#but i just… he has so far to go and it feels like while wander could be the catalyst for change within hater. he couldn’t feasibly Fix him

[queenendless]

JEALOUS

A/n: Yall. S2, EP 12 ... BIG TIME love and thanks to everyone involved in making that episode truly a SPECTACULAR~!

This however was inspired by ep 9 and 10 but of course this is its own thing.

Jealous!Jinwoo x Fem!Adult!Reader (ft Baek and Choi)

CW: Jealous Jinwoo and kinda reader too, reader got self doubt issues, petnames, angst, hurt/comfort, brief isekai and self awarness mentioned, LADS cameo, plus steamy stuff implied at the end.

NO REPOSTS, TRANSLATIONS, PLAGIARISM, AGELESS BLOGS AND AI USE WITH MY FAN WORKS ALLOWED. Reblogs likes and follows to support my fan works are allowed pls n thnx.

Eyeing gorgeous illustrations or animated shows filled to the brim with breathtaking characters you could only dream of meeting let alone befriending your whole life was the closest you had gotten to it.

Starting anew in Korea gave way to you seeing sights that you never believed you'd ever get to view in person.

Especially in the world of hunters, D&D becoming the new norm of your day to day.

But you were hit on all for kicks to the jokesters, regardless of your hurt emotions from the mockery and cat calls.

Too bad for them, though.

They were nearly extinguished from existence from the one that did take your feelings seriously into account from the moment your eyes connect.

That being your beloved Jinwoo.

In public, he's calm, cool and collected when out with you. But any and every single unfortunate individual that dares attempt to seduce you, never ends well for them. Only your overprotective jealous Monarch has the privilege of doing so.

Today was no exception.

Mr. Go Gunhee, the head of the Hunters Association, wished to meet Jinwoo on some business at the Hunters Gym. Only to be offered to participate in an S-rank training session.

The aura farmer that is your Jinwoo.

The very same one whose agile movements, swift like speed, and high level instincts aided in his perception of the situation. You rarely get to see Jinwoo in training let alone sparring as is.

Seated on the sidelines as you watched the free for all of him against several S-ranks to test how far he has come. That is, with you in the Hunters gym, he knew going all out could potentially put you at risk.

You were both surprised you could stay, barely being swept up in S-tier brawls as is.

But you weren't worried. Rather, you were narrowed in on Jinwoo's thick heavyweight black sweatshirt riding up as he swerved through Lim Tae-Gyu's rain shower of arrows, revealing those sculpted muscles along his abdomen. Those light gray spray painted cargo pants hugged his long legs in all the best ways as he clashed kicks with Cha Hae-In, especially for his well crafted ass clenching in response. His ebony wavy locks twinkled with sheen as he worked up a sweat flying through the air while running along the giant sized Ma Dongwook swinging his arms about.

Those eyes of Jinwoo's blazed from the combat high as he stole glances at you now and then, widening at how raptured you were at his prowess; despite holding back for your safety, gave him such a prideful boost as his lips curled smugly before easily knocking Ma back from landing right on his forehead.

“Are you alright?” That deep baritone voice drew you out of your wandering mind of dreams suffocating your faint hearted self. The sweaty bare chested man that is Baek Yoonhoo walking up to you from the main hallway. Your face burned at how impressive the guild master of the White Tiger guild looked up close. His own sheen made his muscles really pop out.

“Yeah. Just lost in thought.” Tremors leaked in your pronunciation for your heart raced at sensing piercing eyes aimed right at you and they weren't Baek's.

With the fluffy towel wrapped around his thick veiny neck, he started wiping away the sweat trailing along his sharp face when his curious sharp toothed smile of his gave your insides somersaults. “Quite a heated match here. Hunter Sung is putting on quite the show for you.”

“Oh I wouldn't put it like that …” The unsure awkward drawl you left off on got him raising a brow at your self conscious behavior. Glowing eyes narrowed in suspicion, within your Shadow and from afar. “I would have liked to see you take part though.”

Baek sheepishly chuckled, hints of red dusting his chiseled cheeks. “While I appreciate it, I admit my very best isn't enough to reach his level though —”

Perception works both ways.

Chewing the inside of his cheek as he got nearly socked in the face was Jinwoo's best way of keeping his growls subdued, hearing exchanged word for word through your linked shadows.

“The Beast being humble, how quaint.” The teasing lilt in the new voice joining in nabbed you threes’ attention. “So, you're the lucky lady that has our newest S-rank wrapped around their finger.”

The sly charming smile of the guild master of the Hunters Guild, Choi Jong-in, got you kind of weary.

“I'm surprised Hunter Sung is willing to participate in this little match. Then again, Hunter Chae has spoken nothing but praise of him as of late. She's quite taken by him.”

The rush of clashing against his opponent suddenly became second in Jinwoo's spirit, the shock of Choi's seed of doubt placed in your mind sends the strands of envy intertwining with rage.

Baek bit out, jabbing his irksome rival in the ribs with that hefty elbow of his, those crimson eyes heatedly glaring in reply. “Way to show tact, jackass. Pay his words no mind, Ms. L/n.”

The crumpled frown you couldn't suppress despite Baek's advice grew, spotting the pair now engaging in close combat. Even from far away you could imagine that same longing mystique in her gaze that'd be on par with yours. All for Jinwoo. And only him.

But with his back facing you, you couldn't quite see his beautiful, familiar face. Nor his glowing eyes matching the mana visually seeping out of his twitching fingertips; his tolerance running thin.

“Forgive me for my insensitivity. Anyone foolish enough to let such a rare gem slip from their grasp is the true fool. That said,” Choi's amicable smile still made such mixed feelings stir in your nerve wracked cage, even as he took your hand graciously. "It's truly a pleasure to meet you, my dear.”

Baek clicked his tongue. “Putting the moves on her won't win you any favors.”

Choi's calm demeanor cracked. “Says the married man that approached her first.”

The taller of the two butted heads with the smaller one, literally. “I'm not the one actively hitting on a taken woman, genius!”

“Gentlemen, there's no need to fight!” Being the center of attention in the midst of a developing brawl got your nerves wracked.

Perception works both ways, indeed.

The baring fangs and the flames sparking at the fingertips get blown away by the thick smog of imposing aura that curtains you from behind in an instant. His musky sweaty scent reeled you back, those firm hands squeezing your hip bones quite needily. Everyone's shadows rippled from the King making his presence known.

“I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't fill my angel's head with such delusions anymore, Hunter Choi.” Jinwoo’s minatory words irked the latter just as it terrified them both. Especially when your love's voice warped to match that of an inhuman entity. “Implying I'd leave her for another is unforgivable.”

Spotting Hae-In from out of the corner of your eye, her downtrodden eyes full of ache at her lovelorn self made you toil in pity yet taking twisted pleasure in it.

Auras stoked like bonfires at this confrontation, the experienced hunters glowing eyes widened in alarm from the endless well Jinwoo's own mana emanated.

“You can have your little quarrel elsewhere … unless you rather join me in a spar of our own to settle this dispute.” The eerie smirk on Jinwoo's face startled both men, garnering the other hunters concern of the potential clash, knowing their newest addition could level the entire area and more if pushed too far —

“Jin.” Your voice calling out his name calmed the raging storm inside, him softening at those lovestruck eyes of yours. “It's okay.” He felt your form slowly calming down, growing more slackened against his warm self.

His snugly arms coiled around your frame, humming deeply, before firmly pecking your forehead. “Sorry for keeping you waiting, sweetheart~” That honey dripping tone he purred in your ear had you trembling, a stark contrast from his earlier behavior. “I hope you enjoyed my performance though~” His fingers pinched the plush area above your hips, drawing jumpy squeals out of you, his genuine grin popping out in response to your precious light. “Shall we get going, then?” Your nod of approval gets him squeezing you tighter. “Sorry gentlemen. Next time, then. Shadow Exchange.” The shades of night enveloped you as you were still in his grasp, taking you with him. A shadow soldier took its lieges’ place before vanishing itself in black wisps.

Back in the comfort of your shared place, Jinwoo gave you another forehead kiss before excusing himself to go shower.

Your muscles flared as chronic body pains were your crutch. Laying on your tummy on your shared bed, you spent a good while on your phone, chasing your earlier strifes away by playing the newest 3D otome game straight outta China that had you joining the many other starved ladies out there.

Whether the time traveler, the doctor, the merman, the dragon, or the colonel, you were having a hell of a time.

Lost in the addiction of mobile gameplay, you fail to detect the halt of the shower head running nor the adjoining bathroom door opening up with his silhouette in the frame, drying his wet hair, spotting you smiling at your digital boy toy.

The predatory growl from above that came with a heavy body carefully pinning you beneath his bare torso got your attention finally. Long lithe hands easily pried your phone out of your grasp, scraping his thumb only for your CG favorite calling out to you.

“How dare you steal my angel from me, bastard?” Such a low primal growl, his flashing eyes reflecting on your screen in that moment.

“Jin, it's just a game.” You murmured.

Tossing your phone gingerly a bit away from you both along your plush comforter, he leans off you just to roll you on your back, gulping at how quickly his eyes darkened. His own sheen marbled bode replaces that of Baek's in your mind's eye, slowly heaving those plush pecs and smooth abs dotted by droplets that added to the attractiveness.

“One that's nabbed your attention elsewhere. And after earlier today, all I want now is all your affection.” His coy grin grew as your hands already brushed those drops away while feeling the muscles beneath. “Like so~”

“You know I love you.”

“And the other way around?” He takes handfuls of the comforter around both sides of your head as he lowers down slowly enough until he drapes over your being, his seabreeze body lotion scenting his skin, his sweatpants hanging loosely by those peaking out hips as he pinned yours in between, his face now a hair's breadth away. “You're not the only person alive plagued with jealousy.”

“Master Baek is happily married and Master Choi isn't much my type so —”

“He crossed a line today.” His rumbling grunt cut those words in half.

“Miss Cha still really likes you. Even before I came along.” Your sad accepting smile aches him even more.

“She's just as much a comrade as she is my friend. But I turned her down because I met you.”

“I'm no S class hunter, though. Nor a mighty vessel of power. I don't have much to offer as a hopeless human.” The self-inflicted seeds of doubt were an ongoing problem you still struggle with, more than ever now.

Your choked up vulnerability pulled at his heart strings. Tears trailed sideways from your eyes, wetting the cloth, to which his thumbs immediately rubbed against your already reddening gaze. “You're my passion.” Your fangirling escapades into your interests always grabbed his intrigue. “My inspiration.” You became his biggest reason to making the world a less cruel place for you both. “My heart.”

“And you're my strength.” His humble sweetness earned him your trust. “My courage.” Witnessing his strength amiss his conquests swooned you over. “My angel.”

The shower of yearning kisses littered every inch of your face, your smile now one of relieving joy. Those velvety lips of his suddenly trailed down to your neck, bringing forth shuddering gasps and breathy moans outta you.

“In this version of the story, you've become my light.” The sharp deep bites he began marking all over your neck brought forth such burning longing in you, already wringing through his wet silk hair, keeping him as close as possible. “You have yourself to blame.” His heated breath meets your collarbone before he suckles there until red blemishes decorate it.

“Pardonne-moi?” You quipped naively.

“Your stubborn little self wormed your way into my life. Can't let you be in the company of another man vying for your hand, now can I?”

Tapping his shoulders, you get him to look up at your blushing beautiful self.

“You've filled my every thought, every wish, and every dream from the moment I met you.” Cradling his face in your hands, diving into those endless pools of gray and blue wonder. The plethora of feelings mere simple words cannot come close to truly representing them still retain a chokehold on you but you still try. “I want only you, Jinwoo. Forever.”

