#and watch helplessly as he dies :))))))

[thesilverlady]

in my humble opinion I think Aegon III and Viserys II are the ones who suffered the most out of all D&R's kids

[pharawee]

So I guess we have a new contender for worst headstone in BL.

Then again...

Nah, Gen Y 2 still wins this.

[prentisslvr]

NOT STRONG ENOUGH

summary: you got injured whilst on the job and spencer isn’t to pleased (post!maeve)

pairings: grumpy!spencer reid x sunshine!reader

genre: hurt/comfort?

warnings: mentions of maeve’s death, and canon complicit violence

authors note: i saw someone in the spencer reid tag ask about a fic like this and it gave me inspiration to write my own!!

you hadn’t noticed the tight grip spencer had on the steering wheel when he drove you and him home, nor did you notice his face; if looks could kill, the car that was driving extra slow in front of the two of you would’ve spontaneously combusted.

however you did notice, the slam of his door as he got out the car, his clenched jaw and avoidant gaze as he helped you out, with your broken leg and crutches.

you were used to spencer’s grumpiness, he’d had such a pessimistic view on life, and you didn’t know if it was the optimist in you, or the young naivety, but you had always thought you could fix him.

you had grown to fall in love with spencer in all his grumpiness.

you enjoyed getting to kiss away his angry pout and massage his scalp as he grumbled about how awful his day was.

you enjoyed getting to listen to his rants and just smile and kiss him and take all his problems away, being his source of comfort, like he was yours.

you always loved how even though he was so grumpy, he managed to reserve some sweetness for you, it made you feel so loved, so seen.

spencer on the other hand couldn’t believe he managed to have you as his girlfriend, after maeve, he wasn’t sure he was made for love, it wasn’t meant for him.

but you were meant for him.

he was immediately taken aback by you, the new intern at the bau, so bright and happy, he’d wondered what someone like you was doing at a job like this. someone so young, so happy, so optimistic.

he remembered thinking about how this job would tear you in half, like it did him.

he vowed not to let that happen.

but as he watched, helplessly as you tackled the unsub to the ground, and getting into a literal tussle, he was filled with so much anger, at the unsub, but mainly at himself.

he knew when he was new, he wanted to do his best to stop the bad guys, even if it meant putting himself in danger, he knew the sings of a reckless intern.

why didn’t he stop it.

now you were half black and blue, and walking around the house, well, less walking, more being carried around by spencer, and he really just wanted to scream.

“that was so stupid, you know that.”

you blink, the food on your for you were about to shovel into your mouth forgotten. “i’m sorry?” you say confused, dropping the fork, it clattered loudly against the plate.

“that stunt you pulled.” he gritted his teeth. “i mean, what were you thinking, that you were gonna save the day?” spencer asked, tilting his head in such a way that made you feel taunted.

almost, belittled.

“i was thinking about that girl.” you say, brows furrowing, “and how nobody was doing anything, we were just standing there waiting, negotiating, i saw an opportunity and i took it, the girl is safe now and he’s going to be locked up for the rest of his life.”

“you’re not a hero.” spencer scoffed. “you got lucky, what would you have done if you died out there?”

“nothing, because i’d be dead.” you say, as nice and as kind as you were, you had a quick mouth and it drove spencer insane. “what’s up with you, why are you so upset over this.”

“upset!” he slammed his fist against the table standing up, causing you to flinch, and some cutlery to fall on the floor, your heart thumped in your chest, you weren’t scared of spencer, you had faith he would never hurt you, but he’d never been thing angry with you before.

“i am not upset.” he spits out. “i am enraged at how after all this.. after, me, you could still go out there and risk your life like that! after all i’ve done to protect you!”

“protect me..” you stare at him through a glare standing up yourself. “i chose this job, spence, i chose this profession, i knew what came with it, and i do not need to be protected!”

spencer’s chest heaved as he stared at you, in silence.

“i-” you huff. “i knew the risks that came with the job spencer, and out in that field, i knew what i was risking, but it’s my life spencer. i’m perfectly aware of what i am doing.”

spencer closed his eyes and heaved out a long breath, pinching his nose. “you don’t get to make reckless decisions like that!” he screams clenching his fists. “not when it comes to your life.” he whispered softly, slowly sitting back in seat, as if he’d folded completely.

“i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you..” he says, licking his lips. “when.. when you think about losing someone you love, you can’t imagine it, what it would be like, but i can, because i have, i have lost someone, multiple people.” he says.

“in that moment, when i watched you tackle.. tackle that guy.” he squeezes his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill, as you watch him intensely. “i knew what it would be like spend the rest of my life without you, and i don’t think i’m strong enough to come to terms with that.”

spencer’s admission makes your chest hurt, it never occurred to you what something like taking a risk could do to him. spencer already had lost a lot, and you didn’t want to become a reason he loses another.

you step forward nudging his chin so his eyes were looking up into yours, his cheeks were wet with tears, and for the first time you didn’t see a grumpy man, a pessimistic man, you saw a man who’d had his heart broken far too often.

you gently stroke his cheek. “hey, i’m not going anywhere anytime soon, i’m an intern, today was just an off day.” i raise my brows. “i doubt i will be allowed in the field for a long time.”

he smiled, his eyes still red from tears. “i know you love your job, and i won’t try and stop you from doing it, but please, be careful, if not for you, then for me.”

“i’d do anything for you.” you say, kissing him on the lips. “i’ll be careful for you.”

[fireandbloodsource]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON ↳ The death of the twins, Ser Erryk and Ser Arryk

The singers tell us that Ser Erryk said, “I love you, brother,” as he unsheathed his blade, and that Ser Arryk replied, “And I you, brother,” as he drew his own. The twins battled for the best part of an hour, Grand Maester Munkun says; the clash of steel on steel woke half of the queen’s court, but the onlookers could only stand by helplessly and watch, for no man there could tell which brother was which. In the end, Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk dealt each other mortal wounds, and died in one another’s arms with tears upon their cheeks.

—Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons (The Red Dragon and the Gold) by George R.R. Martin.

[decaffeinatedcupcakekid]

“Why are you sobbing violently?” Oh nothing. Just the fact that Vander had literal tears in his eyes when he dragged down Jinx to her death. Which meant even in his most deranged state he knew what he was doing and was still sort of in there, even if his body wouldn’t cooperate as he helplessly watches his daughter die, unable to stop her from blowing them both up while the last shred of his semi-life diminishes with that fact that one of his daughter’s died so that the other could live and it’s his fault.

And Jinx knew this too which is why she holds his face, trying to comfort him in their last moments so that at the very least, he knows she doesn’t blame him.

I genuinely will not be moving on.

[sturnioz]

꒰ STURNIOZ KINKTOBER '24 ꒱ !

shy!matt isn't the biggest fan of horror movies, so he uses you for a distraction.

thank you @bernardsbendystraws for the idea, love you <3

matt flinches beside you as another jumpscare flashes across the screen, his body tensing as ringed fingers grip the blanket tightly, knuckles turning white as he pulls it close to his neck, squinting through long lashes in a desperate attempt to continue watching the horror movie.

you can't help but grin in amusement at matt's reactions, grabbing a handful of buttery popcorn and trying to stifle your laughter by shoving the popcorn into your mouth, but the sight of matt's wide eyes and fidgeting makes it nearly impossible for you to remain silent.

when a figure suddenly appears on the screen, matt gasps loudly — a sound that's half a squeak, and half a started yelp. you watch as he sinks further into the couch, knuckles turning an even paler shade of white as he pulls the blanket up over his chin, leaving only his wide, terrified eyes visible.

"i hate this," he mutters, his voice coming out slightly muffled from the safety of the blanket. "i hate this movie."

"it's not that bad," you hum, casually shoving another handful of popcorn into your mouth. "it's predictable as fuck."

"does it look like i'm predicting the jumpscares?" matt whines helplessly beside you, his voice a mix of exasperation and fear which causes you to laugh, reaching over to gently stroke his hair in a comforting gesture as he continues. "how am i supposed to know when—"

matt is abruptly cut off by another piercing scream, and you aren't sure if the sound came from the movie or from him, and you choke on your popcorn as matt flings the blanket over his head, trembling beneath the comforter.

"matt!" you call out his name, laughing loudly, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. you cough and splutter, thumping your chest with your fist to clear your throat, and the sight of him quaking beneath the blanket only makes you laugh harder.

under the blanket, matt stays hidden, completely overwhelmed and refusing to even watch the rest of the movie, and you allow him to do as he pleases, but your laughter dies down and is replaced by curiosity when you feel matt shift beside you, moving to lay between your legs beneath the blanket.

you go to call out his name, to question him on what he's doing, but the words get caught in the back of your throat when matt pulls your shorts and under to the side, gently parting your folds with trembling fingers.

"matt..?"

"shh.." his breathing shudders as he shushes you, and you feel his nose brush against your skin as he leans in close. "need... need a distraction, okay? just.. just need this."

his tongue is already darting out to taste you before you could even reply, and your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp, your hips raising towards his face as your hand slips beneath the blanket, tangling your fingers in his hair and guiding him closer to your heat.

soft moans escape your lips, the horror movie playing in the background fading into white noise — you don't even care about the movie anymore, and you most definitely can't concentrate when you're feeling matt's tongue lapping at your pussy, mouth sucking gently on your clit.

you arch your back off the couch, pushing your pussy more firmly against matt's mouth as you breathlessly whisper his name at the smooth slide of his tongue. his hands begin to wander, caressing your thighs and thumbing circles over your clit.

the dual sensation of his talented mouth and fingers pushes you closer to the edge, and you roll your hips in time with matt's licks, seeking more friction and pressure.

the messy noises is what makes your body tense too, your toes curling as the knot inside your stomach wounds tighter and tighter with matt's relentless rubbing on your clit, your gummy walls clenching around matt's probing tongue as you buck wildly, grinding your soaked folds against his face as your orgasm hits.

matt continues lapping at you until you collapse back onto the couch, panting heavily as you desperately try to catch your breath while matt crawls out from beneath the covers, capturing a glimpse of his glistening chin and lips as he moves up your body, refusing to meet your eyes as he lays above you comfortably, tucking his face in the crevice of your neck as his arms wind around your back, holding you close as you come down.

© STURNIOZ

[count-on-mi]

Duty of Care (Mina, Sana, Momo)

"Ah... Manager Oppa... please do it lighter... the dishes on the table... were all knocked over by Sana's breasts..." Momo was eating breakfast while collecting the knocked-over side dishes.

"No... no...don’t stop...ah...harder...harder...fuck me harder...so...so comfortable...ah...Manager Oppa...fuck Sana...harder..." Sana lies down swinging back and forth on the dining table, a man behind was slamming into Sana's buttocks.

"Ah...it feels so comfortable...don't stop...ah...more...a little harder...a little faster..." Sana screamed loudly and comfortably, but the man behind her was sweating profusely and it looked like he wouldn't be able to hold on for too long.

"Manager Oppa... Good morning..." Mina was woken up by Sana's lustful moans. She walked out of the room naked and rubbing her hair. She was not even surprised when she saw Sana being fucked. After saying hello, she went into the bathroom to clean up.

"Ah...how many times have I told you...don't stay naked in the dorm...at least wear some underwear...I don't even dare to help you find a male manager...ah...ah...ah... "The Manager said while looking at Momo, but his cock couldn't stand the tightness of Sana's vagina, and he creampied Sana's body while his body was jerking.

"Manager Oppa... Did I tell you that you should try not to cum inside... it's so hard to clean up..." Sana said coquettishly, blocking the opening of her vagina with one hand to prevent the cum from dripping, and quickly ran into the bathroom where Mina was, but the manager fell Sit on a chair nearby.

"Manager Oppa...it's more comfortable without clothes...and it's not like you men are so lustful...otherwise, why would you want to have sex...wu...wu...um..." Momo said while using chopsticks to hold the cock, she helped the manager clean up the semen from the glans and then swallowed the semen in one gulp with the rice in her mouth.

Mina in the bathroom saw Sana walking in quickly, picking up the shower head and flushing it to her lower body. While flushing, she used her fingers to dig out the white semen deep in her vagina. Mina brushed her teeth quickly and walked to the dining table in front of the manager to sit down and spread her legs wide.

"Manager Oppa...I want it too..." Mina spread her legs and her two labia opened automatically, as if she was telling someone to fuck her.

