would believe God made them that way and that they were special or whatever idfk.

IT ISN'T ABOUT THE BIBLE! THEY JUST WANT CONTROL!!! How the FUCK are you gonna say something was "God's plan" and then mutilate a baby?!?!? They deny their children life-saving medical treatment bc it's "God's plan" but then in the same breath mutilate intersex babies... put them on hormones that make them sick... just so they can be "normal".

[butterflies-and-bumble-bees]

.

[shararan]

tfw you cant write because no manner of seating arrangement currently works without major pain and your body feels like its about to fall apart into pieces jfc if it aint the neck its the shoulders or lower back or elbows

[sukunasweetheart]

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna...

warnings!!! dark content, noncon breeding, dubcon, sukuna ties your hands together, baby trapping, toxic, possessive and jealous sukuna, manipulative tendencies and mentions of violence (not towards reader), oral (f!receiving)

divider by @/saradika-graphics

3.8k words

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who'd always coax you into fucking him bareback without a condom because he swears it feels better...

being so sweet, seducing you into letting him hit it raw, doing whatever it takes to put you in a good mood, get you hot and bothered so you can't deny him for long, swearing that he'd pull out, and that you'd have nothing to worry about...

but scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who never kept his word. he'd fuck you silly and cum deep into your womb, even though he promised he wouldn't. you wanted to stop him, but you were feeling too good in the moment to fight him off. when you confront him about it afterwards, he simply tells you "my bad, sweetheart. i didn't mean to, but you just felt too good..."

he gets high off the feeling of cumming inside you.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who secretly wished he could fuck you pregnant with his seed. but you told him you didn't want a baby, which he disappoints him, though he may not show it. he wants to see your belly swell up with his child, and to suck on your sweet milk when your tits start leaking. fuck, just the thought of it had made him get hard.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't take you seriously when you broke it off with him. you could see it in his eyes sometimes, the way he seemed eerily quiet when your pregnancy tests turned out with only one line. you felt glad you'd taken those birth control pills behind his back. but you decided enough was enough. you loved him, but you just didn't want to have a child with him.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't even seem phased by the break up. he believed he could coax you back to him again, given with some time. you are his, and nothing will change that. when he sees you around, he shamelessly flirts with you and tries to convince you to come back to him, telling you that he misses you dearly. there are times when he almost succeeds, only because you do miss him sometimes too.

a few weeks into the break up, you truthfully, begin to feel a little sexually frustrated. you don't recall having such a high sex drive before getting with sukuna, but he seems to have permanently altered your body, the way he used to pleasure you so good...

you gather some friends and head into a club, and try to forget about him.

at the club, you re-familiarise yourself with the smell of alcohol in the air, the music that hurts your eardrums, and the crowd of people all around you, wherever you went. it's been a while since you've been here, because you had been with sukuna for over two years now.

an hour or two passes, and you've gotten yourself fairly tipsy at the bar now.

you sync yourself up with the music, but a familiar figure catches your attention from the second floor of the club, afar. it's sukuna. but he's not looking at you.

he's standing with his ex-girlfriend - the one that had gotten hysterical with you after she'd found out about your relationship with him. your mood plummets, for some reason.

you're the one that broke up with him. it shouldn't matter what he's up to after that. liar. you told me you missed me. you try to ignore him, and continue drinking yourself drunk, the edges of your vision already swimming.

sukuna's at the club, only because a friend of his snitched on you and told him that you were out here somewhere. he didn't think he'd meet yorozu, out of everyone it could've been.

"hi, ryo. i heard you'd finally broken up with that girl?" she asks sweetly, standing as close to him as possible.

sukuna gives her a deadpan stare.

"broken up? says who?"

"well, everyone. don't tell me you're pathetically clinging onto her now? that's not like you."

"i'm not you. now get lost, i'm busy."

yorozu grabs his hand, stopping him from walking away.

"wait! i just wanna tell you..."

she continues talking, but his attention has already drifted elsewhere, as his eyes pan toward the crowd downstairs. now...where are you? when he does manage to find you in the crowd downstairs, he doesn't like what he sees. that's an understatement. he hates it.

you're swaying your hips with some other bastard, making out with him on the dance floor.

"damn- you're so fuckin' hot," the stranger chuckles against the shell of your ear, your arms around his neck.

"am i really?" you respond giggling, clearly intoxicated.

"yeah, you are... why don't you come home with me?"

"hmmm? sure, why not? 'm single now, anyway," you mumble, your feet now beginning to stumble. you're starting to miss him again.

"broke up with your boyfriend, did you? poor thing."

"i'll help you feel better." the man grins and helps you walk outside of the club.

on his way out however, he bumps into someone of a large frame. he's all tatted up, and his gaze is holding a mean glare as he stares down at him. he holds out his hand to him, like he's asking for something.

"hand her over, and i won't beat you to death."

oh. he must be the ex. that was enough for the man to quietly place your body into sukuna's arms and exit the club.

tch, he's as spineless as he looks.

sukuna handles your limp body with care, your breath pungent with the smell of alcohol. he's irritated to no end right now, and a vein is bulging from his forehead, but he safely carries you to his car.

outside, the man thinks he's clear of danger, and decides he's had enough for the night. but, someone's heavy arm comes down around his shoulders suddenly.