You felt his smile against your chest before he crawled up to finally devour that achingly intoxicating mouth of yours.

“Y/n, I'm incomplete without you.” He breathed between breaks. “I know you inside and out.” This feverish makeout got steamy real quick. “Your personal taste, your darkest desires, your type.” Traversing familiar smoldering caverns, tongues clashing for dominance, both of you starving for each other's essence. “You're stuck with me, you naive tease.”

“Likewise, you farming Player.” Your otherworldly knowledge still astounds him to this day.

His dark chuckle got your spine shivering with excitement.

“Going all out would have been another story entirely.” The towel draped around his neck gets tugged off. “I'd let you and only you be my audience for that.” You're puddy in his hold as his other hand gingerly took both yours. “To prove how I alone am the only one worthy to be yours.” Binding your hands above your head with his towel. “For the rest of eternity.”

His hand wandered down your goosebumped arms, brushing your hair before tenderly cupping your already nuzzling cheek, his thumb teasing your bottom bruised lip, and his tongue licked his own in anticipation.

“Now then, my Y/n, we have a long night ahead of us …” Straddling your hips, you already felt his crotch needily brushing up against your own. “Enough to have every inch of you mine for the taking.”

His half lidded eyes glowed again, his other hefty hand resting over right where your racing heart was, beating for him. And only him.

“Shall we~?”

Hearts filled his eyes as did yours for his jealousy is on par with yours.

“Lets.”

[traumadumpwriter]

Blue Boy

Bf!JJ Maybank x Reader

JJ is acting strange and you can’t work out why. He’s distant and depressed and seems to be having even more issues with his dad than usual, but he won’t tell you anything. Eventually, you find out what he’s been hiding and it changes the way you look at yourself as a girlfriend.

Warnings for: mentions of abuse, slight smut, self harm, cutting

Word count: 2.1k

This was a request by the way! I really hope you enjoy it. Sorry it took me a little while to get done. I’m not sure if this is an imagine or more of a drabble? Reminder that if any of you are struggling with self harm or anything at all my dms are open! Stay safe <3 (story below divider by @i-mmaculatus )

Imagine bf!JJ arriving at the Chateau with a swollen black eye for the second time that month. Everyone worriedly questions him but he tells you all to back off, insisting that the "issues he and his dad have aren't anyones business" and that "it wasn't a big deal." He goes straight to the fridge, effortlessly cracking open a can with one hand whilst the other arm rests against the wall, his bruised muscles flexing through his tee. For the rest of the night he puts on a happy face, but it's clear to you that there's something simmering beneath the surface.

You try to speak to him about it gently, far into the late hours of the twilight with your naked bodies intertwined with each others. The room is dark and the covers are over you both, but in a bar of pale moonlight you are able to examine the purple mark on JJ's face. Your fingers trace gently over it.

"Your dads been.. worse recently. Are you sure you don't want to stay here for a while?" You whisper.

He shakes his head quickly, seeming almost offended, before he replies with a confident sneer.

"It's fine baby, I'm fine. Don't you worry about me."

His fingers glide along your cheekbone down to your lips, stroking the skin like it was fine silk. The intimate motion would usually make your thoughts wander, but you see in his eyes that he lacks his usual lust.

"I am worried though. I don't get why you stay there." You sigh. "It doesn't make sense. Why do you let him do this to you?"

He huffs and withdraws his touch, laying flat on his back and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

"To be honest, I kind of deserve it." He mumbles, entirely unaware of how shocking his words are to hear.

"You don't deserve it. Why would you say that?" You quickly answer back, your brows knotted together in worry.

But JJ just shrugs.

He slides on his boxers under the covers and then gets out of the bed to go shower, which strikes you as being slightly weird - JJ has never been one for modesty - however it doesn't bother you enough to keep your minds focus. Instead, you just sit and worry about his disheartening words.

For the next few weeks, he only gets more withdrawn. He spends an entire day on the HMS Pogue without swimming - just quietly fishing. He stops teasing you and making you yearn for sex during the day, only making his move when the house is dark and quiet. He even just drops off one day, not turning up to the Chateau and not answering his phone.

You spend that entire day in a panic and don't even understand why. "JJ has done this plenty of times before, he's an unpredictable guy, it's probably fine." You say to yourself, and yet you can't shake this nauseating anxiety from your gut. The Pogues all feel it too. Only when he arrives late into the afternoon of the next day, marching into the room like a man risen from the dead do you understand the anxiety that you feel.

You're scared that he might do something to him self.

He stands around in the living room and jokes with everyone, smugly revealing the wad of cash he'd "earned" on his unexplained excursion, and you joke and smile along too. Calling him out might make him leave again and you don't want that.

Alone with him and after quite a few drinks you're unable to resist it though. His behaviour has just been so strange and erratic and just as you think it can't get any stranger, he gets out of bed and turns off the lights before trying to continue the stages of pre-fucking.

"Why did you do that?" You wonder, expecting a snarky comeback but getting nothing in return.

JJ just continues to manoeuvre his head between your legs, intoxicated by the sight as always. His lips press against yours and you almost loose your trail of thought, your eyes squeezing shut and then opening again into.. darkness.

"Jay, turn on the light. I wanna see you." You mumble but he ignores you again, and this time you're definitely not going to let it slide.

With a huff, you sit up straight and push him from you.

"It's just... nice in the dark. I don't look great right now." He speaks quickly, half anxious half still concentrated on your body.

You stand up and turn on the light. JJ doesn't try to stop you, but he doesn't do a good job at hiding his displeased expression either. The behaviour is just so strange to you and it makes you question yourself, especially in that moment.

"Do you not want to be able to see me or something?" You try to sound casual in your questioning but a shake escapes and before you know it there are tears dripping down your face.

JJ quickly rushes to you and holds you closely, asserting to you that you're perfect and your appearance would and could never be a problem in a million years. You don't buy it though, weeks worth of anxieties overtaking you in your drunken state.

"Something is off. I know it is. You've been acting so strange. Is it your dad?"

"No. It's not my dad." He answers, still embracing you.

"Is it me?"

"Of course not."

"Well then what is it?"

He sighs and looks you up and down, considering your beautiful expression and how much innocence he's stolen from it already. He wants to tell you, but he can't.

"It's nothing, Y/N."

"But JJ-"

"Just leave it." He tuts.

You open your mouth to protest but stop yourself, feeling defeated by the underlying hurt in his gaze. With a huff, you lean back onto your elbows and eye your boyfriend, entirely unsure of what to say to him. He catches the gleam of upset in your face and sighs again, shaking his head to himself and forces a smile.

He lightly swaggers back towards the bed, standing over you with a smug expression as he was before.

"Cheer up baby. Let me make you come." He murmurs, lowering his head to your thighs.

And who are you to resist that? He makes quick work of your needs and after catching your breath, you're pawing at the erection pressing against his boxers.

"Let... me... help.. you." You pant out and he swallows hard.

"No... No it's okay." He smiles, his lips wet.

He twitches in your hand and you let out a light chuckle. His body is betraying his words and he knows it. He makes a frustrated huff before stepping backwards towards the light switch. Before he can touch it though, you sit up straight with a scowl, post-nut clarity filling you with sudden annoyance for letting him drop the subject before.

"I'm not sucking your dick in the dark again!" You huff. "What the hell is going on? Do you have a wart down there or something?"

You expect him to crack at least a small smile at that, but he doesn't. He stays silent and your stomach twists.

"You've not actually, have you? Have you caught something? Have you cheated on me?" You question.

When he doesn't reply to that, the twisting feeling turns into stabbing and your eyes are suddenly wet again. JJ has always hated this - how fast you jump to conclusions - but he doesn't get annoyed. This only makes you feel worse.

"Who with?"

He looks from your shaking lip to the ground to the wall and then back to your face again, before letting out a defeated breath.

"Who am I kidding?" He mumbles to himself, his gut hurting just as badly as yours. Then he takes a deep breath and puts a hand on your shoulder.

You try to shrug him off, sniffling "Do I need to get tested?" but he ignores it, suppressing the ache he feels at your accusation.

"I'd never do that to you, Y/N." He whispers and then his voice stiffens. "I've just- I did something dumb the other day and I don't want you to like, freak out or something."

You're confused. Possibilities race through your head but none of them make sense. What on earth could he be talking about? His hands hover above his boxers for a moment before he picks one of the leg sleeves, rolling it up and revealing the patch of thigh that he'd been seemingly hiding for weeks.

Your breath hitches. There are rows of deep cuts, at least twenty, scattered around the small patch of skin. Some of them are red and some of them are pink - clearly slightly older. You know what you're looking at immediately. JJ knew that you would.

"JJ- I- I don't understand- What- Why would you do this?"

You gently trace your finger along one cut. It's dried out and healing, but it looks sore.

"It was just one time." He mumbles, hating the hurt in your voice.

"There's a lot here for just one time and they're not shallow either." You speak quietly, eyes transfixed on the angry marks, and you almost want to scold him were you not feeling so guilty. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

"I don't know... I just didn't want to stress you out. But it's okay, I'm honestly fine."

You don't want to get emotional, you know that that's the last thing he wants, but you find it hard.

"It's not okay. What made you do this?"

He finally rolls the material back down and then reached for his beer on the side, taking a gulp before mumbling "Nothing made me."

"Well then what happened?"

He's silent, finishing his beer and then crushing the can in his hands. He avoids making eye contact with you, squirming at the thought of being so vulnerable, but he knows he has no choice. It was better this than have you think he'd cheated on you.

"Are you seriously just not gonna talk? You're scaring me JJ. What's happened?"

"Nothing happened. I just- I was stressed out. I don't know! I just wanted to feel in control or something. My dad is always beating on me- and yeah I deserve it sometimes, but- I don't know. It just felt like I was doing that fuckin' self care that you and Kie are always talking about but like... the self care I deserve." He confesses.

"Oh my baby." You whisper and quickly stand up, pulling him into a tight hug.

He stays frozen for a moment but soon gives in and wraps his arms around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

"I'm sorry." He whispers and you shake your head.

"No don't be sorry. I'm sorry. I wish you didn't feel like that about yourself... You're too good for that... You're too good for this place."

"I'm not though, Y/N... I'm kind of the worst."

"Don't say that."

"It's true. I don't know why you're even with me. I don't know why the Pogues put up with me. I'm a fucking asshole... Sometimes I even piss my dad off on purpose because I want him to hit me. I don't know why. I guess I just deserve the pain."

You stand in silence with him for a moment, stroking the back of his head with your hand. It breaks your heart to hear his confession and you feel sick at the thought of all the hurt he'd been enduring. How hadn't you picked up on this?

He lifts his head from your neck and finally looks you in the face; attempting to keep his blank but his eyes giving him away.

"Do you still want me now?"

"Of course I do." You answer. "And I always will. I love you and I'm not judging you, JJ. You're my favourite person in the whole world. Can you please promise you'll speak to me from now on.. or at least try to..."

"I can try."

You both embrace each other tightly again and JJ places a kiss on your head, whispering another apology that you deny. You give him a kiss, get dressed and grab some supplies from your medicine cabinet. You're both still fairly drunk so the cleaning becomes a mess; antibacterial liquid all over his crotch and plasters everywhere.

It's funny and you both laugh a lot. Then JJ finally fucks you with the lights on, mumbling about how much he'd missed it after falling down onto the bed beside you. You fall asleep soon after, breathing heavily and both feeling like things might get better for JJ.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Part 2, ft Jazz

Jazz didn't know what to expect when she was suddenly texted by an unknown number saying they have her brother and would like to reunite them. She, of course, called the number to find out if these whole thing was a prank, but she knew the texts she'd been getting from her brother's number sounded nothing like him and it was freaking her out. A "Barbara Gordon" answered the call, explaining her friend's younger brother found Danny wandering around, lost, and dumpster diving, so he took him home and let him crash there til they could figure out how to contact her to pick him up. Jazz would like to say she's surprised by Danny doing any of that, but she isn't. Danny has the worst and best luck and will always be her insanely smart idiot brother.