"I... I want your...cock..." Mina said while sucking the manager's finger.

"Ahem......now I not only have to act as your manager...but also help you with your physical needs...my wife complained to me that I haven't fucked her for a long time...it's all because of you the little slut did it..." The room manager stood up helplessly, and with a "pop" sound of his cock that had just regained its energy, was inserted hard into Mina's vagina.

The manager pressed on Mina’s body, kneading Mina's left breast with his index finger on the nipple and sucked her right nipple with his mouth. Mina began to make inarticulate moans.

"Manager Oppa... ah... ah... ah..." Mina automatically hooked her legs around the manager's waist and swung her legs. She also picked up the manager's free hand and sucked her fingers while looking at him with hazy eyes.

"Manager Oppa... I want you... it feels so good when you fuck Mina... ah... ah... ah..." The manager fucked her faster and harder, and Mina kept gasping and moaning.

The manager still put his hands on Mina's breasts and rubbed them. His eyes were looking at Momo aside. As soon as their eyes met, they both smiled knowingly. Momo was also waiting for the manager to finish fucking Mina and then fuck her.

Momo sat aside and watched everything that happened. Suddenly, a pair of hands picked up Momo's plump breasts from behind and rubbed them. Momo turned around and saw Sana rubbing them happily from behind, with her pussy plugged with a double-sided dildo.

Momo immediately understood what Sana wanted to do. She stood up and inserted the other end of the double-sided dildo into her vagina, letting Sana rub her plump breasts. In return, she also played with Sana's breasts. They were rubbing each other and moaning.

For a moment, obscene and lustful noises and words resounded throughout the dorm of MISAMO.

"Oh...oh...oh...how do you guys train your pussy...the harder I fuck, the tighter it becomes, the harder I fuck, the better I feel, the more I fuck, the more comfortable I feel...it's not like my wife...the more I fuck, the looser it becomes...I don’t even have feelings for her body now..." The manager saw Mina twisting uncomfortably under him, and her vagina became tighter and tighter. He knew that Mina was on the edge of climax, and he was about to cum again.

The manager thrust in and out, feeling Mina's vagina gradually tightening, knowing that she was about to reach climax. To give her a ride, the manager increased the speed and intensity of thrusting, reaching the deepest part of her vagina again and again, but he failed. Didn’t expect that under Mina’s tight walls, he would cum first.

"Ah... so comfortable... I... can't stand it... so hot... so hot... ah... ah... ah..." Mina saw that the manager was no longer thrusting, but was just trying his best to push his cock deeper into her. , Mina also felt that the cock in her body was going into the womb and suddenly spurted out hot semen with trembling motions. Mina was already on the verge of climax, also reached climax by the hot cum pulsing in her womb.

Mina's legs could no longer be hooked and could only hang on both sides. She lay on the dining table with her eyes closed and gasping for breath.

"Ah...Momo...so good...ah..."

"Hmm...Sana...ah..."

Hearing Sana and Momo's moans, the manager held up his cock, which had just been ejaculated twice in succession, and slowly walked towards Sana and Momo on the side. He walked around behind them and stretched out his hands to caress their large tits respectively.

"Manager Oppa...there...can't...no... Manager Oppa..." Sana found that the Manager's cock was getting closer and closer to her lower body, but there was a dildo inserted in her pussy. The Manager's goal was obvious. It's the butthole.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!" Sana twisted her delicate body violently, trying to get away from the Manager, but the Manager ignored Sana's plea for mercy and slowly pushed his cock into Sana's asshole. The cock entered bit by bit, and Sana screamed every time it gets in deeper and deeper.

"Ah... no... no... ah... no... no... ah... ah... ah... I'm going to be fucked to death by you two... ah... ah... ah... okay... ...It feels so comfortable...so...it hurts...ah...ah...ah..." Momo cooperated with the manager and wrapped Sana in the middle, and began to thrust her waist in and out. Sana was so painful and so pleasured that she nearly went crazy.

The manager was fucking Sana from behind, and Momo was fucking Sana from the front. Sana’s plump breasts were also played with by the two of them. Sana felt two hard rods in her body at the same time, and they were thrusting each other, and the extreme pleasure that came from her lower body, soon made Sana became unbearable.

The strong visual enjoyment stimulated the manager. He thrust hard and fast. Sana moaned repeatedly as she was fucked from the front and back at the same time. Her lustful cries echoed throughout the dormitory. Fucking from behind can best stimulate a man's desire, making them feel a desire to conquer.

"I... I am going... to be... played to death by... you two... ah... ah... ah..." Sana was unable to resist, so she could only be surrounded by the two of them.

"Wow...ah...ah...ah...ahhh..." Sana's whole body trembled, a large amount of fluid flowed out from her vagina, and her ass also contracted strongly. The manager's cock had never experienced such intense compression, the cock shook uncontrollably, and a stream of hot cum was ejected into Sana's asshole.

Sana lay limply on Momo in front of her, and Momo couldn't bear Sana's weight and was pressed to the ground. The manager's cock also withdraws from Sana's ass, and Momo underneath Sana was also hugging Sana and trembling. Her delicate body was trembling slightly.

The manager knew at a glance that when Momo had just made Sana climax, she had also been fucked to orgasm by the double-headed dildo. The manager lowered his body and pulled out the double-headed dildo inserted into Momo's pussy. The pussy was fucked into an O shape, and the nectar is constantly flowing out.

"Oh... As expected, the pussy just climaxed... is so tight..." Before Momo could regain her breath, the manager inserted his still-hard cock that had been ejaculated three times into Momo's pussy.

"Ah... Manager Oppa... let me take a break... ah... ah... um..." The manager ignored Momo's request and thrust the cock in her pussy hard.

After the orgasm just now, Momo was still unsatisfied. She began to raise her waist to meet the thrusts of the manager. Her moans came one after another. The manager heard her moans and started thrusting harder. Momo couldn't bear the surging pleasure in her body, and her moans became louder and louder.

The manager thrust vigorously back and forth, and Momo moaned loudly without any discomfort. It seemed that Momo's recovery ability was also good. With Momo's cooperation, the manager felt much more comfortable, he began to work up and down, using both hands to play with Momo's plump breasts meanwhile his cock keep fucked Momo's wet pussy hardly. Every time the cock was pulled out, the vaginal meat could be brought out, and then it was inserted violently all the way to the end again.

Afraid of being heard by others, the Manager bent down and kissed Momo’s lips, inserted his tongue into her mouth to stir, drinking the saliva in her mouth. Momo couldn't scream and could only whisper, "Hmm! Hmm! Hmm!" murmured.

Not long after, Sana woke up again and signalled the manager to pick up Momo. Although the manager didn't know what Sana wanted to do, he still picked up Momo obediently. Sana then directly pushed the other end of the dildo towards Momo's asshole. She went in, swayed her thin waist amidst Momo's screams, and fucked Momo's asshole.

"Ah...ah...ah...Sana...it hurts...it hurts...pull it out...pull it out...ah... ah...ah..." Momo clamped her legs tightly around the manager's waist. She also grasped the manager's back tightly with his hands and scratched bloody marks on the manager's back with such force.

"No...you just fucked me so well...now I should let you experience...the pleasure of having two holes fucked at the same time..." Sana matched the rhythm of the manager and fucked Momo hard at the same rhythm, When the manager pushed in his cock, she follows; when the manager withdraws, she withdraws at the same time.

No one knows how long has passed, but Momo was fucked until she was weak and hung on the manager’s body, muttering, but he couldn’t hear clearly what she was saying. Sana was also sweating profusely, and it seemed that she was suffering the same with the double-headed dildo when she was fucking Momo.

After Momo climaxed, she felt as if she had collapsed. She leaned all over the manager. The manager fucked her a few more times but found that because Momo was limp and unable to cooperate, the position was inconvenient, it was not smooth when he keeps thrusting. So, he stops controlling himself and lets the cum fills Momo’s pussy.

As soon as the Manager has cummed inside Momo, he put down Momo who was limp. Behind Momo, Sana was so tired that she lay down with Momo, while the two-headed dildo was still inserted into their pussies and assholes, the two ignored him and fell asleep due to exhaustion.

The manager looked around and found Mina sleeping on the dining table. But seems she was affected by the moaning. Although Mina was asleep, she was lying on her side with her legs tightly squeezed. Her pussy was rubbing all the time, The dining table was covered with semen, and it looked like Mina was having an erotic dream.

The manager looked at Mina's white and tender buttocks, laid behind Mina and put his hands on Mina's snow-white plump breasts and rubbed them. After touching them for a while, Mina couldn't stand it anymore and her legs began to rub together faster. The manager saw this and knew Mina's pussy must be wet. Seeing her lustful look, the manager's cock became hard again, and he slowly inserted his cock into Mina's rubbing pussy from behind.

"Oh... oh... oh... um... um... um..." The tickling feeling in Mina's pussy seemed to be filled up by the cock, and Mina starts to moan even though she stopped rubbing her thighs.

Mina's vagina clamped the cock tightly, and the manager was feeling so that he couldn't help himself. Under the vaginal spasm-like contraction, the manager did not dare to thrust too fast, for fear that he would not be able to bear it and would cum immediately. The manager’s face was covered by Mina's fragrant hair while he was thrusting slowly, and he couldn’t help but smell it.

With the slow thrusting, it seems not enough for Mina. She turned around and hugged the manager behind her. Her breasts also buried the manager's head deeply. The manager couldn't help but press his head on Mina's body. Pushing in and out, his lips also sucked hard on Mina's tempting pink spot.

Mina was half asleep and half awake, enjoying herself happily, thinking that she was having an erotic dream, so she naturally moved with the man pressing on her to achieve greater pleasure.

"Ha... oh... oh... um... um..." Mina unconsciously opened her hands and feet and wrapped them around the manager's body, and her seductive body began to move up and down as the cock moved.

The manager felt Mina's breathing gradually become faster, the hands and feet wrapped around her body gradually became stronger, and he just automatically moved faster and faster under the temptation.

"Ah... so hot... ah... Manager Oppa... you..." Mina was awakened by the hot semen at this moment. As soon as she opened her eyes, she saw that the Manager was vigorously thrusting into her body, and she could feel his cock shaking and ejaculating semen deep inside her body. She just realized that what happened was not an erotic dream but that she was being fucked.

Mina was now being fucked to the verge of climax, so she hugged the Manager tightly who was about to withdraw, Half of the cock was pulled out, but with Mina's hug, he inserted it deeply into her vagina again."Mina…" The room manager looked at Mina embarrassingly.

"Ah... Manager Oppa... you can't make me on the edge and just leave right now ... You must be responsible for fucking Mina until Mina cums..." Mina seduced the room manager.

"You three sluts are all going to take my life..." After the manager said, he thrust the cock in Mina's vagina again.The manager began to thrust into Mina's vagina regularly and repeatedly, staring at the breasts that swayed as he thrust. He leaned down and started sucking. Gradually, Mina's vagina became hotter and tighter, and the juice secreted out. As more of the nectar spits out, the cock is as shiny as coated with oil.

"Ah...ah...Manager Oppa...Mina feels so good when fucked by your cock...um...um...um..." Mina was getting more and more comfortable being fucked by the Manager, and she couldn't help but moan loudly.

"Oh... oh... almost... cumming... Manager Oppa... oh... oh..." Mina moaned while being fucked.

"No... I can't... Manager Oppa makes me feel so good... I almost... can't stand it... ah... ah... ah..." The sensitive vagina was constantly rubbed by the cock, and Mina felt the climax coming again.

It didn't take long for the manager to cum inside Mina again. At the same time, Mina held on to the manager's body tightly and even hooked her legs around the manager's waist. Her limbs were tightly wrapped around the manager's body. She sucked the air in her mouth, enjoying the moment that she climaxes.

After a while, four of them are still naked but gathered at the dining table for breakfast.

"Um... Manager Oppa...why did you come to our dorm so early..." Sana asked after swallowing the food in her mouth.

"Ah... I only remember to fuck ... Come on... today is the day for you to shoot the MV... I'll go get the car ready first... You all get ready and come down soon..." The manager thought for a moment, then hurriedly put down his breakfast and ran towards the door.

"Remember to wear clothes..." The manager returned and suddenly poked his head in.

Young, strong, and with amazing resilience, the manager sitting in the car wrote these words on the conditions notes for recruiting the new manager.