"hey. you're the one that played it too close with sukuna's girl? how unlucky of you," a man with a scar on his lip talks nonchalantly.

he gets dragged into a nearby alleyway.

"don't take it personally. i got paid to do this."

the man shrieks as he gets beaten to a pulp, just enough so it hurts like hell, but not enough to kill him. sukuna likes to keep his word.

meanwhile... you're taken to your own home. he found the keys to your house in your purse. sukuna tucks you into your own bed, and even dresses you into your own pajamas. and then...

he just leaves.

-

the next morning - you don't remember a thing. you're left feeling confused, wondering how you managed to get home and how you were even sober enough to get yourself dressed. the only thing you can recall is seeing sukuna with his ex, and then making out with some random guy on the dance floor. everything else is blacked out.

you ask your friends, but they were also too busy getting wasted to know what happened to you. but you feel fine physically, so you brush the incident off.

now the only thing bothering you... sukuna hasn't contacted you again ever since you witnessed him and yorozu talking. so he must've gone back to her. that makes you feel... irritated. upset. sad, even. even though you wanted to break things off first.

you slowly start getting back to your normal daily life again, although with a heavy heart. only change is, that you can't seem to find your birth control pills, wherever you last put them. you contemplate for a moment, wondering whether you should buy a new pack, but you end up shrugging it off, knowing that you won't really need them in the meantime anyway...

you're trying to get back into what life was like before you met sukuna. falling back into bad diet habits, staring at your phone, going back and forth between unblocking and blocking sukuna's number - wondering if he's texted you again in the meantime - but of course, there is nothing new.

he may have had his toxic traits, but you knew he loved you a lot... he cooked you wonderful meals and spoiled you with gifts and knew how to make you orgasm until you couldn't speak. and he was tender with you, even though he teased you a lot.

and now, you're back to using toys to satisfy yourself... it's always like this! you start thinking about him and your hand begins to wander down - you can only hope that you'll eventually lose these feelings soon.

you decide to head out and go on a shopping spree alone, to distract yourself from your thoughts and maybe lift your spirits up.

spending a lot of money for yourself always feels nice. you're buying a lot of cute clothes, accessories and food, jumping between shop to shop. the sun sets rather quickly, and by now, you're at your final stop, mulling over whether this expensive, but beautiful bracelet and necklace set is worth buying. your impulse gets the better of you and you ask for it to be packaged for you.

you reach for your wallet to pay with your card, but someone's familiar voice rings out beside you as he approaches.

"i'll pay for the set." sukuna already has his credit card out, and is handing it to the store clerk, using a tone that makes him difficult to question.

"...sukuna?" you say quizzically, his name slipping from your lips without thinking.

the clerk scans his card, and your items are already paid for.

"what are you doing here..." you ask him, with mixed feelings running around in the pit of your stomach.

"missed me?" he asks with a smirk, very naturally taking your multiple shopping bags from your hand. "i just happened to be in the area."

you're not sure if you believe him. just when you're about to ask him something again, he guides you out of the store with his hand on your shoulder.

"i thought you got back with your ex," you say, taking your bags back from his hand. "i'm sure she'll be upset if she sees you here with me."

"what? where did you get that nonsense from?" he seems genuinely confused.

"i saw you at the club, by coincidence. you were talking with her."

oh... he didn't realise you'd noticed him back there.

"oh, sweetheart... that was a coincidence. i wasn't planning on meeting her. did you really believe that i'd get back with that woman?"

you shouldn't be feeling relieved to such an extent... but your shoulders loosen up after hearing that.

"well... you stopped contacting me after i last saw you with her. of course i'd start believing it."

"oh? i thought you had my number blocked. were you anticipating my texts? you missed me, after all." sukuna leans in closer to you, smiling cockily.

you should have just kept your mouth shut...

"i'll take you home. you have a lot of luggage, no?" sukuna offers, taking your bags back from your hand.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you know you're supposed to decline here. but you let your feelings get the best of you... and end up letting him lead you to his car.

he was supposed to just quickly drop you off home.

"you have a lot of stuff. i'll help you carry it home," sukuna gave his excuse, with something more sly hiding in his eyes. you know exactly what he wants. but when he insists so strongly, you can't deny him. like the fool you are.

you unlock your door and he comes inside to put your bags down on the floor at the entrance. and as you had expected, he doesn't leave right away. instead, he looks down at you with a coy smile, while you return the gaze with a more standoffish one. the tension feels thick and heavy as neither of you speak for a moment.

"well? i'm sure you didn't let me in without knowing my intentions..." sukuna moves forward and closer to you, hands very naturally finding their way to your waist.

he leans down slowly and offers you a brief kiss, a very light and short one, like he's testing the waters. he scans your face for your response. your lips feel all tingly. and all he sees is that you're not pushing him away.