She does nearly have a heart attack when Ms. Gordon asks if she's aware of Danny's meta status. She has to ask what he did and is surprised over the answer. He's apparently developed permanently glowing eyes and turned invisible when a "Damian" startled him. She doesn't reveal any of his other powers, but demands they sent up a meeting after her last class. Which is easily agreed to.

Which leads her to her current situation, her sitting in a batburger not far from her campus, fidgeting as she waits for "Damian" to show with Danny. A tiny voice screaming her name in delight startles her from her thoughts.

Danny, waving wildly in Damian's arms: JAZZY! JAZZY! HI!

Jazz, flabbergasted: Danny?? What?? How??? Why are you so small??

Damian, setting Danny down so the kid can launch himself at his sister: Hello, Ms. Fenton. I, unfortunately, found him like this, and he's not sure what your mother did to him

Jazz, hugging Danny desperately: Maddie? Shit! Danny, what happened? Are you hurt anywhere?? How are you feeling??

Danny, lightly pats her cheeks: Jazzy, all the ouchies disappeared when I got little. My powers are not working right either

Jazz, flicks her eyes to Damian: Danny?

Danny, smiles: Dami is nice! He was only worried if my powers hurt when I accident'y used them

Damian, sits across from her: One of my elder brothers is a meta and has some trouble with his powers acting

Danny, curiously: Jason?

Damian: No, while he has glowing eyes, he doesn't seem to have developed anything power wise. No, I was talking about my brother, Duke Thomas. I'm not quite sure how his powers work, but if you wish, I could introduce you to him.

Jazz, has a light bulb moment: Wait.. You're Damian Wayne??

Danny, blinks blankly: Wayne?

Damian, clears him throat awkwardly: Ah, yes, that is me. And since I have more than enough money, I'm going to pay for our meal. What would you like?

Danny, once Damian leaves to order: He's silly

Jazz, stressed: Danny, what are we going to do?

Danny: Jazzy?

Jazz: I- I'm sorry, Danny. I just don't know what we're going to do. I wish I could be surprised by Jack and Maddie hurting you, but I'm not. Did you know they've been texting me with your phone to make it look like you've been responding?

Danny, floundering: They what?

Jazz, teary eyed: Yeah, they're so bad at it, but I couldn't do anything. I'm so so sorry, Danny.

Danny, patting her face again: Jazz, I'm safe now.

Jazz, runs a hand through his hair: But for how long? I can't exactly hide you in my dormroom. We don't know how permanent this is, nor can I probably take care of you properly, even if this is temporary. I'll figure something out, but I don't know. I'm terrified, Danny

Danny, sadly: Jazzy...

Damian, returning with their food: If I may offer a few suggestions

Jazz, straightens and sends Damian a suspicious look: What suggestions?

Damian, passing Danny his food and separating his own and Jazz's: One. I contact Father. He'd take both of you in simply at my request. He'd set you up in and even drive you back and forth to school.

Jazz: I'm sensing a "but"

Damian: My father can be an infuriating man no matter what version you get of him. There's a reason his children only visit for short periods once they reach adulthood, it's so the urge to strangle him doesn't over take us on a bad day

Danny, looks intrigued: You try to strangle him?

Damian, huffs: It's only happened once

Jazz: What do you mean versions of Mr. Wayne?

Damian: Yeah, there's sort of 3 versions of father. There's his public persona where he acts like an idiot and flirt. It's gross to witness. I don't want to think about my father fucking another person for many reasons, including, but not limited to his terrible taste in partners. And yes, that includes my mother.

Jazz: Oh, dear

Damian: Indeed. The second version is no less annoying. It's when he sort of just shuts down. He doesn't show affection. He won't tell us what's going on. He's about as charming as a brick wall.

Jazz, thinking about the psychology behind such a response: Interesting

Damian: The third version is his Dad mode, which is about what it sounds like. He's suddenly asking if we've eaten enough and trying to put bandaids on our papercuts, even though I'm his youngest currently and I'm nearing thirty. We don't get to choose between this version and the second, and that can make interactions with him infuriating at times.

Danny: Like, our parents?

Damian: Possibly. I don't know enough about your parents to make an accurate assessment.

Jazz: You implied other options?

Damian: The second option is we try to get you an off-campus apartment and childcare for however long this lasts. You'd have to balance being a full-time student with being a parent, which isn't impossible, but it'd cause you both stress, especially because I assume your parents visit you?

Jazz: Unfortunately, and usually unannounced too.

Danny, seems to shrink: They only did that to me once and now I'm small

Jazz, hugs him close: Their favoritism is not your fault. They shouldn't have had kids. I wouldn't trust them with a goldfish.

Damian: Tt Parents aren't supposed to have favourites. The belief that they do has irreparably damaged the relationship I have with one of my brothers.

Damian, sadly: We get along now, and I try to make up for how I treated him, but I still see the scars in his little hesitations and flinches. He wasn't treated well by any of us for a long time simply because he seemed to have it all, and if we could see him struggling, then he was met with mocking instead of genuine help. And while he seems to have forgiven us, I don't believe he will ever truly feel safe with most of us. Jason and Cassandra are the exceptions

Danny: That's sad

Damian, nods: It is. All we can do is learn and grow from our mistakes. I eat lunch with him every Tuesday now and offer help whenever I can.

Jazz: Sounds like you're doing the right thing.

Damian: I'm trying. The same can not be said about my eldest brother. He doesn't seem to grasp what he did wrong and is trying to pretend everything is the same as before a particularly bad fuck up on mine and Richard's part. Tim was never mad at me for it, since I was a child at the time, but Richard... he won't even acknowledge what happened without trying to spin it in a better light. Which is why Richard has very limited contact with Tim now that Tim has made his boundaries clear

Jazz: Good for Tim. Boundaries are important for healthy relationships and healing

Damian: So I've learned. I've had to set my own boundaries over the years as well and have never been happier.

Jazz, smiles: That is good to hear.

Damian, awkwardly: Thanks. I have a third option, by the way.

Jazz: Oh?

Damian, flusters: Danny could stay with me? I'd give you my address and you could visit whenever you want. I just... I have more free time than you and more resources to help. And I want to. Help.

Jazz: .... what do you think, Danny?

Danny: He's nice and silly. You deserve to enjoy your fancy school, Jazzy. I'd be okay staying with Dami.

Damian: I can also contact the Bats and see if they can find out how permanent his new form is. I also offered to let him meet Jason and Duke.

Jazz, confused: Jason and Duke?

Danny, brightly: Jason died like me and so he gets angry eyes and Duke has meta powers!

Jazz: I.. I see. Well, if you're sure...

Danny: I am! You can come and visit and do your homework after your classes, and Mommy and Daddy can't get suspicious of you moving!

Jazz: Okay.. okay.. BUT I'm looking into their files during spring break when I'm forced to visit them. If you're not back to normal by then, maybe the files can explain.

Danny: Okie-dokie!

Damian: I'm never going to hear the end of it from my siblings, but I'm willing to foster or adopt Danny, with both of your permission, if this turns out to be permanent.

Jazz: I..

Damian: No need to answer yet. For all we know, he'll be will be back to normal by tomorrow.

Jazz: Yes... okay, okay, this could work. This could work.

Danny: I'm done eating. Can I play?

Jazz: Oh! I suppose you can. Stay in the play area, please.

Danny: Okay!

Damian, grabbing a napkin: One moment. *wipes Danny's hands and face* There you go. Have fun.

Danny: Otay!! *runs off*

Jazz, smiles sadly: You must have proved yourself if he trusts you so easily

Damian: I was just honest and tried my best to make him comfortable. As I will try to do the same with you.

The adults hash out schedules and accommodation. Damian explains which siblings he's informing of Danny and Jazz (Tim, Duke, Jason, and Barbara) and why (babysitting, power stuff, general help). Damian lets her come to his apartment and check it out before he walks her back to her dormitory. When he gets back home, he introduces Danny to Barbara through video call and explains the situation to her. Afterwards, he and Danny order clothes toys and furniture for Danny. He indulges Danny's space obsession, but orders some dress clothes just in case. Which is wise because it turns out, Danny is stuck as a 6 y/o. Whatever the Fenton Parents did made him the age of his ghost half, and it's not reversible. Danny is resigned to it all, but decides to make the best of it, indulging in all his childish instincts, knowing Jazz and Damian will keep him safe. Damian is given permission to adopt Danny and give him a whole new identity. Danny is happy to be rid of his entire original name, his only request is that he can still have his nickname, thus Danesh Janus Wayne is born.

When Damian introduces the siblings to his siblings, he is teased about picking up the adoption gene. It gets worse when the rest of the family are in the know. Jazz and Danny explain their whole situation to Damian, Tim, and Jason before they meet the rest of the bat clan, which means those three can explain it beforehand and force Bruce to behave. Danny's feral behaviors (climbing things, biting people, etc) and bubbly personality reminds Bruce of a young Dick Grayson, who is failing to charm the kid. Tim is Danny's favourite uncle, and so Danny is getting petty revenge on his behalf (Tim doesn't know about this). Jazz becomes an unofficial official Wayne, like how Barbara and Steph are, until the Fenton Parents are finally arrested for their crimes. Bruce officially adopts her and takes over funding her schooling, making her the new youngest of the Bruce Wayne brood. Which leads to some funny conversations over if Jazz is Danny's Aunt or Sister now, the answer is; Aunt in public (to better hide Danny's og identity) and sister in private.

De-aged Danny shenanigans with an adult Damian taking after his father.

Danny, about 6: *drigging through the trash*

Damian, 26: Hello? Are you alright?

Danny, whips around to look at him with glowing green eyes: hissssss

Damian, blinks: Oh, dear....Are you hungry?

Danny, suspicious:... yeth

Damian, nods: If you come with me, we can either go to a batburger down the street or my apartment a block over. I have a washer and dryer I can run your clothes through while you bathe.

Danny: Are you trying to kidnap me?

Damian: If I was, I'd be a fool to say so

Danny: mm twue...why else would you want to help me though?

Damian: one. It would be irresponsible of me to level a toddler alone, in an alley, in Gotham.

Danny, pouting: I'm not a toddler

Damian: Two. I will never hear the end of it from my siblings whether or not I help you, but it'd be more teasing than lecturing if I do help you.

Danny: Why would they do dat?

Damian: If you don't have any place to go, I might just tell you. But only if I can make sure you don't tell the wrong person.

Danny: I'm good wif secrets!

Damian, amused: We shall see. And now third and final reason. Are you aware your eyes are glowing green?

Danny, gasps and slams his eyes shut: You're not supposed to see!

Damian, softly: It's okay. I understand what that means. One of my elder brothers' eyes glow the same way. It must have been very scary for you to die

Danny, sniffling: It was... does his eyes weally glow green?

Damian: They do. His usually glow when he gets angry, is it the same with you?

Danny, now blinking blue glowing eyes at Damian: mmm? No? Green is too much bad emotion

Damian: Bad emotion?

Danny: Mad, um, strezz? No, the bigger one!

Damian: Panic or anxiety?

Danny, points at him with a bounce: Yeah!!

Damian, amused and concerned: I see

Danny: mmm let's see, um, and scared?

Damian: Interesting. Jason's eyes are usually an indicator of angry, but I know he likes to cover his fear and concern with that same anger. I shall look into it. On that note. And what does glowing blue mean?