[mya-valentine]

Can I request a fic for Kinich x fem reader please? during the archons quest IV (spoiler‼️ for people who didnt do the archons quest) reader almost died in one of the bases but traveler and Paimon (doesn't matter who tbh I love the twins) was able to save them just in time and Kinich hugged her not letting her go until he knew she was real and safe in his arms

Not a huge fan of angst but I'm okay with angst with comfort (happy ending)

From the Edge of Darkness

The Abyss Order had been relentless in its attack on Natlan, leaving a trail of devastation in its wake. With the nation in ruins, every base became a battlefield, and the resistance fighters were pushed to their breaking point. The Traveler and Paimon, desperate to help in whatever way they could, had been moving from one war-torn base to another, always hoping to arrive in time to save someone—anyone—from the onslaught.

This upcoming base felt different, though. As they neared the next base, an eerie silence filled the air. No sounds of clashing weapons, no cries for help. Just silence.

Paimon’s voice quivered as she spoke, “Traveler… something feels wrong about this place.” The suffocating tension in the air made it hard to breathe.

When they finally reached the base, the scene that greeted them was nothing short of horrifying. Destruction had torn through the camp like a hurricane. Blood stained the ground, mingling with the ashes of burned tents and scattered debris. Bodies lay strewn across the battlefield, broken and still. Each life extinguished in a brutal fight to protect their homeland.

The Traveler moved quickly, scanning the area, their heart sinking with each step. Please, let there be someone left alive. They silently begged the universe, their steps quickening with each heartbeat.

And then they saw you.

Amidst the carnage, there you were—barely alive. Your body was crumpled against the remains of a wall, blood trickling from a wound on your side. Your skin was pale, your breath shallow. You were hanging on, but only just.

“There!” the Traveler gasped, rushing toward you. They dropped to their knees by your side, frantically checking your pulse, their hand trembling as they felt the faint, uneven beat beneath your skin. “She’s alive, but not for long!”

Paimon’s eyes widened in horror. “We need to get her out of here! Now!”

The Traveler didn’t hesitate. With great care, they lifted your fragile, unconscious body into their arms. They could feel how weak you were, how close you were to slipping away. Every second counted. “We’re taking her to the stadium!” the Traveler barked. “That’s where the medics are.”

Paimon nodded furiously, her tiny body flying ahead, guiding the way. “Hurry! We don’t have much time!”

The journey back to the stadium felt excruciatingly long, each second a battle against time. But the thought of losing you—of arriving too late—drove them forward.

The stadium came into view, its towering walls offering a brief sense of relief. Inside, it was the last haven for those who had survived the Abyss Order’s attacks. It was bustling with medics, warriors, and refugees, each one desperate to protect what little was left of their world.

The Traveler barely made it through the gates before shouting for help. “Medic! We need a medic!”

The closest group of medics rushed over, their eyes widening when they saw your condition. Without wasting a moment, they took you from the Traveler’s arms and laid you on a stretcher.

The Traveler stood back, their chest heaving with exertion, watching helplessly as the medics tried to save you. Paimon hovered close by, her hands clenched tightly in front of her. “Traveler… do you think she’s going to make it?”

The Traveler swallowed hard, unable to answer. “I don’t know, Paimon… I don’t know.”

---

Not long after, the stadium doors burst open, and Kinich, the man you loved, stormed in. His usually calm and stoic demeanor had crumbled, replaced by pure, unfiltered panic. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching desperately for you, the woman who meant more to him than anything in the world.

When he finally spotted the Traveler, his heart lurched. He saw the exhaustion in their eyes, the grim set of their jaw. He knew something was wrong. “Where is she?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

The Traveler’s expression softened with sorrow as they pointed toward the medic tent. “She’s there. It’s… not good, Kinich. I’m sorry.”

Kinich’s breath caught in his throat as he turned toward the tent. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat filled with dread as he rushed toward you. When he reached your side, his worst fears were confirmed. You were pale and still, your chest barely rising with each shallow breath. Bandages covered the wound on your side, but you looked so fragile, so close to death.

“No…” The word came out as a broken whisper. He fell to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as they reached for yours. He grasped your hand in his, holding it tightly, as though if he just held on hard enough, he could pull you back from the brink.

Tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision as he bowed his head over your hand. “Please,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t—I can’t lose you.”

His body shook with the force of his grief, the tears falling freely now as he pressed your hand to his lips, praying for some miracle, some sign that you would wake up and tell him everything would be okay.

Hours passed, but Kinich never left your side. He couldn’t. The world outside the stadium continued to burn, but nothing mattered to him except you. He sat by your side, holding your hand, watching for any sign that you would wake. Every breath you took felt like a lifeline, fragile but present.

The medics came and went, their magic stabilizing your condition, but Kinich’s heart remained heavy with fear. He whispered to you the whole time, his words soft and broken. “I love you… please come back to me…”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you stirred.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was Kinich’s tear-streaked face hovering above you, his hand tightly gripping yours. You blinked slowly, your body heavy with pain and exhaustion, but you were alive. You were still here.

“Kinich…” Your voice was a soft, rasping whisper, but it was enough to break through the haze of Kinich’s grief.

His eyes widened, a sob of relief escaping him as he surged forward, pulling you into his arms. His grip was tight, almost desperate, as though he feared that if he let go, you would disappear again. His body trembled with emotion as he held you, his face buried in your hair.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, his voice shaking with disbelief. “You’re really awake…”

You nodded weakly, your arms coming up to wrap around him, though the movement was slow and painful. “I’m okay,” you murmured, your voice soft but reassuring. “I’m going to be okay.”

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with love and relief. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You smiled, though it was weak and tired. “I’ll try not to.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Kinich simply held you, his heart finally beginning to calm as he felt the steady rise and fall of your chest against his. You were safe. You were alive.

And as long as you had each other, nothing else mattered.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice softer this time, but no less sincere.

“I love you too,” you replied, your words filled with warmth and gratitude.

The world outside was still in chaos, but in this moment, as you lay in Kinich’s arms, you knew that everything would be okay. You had survived, and you had each other. And that was enough.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[moonstruckme]

I had my car’s battery die the other day (still don’t know why) and I thought it would be cute if the same thing happened to reader… so like maybe she’d be on the phone with Remus and Sirius be like “my car died which sucks lol” and he’d leave work early just to help her jump start her car 😍

Sorry about your car battery babe! That used to happen to me all of the time. I wasn't quite sure who you wanted the love interest to be in this one, but since you mentioned both Remus and Sirius I went with poly wolfstar, hope that's alright <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 757 words

When Remus arrives home, you seem to be bickering at Sirius while he rifles through his trunk.

“I know he said they were in here somewhere.” 

“Your manager is going to be so upset with you,” you fret. “I could’ve caught the bus.” 

“Yes, but why would you when you have a perfectly good car and a perfectly capable boyfriend?” Sirius turns to toss one of his flippant grins at you, and he catches sight of Remus coming up behind him. “Hello.” He greets him with a kiss, pleasantly surprised. “I didn’t know you were walking home, love, I’d have picked you up.” 

“It’s fine,” says Remus. “I thought you were at work.” 

“He was.” You seem unable to choose between feeling cross with Sirius and guilty with yourself, but you’re definitely distressed. “He left work early, just because I texted you guys.” 

“You know,” Sirius drawls, “some people want a partner who would drop everything to come help them.” 

“I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known you were going to leave work!”

Remus understands your upset. Sirius is perpetually on thin ice with his manager—who, in Remus’ completely unbiased opinion, is a tyrant who expects far too much sacrifice from his employees—and Remus would feel bad too if he further jeopardized Sirius’ job by accidentally calling him away from work early. But also, you’re going to be late for work if you can’t get your car started. 

“You need his car here to get a jump, dove,” Remus says. He can feel Sirius’ smugness like an aura about him, but Remus ignores it. 

You sigh, resigned but dispirited. “You didn’t have to come home, either. I was only complaining to complain.” 

Remus smiles and stretches out his arm. You fit yourself under it automatically. “I wanted to see if I could help,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head in greeting. “Don’t be upset, okay?” 

You’re easily mollified by a soft touch and a loving tone. “Okay,” you mumble. Remus kisses your head again in thanks. 

“Alright.” Sirius stops digging around in the trunk, spreading his hands helplessly. “Are we sure we ever had jumper cables?” 

“We do,” Remus says. He lets you go to join Sirius, showing him the compartment where the spare tire and other essentials are kept. 

“Oh, a secret extra trunk. Excellent. Now, does anyone know how to use these?”

Remus has always been a public transportation beneficiary and Sirius was raised posh, so the three of you end up cloistered around Sirius’ phone watching a video about how to jump start a car. 

“Seems easy enough,” says Sirius. “So, we start my car first, then?”

“We start neither car before all the cables are attached,” you say, while Remus gives his boyfriend a worried look. 

“It seems important that we do everything in order,” Remus agrees. “Considering we’re working with electricity and such.” 

None of your objections seem to put a dent in Sirius’ confidence, however. Though nothing you’re doing involves working with grease, he takes his work shirt off “to keep it from getting dirty” and ties his hair back. It’s all rather dramatic, Remus knows, but he can’t find it in himself to protest. Neither can you, apparently. 

“Okay, so that one goes on the positive one.” 

“Right.” You tear your eyes from your boyfriend’s tattooed abdomen, visibly forcing yourself to concentrate on the battery. “Uh…” 

“The one with the plus sign, doll.” 

Sirius’ eyes dance with mirth, but he delivers the instructions patiently until both cables are connected and Remus is turning the ignition in Sirius’ car. 

“Okay, now yours!” Sirius calls to you. 

Remus hears the croaking sounds of your car trying to start, but then the engine roars to life. 

“Beautiful!” 

Remus gets out of Sirius’ car to see you beaming at each other, your upset over his leaving work clearly forgotten. Sirius looks like he’s about to pat your car approvingly, so Remus catches his hand before he can burn himself. Sirius appears not to notice the interception, only squeezing his boyfriend’s hand excitedly. 

“I’ll pull out of your way so you can get out of here,” Sirius says, backing towards his car. 

“Wait!” Your door opens, and you come running out. “Just one thing first.” 

You take Sirius’ face in your hands, planting a heavy kiss on his lips. He looks half dazed when you pull away and come for Remus, your mouth warm and sweet on his. 

You break away with a giant grin on your face. “Thanks,” you say breathlessly.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eighteen

Eddie looks up, towards the front of the house, “car.”

It’s a good count of five before Steve hears a car pulling up onto the drive, “do you want to get it? Surprise Robin?”

Eddie just shakes his head, suddenly shy. Steve remembers how loudly she had shrieked over the phone, “yeah, that’s fair.”

Steve waits until the bell is rung, and Eddie does come and stand in the hallway, half hidden in the lounge doorway, watching as Steve gets the door. Just as he’s opening it he realizes just how uncharacteristically polite she’s being; normally Robin just barges in.

He gets his answer a second later; it’s not just Robin.

She does cross the threshold first, hugging Steve and then clearly spotting Eddie, Steve grabs her, “do not be loud.”

“Okay, okay,” and she goes in.

Joyce is next, carrying a big pot with a lid, she leans over to kiss Steve’s cheek, Jon and Nancy follow, both equally laden down, Nancy holding what looks like a cobbler in a large dish, with a grocery bag hanging precariously from each wrist, “we didn’t have many left overs, so mom put together a quick dessert, it’s only canned filling, hope that’s okay.”

“That’s...so great of you Nancy, she didn’t need to-”

“Hush, Steve,” and she goes in, Hopper, Will and El bringing up the rear. Everyone has their hands full.

“Okay, lets move along, we need to get all this warmed up,” Joyce says to clear the blockage of Eddie gawkers in the hall. Steve watches as Eddie nods at people, looking on curiously, as they all move past.

“Jon, bring through the kitchen chairs honey!”

Joyce has completely commandeered Steve house, and he’s totally okay with it. Jon and Hopper move the chairs so there’s enough seating around the dining table. They might be elbow to elbow, but Steve wouldn’t really have it any other way.

“We brought what we had honey,” Joyce tells Steve, passing him a bowl with a cucumber, a lettuce and some apples in it, “I didn’t want him to feel left out.”

Steve’s heart melts, “he actually might try a meal.”