"we shouldn't..." you whisper, but your resolve is too weak. you can't tell him to go away, much less kick him out of your home.

"i know."

in truth, he doesn't really. why should he be separate from you? you belong to him. he pulls you in for a deeper kiss. and you just let it happen.

and, lord, he smells and tastes divine. there's a reason why you always forgave him despite his scummy behaviour when it came to using protection. though you ended up breaking him off, you wonder if it'll be different if you give him another chance.

he wastes no time in lifting you into his arms like you weigh nothing, and heads off to your bedroom, before you can change your mind. you comply, holding onto his strong embrace weakly, having missed this kind of treatment.

when you're laid onto your own bed, sukuna smirks again as he cages you between his arms.

"you're being so obedient. must've regretted breaking up with me-?"

pulling him in with a hand to the back of his neck, you shut him up with another demanding kiss, not letting him speak for long. sukuna groans as you slip your tongue into him, initiating something messier than what the both of you were doing before.

he's quick to unzip your skirt and side it off, along with your panties. in desperation, he doesn't take the time to fully get you naked and instead, pushes your shirt and bra up to fondle your jutting breasts. sukuna then peels his own jacket and shirt off.

"spread your legs for me, sweetheart. i'll spoil you tonight."

you part your legs slowly - and he sees that you're already glistening with slick. bringing his face down, he aims straight for your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it entirely. your back arches as you gasp, the warm and wet feeling being so arousing like nothing else in this world.

you feel the tip of his tongue flicker up and down your clitoris in a mesmerising rhythm - knowing exactly what you want, and need to reach your orgasm. and the way he sucks on you with the correct amount of pressure, while making the lewdest noises, forcing your hips to stutter uncontrollably against his mouth, with the way it feels so mind numbing, is just too much in its own way.

you let your erotic moans ring out, because you know he loves it when you show him how good you're feeling - and your hands can't help but hold onto his hair from the intense pleasure, which he never seem to flinch from.

the first orgasm hits you like a truck, with the way you're left breathless and gasping for air as your legs reflexively try to close up - sukuna has to hold them apart with his strong grip as he continues tonguing you even as you're cumming, your cunt thrumming against his lips.

"o-ooh- fuck-! sukuna!" you plead, your blank gaze meeting the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, hips jolting without restraint.

when he does eventually show mercy and remove his mouth from your poor aching clit, you're already on the brink of sobbing, your legs down to your toes feeling all prickly from the overstimulation. your mind is in a haze.

so much so, that you didn't realise that he had bound your wrists to the bed frame until he was already done with it.

"wha- sukuna...? why're you tying me up-?" you question, still a little out of it from your last orgasm.

"shh, love. it's not like this is the first time...relax," sukuna comforts you, caressing your face. you can't help the small uneasiness from growing in your stomach. he suddenly gives your clit a light slap. it startles you a bit, and you gasp.

"you're so pretty. do you know that?"

you see your own reflection in his ringed eyes. your heart races, and you don't know if it's because you're flustered or terrified.

"i just wanna..."

his cock aches in his pants.

he never finishes his sentence. instead, he just offers you a soft, yet sloppy kiss.

sukuna frees his erection, and sighs in relief. it's all messy and leaky with precum. he lines it up against your wet and puckering cunt. you won't deny that you want it...

"sukuna... condom..." you remind him gently, getting slightly nervous from the way he's rubbing his tip up and down your slit.

"... 'm sorry sweetheart. i don't think i can do that."

he pushes his hips in one go, and you're left gasping from the sudden intrusion. you're immediately pushed into a mating press.

sukuna groans from how he immediately feels your wet walls sucking him in, your slick making his cock glisten as he thrusts in and out. he's missed this so, so much.

"fuck- sukuna! you can't- oh my g-god..." your hands tug at your bindings as you try and resist your moans from coming out of your throat, but the way his dick satisfies your cunt is otherworldly, his tip kissing your cervix, over and over again.

"that's it, baby... just enjoy yourself," he urges you on, getting breathless from his own fast pace, cock pulsating inside of you in excitement. god, you always drive him crazy.

still, in the back of your mind you still have a sliver of trust in this man. foolishly so. surely he'll pull out at the last second. surely he won't cum inside you in this situation. it's been a while since you stopped being on the pill.

your bed creaks from how roughly sukuna pounds your pussy, all while groaning with such shamelessness, only caring about the pleasure that is found from the warmth and wetness of your puckering hole.

"fuuck... fuck! to think you were gonna let some other bastard do this to you..." he growls under his breath, brows furrowing. you don't hear him. he remembers his original motive for all of this. to remind you who you truly belonged to.

"ooh-! sukuna! you're being too rough..." you whine, feeling the pressure of an incoming orgasm already building in your abdomen.

he only grips your hips harder, looking down at you with a toothy smile. his dick aches so badly. he's endured through so much patience just for this moment.

your mind goes blank as you forget about the fact that he's not wearing a condom, drool spilling out the side of your mouth from the pleasure you feel as his girthy dick drills in and out of you, a squelching noise happening everytime he sinks himself in. there's the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your ass. and also the friction from his pants, that he hasn't bothered to fully take off. the juices from your cunt has dampened them, but sukuna couldn't care less right now.