Danny, blinks: Blue?

Damian: Yes. Did you know your eyes are glowing blue now?

Danny, shocked: No! They didn't do that before!... At least I don't think they did?

Damian: Well, they're a very pretty shade of blue.

Danny: Maybe... Maybe that's how my parents noticed...

Damian, trying not to frown: What did your parents notice?

Danny, turning his big teary eyes on Damian: That I'm not fully human anymore. They didn't notice. They never noticed!

Damian, slowly reaching out to the kid to see if he'd accept a hug: Sounds like your parents didn't deserve you.

Danny, giving into his childish instincts and flinging himself into Damian's arms to sob his little heart out: They didn't even know I died! It's not fair! I'm not weally human and it's their fault! I hate their stupid po-po- THING! It shocked me and it hurt and now I'm dead and it's their fault!

Damian: *gently rocking Danny til he tires himself out*

Danny, sniffling: It's not fair...

Damian: Something I've found is, it never is. Every stray my father has housed has had an unbearably harsh life, and I, being his blood son, was no different. My mother and her father raised me for the first ten years of my life, and I've come to understand that my childhood was not a good one. It took me a long time and a lot of patience from my eldest brother to come to realize what I was missing.

Danny: Like, Jazzy?

Damian: mm? Who's Jazzy?

Danny: My big sister. She's a big know it all, but she tries...

Damian: Well, that's-

Danny, jolts in Damian's hold: Tried! *GASP* Jazzy doesn't know mom and dad didn't kill me!! *pause* um, kill me again?

Damian: Well, we'll have to tell her, won't we? You wouldn't happen to know her full name? I can ask my family to contact her while we get you cleaned up

Danny: Yeah! Her name is Jasmine Fenton! She goes to a big big school here! That's why I came here! I just... I got lost..

Damian: That won't do

Damian, pulls out his phone and calls Barbara while starting to walk to his apartment: Gordon. I have a request.

Barbara: Yeah? Whatcha got, baby bat?

Damian: Can you look up a Jasmine Fenton? I have something she will probably want back.

Barbara: Holy shit! Is that a child??

Damian, sighs: Yes, it's her little brother. He ran away from a bad situation with his parents and got lost trying to find his elder sister.

Barbara: Alright. I'll check out her entire life to make sure she's safe to- wait. Damian, is that kid's name Danny?

Damian, realizing he never asked: One moment.

Damian, looks down at a sleepy, but curious Danny: Is your name Danny?

Danny, beams: Yeah!!

Barbara: Caught that, but, uh, Damian, Danny is supposed to be 20, not...4? 5? Not a tiny child

Damian: umm... Danny did you used to be older?

Danny, shrinks into himself and his eyes turn green: Ye-yeah... I don't know why I'm little... mommy did something and it Huuurt and hurt til suddenly I was free and I ran and hid in a bus

Damian, soothingly petting his back: Okay, it's okay, we'll figure it out.

Barbara: Take care of him for the night, we'll contact his sister tomorrow at a reasonable time. I'm not finding anything too concerning on her yet so she's probably safe

Damian: Copy that. Goodnight, Gordon.

Barbara, teasing: Goodnight, mini-Bruce!

Damian, flushes, but doesn't deny it before hanging up and glancing towards Danny: That was Barbara Gordon. A family friend. She'll help us find your sister, but you'll be staying with me for tonight.

Danny, sleepy: Okay..

Damian, slipping into his apartment lobby and going straight up the stairs, ignoring the gaping attendants: Don't fall asleep just yet. You will be fed and bathed first

Danny, huffs, but straightens up: What food?

Damian: That depends, I only really have vegetarian food so I suppose we'll have to find something you'll eat

Danny: Sam is vegetarian! I eat vegetarian sometimes with her!

Damian: hm? Very good, then it should be easier for me to feed you

Damian and Danny have a wonderful time. Danny is fed, watered, and cleaned up before being set up with a quiet sound machine to sleep. Damian has a crisis over wanting to keep Danny and suddenly understands his father's adoption habit. He sets alarms to check on Danny throughout the night, but it's otherwise uneventful.

[entitled-fangirl]

I’m procrastinating doing my hmwk that’s due today so lemme get another poll here

These are all from my current drafts :) (Little Doe series not included hehe)

..............................................

Virgin!Battinson x girlfriend!reader (SMUT)

Bruce's nerves were at an all time high. You'd think his hand would crush your thigh with the grip he has on you. His other hand is on the steering wheel as he drives.

"You look dashing," you say to try to ease the tension. And you mean it. You rarely get to see him in a suit anymore.

He squeezes your leg as a 'thank you.' 

It takes a while, but you finally get a verbal response. "You look-" he hesitates, deciding what to say, "gorgeous."

He'd always liked that dress on you. Simple. Black. 

"I know you're only going to try to find the Riddler, but please, please avoid confrontation."

By the way his top lip quirked up, you know he's amused. "I'll do my best."

"Bruce," you scold. "You're not Batman today. Not right now."

He sighs and lets his smile fall. "Alright." He agrees, but you both now that's far from the truth.

2. Jace x wife!reader (FLUFF maybe light smut)

He smiled, the toothy one that made her head go fuzzy. The one where he was happy beyond reason. "What?" He asked as his head tilted.

She gave him a little shrug, going back to choosing dresses.

"No," he laughed, pressing his chest against her back and peeking over her shoulder. "Tell me." His hands ran up her sides, pulling giggles from her lips.

"Jace!" She laughed, attempting to pry his fingers away to no avail. He tugged her further against him, and wrapped his arms strongly around her waist. He was insistent on getting an answer.

"My pretty wife has decided to make me ask what she was thinking. It's awful," he teased. "I'd rather she just say it."

It felt taboo for a husband and wife to have such fun together. But the two were beyond tired of 'taboo' things. Targaryens often walked the line of acceptable and taboo, more wandering towards the latter.

"I think of you as handsome, is all," she giggled. "Am I not allowed to?"

"How caring," he mused. "My wife. Melting over the sight of me in riding gear."

3. Cregan Stark x ill wife!reader (ANGST and FLUFF)

His hand soothed over her forehead, brushing the hair away. Sweat had built up on her skin, gleaming in the light. "You should rest, my love. I can manage one meal without you."

"No," she reassured. "I feel fine."

She didn't feel fine. She hadn't felt fine for a few days now. She had waken up tired and had to focus on holding her head up at the table as they supped now.

"Wife," he softly reprimanded. "Your eyes are closing as we speak."

"'S just a chill. It will pass."

He sighed. He looked to the nearest servant. "Have this brought to our chambers, yes?"

She wanted to fight against his words but truthfully she was relieved. 

"Get up," he chided. "C'mon." He offered his hands to her as he stepped around her chair. 

…

That was yesterday, and now the morning had come. Cregan was worried. 

4. Ned Stark x second wife!reader (FLUFF & ANGST)

She worried that maybe they hated her.

The Stark children hated her.

Ned's hand brushed up and down her spine as she laid on his chest. He noticed her overactive mind. "You alright?" He asked softly.

She hummed, tucking her face into his neck.

He chuckled at the tickling breath. "Don't do that."

She let out a laugh too and rolled onto her back. "It's just… the children."

His brows furrowed immediately, her words catching his full attention. "What of them?"

"We've been married for a few moons now. I just… I haven't connected to them as well as I'd hoped."

She'd connected quite well to Jon, Sansa as well. Bran and Rickon were still young boys and connecting to them had been easy. 

It was Robb and Arya.

Robb had been close to his mother until her death, and Y/n knew she could never replace that relationship. But he hadn't even given her a chance. It hurt.

As for Arya, she had no idea what to do.

So now, in bed, she ranted all of that to Ned. He listened intently, keeping her close as she neared crying over everything.

5. (AK) Jason Todd x past childhood love!reader (ANGST)

"Come look at this," Bruce ordered.

Y/n pushed off the desk, her chair rolling over to Bruce. "Wh-" Her voice trailed off.

One the large screen sat a picture of Jason. Her Jason. It had been years, and still every picture made her eyes water. 

She remembered that night.

"Jason, don't do this."

He huffed and spun around to her. "What else should I do? Sit around while he blackmails my mom?"

"Just stay here," she pleaded, following him through Wayne Manor. "When you leave, I'll just alert Bruce."

"Do not," he warned.

................................................

[frenchy-and-the-sea]

OC Tag Game

saw @dragonologist-phd do this and put out an open tag so I figured I'd introduce the sad mushroom lady that I talk way too much about!

I'll tag @nuclearanomaly, @vargonautic, @urdnotgrunt, @dovahgarbage, @girlwonderers, @themilokin, @star-graze, @starlightsylph, @blujayonthewing, @parad0xymoron, @merrigelblogs, @ramblerogue, @msnoblesix, @ghilegab and anyone else who wants to do this! I literally only picked like the top folks I see in my activity feed but y'all know I love a good OC chat. Please feel free to join!

(art by @/ryuichifoxe, design by @/arlohawthorne)

— GENERAL

Name: Elowyn "Wyn" Bannon

Alias: Wyn is her nickname, but it's also what she chooses to introduce herself as. Elowyn is just too long!

Gender: Cis(ish) woman. I think she's probably got some gnc fuckery going on somewhere but honestly she's got a job (surviving Barovia) so she doesn't really care about that rn

Age: 31

Spoken Language: Common, Elvish, Infernal

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: Formerly? Wandering cleric of the grave, offeror of last rites, funeral planner and overall aid to the living left behind. Now? Barovia tour guide to a bunch of idiots that she unfortunately has gotten to care a lot about. (And the rogue.)

—FAVOURITE

Colour: Dark green or dark blue! Ideal is that phtalo green color honestly

Entertainment: One of Wyn's guilty pleasures wrt her station is that she actually really loves professional live music. She isn't much of a theater person, but she has a singular love for orchestra or ballet performances, and absolutely has invited wannabe suitors out to see a show strictly as an excuse to make the trip. (And if she genuinely likes them? Well, those boxes ARE pretty dark...)

Pastime: Hiking, especially when it takes her out to scenic locales that she can paint. Painting was always her preferred excuse for carving out some time alone, and she much preferred the effort of getting OUT somewhere over hiding away in her studio. It was always too easy for someone to interrupt her at the family house.

Food: Poached pears, especially over yogurt or some kind of vanilla custard. Sprinkle some cinnamon granola over them and Wyn is in heaven.

Drink: A strong roasted oolong tea, or coffee. She's fine with alcohol when the situation calls for it - and admittedly, there have been MANY situations lately that have called for it - but she still mostly prefers the company of a drink with a different kind of bite.

— HAVE THEY...

Passed University: Technically no, but Wyn did get something close to a university education. Her parents were insistent that she be well-schooled, even if they wouldn't let her follow her brother to one of the actual colleges.

Had Sex: Enthusiastically, yes.

Had Sex in Public: Not really. Wyn has gotten a little handsy in public, sure, but she still requires a closed door when clothes start coming off.

Got Tattoos: Not yet, but she's not opposed to the idea.

Got Piercings: Quite a few ear piercings, but that's it. So far, anyway.

Got Scarred: Yes! Wyn has a nasty one where her neck joins her shoulder from a fight with one of the Viscountesses that got out of hand.

Had a Broken Heart: Oh, big time. Wyn learned early how to spot potential suitors who were only trying to use her as a status upgrade, or were just interested in a turn with the local devilspawn, but there was one lad who showed a genuine attraction to her, and Wyn began spending a lot of time with him. Unfortunately, he was also deeply ashamed of that attraction, and put a lot of effort into hiding their courtship from, uh, everyone that he could. Wyn dropped him the moment she found out, but her affection for him had been genuine too, and she spent a good long while afterwards nursing her hurt feelings.