Joyce absolutely lights up, and she takes the bowl back, setting it on the kitchen counter, “then lets get him a Christmas dinner. Can you deal with the roast please Hop, I’m bringing the rest out now,” and like a sergeant major directing her troops, Joyce calls on people to fetch and carry as she plates things up, “El honey, take all the cutlery please. Will, jugs of juice, thank you.”

Steve just smiles and watches it happen, “better be a beer in it for me,” Hopper grumbles from behind Steve.

Eddie’s been half watching from doorways, occasionally retreating to the couch and then coming back again, but he seems to be drawn by the smell of all the food. “Come on, come and sit at the table.”

“Table,” Eddie repeats, following as Steve leads him by the hand into the dining room.

Eddie sits, and Steve sits next to him.

“Well, Merry First Ever Christmas,” Joyce says to Eddie, before she’s distracted again, “Will, vegetables please.” Will huffs over his plate of meat and potatoes.

“What do you want baby?” Steve whispers to Eddie while everyone helps themselves.

Eddie shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the spread Joyce has put on. Steve smiles reassuringly, giving his thigh a squeeze before he makes him a plate with a little of everything. While he’s occupied, Steve is vaguely aware of El saying, “I love your hat.”

“Eddidie hat?” Eddie replies, “thank you, El.”

Eddie likes meat. He also still really likes his vegetables; he just likes them hot.

Once everyone’s eating the conversation dies down, Eddie uses a combination of claws and his fork to eat, and Steve doesn’t think he’s doing too badly for his first proper sit down meal, when Joyce asks, “Eddie, do you like the food?”

Eddie nods, “good good. Many good.”

Joyce smiles, “and how are you finding having legs?”

“Good, not different Stee.” Joyce seems to get the drift of what Eddie kind of means. This clearly gives Eddie an idea though, turning to Steve he asks, “Eddidie work? One dollar bill gro-ser-ees.”

“Uhm,” Steve chuckles, “maybe. Need to work on a few things first. Maybe.”

“Eddidie car?” And Eddie mimes turning the steering wheel back and forth.

“Need a license first,” Hopper interjects from the other end of the table.

“License first?”

“A drivers license,” Steve clarifies, or tries too, “so you can drive the car.”

“He’s going to need a birth certificate and all that,” Nancy adds.

Joyce elbows Hopper, “I’m sure Hop could help there.”

“Yeah, like I don’t have enough-” Joyce elbows him again, “yeah, okay. Watch it woman, your elbows are like knives.”

“Eddie,” El starts in, “your birth certificate is important, you can choose where you were born.”

“That’s not actually how it works for the rest of us,” Will whispers to her, smiling.

“I got to choose,” she tells him, “I chose Hawkins.”

“Eddidie born?”

El nods, “where you’re from.”

“The Upside Down,” Eddie announces with some confidence, raising a round of, maybe slightly weirded out, chuckles from around the table.

El shakes her head, “no, where are you from now?”

Eddie nods, grasping that part, “Hawkins Indiana. Pool,” and Eddie points, back through the house at the yard, just to clarify. Steve hides his laughter behind his hand.

“Might want to loose the ‘pool’ part,” Hopper adds, helpfully.

“No no,” Jon suggests, “if you make him like, from another country, it’ll explain the language barrier.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Joyce muses, “where would you suggest?”

“Well, there’s only one obvious place, right? Fin-land.”

Everyone groans, and John gets balled up napkins thrown at him.

“In all seriousness kid, going to need a full name and date of birth,” Hopper tells them.

“Oh! Christmas Eve! That would be a lovely birthday for Eddie,” Joyce tells him, excited.

Hopper hums, “uh hu, what year? And a surname, write it all down for me kid.”

“Obviously Harrington,” Steve says before he can really think about it.

Hoppers eyebrows are in his hairline, “so...brothers?”

Robin nearly chokes on her drink.

“Okay, time for gifts, and then dessert after,” Joyce says as she shoos everyone into the lounge, “the boys can do the dishes later.”

Jon and Hop share a look, and Steve knows instantly it’s a look they’ve shared quite a few times.

Everyone spreads around in the lounge, El putting on the Christmas tree lights with a little frown of concentration.

“Okay, me first,” Joyce says, getting up, and she gives Steve and Eddie a wrapped gift each.

“Joyce, you don’t have to, I didn’t get chance to-”

“Don’t worry about any of that honey,” she waves him away, sipping her drink, “just open them.”

Eddie looks perplexed by the thing he’s been handed, just turning it over and over in his hands, “here, watch,” Steve says, and carefully tears into the paper on his own gift.

Eddie seems to be delighted by this turn of events, and uses his claws to easily tear into the paper.

Matching knitted material unfurls onto both of their laps, Steve unfolding his to find a red and green knitted sweater; clearly home made by Joyce.

Eddie holds his up, “sweater? Gift?”

“Yeah, look,” Steve holds up his own.

They are a little different; while the sleeves of Eddie’s are the same as Steve’s, the middle is a hell of a lot shorter, and it takes a second for Steve to realize why; it would stop it from dragging on the ground.

“Stee Eddidie not different!” Eddie says, all excited, just as Steve looses his battle and starts to cry.

A little less than twenty four hours ago, the deepest parts of Steve were convinced that Eddie was dead in his pool. Before that, days of...of torture, knowing that Eddie could very well be dying in the black water. The sleepless nights. The slow erosion of Steve’s hope, and the guilt that came with it, all seem to hit Steve all at once.

Eddie could have died, and now they’re here, sitting on the couch together, holding matching Christmas sweaters. They got insanely lucky.

Steve’s tears come harder, and a sob escapes him, “sorry,” he chokes out, excusing himself and heading into the kitchen.

“Stee?” Eddie creeps in quietly after him.

“Hey, I’m okay.”

Eddie frowns, following Steve across to where he’s leaning against the counter, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve, “no.”

It does make Steve laugh a little through his tears, and he lets Eddie carefully wipe his face before he licks the moisture off his fingers, “called?”

“Tears. I’m crying. I got upset.”

“Stee ow? Tell Eddidie.”

Steve swallows thickly, but his tears abate in the face of Eddie’s clear concern, “when you were in the pool...I had to wait. Days. And I was...so frightened. Scared. That you were dead.”

“Eddidie not dead.”

“No,” Steve huffs, “I know that now,” and he wraps his arms more firmly around Eddie’s middle, “I missed you.”

“Called missed?”

“I was sad, Steve ow, Eddie wasn’t here. You were gone. In the pool.”

“Eddidie no missed Steve. Sorry. Eddidie…” he taps the side of his head, the bobble wobbling as he cocks his head in thought, “no TV. TV inied. Together now. Many tomorrow.”

“All tomorrow?” Steve asks hopefully.

Eddie nods, his bobble rocking back and forth furiously.

And then he leans forward the scant inches between them, and kisses Steve. It’s slow, gentle. A soft brush of lips before Eddie shifts on a sigh. The gentlest, barely there sucking of Steve’s bottom lip; the softest of scratching claws against the back of his head, Eddie’s hand sliding into his hair.

“Oh!” Eddie pulls apart, but not away. If anything he instinctively holds Steve tighter, “I’m...I’m sorry,” Nancy says, wide eyed from the doorway, before she backs back into the lounge.

Steve sighs, “cats out of the bag now.”

“Cat? Lion. Tiger? Called bag?”

“I’ll explain that one another time, okay?”

When they sit back down on the couch, Steve has a fuck it moment and holds Eddie’s hand. He has to keep letting go so Eddie can open his gifts, but still. It doesn’t take long for Hopper to notice, and then he says, “oh, Harrington,” in the most unhelpful way ever.

Steve looks down at their linked fingers, and it suddenly occurs to him exactly which finger it is that next to the pinky finger. Oh. Oh, well. Eddie doesn’t understand what it means...and it’s not like Steve isn’t all in anyway at this point. Not that they can even get married but...he looks up, happening to make eye contact with Robin, who has the most ‘what the fuck?’ look on her face Steve’s ever seen.

Steve eyes her back, ‘not now.’

He gets some world class shit eye in return.

All of Steve’s gifts are...standard. Fairly thoughtful, but mostly just...standard. The toiletries he likes. Some cleaning stuff for his car. Another, not home made, new sweater.

Eddie on the other hand, makes absolute bank. Notebooks, coloring books, pencils and pens. A nice case to keep all of his stationary in. A four pack of fancy beer from Hopper of all people. Plus books, granted, they’re all kids books, but they’re perfect. Steve figures Eddie isn’t that far off learning to read, he has been nailing the alphabet for a little while now.

One of Eddie’s gifts from Robin is a calendar; it’s full of pictures of month appropriate trees. Steve sees cherry blossoms and ripe apples and snow covered firs as Eddie flicks through, reading the months out loud. “That’s a whole year,” Steve tells him, once Eddie has haltingly read out, ‘December,’ “we can write important things in there.”

Eddie perks up, “Eddidie Birthday?”

“Yeah, you want Christmas Eve?”

Eddie nods, and once Steve finds the right box on the right page, Eddie uses one of his new pens to, very carefully, write his name in the box. “Birthday?”

“How to spell birthday?”

Eddie nods, “letters.”

Steve tells him, one slow letter at a time, as Eddie writes it out, showing everyone proudly once he’s done.

Eddie insists on inspecting every single gift thoroughly, and saying thank you, before tucking it all around himself on the couch, like a little dragon with his tiny hoard.

Steve sighs when Eddie unwraps a VHS of ‘Splash,’ from Jon. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“I’m hilarious,” Jon replies, deadpan.

Part twenty

[sweets-library]

The quiet hours

Shouta Aizawa/reader. hurt/comfort. wc: 4.2k.

READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. DO NOT READ THIS IF THEY DO NOT APPEAL TO YOU.

content warnings: spanking, punishment, rules, heavy use of daddy as a title, heavy themes of discipline

-

You're not allowed to watch the news when Shouta's not home. It might seem harsh, but after that one awful night—when you spiralled into panic attacks and wore yourself down to the bone over a fight that didn’t even involve him (“Underground pro moved to intensive care after brutal battle—”)—he laid down the rule: no news unless he's there to reassure you. And now, well, you’re breaking it.

Your fingers are raw, nails torn from anxious chewing as you follow the chaos unfolding on-screen. The fight rages on in an area Shouta patrols, and the pit in your stomach grows with every minute that passes. You search the screen, desperate for any sign of him—a dark figure amid the blur of heroes, villains, police, and civilians scrambling in the streets. The news helicopter captures the madness from above, and you try to convince yourself he’s fine. He’s always fine. But after an hour, when the villains are finally subdued, Shouta is nowhere to be found. Instead, you watch helplessly as bodies are loaded into ambulances, and worse, some are dragged away, lifeless.

It’s 3 a.m. now. Another rule broken. Shouta hates it when you stay up for him—he says it leaves you exhausted, strung out for no reason when you could wake up beside him, safe and sound. He’d be livid if he knew, but you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s your boyfriend, your partner, and every day he risks his life out there. Of course, you worry. Who cares if you can barely keep your eyes open at work tomorrow? At least you'd know he made it home.

The coverage is still playing when you hear his key in the lock, and your heart leaps into your throat. You quickly fumble for the remote, switch off the TV, and dive under the blankets on the couch, pretending to be asleep. He’s not going to be thrilled that you didn’t make it to bed, but at least he won’t think you’ve completely ignored his rules.

You hold your breath, listening to the familiar sounds of his boots hitting the floor, the clink of his goggles landing on the table, and the soft swish of his capture weapon being hooked by the door. His footsteps are slow and deliberate as he makes his way into the living room, pausing when he spots you curled up on the couch. There’s a heavy sigh—he’s fondly irritated, you can feel it—and for a moment, you brace yourself for a scolding.

Instead, his arms slip gently under you, lifting you without a word. You instinctively snuggle into him, heart pounding with relief. He’s home. He’s safe.

“Missed you, Sho…” you mumble, your voice thick with genuine exhaustion now that he’s here.

"Hm," he replies, the stern edge in his voice making your heart skip. "Were you waiting up for me?"

You don’t dare look at him. “No,” you lie, nuzzling into his shoulder as he lowers you onto the bed. “I was just watching a movie and fell asleep.”

You feel his eyes on you in the darkness, scrutinizing. "Makeup down your cheeks," he notes, swiping at the streaks with his thumb. "Must’ve been a real tearjerker, huh?"

"Yeah…a dog died," you murmur, barely able to suppress a yawn. His quiet chuckle sends a wave of relief through you—he bought it, or at least, he’s letting you think he did.