"sweetheart... my love... take- taking me s-so well..." sukuna groans, panting and words slurred. despite the deeply affectionate words, his hips move like an animal. you can't do anything but moan and cry.

sukuna feels himself getting high again. there's just something about you... god, he's so pussydrunk he can't even think properly. only the thought of breeding you is on his mind. make you his, completely. to see your belly get bigger from his seed... a powerful thrum goes to his cock and he shudders again.

he has to make it take, this time.

"i'm gonna cum," he tells you breathlessly, knowing you won't be able to stop him, this time around.

"sukuna!... wait," you protest, weakly tugging at your binds again, but you can't say anything more than that, as his lips come down onto yours, silencing you effectively. he tongue kisses you roughly, desperate and messy as you can feel his laboured breaths on you.

and the final thrust that he gives, where he pushes his dick in so deeply, tip meeting your cervix, sends you into another trembling orgasm. sukuna groans deeply against your mouth as he cums, hips stuttering against yours, eyes shut tightly as he savours you completely. you take your lips off of his, and try to say, "stop...! no- pull out," but he stops you with another kiss.

you sob, because it's over. but you're also sobbing because it feels so good.

sukuna's deep kiss trails down to the crook of your neck.

"you can't tell me to pull out... when your cunt is... seducing my cock like this..." he shivers between phrases, mumbling against your neck, mind all hazy from the way you pulse around him from your orgasm, milking his dick as spurt after spurt of his seed shoots straight into your womb.

you can't even say anything back to him - you're coming off your high as he empties his balls into you, letting out more than usual. you're done for.

"i hate you," you sob.

"i know you don't really mean that. you can't live without me," sukuna tells you, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead afterwards.

"and the same applies to me. i'll never let anyone else have you."

he begins to litter kisses down again, until he reaches your chest, while his cock is still inside you. his soft lips caress your tits, and then he begins to lather his tongue around your stiffened nipples, making you feel good again, even through the tears.

the night is far from over.

sukuna becomes much more gentle and soft after the first time, opting for slower but deeper thrusts this time around, adding plenty of little kisses in between as well, "loving" you with everything he has. you have no choice but to accept all of him, as he cums inside of you over and over again.

his cock is in its own haven, being trapped in your gummy walls without rest. and at some point, sukuna's even released your wrists, and now you're willingly making love to him with your arms around his neck, coping with the thought that resisting doesn't even matter anymore - it's already too late, and you're tired of trying to fight back.

you can't count how many times he's dumped his load into you, how many times he's said "i can't get enough of you," how many times you've kissed him back when he kisses you.

and when he finally does eventually pull out, his semen oozes out of you in a disgusting amount. you're spent, and completely exhausted. you can't help your heavy eyelids from closing up, and the last thing you hear is his soft voice.

"goodnight, sweetheart. i'll take care of everything, from now on. i promise."

he holds you so closely and lovingly that you believe him.

Masterlist

[phagodyke]

my supervisor AND my manager both aren't in today so I'm just practicing shit... im boored

[lalunanymph]

KITTEN, BEHAVE ☆

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ there are consequences to teasing your biker boyfriend...

⋆｡°✩ semi-public s/ex, fem!reader, biker!sylus, reader wears a skirt, reader's a nasty gal <3, undertones of dom/sub (sylus is one kinky mf), finger sucking, finger gagging, petnames (kitten, baby), fucking on his bike (hehe), c/um countdown, unprotected s/ex (wrap it up babes), sylus matches our freak perfectly, based on this thot i had

⋆｡°✩ dawn says: i've been a nasty girl ive been a nasty girl nasty nasty (sorry zayne)

Sylus isn’t one to find beauty in the mundane but the wind whipping past his frosty locks and your arms wrapped tightly around him makes him feel like he’s on cloud nine.

“Kitten, are you alright?” he calls over the lashing breeze. 

His leather jacket is ridiculously thick, but even through the material, he can feel the heat of your cheeks seeping through.

You always flush whenever he calls you your favorite pet name, and Sylus forgets that just like a kitten, you can be just as playful. 

A slender hand tipped with French nails slides down his torso, leaving blistering heat in its wake. The thin compression shirt he’s wearing under his jacket can barely fight off the warmth of your palm bleeding past the material and onto his skin.

His heart doubles in speed, and in response, he revs the N-907 Ultrabike, its wheels kicking up more dirt and dust. Linkon City speeds into a blur, White Coves’ beaches in the distance and to his right, Bloom Forest spreads her velvety green arms open for adventurous outdoor lovers to play in. 

Your hand trickles down his abs, stealing his attention back to your whims, and he smirks behind his visor when he feels your dainty, pretty little palm resting on the front of his pants.

Looks like the little kitten wants to play a dangerous game.

Two can play the same. 

Sylus pretends to ignore you, and he can tell it only frustrates you more when he remains stone cold and unmoving; a statue you’re trying to thaw.