— ARE THEY...

A Cuddler: More than she would ever admit. Wyn holds herself at a certain distance from most people unless she has petitioned them for an evening, but given time to cultivate some trust, she is extremely physically affectionate. She likes to be the big spoon. :>

Scared Easily: Of certain things, yes. Wyn is easily put off by wanton violence, and people that are capable of it tend to scare her pretty badly, but things like ghosts? Monsters? Death? It takes quite a lot of effort for things like THAT to get to her.

Jealous Easily: Not unless she has been given due cause to believe that something truly does belong to her. She tends not to covet items or skills very much, and she doesn't really lay claim to people often enough to be called easily jealous, but she WILL defend whatever has been deemed unequivocally hers.

Trustworthy: M...mostly... Wyn doesn't often choose to break covenant with people, but she might go into a bargain with the intention of betrayal. That is NOT outside of the realm of possibility. Usually, though, she's true to her word.

— FAMILY...

Siblings: Her late brother, Atticus. He was her favorite person in the whole wide world, and she tried to move heaven and earth to bring him back.

Parents: Her mother and father, Analyn and Maxim Bannon, who Wyn has a...strained relationship with. She's pretty sure they're not looking for her.

Children: Actively not something Wyn is trying to pursue. She's already been told that she's going to die early, and even if she wanted children, she wouldn't subject them to that.

Pets: Never something that was allowed in the Bannon household. I don't know if Wyn would have even asked. She does hold a special reserve of fondness for the party wizard's familiar, a raven aptly named Lenore, which is probably as close as Wyn will ever get to a proper pet.

[writteninthesewalls28]

Racing Psychology - Part Four

Summary: Josie has to face worries and her deepest fears while finding out more about her real feelings for Lando.

"Racing Psychology" Masterlist

Warnings: brief kissing, swearing, not proof read

After the heated kiss, I took my time to touch every part of his face. I gently stroked along his jawline, rubbed over his cheek and reached the outline of his mouth that was covered in the prettiest smile I have ever seen in my life. “You’re so beautiful.” I whispered under my breath, not letting go of him yet. 

His firm grip on my hips occasionally sent a shiver over my entire body by how good his touch felt. “Dito.” he smiled and one of his hands moved up to stroke a loose strand of hair out of my face back behind my ear. His warm hands on my cold skin caused me to relax into his hand now covering my cheek. 

“Are you cold?” He asked, his eyes wandering over my entire body, as if he wanted to make sure I was okay. Slowly, the sun disappeared and left behind a fresh, cold air at night that I was not prepared for when I decided to wear a T-Shirt .

“A little.” I answered, still a bit breathless from arguably the best kiss of my life so far, hoping to be finding out what other bests there were to explore with Lando. 

Lando let go of me and I already missed his comforting touch on my body, but I didn’t complain when I saw that he took off his papaya-colored hoodie with the team name and his driver number on it and handed it over to me. 

“Here, I don’t want you to freeze to death. That would be quite bad, looking at the fact that I would actually like to get to know this talented woman in front of me.” 

I felt blood rushing into my cheeks at his charming words and quickly hid my face while sliding the hoodie over my head. The warm, soft fabric felt like heaven on my freezing arms and hands and I rubbed over my arms, starting to warm up a little. 

“Thanks.” I told him and gave him a grin. I still tried to comprehend his compliment and did not know what to say to that. Did I want to get to know him? Hell yeah. Did I find him attractive? Is that even a question? Was I worried about the fact that I was not some sort of super model? Yes. 

But I had no idea if I could tell Lando about that or if it was a little too soon to have such a conversation when you actually just met two days ago. I felt like I was trapped in a large canyon and one side only had a crappy ladder to climb up on whilst on the other side there were creepy animals waiting to have a feast. 

But then I heard Nico’s voice in the back of my head that sometimes you just need to have fun in life, so that was what I would be doing. Having fun with Lando. I could figure my way out of the canyon later. 

I leaned forward and Lando’s lips covered mine again and suddenly I did not care about the canyon anymore, his hands on my skin were the only thing that mattered to me at that very moment. It felt like the greatest forever.

“What do you mean you dropped out of school?” 

After I don’t know how long of sitting on my car, we decided to leave the track and I offered to take him home this time. His discomfort of sitting in the passenger seat and not having control over the car did not go unnoticed to me, but so far, he did not say anything about my ability to drive a car. He had already told me the address of his hotel that he and the other drivers on the grid were staying at and it surprised me that it actually was not that far away from my own flat. 

We started to chat a bit about his racing and how he first got into it and I stumbled across the fact that he did not even finish school. “You never graduated high school?” I added. 

He looked at me with an amused look on his face. “Love, first of all: I’m British, we don’t have your crappy high schools, we are better than you, alright?” It was easy for me to ignore the teasing in his words because I was too busy trying to cope with him calling me love. I was pretty sure my heart just exploded right then and there. “And second: Yes, I dropped out of Secondary School.” The cheeky grin on his face was the reaction to my face full of shock. 

“But you can drive a car at 300kmh?” I say with a judgemental tone in my voice. 

For a short second looking over to him, I see him shrugging. “I guess. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here, right?” 

“By the way, did you pass your driving test on the first try?” I asked because he previously told me that he had already started driving first in karting and then in formula from an early age where he of course was not legally allowed to drive on the streets.

Lando let out a laugh before shaking his head. “I failed my theory.” He revealed and I chuckled. “Should’ve better finished school then.” 

We reached his hotel and I parked on the pavement. When the car stopped, he turned his head over to me and our eyes met for what it felt like the hundredth of time today, but it still felt as magical as it did the first time. “I want to see you again.” He said under his breath with a vulnerable look on his face that let my heart ache a little, knowing that there might be no real future for us. 

“Me too.” 

“I am here for another day, then I have to leave to Spa.” The hurt look on his face felt like a bucket of ice water spilled right over my head. 

“Let’s meet tomorrow then, shall we?” I asked, trying to lift the mood. He nodded and the tired smile on his lips made my stomach twirl in anticipation. “Call me?” I asked and in return only received another nod from him. 

Lando opened the door and stepped out of the car, but then I remembered his hoodie that I was still wearing. “Lando, wait.” He looked at me again, confused and at the same time interested in what I had to say. “Your pullover.” I pull at the soft fabric and look down on the Mclaren logo. He shook his head. “You keep it. I like it better on you.” Not even waiting for my protest, he closed the door of the car and waved at me through the window before turning around and walking up to the entry of the hotel. I watched him leave and even after that, I still stood on the pavement with my car, unsure what to do with my night now that he was no longer there to make it exciting. 

The defeated look on his face when he said he wanted to see me again was probably the moment he realised that there simply was no chance for this type of love that we undeniably shared. We lived in two different worlds that could not be combined if I did not want to give up my dream of becoming a psychologist. 

Would meeting him again tomorrow make this pain worse that I was feeling already? I freshly came out of a break up, the last thing I wanted was to get my heart broken again. 

So I promised myself, when I meet him tomorrow, I would tell him what I want from this situation that obviously meant something to us both. 

Maybe there was a way to get to know him after all. 

When I was finally back at my apartment, I had completely lost track of time. I sat on the sofa, some series playing on the TV that had not been interesting to me from the first second, but I couldn’t just sit around staring at a wall while overthinking everything about my possible relationship to Lando and what I would do next, now that I knew he wanted to see me again. Instead, the voices of the actors played in the background like the orchestra on the Titanic while the ship sank.  

That was, when my phone lying next to me rang and my eyes widened at the loud ringing tone. 

I looked down at it and saw that it was Nico calling me. Why was she even up at midnight? I answered the phone and greeted my best friend. “Hey, you should sleep, Nico.” 

“Could say the same about you though.” She laughed through the speaker. “So, how was it? Are you Ms. Norris now?” The excitement in her voice immediately took me back to the moment when our lips met for the first time and sparked this fire in me that could not be tamed. I blushed at the memory of his hands on my skin and the feeling of his soft curls. 

“You kissed!” Nico screamed out and I looked at her with an embarrassed look on my face. 

“Seriously, Nico. Don’t pull out the psychology thing now.” I said, shyly looking down on my legs. 

“You need to tell me EVERYTHING. Like– fucking everything.” I hear her voice. 

I let out a loud sigh. It would most likely feel good to talk about what happened, but at the same time, I was scared to hear the raw truth that we are a losing-game. 

“Josie. Come on. Don’t let me come over there and pressure you into speaking. Spill. The. Tea.” The impatient tone in her voice made me laugh. 

“Okay, okay. Where should I start?” 

I told Nico everything. From getting up in the morning, deciding which outfit I should wear, arriving at the course and going to the VIP lounge. I described my unfortunate talk with Oscar in detail and then went on and on about how hot Lando looked during the entirety of the day. Until I then got to the most exciting part of the day. 

“At the end, I met him outside and we sat down on my car.” 

“ON your car?” Nico let out. “How hot is that please??” 

I chuckled before continuing with my talk. “We talked a lot about my studies and stuff like that and then suddenly, he kissed me.” 

I could hear Nicos gasp so loud that I didn’t want to know how loud it must’ve been in her room. “So you're telling me, the hottest Formula 1 driver out the entire grid kissed you?” 

“Why put so much punctuation on the you? Do you think I am not good enough for him?” I joked, but at the same time there was truth in my sarcastic words because I indeed did struggle to believe that I was the right one for him. 

“No, not like that. But he kissed you, not the other way around. Girl, you’re hookeddd.” 

I looked at my best friend with an unsure look on my face. “He wants to meet again tomorrow.” I told her, wanting advice on what I should do now. 

“Where?” 

“I don’t know, we wanted to talk again to agree on something.” 

“Call him right now.” She simply said and I was too stunned to speak at that insane idea. That was ridiculous! 

“No way.” I looked at the little time display in the top left corner of my phone. It was 0:10 am. Nothing would get me to call him and potentially wake him up for a second time. That man needed his sleep, and to be honest I needed too. The odds of finding sleep tonight when I would be calling my crush in the middle of the night were the smallest they’ve ever been. 

“Come on, Josie. Put in a bit of effort! You can send him a text message first and ask if he’s still up if you are worried about waking him.” Then she added in a whispering tone: “And think about it, there’s nothing hotter than late night talks.” 

I wanted to scream no and bring on one of the thousands of arguments that were in my mind just a second ago, but suddenly, I could not grasp one single counter-argument for this conversation. 

Nico won. Again. 

I let out a defeated sigh. “Okay… I’ll do it. But if he’s not responding to the text, I will not call him.” “Alright, do what you have to do, sweetie.” Nico said, but I heard in her voice that she was sitting in her apartment, smiling to herself because she just won another argument against me, just like she always does. 

I opened our chat and typed a simple message: “Hey, it’s me. U still up?” And before I could overthink it, I simply sent it. 

“Message sent.” I updated Nico and heard her clapping for me. 

“Good job, baby steps are the best steps.” She encouraged me as if I was a toddler on the phone with her supportive aunt. 

“Thanks, mom.” I sarcastically said, making her laugh. 

To be honest, Nico probably saved me from an approaching mental breakdown with her call and now her presence. Annoyed by the voices on my TV, I pressed the off-button on the remote and the screen went black, what a relief for my ears. 

“Nico, quick question about last lecture–” I wanted to change the topic to something a little more productive and relevant, but Lando’s response coming up as a notification on my screen interrupted it. Instead, I screamed out loud. 

“Josie?” There was serious panic in Nico’s voice. “Are you–” “I’m fine.” I quickly assured her because her worry made me feel absolutely horrible. “Lando answered.” I just said, too overwhelmed by what I should do now, and now it was her turn to let out a short scream, before she went back to the sassy, bossy girl that she just was and that I adored most about her. 