“My little crybaby,” he teases, but you can hear the affection in his voice.

"At least kiss me before you start being mean," you grumble, pulling him down for a sleepy, lingering kiss. He hums against your lips, then pulls back.

"Go to sleep. I’m gonna shower and come to bed."

You smile, snuggling deeper into the blankets, eyes heavy as you let the relief wash over you. Somehow, you actually got away with it. You listen as Shouta moves around the apartment—showering, heating up his dinner in the microwave, and finally settling onto the couch. The familiar sounds are comforting, grounding you in the safety of knowing he's home.

And then, you hear it. The soft click of the TV turning on.

Your heart skips a beat. The news. The coverage of the attack is still on. You cringe, suddenly wide awake, the comfort of a few minutes ago evaporating as panic flares up again. You strain to hear every detail, anxiety pooling in your chest as you imagine the look on his face when he realizes what you've been up to.

The clink of his plate hitting the coffee table snaps your attention back, followed by the low groan of the couch as he stands. Footsteps, slow and deliberate, pad toward the bedroom. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter, willing yourself to look peaceful, and innocent—hoping against hope that you can delay the inevitable until morning.

But you’re not that lucky.

"Sit up." His voice cuts through the silence, low and firm.

You hear him, but you stupidly ignore it, keeping your eyes shut in some desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, he’ll let it go. The air grows tense, and you hear the sharp click of his tongue, a sound that makes your heart stutter.

“Little girl, you do not want to make this worse than it already is,” he warns, his tone laced with quiet authority. The moment those words hit, your body moves before your brain can even catch up. You sit up, your gaze fixed firmly on the floor, trying to steady your breath.

He steps closer, his presence looming as he positions himself in front of you. You don’t dare look up, but the weight of his stare presses down on you. Then, his fingers grip your chin, not harsh, but firm enough to force your eyes up. The moment you meet his gaze, your stomach drops.

He’s pissed. His dark eyes are locked onto yours, filled with disappointment and frustration.

"I'm going to give you one chance to tell me how you spent your night," he says, voice low and steady, "and so help me, if you lie again, you'll be getting bedtime spankings for a week."

The threat sends a chill down your spine. This isn't your boyfriend Shouta right now. The warmth and gentleness are suddenly punctuated by the stern, unyielding side of him that leaves no room for games.

"I—well," you stammer, your voice small. "I was watching TV... and I stayed up too late. I'm sorry." The apology slips out in a mumble, barely audible, as his hand moves to cup your jaw, holding you in place. He leans in, his presence overwhelming.

"Sorry, what?" His voice is firm, a quiet demand that makes your heart race.

"Sorry, Daddy..." you whisper, heat rushing to your face in embarrassment. It feels vulnerable to say it out loud, especially now.

"Hm." He lets go of your chin, crossing his arms over his chest. His forearms strain against the fabric of his sleeves, muscles flexing as he sizes you up. The air between you is heavy with his disappointment, but despite the weight of it, a small flutter stirs in your stomach. You hate how his sternness affects you like this.

"You were watching what on the TV?" he asks, his tone pointed, his gaze never leaving yours.

You sniff, nervously playing with your fingers, unable to stop the tremble in your hands. "I... I was watching the news," you finally admit, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I was just so worried, and it was so late, and they were in your area, and I just—"

"Enough."

The word snaps the air like a whip, and your mouth shuts instantly. The tension in the room feels almost suffocating as you stare up at him, waiting for the inevitable.

"So," he continues, his voice even and measured, "not only did you stay up far later than you're allowed, knowing full well you have work tomorrow, but you also worked yourself into a panic over the news. And then, you lied to me about it." He pauses, eyes narrowing as if daring you to challenge him. "Do I have that right?"

Your throat tightens, and your stomach feels like it's sinking. There's no way out of this, no excuse you can offer. He expects an answer, and there's only one.

"Yes... Daddy," you whisper, your voice fragile, on the verge of breaking under the weight of it all.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration before rubbing his tired eyes. The sound of his exhale fills the room, thick with disappointment. You can feel his exhaustion, his worry—this is not how he wanted to end his night, and it makes your chest ache.

“We talked about this,” he says, his voice firmer now, frustration seeping into each word. “We have this rule for a reason, so you don’t spend your nights like this—crying over something that’s not even happening!”

You sniffle, your chest tightening as guilt floods through you. “But... what if something did happen? And I had no idea, and you were hurt, and alone, and—”

“Sweetheart,” he cuts in, gentler now but still firm, “if something happens, you’re the first person they will call. You know this. The hospital will notify you if I’m hurt. And if it’s anything else, the commission will contact Mic, who will call you immediately. You know all of this—we talked about it when we made this rule. Together.”

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly tired and frustrated. The exhaustion in his eyes, the strain in his voice, all hit you at once. He’s been working so hard, pushing himself to keep you safe, to keep everyone safe, and here you are, breaking the very rules you agreed on. The weight of it presses down on your chest, and the guilt gnaws at you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice thick with regret.“I just... I worry. So much.” The words come out in a whimper, hoping for some sympathy, but Shouta isn’t swayed by the tears.

“Baby,” he begins, his voice firm but not unkind, “you have to trust me. I don’t want you sitting here, crying yourself hoarse every night over something that hasn’t happened. It’s not fair to you. It’s not healthy, and I won’t allow it.” His gaze is piercing, locking with yours, filled with concern but unwavering in its resolve. You know he’s right, but the ache of your worry feels so real.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment as he looks at you, clearly weighing his next move. Finally, he speaks again, and it’s not what you expect.

“I’ll call your work in the morning. You’re not going in tomorrow.”

“What? No—Shouta, I’m fine!” you whine, trying to push back against his decision, but he taps your cheek again, this time with a little more firmness.

“Little girl, I don’t think you’re in any position to argue with me right now,” he says, his voice calm but unyielding. “Trust me, you’re not going to want to go to work tomorrow. We’re working this out tonight. I don’t want to have this discussion again, so we’re dealing with it here and now.”

The finality of his words hits you hard, and you feel the sting of tears building again, pressing at the corners of your eyes. You don’t want to deal with this—not now. Not like this. “Daddy, please, I’m sorry,” you plead, your voice fragile and trembling, but it doesn’t change his resolve.

Your apology falls on deaf ears as Shouta pulls the blankets from your legs with a swift motion, guiding you up with a firm but gentle grip. “Don’t argue with me,” he says quietly. “Come here. Now.”

You hesitate, but his firm tone leaves no room for defiance. He takes you by the arm, leading you to the end of the bed. He sits down, looking up at you with that same intense gaze, the weight of his authority wrapping around you. You stand in front of him, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Shouta, I—” you start, but his sharp look cuts you off before the words can even fully leave your mouth. You’re in no position to argue. You know this, but it doesn’t stop the nervous tremor running through your body as you shuffle your feet, feeling his gaze settle heavily on you.

“How many rules did you break tonight?” he asks, his voice calm but firm, waiting for you to face the truth.

You bite your lip, glancing down as the weight of your actions settles in. “I... I stayed up late,” you begin in a shaky voice, “and I watched the news... and I lied.” Your voice cracks on the last confession, barely above a whisper. “So... three,” you finish, the admission hanging in the air like a confession you’ve been dreading.

Shouta’s hands move to gently rub the sides of your legs, grounding you in the moment. His touch is comforting, a reminder that even now, when things feel so overwhelming, he’s here for you. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you whisper, your voice breaking as a tear slips down your cheek.

He’s watching you carefully, aware of how hard this is for you, but also knowing this moment is important. You flourish under this dynamic with him—he knows that. It’s his responsibility to guide you, to redirect you when you stumble, and this is one of those moments. A slip. A mistake. One that he’ll correct, and when he does, everything will fall back into place and you'll feel better for it.

Shouta gently wipes the tear from your cheek, his thumb soft against your skin. "I know you’re sorry," he says quietly, “but this is why we have these rules. To help you, not to hurt you. And you know I’m going to make sure you learn from this.”

You nod, knowing deep down he’s right.

“Thank you for being honest with me, sweetheart,” he says softly, patting your cheek lovingly. The warmth in his touch eases some of the tension coiling in your stomach. “I think that’s enough TV for the rest of the week. You can read your books instead.”

Your heart sinks at the thought of being cut off from your usual distractions, but you suppress the urge to stomp your feet and whine. You know he’s not done yet. “And tomorrow after breakfast, I want you to write 50 lines in your notebook, telling me you won’t lie to me again,” he adds, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You nod slowly, knowing this is part of the process. It feels unfair, but deep down, you understand that it’s for your own good.

“Now for tonight,” he continues, his voice low and steady, “I think we will finish this discussion over my lap. Come here.”

With a mix of reluctance and acceptance, you shuffle closer to him, positioning yourself over his lap. It feels both familiar and daunting as you bury your face in your arms, the warmth of his body wrapping around you. The world outside feels distant, and for a moment, all you can focus on is the steady rhythm of your breathing, trying to steady yourself for what’s to come.

“What’s your safeword?” he asks, his hand rubbing your back comfortingly, a grounding presence in this moment.

“Red,” you reply firmly, the single word a declaration of your readiness, a promise of trust.

“Good girl.” His approval wraps around you like a warm blanket, but before you can fully absorb it, his hand comes down hard. Even with the cushion of your pajama pants, the sting is sharp, and a whimper escapes your lips as you bury your face deeper into your arms.

The initial shock of pain sends warmth pooling in your cheeks, and you brace yourself, knowing he’s just getting started. He begins to layer swats on your backside, each strike firm and unyielding. With every hit, you feel a mix of emotions—pain mingled with an odd sense of release. His hands fall without mercy, and in the back of your mind, you know this is only the warmup, the prelude to what’s to come.

Your breath quickens, and you focus on the rhythm of his hand, feeling the sting dissipate into a strange warmth that blankets your apprehension. Each swat brings you closer to a clarity that only he can provide, a reminder of the balance between discipline and care.

“This won’t work if we can’t trust each other,” he says, his voice steady and authoritative, each word punctuated by the rhythm of his hand striking your backside. The hits keep coming, a sharp reminder that you need to pay attention. You don’t bother to respond; you know he wants you to listen right now.

“I need to be able to go to work without worrying that you’re at home crying yourself sick over something that was completely avoidable.” The sting resonates in your skin, but it’s the truth in his words that hits harder. Each swat underscores his concern, reinforcing the message he’s trying to drive home.

“If you’re feeling nervous, text me, or Hizashi, or Nemuri. I can’t always answer right away,” he continues, his tone firm yet laced with care. “But I’d rather you reach out to someone for help when your anxiety is getting the best of you than turn on the news and make things far worse for yourself.”

His emphasis on reaching out wraps around you like a lifeline, and you begin to realize the weight of your actions. It’s not just about following the rules; it’s about building a foundation of trust and communication. You focus on his words, letting them sink in as each strike reinforces the lesson. Whenever he redirects you, his discipline feels less like punishment and more like an act of love, a reminder that you’re never alone in this.

The swats stop for the moment, but you know the routine, and dont bother getting excited. He eases your pants down to sit at your knees, and resumes the flurry of spanks while you cry and drum your toes into the mattress. 

“And under no circumstances is it ever okay for you to lie to me,” he asserts, his voice unyielding, filled with the weight of authority. “Everybody makes mistakes, but if you can’t tell me the truth, then where does that leave us? If I find out you’re lying to me again, I have half a mind to wash your mouth out with soap and give you lines every day for a month. Do I make myself clear?”

The words hang heavy in the air, and you choke out a sob, barely able to respond. “Yes, Daddy, m’sorry!”

“If I can’t trust that you’re making good choices, then there will have to be long-term consequences.” His tone softens slightly, but the seriousness remains. “Do you need me to set up a check-in schedule for you? Is that what it will take for you to behave?”

Your heart sinks, guilt washing over you as you realize he’s already stretched thin, so busy and tired, and here you are, adding to his burden. “No, no, I’ll behave! Please!” You cry, desperation tinging your voice.

“I’m happy to hear that, baby,” he murmurs, his voice softening as he continues his steady rhythm. “But if that’s what you needed, then that’s just fine. We’ll talk about it another time.” His hand gently caresses your back, the warmth of his touch providing a comforting contrast to the stinging of your skin. “I love you, sweetheart. If you need more support from me, then you need to tell me.”