Your free hand creeps under the hem of his shirt, and thank fuck the wind is too loud because a groan slips past his clenched teeth—it would be absolutely embarrassing if you heard it. His mind works doubly hard to focus on not crashing the bike, maneuvering it down the winding steep roads.

“I thought you said you wanted to take me for a ride,” your voice touches his heated ears, innocent and alluring. 

“Isn’t that what we’re doing, kitten?” He tilts his head back slightly and hears your snort. 

Your antics will never cease to amaze him. Whatever possessed you to be bold also eggs you on to be audacious. Your hands travel further up his shirt, pressing right onto his broad pecs and you smirk when you feel the bike wobbling slightly under his control.

“Kitten,” he hisses. “Stop it.”

But, you don’t listen to him. You never do. 

This insolent prey. He tries his damndest not to buck his hips when you start to rub his bulge, merciless with your teasing. Your other hand reaches up to his neck, where his favorite leather collar sits prettily on his defined clavicles, and tug on it, earning another hiss.

The bike skids to a stop and you’re not sure how you ended up pushed against the pillion seat, Sylus looming over you. He kills the engine and kicks down the stand, the sudden deafening silence exacerbating your heavy breathing. 

“Wait,” you squeak, and he shakes his head.

“No more waiting. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” 

Looking around in a panic, you notice that he’s parked the bike under a secluded shade of trees, next to an empty strip of road. 

This was the same route you took to the edge of the N-109 when you were given the mission to retrieve Sylus a few months ago. 

“Familiar, isn’t it?” He reads your mind with a dark chuckle. 

Those ruby red eyes bore into yours with the grace of a predator provoked, and you, his favorite prey, will finally get what you’ve been asking for. 

“I think it’s high time we recreated some memories from the first night we both saw each other,” he drags his palm up your bare thigh, making you shiver. “It’s a good thing you’re in a pretty little skirt, kitten,” he hums, pushing the hem of your leather mini skirt—a gift from him—out of the way. 

Sylus inhales sharply when he notices the micro thong you’re wearing which barely covers anything, his nostrils flaring.

“Insufferable.”

“Sy,” you whine, unsure what he's waiting for. It's never like him to play with his food.

The press of his bigger body on top of yours cages you to the pillion seat, the friction burning when he unceremoniously drags you closer to him. 

Those intense eyes seem to devour you, and for the first time since you’ve been together with him, you see a shadow of his villainous evil in them. 

“Is this what you wanted?” 

Is this what you’ve been begging for? 

Sylus wraps a hand around your throat in broad daylight, not caring for morals or decency when he squeezes. Hard.

Your eyes roll back into your head, regret streaming in for how you teased him earlier. 

“A-ah—” you choke lightly. “Was jus’ tryna play around.” 

Sylus ignores your whimpers, a bored look on his face as he loosens his fingers, letting you suck in a wheezy breath. 

“Little hunters never learn their lessons, do they?” 

He smirks unexpectedly. 

“Remember that night you tried to tame me during our interrogation? In the end, I was the one who had you screaming, didn’t I, kitten?” 

You did remember—of course, you did.

The shine of your boots spreading his kneeling thighs apart. Leather collar around a pale strip of throat you just wanted to suck on and leave a mark. His smug leers, those glowing ruby eyes that shone like dying embers when he finally snaps off the handcuffs you placed him in and pins you to the ground for a taste of your own medicine.

As much as you hate to confront the truth, it stares you down with an impassive face and dark eyes—a truth that breaks the delusion that you were the one in control when it came to Sylus. 

He touches your thighs, spreads them further. Bright sunlight speckles through the trees, casting webs of shadows across his crooked nose and high cheekbones. 

Sylus takes his time to peel your thong off, and you bite down on your lip to muffle a whimper.

“What? Don't tell me you're all shy now?” 

He snorts in amusement at your attempts to be innocent, prying your lower lip free, stroking the curve of your plush mouth with his thumb until you relent and suck on his digit docilely. 

While you’re not inexperienced when it comes to such carnal submission, it’s the first time you’re doing it outside of the bedroom where anyone could stumble upon the both of you. 

The thought makes your thighs tense and your needy pussy clench down on thin air, something that Sylus doesn’t miss.

“You like this, huh? Being slutted out so publicly… it turns you on to be so open to me.” 

He continues to push his thumb around your mouth; pressing down on your gums, flicking the tip of your tongue, inspecting the ridges and juts of each pearly white tooth. Intentionally drawing out your humiliation. 

Satisfied with the oral inspection, he removes his thumb, swiftly stuffing your protests with two thick fingers. 

“You say ‘no’, but I can smell that sweet little cunt getting wetter,” he murmurs, flitting his dark gaze right to your folds flushing readily with need; right to that cleft which houses his favorite hole.

Lewd doesn’t begin to cover how Sylus can treat you in bed. Outside the sheets, he’s content to play the role of your partner and friend, tagging along on your adventures and explorations. 

But the second he has you trapped in his bed, he becomes a different person. 

Meaner. Assertive.