“Told ya. Better call him right now. What did he say though?” 

I opened the message and my heart rate rose as I read the few words that he typed in and sent them to me. 100 points go to Josie because she understood the concept of chatting. 

“Miss me already, love?” I read out to Nico and couldn’t help it, but read the words in his voice and immediately thought about how good the word “love” would sound with his British accent. 

“The sass??” She let out. “He’s a keeper, Jo. I’m telling you, if you don’t take him, I will.” 

“Too bad, because I am not letting him go after that.” I light-headedly responded and only realised what I had just decided the second the words left my mouth. “I want him.” I repeated, as if I had to say it one more time, so the words would really reach my brain.

“Of course you do!” Nico responded like it had been the most obvious thing ever. “But– I just broke up with Lukas.” I started to overthink. 

“Honey, I am sorry to break it to you, but you and Lukas lost your spark months ago, not just 3 days ago. You and him, that became sort of a habit, don’t you think?” I was speechless. Speechless because the thought had never crossed my mind before I called it off last Friday, but there was so much truth in them that it actually hurt like a fire was burning in my chest. 

“You’re right.” My voice got quiet, vulnerable. Understanding the words was a lot easier than embracing them and realising that I had spent too much of my time with a guy that was not worthy of my presence. 

“Of course I am, I always am.” This time, all the sarcasm had left Nico’s voice and instead was filled with something that I did not get very often. Sympathy. 

Next, Nico cleared her throat and said: “Now, do me a favor. Call Lando, have a good chat with him and don’t be afraid to speak about the deep stuff, alright?” 

I wanted to say something, but Nico was faster. “Don’t be so pessimistic, I dare you. I can feel the negative energy without even being in the same room with you. If you really want this, there is a way to build a relationship, even if you barely know each other.” 

With that, we said good night and hung up and I followed her orders and called Lando immediately. 

[giddlygoat]

hater has disturbing reoccurring dreams about wander crawling inside his ribcage that always have him waking up in a cold sweat [they just feel too real and hater can’t place why]. wander has reoccurring dreams of hater ceremoniously destroying him with the Disaster Blaster and it’s the one dream he doesn’t eagerly blab to sylvia about because he doesn’t know how to tell her that it never feels like a nightmare. soooo is anyone else sick in the head or is it just me

[alexiroflife]

jjk men reactions & aftercare when you use your safeword…

headcanons list

MDNI, highly suggestive content, smut themes, overstimulation, mentions of discomfort/pain, spanking (suguru), etc.

gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna

-> all i could think of when writing safe words was this from that one rick & morty episode please help

satoru gojo:

satoru gojo, before his relationship with you, was a full-fletched virgin.

while people close to him like suguru, before he left jujutsu tech, or shoko would have been able to tell anyone this fact after having known him for so long and so well, in satoru's later years, he finds that everyone assumes he has a rather promiscuous past before settling down with you.

he understands. quite frankly, it doesn't surprise him at all. he's a flirty personality with a sickenly gorgeous face, with the confidence and arrogance of a well-seasoned slut. he does not exude the energy of a person who went twenty-four years of his life without having sex with anyone. he had received and given oral maybe a few times in his early twenties, but he had never gone beyond that.

you're his first at twenty-four and you're his one and only from then one.

despite his lack of physical experience, satoru, unsurprisingly, is incredibly skilled with the use of his body. there's truly nothing that gojo can not do perfectly. he's seen enough, studied the physical reactions you have to him even when you're just speaking, knows you enough to treat you well without having had to fuck a million people beforehand.

and because you are satoru's one and only, he fucking worships you. he gets drunk off of you. he goes insane for you every single time the two of you are together intimately. while his stamina is incredibly high, his desperation proceeds him and his ability to maintain control is drastically lacking whenever he's got your pretty legs quivering over his head as his tongue licks greedy stripes over your puffy clit.

satoru is spoiled. he gets what he wants and does what he wants when he wants it, and he absolutely expects to get exactly what he wants from you when the two of you are in bed, which is to make you as much of a mess for him as he is for you. he wants you shaking, he wants you begging, he wants you crying for more as you struggle to handle just how good he makes you feel, and every single time, he succeeds.

the thought alone of pleasing you renders him dizzy, and his mind often wanders in the middle of meetings when he's supposed to be focused on the course schedule for the first years over the upcoming next few months. satoru is completely and utterly whipped for you, and with his greedy, mindless desire to hear you moaning for him into the early hours of the morning, he can tend to get a little out of hand.

satoru has never made you feel any less than heavenly, any less than adored, any less than cherished. he satisfies you in indescribable ways, and you're admittedly as head over heels for him as he is for you. he's soft, but then he's wild, whiny, relentless, sloppy, yet always so damn good. he pushes you to just the right limits, drawing out physical reactions you hadn't even known to be possible before him, and talking you through it all. though he's always on the brink of going too far, he never has.

so that is why you are close to panicking now that your legs and your throbbing, overstimulated pussy have gone numb with a rather unfamiliar tingling sensation.

you don't even think you can see anymore. you're long past an acceptable point of lack of functionality, and you can't even think. you hear satoru's voice murmuring as it always does, babbling on in his far-gone state as he pulls you closer for another round. the two of you started this when the sun was out, midday, and now, the sky is pitch black and the clock reads almost midnight, not that you can even tell.

you can feel satoru everywhere, hands flying to any patch of skin he can possibly find, yet the sensation is detached from you. you take a few seconds before realizing that you can hardly breathe, and your body is so spent you can barely move.

satoru, above you, is gone. exceedingly pussy drunk, having came more times than he could count in your mouth, on your stomach, on your back, inside your cunt, and yet he still seeks more. it's like his mind and body are on autopilot, searching for you blindly without any indication of how far he has gone or when he should stop. he's just as fucked out in the brain as you, but the only difference is that he somehow has more energy to spare. his dick is somehow still jumping to life, and you suddenly remember that this is satoru gojo you're talking about.

on the battlefield and in bed, he's a monster, unlike any other.

"c'mere, pretty, just-just one more, gotta feel you," he rambles, panting heavily as he tugs you closer and roams his crystal blue eyes over your trembling body. his sense of logic is skewed, the flags are not registering. he only sees you, and he is eager. he's so in love, so intoxicated by you, he's lost his damn mind.

"y'so gorgeous for me, baby, such a good pretty girl. my good pretty girl. love this pretty girl's pussy, so-so good for me. so good."

and there he goes, on and on about how he wants you, what you do to him, how perfect you are, and you can't even hear it. your ears are ringing. where the hell even are you?

satoru's moving to caress over your body, detailing the softness of your soaked skin beneath his palms before his hands meet your soaked cunt again. he's prying at your weak thighs, ghosting his fingers over your clit hungrily, and the second you feel the tip of his finger so much as graze your bundle of nerves, you're momentarily revived. you're gasping and pushing him away, crawling back.

satoru watches you, brows drawing together. he goes to reach for you again, but then you hastily breathe out. "purple! purple, purple, purple," you wail, body twitching as you curl in on yourself.

the moment your safeword falls on satoru's ears, he's snapping out of it. his blown pupils suddenly shrink and he reconnects with the world around him, with you, the way your heart races, the way you can hardly speak, the way you can't even lift your head from the pillow.

he looks down at the drenched state of your sheets, then back up at you, shaking, and he's finally back.

"baby," he coaxes in concern, crawling up to meet you. you don't even open your eyes when he hovers over you. you simply squirm, murmuring nonsense as chills rack you and your feet kick out. you're absolutely done. "fuck, baby. hey, you there with me? (y/n)?" he cups his hand over your hot cheek, worried eyes taking in the sight of you. he's never seen you like this before, and it's jarring. how long have you even been like this? did he seriously not notice that you had been spent for a while?

your hands go to push at his chest, but he stops you gently, holding your wrist and hushing you. "it's okay, princess, you're okay. you're alright... fuck, baby, look at you. you can't even understand me, can you?"

as expected, you don't show any indication that you can hear him. instead, your body slowly melts back into the sheets as though registering the shift in satoru's mannerisms and tone. you relax, slumping, and satoru almost thinks you've passed out.

"uh uh. don't pass out on me, pretty. come on," he urges you gently, patting your cheek. you groan and stir, at least showing him that you are still conscious. "okay, that's good, baby. that's a good girl, come here."

he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in his safe embrace. your cheek falls against his bare pectoral and you hum, nuzzling into him as he holds your head close, petting over your hair and watching you carefully. satoru struggles to gather himself as well as he holds you, breathing heavily and twitching against your body whilst bringing himself back to reality.

you continue to rub your face against him, and he looks down at you, brows knitted together. fuck, he feels awful. he hadn't meant to push you this far.

"(y/n)?" he calls your name again, a rather rare occurrence. you take a moment to hum drowsily after a few minutes have passed. "can you hear what i'm saying?"

"...mhm," you hum again brokenly.

"yeah? you can?"

this time you only nod, and he sighs. "are you okay, pretty? are you hurt?"

"mm-mm."

"you sure?"

"y-yeah, tor..."

you don't even finish his name as you sink further into him. satoru kisses your cheek, then your temple. "okay, i get it now. i did too much? i went too far?"

"mhm," you whimper, and his arms tighten around you.

"i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, i should've known better," he apologizes profusely. "i got carried away, i wasn't even thinking. i wasn't even there myself- but that's no excuse. i'm sorry. stay with me, pretty."

slowly, your arms slide to wrap around your boyfriend's neck, and he melts like sap into you, cooing gently and showering you with kisses. he can feel your rapid heartbeat against his chest, your soft pants fanning on his cheek, your abdomen tightening and releasing with your shivers.

"you're so sensitive. i got you good, huh?" he observes. "i'll go easier, next time, pretty. okay? you did so good for me. you always do such a good job. just keep those pretty eyes closed and rest. i'll clean you up in a bit."

you nod meekly once more, cuddling impossibly further into him. you doze to the sound of his assurances, of his tender voices telling you that you’re safe, that satoru’s got you, that he’s so proud of you. he lets you rest before he has to wake you again to help you get ready for bed and to clean you properly.

he loves you so much. so so much, and despite him going overboard, his heart swells with relief at the fact that you feel comfortable enough to tell him to stop.

suguru geto: suguru is truly a kind and loving man. he's gentle and meticulous in the way he cares for you. he always makes sure that you have everything you need and that you're cared for the way you deserve to be cared for. and in bed, he's almost teasing with the way he loves you. he's sweet, keeping his searing lips to your ear as he floods your brain with declarations of future promises, of making you happy, of practically laying down his life if it means listening to you call his name over and over.

he's got a mouth on him, one full of filthy affections, and he gets you off on the sultry sweetness of his sugary tone constantly. he'll be knuckles deep inside you, kissing your cheek almost innocently as he murmurs seductively to you his devotions.