You can feel his gentleness in his words, even if he can’t see the tear-streaked cheeks you hide from him. A fresh wave of emotion crashes over you, and you can’t help but weep, overwhelmed by the mixture of relief and vulnerability. The pain lingers, but it’s softened by the assurance that he’s here, guiding you through the shadows of your anxiety. In this moment, you feel a flicker of hope—his love is a steady anchor, reminding you that you don’t have to navigate this storm alone.

“Love you, Daddy. I’m sorry; I can do it. I can be good,” you cry, your voice thick with remorse.

He lets out a weary sigh, the sound heavy with mixed emotions. “You’re always my good girl, baby. I love you so much. We’re almost done.” With that, he shifts the position of your legs, exposing your sit spots more fully for the next phase of your punishment.

As the final swats begin, you feel the sting intensify, but beneath it all, there’s a strange sense of clarity. His unwavering presence and the weight of his expectations create a safe space for you to confront your fears and anxieties. Each strike serves as a reminder of the lessons you need to learn, urging you to let go of the worry that spirals out of control when he’s not around.

Though the discomfort is real, it pales in comparison to the overwhelming love that underpins this dynamic. You focus on that love, knowing that it’s a guiding light leading you toward a healthier path.

"And you know very well that we’ve discussed this before—about how important it is for you to take care of yourself. You need sleep, especially on work nights, and I’m not going to stand by while you exhaust yourself for no reason." His voice is firmer now, just loud enough to cut through your sobs, but never harsh or angry. "I think tomorrow we’re going to have another talk about your bedtime routine. Clearly, I’ve been too lenient, and that stops now, little girl."

The words sink into you, a mix of dread and relief. Even as he speaks, the discipline continues, each strike a rhythmic reminder of his control and your need to listen. He never yells, never lashes out—just that calm, unyielding tone. It leaves no room for doubt: this is not up for debate. You don’t try to suppress your crying anymore, knowing the apartment is soundproof, and that in his arms, you are safe to let go of everything. The punishment is painful, yes, but the deeper ache comes from knowing you’ve disappointed him—and yourself.

And still, through the tears and the discomfort, you know that he’s right. You need the boundaries he sets, the safety they bring. You feel the weight of his words settle inside you, and even though you don’t want to face the conversation tomorrow, you know it’s for the best.

Your ass burns, the heat lingering even after the punishment has ended. You see now that it’s really for the best that you won’t be going to work tomorrow. His hands rub your back soothingly, the warmth of his touch a balm against the ache. Slowly, he shifts you onto his lap, wrapping you in his strong arms, the fabric of your pants slipping down one ankle as you bury your face into the comforting crook of his neck.

“I know, sweetheart. It’s alright,” he murmurs softly, his voice like a gentle caress against your ears. “You’re okay. You did so good.” Each word is a soothing balm, and you can’t help but melt into his embrace, soaking up the praise like a flower yearning for sunlight. “My good little girl, I love you, baby.”

In that moment, as you cling to him, the world outside fades away. All that matters is the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek and the steady pulse of love radiating from him. You feel safe, cherished, and most importantly, understood. The earlier turmoil dissipates, replaced by a profound sense of peace, as you allow yourself to rest in his arms, knowing he’ll always be there to guide you back to safety.

Eventually, the storm of tears subsides, and a soothing calm washes over you, leaving exhaustion in its wake. You stifle a yawn, snuggling deeper into his arms, teetering on the brink of sleep. He continues to murmur sweet reassurances, his voice a soft lullaby that wraps around you like a warm blanket as he carries you back to your side of the bed.

For a moment, you feel a twinge of abandonment as he steps away, but he’s back almost instantly, a gentle smile playing on his lips as he holds a makeup wipe in hand. The tender gesture brings a flutter of warmth to your chest as he wipes away the remnants of your earlier distress. You fight the urge to surrender to sleep, but his soothing presence makes it increasingly difficult. The room falls into a comfortable silence, filled only with the sound of your soft breaths and his gentle movements.

Once your face is free of makeup, you feel lighter, as if the weight of the evening has been washed away. He leans in, pressing a feather-light kiss on your lips, then your cheek, and finally your forehead, each kiss a reminder of his love and devotion. He crawls into bed beside you, pulling you close into his warm embrace. You instinctively wrap your limbs around him, finding comfort in his strength and warmth.

As you settle into the familiar rhythm of his breathing, you murmur out one last “Love you, Daddy…” The words linger in the air as sleep finally claims you, enveloping you in a dreamless, deep slumber, safe and secure in his arms.

-

guys i hate to say the daddy issues got to me. nobody look at me ok sometimes being an adult is really hard. i cross posted this on ao3 btw

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes Chapter 6

masterpost

“Have you experienced events that could be described as fatal?” Danny read from his notebook. Before Jason could answer he continued, “Do you know the name and species of all your progenitors? Have you ever wondered if you are-” 

Jason held a hand up to ask for silence. He was in the zone on a training module that Barbie had sent to the whole team. He was not going to get any more shit from fucking Tim and Stephanie about being an out of touch old man like Bruce who ran code directly from the 90s.

Danny cut himself off to wait. Without looking up, Jason could see some kind of bouncing movement that had to be Danny fidgeting. “You’re early,” Jason eventually said. He shut the program that he’d been running and then blinked his full attention over to his date. “It’s not- is it 5 already?” He blinked away the gumminess in his eyes and checked the time. 

Danny flushed a little green. His freckles glowed a little whiter in contrast. “No, it’s 4:30,” he admitted sheepishly. “I, uh, left work a little early.” He floated up and then abruptly over into a flip. Like an antsy mermaid. Jason leaned back and watched, fascinated by how easy movement looked on Danny. It was the way he’d used to see Dick, but now he knew how hard Dick’s easy mobility was earned.

“You don’t feel gravity at all, do you?” He confirmed, envious and charmed. 

“Uhh.. Can’t say that I do,” Danny admitted. He shrugged. “Not like this, anyway. I do in my human body, obviously.”

“Is that literally-” Jason cut himself off with a mortified flush. Holy shit. You can’t just ask someone if they have a magical transformation into their own corpse. Insensitive much?

Danny gave him a knowing look but gracefully ignored the question. “Anyway. Do you remember what I asked earlier?” He cocked his head to the side and full body wiggled. “I had Frostbite help me write them out. Undead health isn’t really my area, but he knows everything that’s ever been known, which is pretty cool.”

“Uh…” Jason thought back. “I told you when we were eating that I died once,” he reminded Danny with a raised eyebrow. “So that’s an easy yes.”

Danny shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know how serious you were or if you were describing something extremely short term like needing afib or something longer term-”

“Dead, buried, in the ground for months,” Jason admitted. “Presumably rotted, but I came back to myself with living human physiology, if extremely damaged from what killed me.” It was really gross to think about. It was also impossible to totally avoid. There should have been no coming back from all the blood drying up and shit.

Danny stared at him with an open mouth for a few seconds. Long enough that Jason fidgeted, uncomfortable.

“That’s the most metal shit I’ve ever heard in my life,” Danny said reverentially. “That’s so nasty, man. You rotted? Does this make me more of a necrophiliac than you?”

Jason choked on his own spit.

Danny did another flip.

“My parents were definitely human,” Jason managed, voice strangled. Best to get this back on topic. “I know for sure. I’ve met them both.”

Danny blew a raspberry. “It’s not always obvious,” he pointed out 

“Anything that would show up on Batman’s DNA analysis can be ruled out,” Jason corrected himself. “And neither of them had any non-human capabilities. Died from things that a Tamaraean or Kryptonian would be able to get out of.” 

“...Oddly specific species mentions,” Danny said. A line formed between his brows. His toes touched down to earth and he crossed his arms. “You… I wasn’t thinking of that type of non-human.” He cleared his throat. “It’s just that, you touched Wolf.”

“And a Kryptonisn wouldn’t be able to?” Jason asked a bit dryly. He didn’t understand the logic.

“Not unless they were really juicy with death,” Danny said in a weirdly mellow tone for such a disgusting sentence.

Jason gagged a little. He couldn’t help it. Oh, christ. Yeah, bodies got wet and shit after a while, but characterizing that as juicy? That was out of line.

“Not like- not like that!” Danny fluttered his hands at Jason, torn between horror and cackling. “I don’t mean like, dead and rotting. I mean dead and reanimated with ectoplasm. Souped with the sweet nectar of the afterlife. Wolf is a ghost, man.” He snickered.

“Wolf is a ghost,” Jason repeated.

Danny frowned. “Wolf,” he said. “Not Wolf.”

“What?” They sounded the same.

“You’re saying it wrong,” Danny said, saying the name the exact same way that Jason had been. “It’s Wolf, not Wolf.”

Jason stared at him warily. “...Spell it for me.”

“W-U-L-F,”  Danny rattled.

Ah. Ok. Jason took that onboard. “Wulf is a ghost,” he said again. “And therefore I ought not be able to touch him. I can touch you.”

“Like this? For sure.” Danny went through his flashbang light-show and shook out his newly black hair. “I’m a physical being. In my ghost form, I can consciously let you touch me. But Wulf was actively in the Ghost Zone when you hit him. You put your hand into the Ghost Zone and smacked him. The living have ghostly properties in the Ghost Zone. He’s tangible there but you should have been intangible.”

“...Maybe I’m a ghost?” Jason posited, cocking his head slightly as he said it. Danny was the expert. “I never found any answer for why I just woke up in my grave one day.”

“You just woke up?” Danny repeated, delighted. He put his hands on his face, breathed into them heavily, and then ran both hands through his hair. “That’s sick. That’s fucking sick, man. Did you have to dig yourself out like a zombie?”

…Did Danny think this was like, hot, and not disturbing? “Tore off my fingernails on the coffin splinters,” Jason confirmed, fascinated with what a little freak this guy was. Danny’s pupil dilated at the words. Jason could almost have been offended because that shit was traumatic, but hey. 

If he really thought about it. It was sick as fuck.

“I think yes, by the way,” Jason decided. He waited for Danny to give him a questioning look  before he elaborated. “You’re a monsterfucker, my guy. I’m attracted to you, but not because you’re dead. Whereas you’re clearly into the fact that I’m a dead guy.” 

Danny opened his mouth. He shut it. He put a hand over his mouth. “Huh,” he said. “Huh.” His brow furrowed. “If I said it was scientific curiosity and that passion for death runs in my family- no, I hear it.” He flapped a hand at Jason to cut off the laugh he couldn’t stop. “Hush. Okay. Fine.” He stood up a little straighter. “I’m a necrophiliac and I’m proud.”

A window banged shut in the kitchen and there was a clatter as someone’s shitty little brother fell into the sink.

“...Hi, Duke!” Danny called.

Jason put his hand over his face.

“Hi, Danny!” Duke called back, voice choked. “Good to hear from you, man.”

“You can’t fucking be here!” Jason said between his fingers. “I have plans, you shitty Zebra mussel.”

Danny looked at him.

“...What?” Duke asked. He came into the room to frown at Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes. “New Zealand mud snail.” They still didn’t get it. “Spotted lantern fly.” 

Blank stares.

“Fucksake,” said Jason. “I’m calling you an invasive species.”

Danny laughed. Duke made a loud pffft sound and unlocked his phone. He held it up and showed them the screen. “Would the New Zealand zebra lantern fly have this?” He triumphantly brandished his phone screen, which was a screenshot of his chat with Jason where he’d confirmed that he had permission to come over.

“New Zealand zebra lantern fly,” Jason repeated, vexed as fuck. “You know damn well-”

“It checks out, boss,” Danny reported, leaning back from Duke’s phone. “Looks like he’s allowed in. Let ‘im use your TV while we go out.”

“Yeah, let me use your TV while you go on a date,” Duke echoed, clearly enjoying this a lot.

“...I’ll get my coat,” Jason said sullenly. “Don’t get too comfortable.”

“We’ll bring you back dinner,” Danny told Duke.

Jason stalked away into his bedroom, wondering when he’d lost the plot to his own life.

[unclewaynemunson]

Something nameless is growing between Steve and Eddie. Steve wonders how long it'll take until this thing has a name, but for now, it's enough that it's just something. Something good. Something just for them. A secret of the most delicious kind.

He doesn't necessarily want to lie to Dustin, of course, but he doesn't really know what else to do. Not as long as this thing between him and Eddie is still nameless and Dustin is basically cornering him in the Hawkins High parking lot, way too enthusiastic about the fact that he's there to pick up Nancy.