Downright cruel. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” He goads, locks of silver hair falling across his damp forehead. Sweat dews across your chest, and you feel the heat of shame rising in you.

Sylus, I was just joking, you try to argue, but he’s not hearing it. 

“Didn’t seem like a joke when you were pawing at my cock earlier, kitten,” your lover hums, unable to take his half-mast red eyes off of you.  

He slots a hand between your thighs, and you swallow a cry when he drags your thong to the side, spreading your wetness around roughly with his thumb. Sylus rubs tight circles on your aching clit, forcing you to slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans.

“Ssh,” he whispers when you give a tiny, choked cry. Sylus takes this chance to nuzzle your neck, inhaling your scent like a starved man. “We don’t want anyone to find us out, don’t we, kitten?” 

Evil, evil man. You bite on the inside of your palm to keep quiet when he lifts one leg to wrap around his narrow waist, effortlessly tugging his zipper down and freeing his cock. 

“One single sound and I will stop, do I make myself clear?”

There’s no choice but for you to nod. Sylus doesn’t waste a single second once he’s got you all nice and wet for him, grasping the base of his girthy and veiny length, stroking it a few times to make sure he’s hard and ready for you.

The thick tip breaches past your tight ring of muscle, and you bite down on a sharp gasp, squeezing your eyes close.

His breathing is getting heavier, and he curses the second he bottoms out in your tight heat. 

The bike begins to shake with every clean stroke, his thrusts making your toes curl and heels dig into his back. Luckily, the pillion seat is wide enough to accommodate your shaking bodies; never imagining for a single second that your lover would be boldly fucking you on it in the middle of a dangerous zone.

But, Sylus has always been like this—addictive, painful.

Dangerous. 

How he fucks you is no different. 

The blunt head touches the deepest spot inside of you, and you’re helpless to do anything but cling onto him like second skin, muffling your whines into his broad shoulder.

“Looks like the little kitten is enjoying her cream,” he murmurs, trailing his gaze down your body taking him so well. 

The veins on the back of his hands stand out, drawing your attention to him dragging the front of your blouse down, tucking your bra cups under your heaving breasts. 

Sylus’ mouth wraps around one turgid bud, sucking it till it’s shiny with his spit and throbbing from oversensitivity. 

He repeats the same motion on your neglected nipple, savoring your hitched breaths and muffled whines. 

Your thighs start to shake, and you turn your head to the side. 

Look at you, he coos and grabs your chin, forcing you to gaze at the spot between your thighs where he’s fucking into you. Look at how well you’re taking me. 

You’re so wet that droplets of white are trickling down your inner thighs, frothing into stickiness where his cock is rutting shallowly inside of you. 

“Sy,” you moan softly, eyes glossing over with tears of pleasure.

He loves how needy and pathetic you look for him with your swollen, parted mouth and tight nipples just begging to be pinched or flicked.

A furrow creases between his brows, drops of sweat trickling down his jaw. 

You surprise him by leaning forward, flattening your tongue and lapping it right up, shameless in your desire for him. 

“Naughty girl,” Sylus purrs, his red eyes darkening to an impossible black until you’re sure not a shred of your sweet boyfriend remains. Two thick fingers part your mouth open, sliding down your welcoming throat until he’s knuckle-deep in you.

Sylus chokes you out as his other hand trails down your body towards your clit, rubbing the flushed nub until your hips buck and you cry out; a master at bringing your body closer to the pleasurable brink. 

The tears beading in your lash line finally freefall down your face, triggering his devilish satisfaction. 

Returning the favor, Sylus licks them clean, chuckling cruelly at the arousal turning you cross-eyed. 

He loves it when you look this fucked out, and one day when you’re comfortable enough, he hopes you’ll relent to him taking a picture of that messed up, pretty face for his safekeeping.

Baby, you gurgle around his fingers. I’m close… 

Yeah? He goads. Gonna break for me? Come on this cock? Make a mess? Fuck—do it baby. Mess me up. Make me feel so good because that’s all you’re good for, huh? 

He grits his teeth, fighting back the cresting pleasure, needing you to come first.

Come on, baby. Come with me. Five… four… three… that’s it, baby. You’re so close, aren’t you. Don’t come until I reach zero. Fuck—that pussy’s so tight. Two… one… fuck, fuck. 

High strung keens are escaping past the cracks of his fingers stuffed in your mouth, your entire body shaking violently that Sylus thinks you’re being wrecked by an internal earthquake.

Zero. Zero. Fuck, baby. Come for me. Come on, give it to me. Give me that sweet cum. Yeah, that’s it, that’s it—

He grunts, his patience breaking, flooding inside of you in waves of heat; filling you up to the brim.

In this moment of weakness where anyone targeting him can put a bullet right through his head, Sylus thinks that if he dies right now, he would do so happily in your arms.

His forehead gently thumps onto yours and you must be as fucked up as him because you push his hair back, scratching his scalp lightly.