"you squeeze me so nice, sweet girl. you look so fucking beautiful like this. that's right, angel. feel it. feel my fingers stretching you out so good. fuck, i could finger you like this every day for the rest of my life. would you like that, angel? hmmm?"

he always makes sure you respond, as well. he's pulling orgasm after orgasm from you and urging you to speak while doing so, no matter how far gone you are. he's not satisfied until your angelic little voice is breathing out to answer him unsteadily, your words warming his heart and hardening his dick without fail.

nevertheless, despite suguru's generosity, he has the tendency to be so mean when he's agitated.

suguru has a pretty terrible attitude, and though it's not often on display when he is irritated, particularly by something you say, he's an entirely different beast.

his honeyed tone still remains when he punishes you, yet it's laced around far less pretty words. he teases, mocks, judges, and at times, it's enough to make you cry or second guess yourself if you were to hear him go on like this in any other setting.

suguru's presence is incredibly domineering aside from his normally gentle demeanor. when push comes to shove, he is still a man capable of murder, a man harboring the hatred of an entire species, and a man who manages to uphold his connections and his legacy through his cult by means of manipulation.

suguru is nice, yes, but he's also kind of a bully.

the dark-haired man doesn't find himself taking out his irritations on you often. he only deems it necessary to do so when his irritation is inspired by you, and while he has attitude issues, you mirror his tenfold... and he does not tolerate you doing so one bit.

now, you know suguru very well and are very accustomed to how he handles you when he's pissed off, but tonight, he's showing no mercy.

he's had you splayed over his lap for what feels like forever, your ass pointed upward and your wrists bound before you as you muffle your whimpers as best as you possibly can. you don't even remember what you had said or done to get suguru so worked up, but you know that your ass is stinging horribly and is likely marked up with several red angry hand prints, yet suguru is seemingly still far from finished with you.

you've tried crawling away multiple times, but his strong hands always pull you right back, keeping your back arched and your ass up for his access.

"don't cry now, angel," he says, voice dark as his hands roam over your ass. you tense as he gathers a handful of the fat into his fingers, squeezing tightly before raising his hand to smack down hard again with no warning. you lurch forward with a sob, your legs trembling harshly. "you weren't crying earlier when you were running your mouth so much, were you?"

"sugu," you hiccup, desperate for a break. "p-please..."

"nuh uh. you can't 'sugu' you're way out of this one," geto says, eyes heavy and dark as they look over the marks he has left behind. "after all, you're the one who wanted this."

"n-no," you deny pitifully.

"no?" he bites down hard on his teeth as he smacks you again, watching your plump flesh jiggle with the motion. he groans under his breath, sliding his hands over you again as you cry. "really? i could have sworn by the way you were talking to me, this was the only outcome you were looking for."

you can hardly hold yourself up anymore. your face falls flat on the bed as your body shakes with your laments. you don't know what number of spanks you're even on. was there ever a set count to begin with?

you try to reach a hand back, but you forget that your wrists are tied before you, leaving you with absolutely no defenses and suguru with the upper hand.

suguru roughly grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you up, looking over your tear-stained face with a quirked brow. "what's the matter? can't handle your punishment?" he taunts, eying you intensely.

you sniffle, eyes unfocused. your lips part to answer him, but he beats you to it, landing two more smacks to your backside, and you're seeing stars. the strike of his hand is starting to burn, stinging agonizingly over your skin. your ass is buzzing, throbbing with its own bruise-induced heartbeat.

you feel more tears break past your eyes and your brows scrunch up. "that won't do, angel," suguru says. "i must've gone too soft on you."

who goes to land one last strike, and you can't take it anymore. you're kicking away as best as you can, panting with your cries as your voice goes ragged.

"rose!!" you call, completely beyond yourself. "please, no more, please- i'm sorry! rose!"

suguru freezes, his hardened facade washing away. he breaks past the air of anger that he's been submerged in and sees the way you cry as he holds you up, your pearly tears dribbling past your chin as you continue to beg him to have mercy on you under your trembling breath.

"shit," he curses, slowly releasing your hair and easing your head back down. "i hear you, angel. loud and clear."

he hastily undoes your bind and tosses it to the side, setting your wrists free. you quiver, sinking over his lap. suguru catches a glimpse of the marks he has left once more, watching the blooming of purples and reds spread over your poor bum. he hadn't realize how bad it looked before, but he sees now just how hard he's been hitting you.

"fuck, angel, i'm sorry. i'm sorry."

his hand runs over the small of your back and he ducks down to the side of your face, which is still concealed as you cry. his brows curl and his heart lurches forward, his touch upon you now soft and delicate.

"(y/n)?"

"why'd y'spank me so hard," he hears you question into the blankets, speaking unstably amid your tears. suguru's heart drops then and there, and his entire demeanor shifts upon seeing what he's done to you.

"oh, sweet girl, i'm so fucking sorry. i'm sorry," he whispers to you soothingly, attempting to calm you. you're a wreck over his lap, shaking violently. "i don't know what happened. i don't know why i did that. i'm sorry, baby. i'm sorry."

he hisses as his thumb ghosts over his handprints, and even that has you jumping suddenly. "okay, i won't touch. i'm- shit, i really marked you up. that looks like it hurts so bad, angel, i'm sorry. i was being a dick. i don't know what came over me."

suguru slowly helps you up when you don't reply to him, and once he's got you slightly upright, you fall into his chest as you sob. his arms wrap over your upper and lower back securely, face burrowing into your shoulder. his long hair tickles your bare skin gently, his comforting scent consuming you, and you are reminded of your boyfriend's sympathy once more.

"a-are you really t-that mad?" you hiccup into his shoulder, dampening his skin with your tears.

"no," he tells you. "no, i'm not mad anymore. that wasn't- i just got carried away," he repeats. "you're okay, angel. you're perfect. i let my emotions get in the way too much."

"fe-lt like you hated me..."

"what?" he frowns, pulling back to look you in the eye. your red eyes meet his sorrowfully, and you sniff, searching for the kindness of those hazel eyes you so adore. you rediscover it the moment you look at him. "hate you? (y/n), no. don't say that. i could never hate you. i love you," he brushes your tears from your eyes and you whimper. "you're my sweet girl. my perfect angel. i would never," he says gravely. "i can't believe i made you feel that way."

"you spank hard," you pout, and he kisses your puffy lips, smoothing his hand over you hair and stroking your neck.

"i see that now. i'm sorry. i won't do that again," he kisses you again. "i'm sorry. i hate to see you cry like this. this isn't how i should make you cry."

suguru looks around and locates the bottle of water he left on the dresser prior. he leans forward, careful as to not agitate you, and grabs hold of it. "here," he unscrews the bottle around your waist and lifts it to your lips. "hydrate, baby. you need it."

you pucker your lips around the bottle as he eases it upward, easing the fluid into your mouth as you drink. "that's my girl."

once you're done, he leans down to put the bottle on the floor and slowly guides you off of him and onto your stomach after kissing your lips once more.

"what do you want, angel? ice? you want me to massage it?" he asks you, craning down by your ear as you press your cheek to the pillow and look at him tiredly.

"both," you say softly.

"yes ma'am. i'll be right back."

suguru spends the rest of the night treating you, rolling his cool hands ever so carefully over your bruises, cupping your ass, and massaging out the stings to increase blood flow. your brows arch and you moan into the pillow as he does so.

"i know, i know," he murmurs. "promise, i'll make it better. try to calm down for me."

he's kissing softly over the handprints, whispering endless apologies before applying ice every now and then. eventually, the pain begins to calm and subside as your senses dull, and suguru rubs circles over your waist.

"sugu?" you mutter after an extended period of silence.

the dark-haired man ducks down, gazing over your now serene features. "hm?"

he sees the corners of your lips pull upward subtly as you close your eyes. "you're mean, you know that?"

he puff of amused air blows through his nose as he nods, stroking your temple. "i know. i'm the meanest, angel. i'm sorry."

kento nanami:

kento nanami is a man among men, a perfect gentleman, the blueprint for all partners. he loves you dearly, and he takes any chance he can to show you or remind you of this love he harbors for you.

nanami treats you as though you are the only womann to grace this planet, and in many ways, that is exactly how he sees you. he dotes on you and makes you feel as though you are a queen among peasants, sending you flowers nearly every day, writing you sweet letters, cooking you dinner, keeping his hand to your waist to guide you close to him when you walk around in public, cooking your meals, and buying you every possible thing you could ever even mention wanting.

he's an angel. he's your dream man, and he's all yours and you're all his.

when kento is intimate with you, he likes to take his time. he likes to drag out every second of his fingers touching you and his lips ghosting over your body. he likes to admire you, every single part down to the last detail. he is never in any rush, and why should he be? why would he want this to end? you're his lovely woman, and you deserve every second of pleasure he has to offer you.

he handles you so lovingly, holding your gaze and intertwining his fingers with yours as he strokes into you deeply, a haze of raw passion capturing you both as you breathe into each other, fall into one another's longing gazes, and intertwine like pretty strokes of paint mixing into one another on a canvas.

he's enamored by you, kissing over your neck and listening to your pulse against his skin as he makes love to you, keeping you close, flush to him. tendrils of soft blonde hair sprinkle over your forehead as his lips meet yours, bodies rocking passionately. you can feel the fondness in the way he presses into you, the way he holds you, and you feel so feather light as your head floats into the clouds and heaven encaptures you in the bliss of his hold.

nanami is afraid of hurting you when you have sex. he tends to always handle you with care solely because of this fear of his, and while he has his moments of letting just a little bit more loose, of handling you just a little bit rougher, of pushing in just a little bit deeper, he doesn't want to overwhelm you to the point where you are in pain.

you, of course, spur him on and encourage him to let go. you don't believe that nanami would ever hurt you, or at least do so to the point of irreversible damage, but he still gives you a safe word to use for any time you may feel more sensitive than normal or need a break or simply want him to stop because he's making you uncomfortable. you never thought that you would need such a thing with him, but you had unfortunately been wrong.

it isn't even nanami's fault, per say. you like to push yourself more than nanami really approves, and while you can handle it just fine, you find a moment when you overestimate yourself.

you've been riding kento at his desk chair, your hands gripping his shoulders as his hands clutch your hips. his head is tossed back, normally neatly combed haired tousled messily, and his chocolate eyes drink you in through heavy lids. a chorus of hushed moans leave your lips as you work yourself down onto him, rolling your hips, grinding over him, and sliding up and down swiftly.

the blonde's lashes flutter as he watches you, a sight so beautiful and a sensation so purely exquisite that he can not bear to look away.

you lean down to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest to his unbuttoned dress shirt. his hands run over your back on instinct, eyes falling closed as he pants into your shoulder.

"ken," you pur into his ear. "fuck up into me, please..."

and normally kento would think on it more, but hell, you just feel too good for him to deny such a polite request. he obliges, gripping your hips and holding you down, planting his feet securely into the carpet and sheathing his throbbing length upward and into your welcoming, gummy walls.

"oh, sweetheart," he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist and burrowing his nose into the crook of your neck with furrowed brows. "you feel so perfect like this."

"fuckkk, ken," you whine.

after a while, you push yourself down at a faster pace, attempting to catch up with his strokes and speed him up. kento grunts, holding you tighter and understanding the message as he thrusts up into you faster.

soon, the sound of his hips slapping into your ass lifts into the air throughout his home office, and you're whining into him, rutting yourself down with him.

nanami's groaning into you, pace a bit wilder as he mimics your behavior. he's got a hand slid up your neck and into your hair as the other holds your waist down, no longer allowing you to move the way you had before as his thrusts proceed.

you're squelching around him, moaning prettily and growing louder by the second until nanami shifts slightly, sitting up straighter and holding you still as he fucks up into you.

he's rougher, as you had physically and verbally requested of him. while this isn't the first time he's handled you a bit harder, it's the first time you feel the weight of his tip bruise your insides with his position, his speed, and his access.

you gasp, breath hitching in your throat as pleasure rather quickly transitions into discomfort, and you squirm. you want to take it, you love taking him so much, but the longer he pulls you further into the harsh push of his dick into your cervix, the more painful it begins to feel.

you grip into nanami's hair, squeezing the muscles in your face as you breathe out heavily. it only takes a few more thrusts that slam into you way too harshly before you tap against his back.