'No, it's not a date, you little shrimp,' he repeats for what feels like the millionth time. And that statement couldn't be more true: he and Nancy are long past their weird post-breakup-end-of-the-world confusion. It's been good to reconnect with her and he's glad that they can truly be good friends, now.

Dustin shoots him an unimpressed glare and Steve groans in frustration when the boy opens his mouth to retort.

'I'm actually seeing someone else,' he says before Dustin can speak again. If he has to hear him say one more time that he should date either Nancy or Robin, he might actually punch him in the face. And he doesn't want to do that. Not really.

Dustin gasps.

'Why didn't you tell me?!'

'Because you're being annoying as shit about my love life,' Steve shoots back.

Dustin already opens his mouth for some smartass reply, but they get interrupted by a high-pitched scream. Steve whips his head only to find Eddie dramatically running towards them, limbs flailing and a huge grin on his face.

'Stevie!' he shouts out while crashing into Steve like a cannonball. Steve huffs, but is all too happy to catch him in his arms. He knows he shouldn't let his touch linger too long, not with Dustin right there, but it's really fucking difficult to pull back within an appropriate timeframe.

'What are you doing here?' Eddie looks hopeful, like he's suspecting that Steve came to the school for him.

'I'm meeting Nancy,' he admits, feeling almost guilty about it.

'He was just telling me about this girl he's seeing!' Dustin exclaims. 'Can you believe he didn't tell me? Did you know about this, Eddie?'

Eddie's smile falls off his face within a split second, and he takes a stumbling step backwards.

'You're seeing a girl?' His voice has gone cold. Betrayal shines from his big brown eyes.

'Eddie,' Steve starts, but he doesn't know what else to say – not with Dustin standing right there and hearing every word of their conversation.

'Go fuck yourself, Harrington.' He spits the words out and turns around, leaving Steve frozen and Dustin open-mouthed.

'Eddie, wait!' Steve calls out behind him, but Eddie only throws his arm up to flip him off, without looking back.

'Shit, fuck, damnit,' Steve mumbles under his breath as he runs after Eddie.

'Eddie, listen.' He grabs his leather-clad arm, but Eddie breaks himself free from Steve's grip with force. He finally looks at Steve again, tears in his eyes.

'I don't wanna hear it,' he says with a trembling voice as he reaches his van and climbs inside.

'But Dustin was–'

'Dustin was pretty damn clear.'

'No, it's all a –'

But Eddie slams the door shut while the word misunderstanding dies on Steve's tongue unheard. Steve watches helplessly how Eddie roughly wipes a hand over his face, puts his keys in the ignition as if he's stabbing someone, and drives off.

'Steve, what the fuck,' Dustin's voice says; when Steve looks to his right, he sees that Dustin has appeared next to him. 'He thought you were his friend! Why didn't you tell him about your girl?' It sounds accusatory, and Steve can't fucking deal with this right now.

'Why didn't you shut your goddamned big mouth for once in your life?' he snaps at him.

Dustin's eyes go wide with the surprise of Steve talking to him with that much venom in his voice; it's clear that he finally realizes he did something wrong.

'Steve, I – I didn't mean to – I didn't know he'd get mad!'

Steve sighs, long and heavy.

'Go home, Henderson,' he says stiffly.

He wishes that the genuinely apologetic look on Dustin's face would be enough to make it all good, but it isn't. Not as long as he still has the look in Eddie's eyes when he drove away burnt on his retina.

'I'm sorry, Steve.' And with slumped shoulders, Dustin turns around and trudges towards the bike racks.

Update: you can read pt2 here

[writersblockiskillingme]

Hi, I didn’t see a what not to request thing so ignore this if your not comfortable writing death - but can I request Coriolanus Snow x reader who is a tribute in the games but dies and there’s nothing he can do about it. Just pure angst.

The Fall Of Snow

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: She was just supposed to be a pawn in his games, a way to get the Plinth Prize. He wasn't supposed to care. She was just a tribute, after all.

Warning/s: angst, death, kind-of-psycho Snow, Snow in love, crying, probably some spelling and/or grammar mistakes

Author's note: So Snow's actions and behavior may be a little out of his character here, but that is because I made him helplessly in love with reader. I hope this is okay. Enjoy!

The red chair where he sat now seemed to uncomfortable to sit in.

Coriolanus' already strong grip on the armrests of the chair somehow just seemed to tighten, he felt certain that he will probably brake the wood out of which the chair is made of. He felt cold sweat dripping down his forehead as he felt the uncomfortable feeling of shivers going down his spine.

His breathing became raspy, his academy's red uniform somehow became tighter around his neck. He felt like he was grasping the last strings of air in the room crowded with the other mentors, he felt like he was breathing just for the hell of it.

His chest started to squeeze so much it started to hurt him.

He couldn't get the air to tear through to his lungs, and for the first time in a long time Coriolanus' vision became blurry with tears.

He knew that she would be dead either way. She was from District 12 for God's sake! She was the weakest target. Her lack of throat-slicing, bloodthirsty, violent nature was going to be her downfall the moment she stepped into that arena.

She was quite small, weak even, but not like that was surprising to him. She came from the loser District. She was somehow a person who wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone kill someone. Even if it was a stranger.

He knew all of this, therefore he didn't have any reason to be surprised.

Yet it felt like he was going to choke on the uncomfortable, unbearable even, feeling of something in his throat as he felt cameras moving onto his face to capture the moment where a tribute lost a mentor. Or rather mentor losing their tribute. But this wasn't like the times before, with the other mentors, with his classmates, that left the room before him.

He knew that this is different. He felt it.

Coriolanus Snow was aware that he was supposed to have the control of his emotions like many times before.

Right now, what he was supposed to do is what was expected of him to do. Look into the camera and wave it off. Play it off as if he was just happy to be here. To play a modest, charming, bright and above all young Capitol citizen and to lean over toward Lucky Flickerman's microphone, that was already showed into his face, and to answer the questions with a charming smile pressed onto his face.

Yet he couldn't even look away from the screen on the wa in the middle of the room, let alone answer Lucky Flickerman's questions like many before him.

He watched her dead body on the floor in the middle of the arena with a shaky breath that left his lips without his permission.

Lucky Flickerman's questions rang next to his ear.

It seems like he was repeatedly asking him something yet Coriolanus somehow never heard him. Every noise in the room came into his ears as a form of beeping.

His vision blurry even tho he tried to stop it.

The only noise that seemed to constantly increase its volume is his ragged breathing.

Coriolanus watched as another tribute grabbed her body by the ankles as he started to drag her over to the pile of bodies that belonged to other deceased tributes.

Coriolanus watched her laid out hand dragging itself after her, her hair everywhere as one single tear slid down her eyes that were still open.

Haunting him.

Why didn't he do more? What didn't he save her? Why didn't she win? She should have won...

She should have won.

Coriolanus Snow didn't know how it happened and why was it happening.

He suddenly stood up, his hand gripping something in the pocket of his uniform, and without even spearing one glance towards Lucky Flickerman, Clemensia who tried to grab his shoulder before he did something stupid.

He didn't spare a glance at anyone for that matter as his legs carried him away from his chair, away from the room, away from the look of her dead body.

He walked out of the room as fast as he could, trying not to look at any cameras.

He pulled the handkerchief that she used before she was violently thrown into the games to fight for her own life.

It was still wet from her tears.

He felt his own tear dropping onto the handkerchief, mixing with her tears. The tears of his now forever lost tribute.

Coriolanus Snow promised something to himself that day.

When he gets married one day, he will do it out of profit, out of perhaps mutual interest, not out of love.

Never out of love.

Love he had for his tribute brought him here. It brought him this tight feeling in his chest that, no matter what happens or what he does, he can't get rid of.

As he wiped one lost tear with her (his) handkerchief, he promised himself to never loose control ever again.

Yet he knew one thing. Those eyes, hair and smile would haunt him forever, as long as he was alive, but he will gladly remember it. The last thing, along with the handkerchief, he had left of her. His love, his tribute, that died in the arena.

->

->

->

TAGLIST:

@hellonheels-x @especiallythewomenandthechildren @prettyinsatiable @caroline-books @runningfrom2am @10ava01 @thecrowdedstreetin1944

[ashwhowrites]

Hiiii I’m the anon that sent this: Reader gets broken up with by a guy that she actually really liked but in reality this guy was a douchy football player that was rude to her friends (but she didn’t know about that.)

It was meant to be a request if you’d wanna write it!

And id say that Eddie does have a crush on reader.

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

The friend

Y/N waited years and years to fall in love. She grew up watching princesses find their prince, and she wanted to feel that. She wanted to feel loved by someone who chose to, someone who looked at her and would do anything to be with her. Even if he had to fight everyone to do it. She wanted to see what it felt like to be cared about.

To her, Greg did just that. She was smitten with the jockey football player the second he sent her a dazzling smile during a game. It was like his eyes found hers in the crowd, it was fate.

It didn't take long for him to ask her out and for her to say yes immediately. She was swept off her feet and never landed. He was sweet and romantic. He showered her in love and compliments. She thought he was perfect all around.

Eddie and her friends had other thoughts. Greg was two-faced but Y/N wasn't aware of that. Chrissy hated Greg, and she hated cheering for someone like him. He was selfish, cocky, and an ass. It took a lot for Chrissy to dislike someone, and she hated Greg, that meant something.

Eddie had two reasons to hate Greg. One reason was that Greg never had nice things to say to or about Eddie. Greg believed he was trailer dirt and a freak, just like everyone else. But Y/N didn't know that. The second reason was that Eddie was helplessly in love with Y/N.

Did he have the chance to go for it? Definitely but he was terrified. It was scary enough to tell a girl he liked her, but to tell his best friend? He wasn't sure he could handle the rejection.

Eddie and Chrissy grew closer over their dislike for Greg. Chrissy knew Eddie was in love with their best friend before Eddie realized it. Chrissy never understood how Y/N didn't catch on. Eddie was in no way good at hiding it. He stuttered over sentences, clumsier than ever, smiled the second she looked at him, and he'd do anything she asked.

Once Eddie saw her with Greg, he believed that was his sign that they would never be anything more. Eddie and Greg were two completely different people.

When the news broke out that Y/N and Greg broke up after almost a year together, many people had things to say. But no one would say it to her. Eddie felt relieved that his year of suffering was over. But he knew it was a matter of time before some new guy came along. He wasn't sure he could let that happen.

~~~

"I don't understand why he broke up with me," Y/N sobbed. Her head was in Eddie's chest as she soaked his band tee in her tears.

Eddie softly held her in his arms. His chin was on her head as his fingers ran through her hair.

"I don't either, babes." And he was honest. He couldn't imagine ever breaking up with her. She was easily the best person anyone could be with.

"Do you think it's because I'm not pretty enough?" She sniffled, her head facing him as she pulled back away, letting him search her face for the flaws she believed she had.

Eddie smiled and cleaned off her tears with his thumbs. Her red puffy eyes, wet cheeks, and trembling bottom lip. He couldn't lie to her.

"No. I think even right now you are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

Eddie was dead serious. A sense of truth in his eyes as he barely blinked. His voice was deep and low, with no sounds of jokes.

The intensity in his face made her nervous and shy. She dug her head back into his warm chest as she held him tighter.

"He's the idiot who let you go."

~~~

Eddie was patient as his best friend recovered from the breakup. Chrissy and Eddie high-fived behind her back, sharing smiles and looks.

"I heard you and Greg broke up! Congratulations that guy was a di-" Dustin's voice was cut off, replaced with a groan.

Y/N turned around confused, Eddie standing next to Dustin with a smile. Dustin held his arm with a whimper.

"Congratulations? What does that mean?" Y/N pushed further.

Eddie and Chrissy looked at each other, trying to think of a fast lie.

"I know someone who likes you! It's a congrats to him!" Dustin said with a smile as he covered his lie. He looked to Eddie for approval and his smile dropped at the look on his face.

"Who?" Y/N perked up. For once, after a long week of crying, she smiled.

"That's not his place to tell. Why don't we go to lunch?" Eddie said, grabbing Dustin's arm and dragging him down the hall.

"That was weird," Y/N said as she turned to Chrissy.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Y/N asked. Chrissy stood with a huge cheesy grin.

Chrissy snapped out of her daydream of Eddie and Y/N finally together. Quick with a lie.