Your sculpted, 6’2 menace of a lover who’s seen death and destruction since the day he could speak, groans and nuzzles your cheek like a weak puppy. With every version of Sylus that you have seen before, this will always be your favorite one—where he’s comfortable enough to kiss you affectionately, bringing you down from the high.

He hums. “Satisfied?” 

Sylus would never say he loves you out loud—that’s not in his nature.

But, his actions scream louder than words when he adjusts your rumpled clothes and gives you a peck on your cheek.

“Do you still want to visit that mad scientist or should we scrap it for another day?”

The implicit invitation tempts you. 

A boring lecture or a whole day spread out on my sheets, kitten?

“Let’s go home,” you choose the latter, and Sylus tries his hardest to hide his smug smile when you refer to his penthouse as your own home.

“Of course. But, for the sake of not violating any more public decency laws, you better keep your paws to yourself until we get home, kitten.”

Proving your disobedience and your unwillingness to learn your lesson, you sink two fingers under his collar, dragging him close enough for your lips to touch. 

“That depends on if you can get us home fast enough, Sy.”

He takes it as a challenge, a grin touched with a hint of lunacy splitting across his face.

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?” 

“No, I—”

He pulls you into a kiss, devouring your breaths until your lungs are filled with nothing but him, him, him. 

His fingers in your hair, an arm wound tightly around your waist so his favorite prey can never escape him. Sylus breaks off the kiss, ruby eyes like two bloody pools when he stares at your warm cheeks and puffy mouth. 

“You should know I always—always—win our petty bets.”

— feedback and reblogs are appreciated luvs <33

©️ lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, or translate to another site

[mostly-imagines]

Moonstruck

jason todd x reader

aka sober thoughts and all that

warnings: intoxication

Jason has a thing about drinking around you. He’d kind of skirted around it for a while when you were first dating, but after a while you’d noticed he never really has more than a drink or two regardless of how much you had. The only times you ever see him drink more is when he’s downing whiskey as a pain mitigater when he needs stitches. You’d initially assumed he just wasn’t a big drinker, but eventually you’d come to realize it was more of a matter of not wanting to lose his inhibitions around you. 

You know he’s still working on trusting himself, even sober, because he’s terrified of accidentally hurting you. But you have a hard time imagining him losing control like that in any state and you’re nearly certain he’s just being hard on himself.

You’ve been falling in and out of less than peaceful sleep for the past few hours, having trouble easing yourself while your boyfriend is still out. You at least attempted to get to bed earlier tonight because for once he isn’t out fighting crime and risking injury, though you haven’t found much more luck than usual. 

You lie on your back, half ready to give up and turn on a movie while you wait.

You’re momentarily startled to hear Dick bellow out your name, no regard for the fact that it’s nearing three in the morning and you have neighbors. He’s not much of a shouter so you’re instantly on alert, worried that he or Jason are hurt.

You fumble out of bed and rush to the living room, surprised to find your fire escape empty. You turn, proceeding towards the front door, opening it cautiously. 

“Dick? What—” You don’t need to finish your question because the second you take one good look at the two of them, the state of them is immediately clear. Dick, who’s barely standing upright on his own, supports your boyfriend's weight via Jason’s arm slinged around his shoulder.

“Hey!” Dick grins at you, far more lively than he has any business being this late at night. “Sorry, couldn’t remember which apartment was yours.”

You nod pensively, “Well the perspective’s different than when you’re coming in through the window.”

He continues on past that without thought, “I’ve come to deliver,” he says, gesturing up to Jason with a bit of a strain. You’re pretty sure there were supposed to be a couple more words at the end of that sentence but you understand well enough anyway.

You nod, eyebrows raised and try to hide a smile. “Thanks, Dick.” He shifts your boyfriend off of his shoulder to lean him up against the door frame, where Jason places a majority of his weight.

You eye him warily, not confident in his steadiness. He seems to hold well enough against the heavy door though, his eyes drifting around the tiled floor. Your attention shifts to Dick, who’s clearly satisfied with a job well done and ready to go.

You tilt your head, seeing him turn away. “You good?”

“I’m great!” He calls out with a thumbs up. You watch as he staggers away, nearly missing the exit.

You look back over at Jason, who’s already staring at you with a soft gaze. “You’re pretty,” he fawns, irises blown out and flickering all over your face.

“Oh you’re drunk drunk.” You grin, watching him stumble forward a bit.

He shakes his head, looking a bit dizzy after, “Shoulda seen Tim.”

You pause mid laugh, “…Who drove you here?”

He falters at that, gaze falling to the floor. “Uh…” He winces, “Damian…”

You nod slowly, eyes wide, “We’re gonna talk about that tomorrow.”

“He’s better than you’d think.” You’d hope so. 

Well, at least he’s spending time with his brothers.

You sigh, straightening your posture in preparation for the job to come. “Alright, come on big guy,” you pull him up from his slant against the wall, hauling him into the same position he’d been in with Dick—though you’re struggling significantly more to hold him upright. “You gotta help me out here, Jay,” you grunt, trying very hard not to fold under his weight. You swat the door shut behind you, making peace with the fact that he’ll scold you in the morning for not locking it.