"It's good to see you smile again, now let's go eat."

~~~

Another week passed. Two weeks since her heart was shattered but she could feel herself healing. She had to thank Eddie for all of it. He was always there, holding her as she cried and talking her through everything.

Her mind was still thinking about who Dustin was talking about. The idea of a guy liking her made her feel less insecure. Maybe Greg was the problem and not her. She drew blanks as she tried to think who it was.

She hoped it was Eddie, but that felt like throwing wishes in an empty fountain. She was nowhere Eddie's type. She wasn't edgy enough or listened to the same music he did. She barely understood Hellfire and his ideas. He wasn't much of her type either, but there was something about him that she would never find anywhere else. He was one of a kind and she figured that's why she fell for him so hard.

Eddie never made moves, so she figured he didn't like her. That's why she had no problem going out with Greg. She thought maybe if Eddie showed jealousy, she'd have her answer. But he was just the same, nothing changed.

She was staring at the wall as Eddie woke up from his sleep. His tired eyes took her in. He had his arms around her already, he pressed his chest against her back tighter. She felt her body get warm as his arms squeezed her against him and his face snuggled into her neck. The soft breaths of his nose hitting her skin, his warm body against hers. Do all best friends cuddle in the same bed?

"How long have you been awake?" His deep and tired voice made her bite her lip. She wiggled in his arms, he loosened them as she turned around to face him. She kept herself in his arms, snuggling closer until she was nose to nose-with him.

"I never fell asleep," she whispered

The moon shined into the room, reminding her she had been trying to sleep for hours.

"How come?" He asked, his palm flat against her back as he softly rubbed the bare skin as her tank top slid up. She shivered as his hands touched her skin.

"A lot on my mind," she said truthfully. She admired his eyes. No matter how many times she looked into them, the brown continued to take her breath away. She took in the rest of his face. The bridge of his nose, the red lips she craved to taste. The slight hair growing above his lip, she knew he'd shave in the morning, but she loved being the only one who got to see it. His frizzy hair spread out on her pillows.

"Greg?" Eddie asked, admiring her face the same way she was with his.

"No," Y/N said, "about who that guy is Dustin brought up." She nervously bit her lip as she watched Eddie's reaction.

"Oh, how come?" Eddie asked, he hid his nervousness with a yawn

"Do you know who it is?"

"Uh no," Eddie said his eyes looking elsewhere

"Then why are you looking away?" Y/N smiled, she poked his cheek

He nervously laughed

"I don't know who he is," Eddie said, looking into her eyes as he finished the sentence.

"Such a bad liar! tell me," she squealed excitedly. He groaned as she left his arms. Sitting up, she looked down at him.

"Why do you want to know so bad? Are you ready to move on?" Eddie asked, maybe this was an opening.

"I don't know. Feels nice to know someone else likes me. And depending on who it is, I think I'm ready to give it a shot." She shrugged

"I can't say who it is, but I'll give you some hints." Y/N smiled as Eddie sat up.

"He has dark hair and dark eyes, he admires your beauty. He likes how smart and creative you are. He loves it when you laugh, it makes his heart race. He smiles whenever he thinks of you. And he's been dealing with these feelings for years." Eddie said, too lost in his confession that he was scared he gave too much away.

"So you are close friends with him?" Y/N asked, she turned her head in confusion. She would not believe that any of Eddie's friends had a crush on her.

"I think I said too much," Eddie chuckled nervously and laid back down. His head hit the pillow and he closed his eyes. "Let's go back to sleep."

Y/N thought in silence for a few seconds. She thought long and hard about what he said. The guy he described matched his appearance. Eddie always complimented her looks and laughed at all her jokes. He seemed nervous to talk about the guy, scared he said too much, which meant he was worried she would find it out. He dragged Dustin away when he brought it up, which told her he was worried Dustin would spill the beans.

"Y/N?" Eddie asked, cracking open one eye

It was Eddie

Eddie had a crush on her!

"Y/N" Eddie said again, both eyes open as he went to sit up

But Y/N pushed his body right back down as her lips smashed on his. Eddie's eyes widened in shock as her lips moved against his. Her hands were on his shoulders as she leaned down.

After his shock, he kissed her back. His hands reached up and held her hips. Their kiss grew deeper as Y/N straddled his lap. He sat up, lips still attached to hers. He moved on hand up to her head and pushed her head further into the kiss.

Y/N felt every part of her body light up with electricity. Her hands moved into his hair. Something she spent years wanting to do. His lips tasted better than she imagined. He was soft but controlling. It made her head spin.

Eddie pulled away, his eyes heavy in lust.

"That was...wow." Eddie breathed out, he blinked a thousand times. Believing if he blinked hard enough, this moment would vanish. But to his luck and prayers, she was still on his lap.

"You are the friend," she said, breathy as she still waited for air to return to her lungs

"Uh yeah," Eddie nodded

"Thank god," she smiled before her lips smashed into his again.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlx @ineedmentalhelp123

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Innocent Possession

—

Time Written - 11:52 p.m.

Arkham Knight/fem!reader smut

Tags: Smut, possessive, breeding/innocence kink. Jason might be a meanie. (Not Proofread. Have to work on a Saturday AND I BROKE MY NAIL 🫠)

This man is such a slut it’s not even funny anymore. LOOK AT THAT.👇 THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THAT 👆

—

His lush, heavy breathing fans along your exposed, maroon muddled neck. Sharp teeth dimpling your skin in harsh punctures, not enough to draw blood quite yet.

Hands that once cradled your neck like porcelain art in the distance of the past, now grasped your throat like a damn vice, pairing with his grip on your shoulder to force you back against him with each deep, aching thrust.

One of the major accomplishments of his new identity, his new life, was to find the innocence of his past. The highlight of his life for many years was brought to him, bound and gagged as Gotham was in the midst of evacuation. Your clothes were torn and rustled from aggressive attempts to subdue you, enough to leave bruises along your supple, upper arms as you thrashed and screamed.

Now those bastards of men lay dead outside the hall. Scattered corpses slumped along the floors, dreadfully bland decor that meant nothing to the Knight that holstered his gun after his short pursuit.

Your first greeting from the armored man was terrifyingly quiet, towering over you like a beast after approaching where you cowered.

His hands grasp hold of his helmet before you could beg for your life, only trying to make it towards the Evac buses before you were hauled off by those bastards. All words died on your tongue when steel cut blue eyes meet yours, brows faintly furrowed, his jaw taunt with incredibly strong tension.

You’re his ex, but not by choice. None of this was by choice. He vanished for a year, only to be presumed dead the next.

You never hated him enough to put that label on him. Any attempt to begin your list of a million questions abruptly halts before it even began, as his lips instantly assault yours.

“That’s a good girl. My fucked out little whore.” He grunts, squeezing your hips closer to his pelvis, bullying his fat cock deeper into your tight walls.

The ropes that kept you bound now uselessly dangled from your wrists like cheap bracelets, the skin of your knuckles lightening as you helplessly plant them along the wall. Skin grew sticky with milky cum in between both your bodies, loud and wet, seeping down in between your bare thighs.

Watching and feeling your juices dampen the front of his red tactical pants was a punishment in itself, one he was feeling kind enough to save for later.

Maybe fucking your mouth would make for good punishment, listening to you choke as he grinds against your face, a pool of your combined mess seeping along your dirty knees on the ground.

“You better hope I never learn if any other guy fucked what’s mine, Princess,” He huffs against your kiss bruised lips, barely taking breaks to let you breathe. “Woulda’ rather had you cryin’ on fuckin’ toys than another man.”

Your whimper sounded like a cry, making Jason believe he could do so here right now, in this dingy room, underneath a dusty headlight. He hovers more over your back, tilting your head just enough to crash his lips against yours.

Feverishly responding to such a heavy, messy kiss, you moan fully against his rough, scar lined lips, amplifying when his tongue promptly invades. He licks with feverish hunger as a hand slips under your waist, huffing at your jolt at the sudden, angry assault on your nub, forcing your walls to deliciously clench towards a third orgasm.

The sounds he could pull from his sweet girl never ceases to amaze him. Even before his death, you were nothing but kind, the epitome of polite and heartwarming sweetness. What the hell were you thinking, choosing to date a guy like him?

Doesn’t matter if he died. No man is ever gonna take what’s been his for a very, very long time.

You won’t have to tell him now, but he’ll know. He has the capability to learn all your deepest secrets, knowing he could drag them out of you so easily.

“You miss me, pretty girl?” His hot rasp rumbles richly along the shell of your ear, sparking an uproar of your over sensitive nerves.

“You miss cryin’ on my dick, Princess? Missed how good it made you feel, how perfect you’d behave just to get bred? Tell me,” he grunts after relinquishing from the kiss. “Tell me you did. Say it loud, tell me you missed me.”

“I did-“ You spew out from quivering lips, ripples of tears trailing down your cheeks.

“I did, Jay. M-Missed you so much—“

Your voice draws out an empty whine towards your last word, hearing the collision of hot skin get louder as he gets harsher, brutal, eagerly desperate to make up for all the time he’s lost.

His sweet, innocent girl resorted to a jittery, babbling fleshlight. You could say anything he wanted, his guarded ego crumbling from the truth laced in your words.

You missed him, grieved for him, loved him. Yet, all he saw you as right now is his babbling whore, his whining little baby who never got used to the size of him driving deep into your cunt.

Honestly, he hopes you never will.

Your front further gets pressed flat against the wall, hot skin shivering from the harshness of the cold surface. Thick, precisely detailed armor digs deep into your back when he leans over you, keeping his persistent grip along your jaw, keeping you suspended just enough to breathe when he fucks you.

“S’been hell without ya, sweetheart,” He lowers his tone, whispering with a kiss of taunt as he rocks himself against your plush ass, keeping you cock drunk per his amusement.

“My baby wanna prove how much she missed me?” He cooes along your ear, smirking sadistically to your complete unawareness. “My baby wanna have a baby? She wanna have her pussy filled to prove she always loved me?”

You whine out ‘yes’ over and over, your back arching heavily from his relentless pace. The more space you involuntarily create, the closer Jason leans into you, the harder the plating digs into your back. The harsher the head of his cock endlessly strikes your cervix, making you just about lose it.

A series of curses spewed from your lips, resulting in three thick fingers shoved into your mouth, tasting yourself prior when he assaulted your soaked core.

“Language, babygirl,” Jason sneers against your cheek, despising the foul words that left those pretty lips. “Don’t badmouth me like a cheap whore. You’re my good girl. Fucking act like it.”

His other hand promptly pressed against your abdomen, forcing your lower half closer towards his waist. With his overwhelming free reign on your body, Jason bullies your sore, abused pussy with a series of sharp slaps, your clit stinging from repeated impacts.

You jolt out, sobbing out a series of apologies laced in short begs in the midst of various squeals.

In another life, he was your gentle giant. Now, he was a monster lusting after much more than blood. Jason was a simple man; wanting nothing more than the death of his mentor, and his ex’s warm cunt until he’s fully satisfied.

You whine out something that sounded like a mix between a cry and a moan. He clicks his tongue, tilting your head back just a little more while halting his hand, catching sight of those teary, bubbly eyes and quivering lip.

“Speak up, baby.”

“I-I’m sorry!” You hiccup, your nails scraping along the wall from overstimulation.

“I’m sorry Ja-Jason, please—“

You stumble over words. A pure miracle over how flustered you were to say your desire after being his sex doll.

“Please what?” He demands, losing what patience he never had.

“A baby,” you whine out, purposely leaning into his palm, fluttering your teary lashes. “Give me your baby, Jason. I want it. Please.”

His brows raise in surprise, slowly rocking his hips whilst holding back a grunt. Yes, he said it, desiring it, but hearing you beg for this. To ruin your beautiful body with his tainted seed.

“M’Not gonna stop, y’know. Even when it takes.” His voice dribbled with lustful possession while his hips stutter back into an uproar, nibbling along your lobe with sharp teeth. “That what you want? You ready for that?”

You moan out an easy agreement with more eagerness than before, allowing your body to relax against his chest.

“Y’hear me, Princess?” Jason braced a hand along the wall, clutching hold of your hand in his grasp, keeping your fingers safe in his fist. “I’m gonna make you a mama by the end of tonight.”

The Bats can wait, for now. Once he’s dead, once he’s been dealt with, then he’ll have much more opportunity to celebrate.