He presses an uncoordinated kiss to the side of your head as you try to shuffle him along, not interested in the least in easing your labor. His self discipline isn't quite gone, but his awareness of how big he is sure seems to be. 

You wobble from the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders, holding onto him by his waist. You manage to get him to sidestep your cat, narrowly, though Salem hisses at him all the same. Jason takes no notice. You stumble into your bedroom with only about 30% of his usual balance aiding your effort.

He collapses onto the bed the second his legs hit the frame, pulling you down with him. You lie, somewhat awkwardly, on his chest as he holds you tight—probably tighter than he would if he were sober. It feels nice though.

You lie your cheek flat on his chest, relaxing against him. “What’d you guys do? Thought you were just having an easy night.”

He takes a deep breath before answering, “Raided Dick’s liquor c—” he stops, mulling over his words. “...Bruce’s liquor that was in Dick’s cabinet.” He annunciates every word in that sentence very carefully.

You squint speculatively, “Didn’t take Dick for the stealing type.”

He grumbles, “He’s not. ‘Less it’s Bruce.”

You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, “Aw, you really do take after your big brother, don’t you?” 

He scoffs at that, “I don’t. I’m the one who gave him the idea.” Yeah, that sounds right.

He taps on your cheek lightly and you pick your head up to find him looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“What’s that look for?”

“Can I kiss you?” his eyes drop down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you.” He’s nearly whispering and you feel your heart skip several beats at the feeling of his eyes on you like this.

You press a light kiss to his lips and he practically purrs.  

You pull back, admiring the serene expression on his face. “You taste like whiskey.”

“I like whiskey,” he says honestly.

You smile, nodding. “I know. Don’t know why, but..”

He leans in for another kiss but you parry, only letting his lips meet your cheek. He frowns grimly, attempting to chase your lips. 

“Lemme kiss you,” the pout on his face is adorable and while you hesitate to deny him, you retreat, resting your chin on his chest.

You smile wistfully, tracing his cheekbone, “You’re drunk, baby.”

“‘M not that drunk,” he tells you, though everything about him says otherwise.

Your hand falls flat on his shoulder. “Your eleven year old brother drove you here.”

He shrugs, “He can drive the bat…batcar? Bat…”

“Batmobile,” you finish.

“The batmobile.” he nods, as if he was seconds away from remembering. You suspect he wasn’t. 

“Bruce lets him drive it?” you question, wholly disbelieving.

“No.”

Enough said.

“You’re gonna be hungover as hell in the morning,” you mumble, taking in his uninhibited demeanor.

He nods that off, “‘S okay. You’ll be here, right?”

You tilt your head, observing him chalantly. “Where else would I go?”

His arms snake tighter around you at that, giving you a little squeeze before relenting. 

“I wanna marry you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it neatly behind your ear. 

You blink rapidly a few times, “What?” You push yourself up on his chest, sitting up on his abdomen.

“Wanna marry you.” He repeats, eyes lidded as he breathes easy under you. “You’re m’favorite person…want you t’be my wife.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “..You want me to be your wife?”

His lips are slightly parted and his pupils are wide as he stares up at you, taking in your features carefully. “‘Course I do.” He brings his fingers up to your cheek, touching you softly with all the wonderment of a little kid. “You’re so pretty.”

You’re quick to return, “So are you.” Especially right now.

He shuts his eyes momentarily, shaking his head morosely, “You gotta stop bein’ so nice t’me,” he lets his hand fall to rest on your thigh. “Don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up,” you lour, “You deserve it more than anybody.”

“No. Not more than you,” his hands knead at your thighs like it’s an instinct. “You deserve everything.” He closes his eyes, tilting his chin up as his head sinks further back into the pillow. “Think I’d do anything you wanted.”

“Jay—”

He continues on, “Want you t’be happy. Wanna make you happy.”

Your face falls into an expression of dazed awe, “You do make me happy.”

He dwindles at that, “No, really happy. Take care of you. Build you a house, give you babies. Wha’ever you want.”

He paws at your thighs, trying to get you to come closer again to him. You lay back down on top of him and his hand instantly buries itself in your hair, stroking softly. “You’re just…you’re so perfect…” He turns his head to mumble against your forehead, “Feel like I dreamed you, sometimes.”

You breathe deeply against the crook of his neck, eyes feeling glassy. “I love you.” It’s all you can get out, and it’s not enough, but it’s all of it. 

“I love you,” he says like he’s trying to turn it into gospel. “So much. I love you so much, so fuckin’ much.” His words start to get lost in his weary babbling.

Your chest feels full and you can distinctly feel every beat of your heart against it. Or maybe it’s Jason’s heart. But what’s the difference?

You press a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. “You’re really sweet when you’re drunk, you know that?”

He hums lowly, head lulling against yours.

You still for a second, finding his breathing has slowed and his hand has seized its movement in your hair. His soft breaths fill the air as you press a kiss to his collarbone before settling in completely. “You’re gonna love when I tell you about this in the morning,” you whisper, letting your eyes shut too.

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