"ah- ken, ken, hold on- mm- yellow!"

nanami stops even before the word leaves your mouth, pulling you off of him with haste as you wince. he sets you back down on his thighs, and you can feel his length twitching against your ass as he looks over you with pinched brows.

he looks so pretty, still thoroughly consumed with lust, captured by worry for your well-being. his hands remain on your waist as he looks over you sternly. "tell me where sweetheart. how did i hurt you?"

you already feel bad as your walls clench around nothing, rather disappointed in yourself. you tremble slightly, looking down. "sorry- i just... it just started hurting for a sec."

"i was going too roughly?" he asks you for clarification, warm brown hues of care looking up at you. he looks torn, devastated that he had broken the one promise he had made to himself about harming you in such a vulnerable state.

"it wasn't you, ken, i didn't think it would hurt that much," you say dejectedly, a tad woozy from the way you had just been handled. it wasn't as though you didn't enjoy it, your body had just reacted differently and reminded you of your limits with taking ken in such a way.

"of course it was me, honey, i'm not sure what you mean," he says softly, his thumb smoothing over your spine. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart. i never meant to hurt you. i must have allowed myself to get too worked up."

"it's okay, ken," you shush him, taking his face gently in your hands. he gazes at you, frustrated with himself but eyes so full of love for you, the darkness in his eyes still swimming about. "you always tell me to reel it in, but you just make me feel so good. i always want more of you. i pushed a little too hard."

"honey," nanami begins, taking one of your wrists in his veiny hand and turning to press a kiss to your palm. "i still would never blame you in this situation. i know better. i apologize sincerely. how badly does it hurt?"

"...it's not that bad, ken. it was just a sting."

"it doesn't matter," he shakes his head. "i think that's enough intimacy for today. i can not stand the thought of hurting you any further."

you give him a sad look. "but it wasn't all your fault, ken," you frown.

nanami smiles at you softly and leans in to press a long, gentle kiss to your lips. he pulls away from you and meets your gorgeous eyes. "i love you, sweetheart," he declares so warmly, so honestly and you return the sentiment without a second thought, heart thrumming.

"i love you more."

"let me run a bath for you, okay? then after, we can relax and order some food. i can give you a nice massage, too. how does that sound?"

"...can i massage you too?"

nanami laughs slightly. "darling, i'm not the one who got hurt."

"i don't care. i wanna help you relax too. you always have so much tension."

"i'm relaxed any time i'm with you. and you certainly were helping me relax a few minutes ago. perhaps, a bit too much."

you pout and he kisses you again, his soft lips warm and enticing against your own. "ken," you murmur against his lips as he draws himself back, rubbing his palm over your spine and sliding your shirt back down from its scrunched state.

"yes, my love?"

"i still want you."

he gives you a firm, warning look. "(y/n), i said that's enough. you need to rest a bit. you just said that you have the tendency to push yourself when it comes to sex."

"i know, but," you push your bottom lip out and lean back up against his chest, arms draping over his shoulders again. "it doesn't have to be sex. you can just... eat me out."

you feel nanami's chest stutter against you as he breathes out heavily. "you're playing a dangerous game, you know that?"

"please?" you beg, dragging your nose against his neck. "you're always gentle. and it feels so good... all you have to do is hold me down, i won't get hurt in any way with your tongue on me, i swear."

a groan rumbles in nanami's chest and you can feel his dick twitch back to life against you. you smile lazily, leaning back to look him in the eye. "pleaseee?"

"only if you behave," he accepts, raising his brows. "i'm serious. i will go the pace i want to go, and you'll take it. slowly."

you bite the inside of your lip and nod, a pretty smile gracing your face. nanami hums, curving his hand over the back of your head and bringing you to his lips again.

"what am i going to do with you?"

choso kamo:

your brown-haired boyfriend is new to a plethora of human emotions and habits, yet sex is one thing he adjusts to rather eagerly and skillfully thanks to your influence.

choso is ever so inquisitive, seeking to explore every part of you so that he can ingrain your body and its incredible functions into his mind, so he can adapt, so he can improve, and you can confidently say that he proceeds to do so with each passing moment he studies, loves, and cares for you.

choso gets pretty flustered by you easily. you introduce him to not only a world of your love and affection, but a world of vulnerability, pleasure, and sensual exploration. he learns fast, the goal of making you happy driving him forward into picking up on the things you show him incredibly swiftly.

he's so handsy with you, unsure of how to properly convey all that you make him feel so he frequently clobbers you, enveloping you, consuming you in a needy daze, repetitively chanting about how he loves you and how beautiful you are, and how amazing you make him feel, how he never wants to let you go. he's pathetically obsessed with you, longing for your touch at any given moment yet he always allows you to initiate your intimacy first before he completely drowns in you. he's still working on managing himself around you as well as his own urges to refrain from acting out of line, being too forward, or misreading situations. he wants to be perfect for you, and never in your relationship does choso ever want to misstep or misread what you want.

getting him to vocalize when and how he wants you is one thing, but once you've started, sending him a text about how you need him, or running your hand down his thigh a little closer to his crotch underneath the table, or giving him that certain look in your eye that can only mean one thing, then he's completely and utterly unraveling at the very second you give him the green light.

choso's sloppy and uncoordinated but it doesn't matter and he doesn't care because all he's after is you, and when he has you, his brain goes numb, his hands, his dick, his everything are acting with a mind of their own.

the two of you are hot gasps and nasty sloppy noises as the purple eyed man above you pleads for you, though you're right there, aching for more until he can't even breathe.

you think choso is so beautiful like this, lips parted and brows curled as though he's going to cry from the euphoria. his brown hair falls over his shoulders and sticks to his forehead, free from the updo that he always wears, and for someone who can manipulate the blood in his body, he is beet red in the face as he watches the way he disappears into you.

choso would never hurt you. not in a million years. he would die before he hurt you, standing in front of oncoming traffic and sacrificing himself for the sake of your life.

therefore, when his crooked fingers are rocketing into your sopping walls as you cream over and over on his three digits, his lips slurping over your clit with your fingers lace into his hair and tugging at his scalp, he doesn't expect you to stop him.

he's only thinking of how you taste so sweet on his tongue, how your gorgeous pussy makes that squelching noise the deeper he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, and god, the way his dick twitches every time you pull at his hair- he can hardly tell if you're trying to yank him away or to pull him closer at this point, but he's not even thinking about that. he's not thinking at all.

he’s groaning and humming into you, whining in between breaths about how he just can’t get enough, but his fingers are beginning to thrust too fast, too far inside of your walls.

his noises shift between guttural, deep growls and shaky, heavy-pitched breaths. though you love every sound, you begin to feel yourself rejecting the feeling as it grows far too swift, too hard, too overpowering.

"c-cho," you whimper, your thighs moving to push you away, but he keeps you down with his free forearm to your lower abdomen. "baby, i c-can't- ah!"

his noises rise over your pleads and he doesn't stop, and you can feel an uncomfortable knot building in your stomach in addition to the ache inside you. you wince, the overlapping sensations proving to be way too much at once.

your hand pushes at his forehead rather harshly. "cho-! ngh- pinaepple!"

choso's brows twitch as he processes what you just said, his mind still not completely comprehending, but after a second or two, he rips himself away as though he's burned you.

panic swirls in his violet eyes, his saliva and your slick shining over his chin up to his nose. he looks up at you over your thighs, but you don't see because you're leaning your head back in relief and breathing heavily.

"did you just say your safeword?" he asks in a rush, ensuring that he has registered your words properly.

you nod stiffly, furrowing your brows. "y-yeah, m'sorry," you breathe. "i couldn't take anymore."

choso's pupils shrink as though you've just told him that all life is ending as you know it. his heart hammers through his chest, and he instantly peels away from your now cold sex to swipe his fingers on the bed, ridding himself of any reminder that he has pushed you too much.

he crawls up to see your face, caging his arms over you. his muscles tense as he looks over your expression, brows knitted and eyes glossy. you eventually open your eyes again, having sensed his presence over you.

"(y/n), i'm sorry," he apologizes so earnestly like it's the very last thing he'll ever say to you. he's suddenly deadly serious, firm, and ashamed of himself. "you've never used our word before. i... i didn't realize what i was doing to you."

"cho," you say his name softly. he tilts his head further down to you, his brows curling in sadness. "it's okay, baby. stuff like this happens."

"what do you mean?" he frowns, hand coming over your cheek the moment yours lifts to hold his. "this has never happened to us before. i'm not sure how i let it, either."

"i just mean in general," you clarify softly. you can feel your eyes growing heavier and your speech slurring. choso notices as well, keeping his hand on your face so that you remain with him, cognizant of his gaze and his touch.

"this has happened to you before?" he asks, slightly horrified and simultaneously agitated by the very idea. "when? with who?"

"baby, i'm trying to tell you mistakes happen," you laugh softly. "no, this hasn't happened to me before, but i'm saying we have a safe word for a reason for when these things do happen."

"oh," he murmurs. "but i never wanted you to actually have to use it..."

"well, how else would we learn about each other if we didn't run into things like this?" you smile warmly at him. choso's face blooms with further heat, humming to himself as he looks at you.

"tell me."

"tell you what?"

"tell me exactly what it was that i did. i'll be sure not to make the same mistake twice. i swear. i'm so sorry for hurting you," he declares, determined.

"it wasn't that bad, love," you assure him.

"i still want to know. i need to know."

"it was just the way you were using your fingers, and i was already super sensitive."

"...so, you don't want me to use my fingers on you anymore?"

"oh, god, no," you say, and you can see choso visibly relax.

"oh... okay, good. i would have stopped if you wanted me to, but i was hoping that wasn't it. i love fingering you."

your tired smile spreads as you lift your other hand to curl into his hair, scratching gently. his lashes flutter, heavy eyes matching your own. "i love when you finger me too, cho. just maybe next time, be gentler... only because you'd already made me cum so much. my body was just tired and i don't think it could keep up anymore."

he nods, taking in every word you say. "i understand. that makes sense, i'm sorry. i should have checked on you and asked."

"it's okay, baby, you don't have to keep apologizing."

"but i just can't stomach that i-"

"it's. okay," you whisper slowly, pulling him down to meet your lips with his in a delicate peck where you can smell yourself on his breath.

he sighs when you pull away, face twisted irritably. "are you sure, baby? you're not just saying that?"

"of course," you say softly. "it was just one little thing. that's all. i'm okay."

choso almost looks reluctant to accept your dismissal of the situation. he somehow feels like he needs to be reprimanded more for it, and you can tell simply by the way he stares at you.

"cho," you giggle. "stop, i told you i'm fine."

"i know. you're too sweet to me, (y/n)," he murmurs. "i wanna make it up to you. can i? is there anything i can do to make you feel better? please tell me."

you swoon internally at just how much cares. "can you just cuddle me please?"

"yes. absolutely, yes."

the brunette moves to kiss your forehead, then helps ease your legs over so that you are settled comfortably over the bed. before he lays down, he is reminded of the dampness beneath you, coating your inner thighs and creeping up to your belly button.

"love, do you have a towel?" he asks you gently as you start to curl over to him. "i need to clean you up, don't i? i made kind of a mess."

"later, cho," you mumble tugging at his bicep. "just want to be close to you right now."

he's torn momentarily. he's always quick to cater to what you ask of him, to just silently yet happily comply with whatever you need, but he knows that the second he gathers you in his arms, sleep is going to take over the both of you as it normally does after sex. the last thing he wants is for you to be laying in a sticky pool of your own arousal. he imagines you waking up uncomfortable, and it doesn't sit well with him.

"hold on a minute," he tells you. you look up curiously as he kisses your cheek and slides his arm slowly from you to stand. your hand slips into his before you release him reluctantly.

"cho?" you call him with big eyes, and the brunette almost gives in right there.

"just one more second. i remember us always doing this, and i don't want to neglect you now."

"...but-"

"one second. i promise, love."

you sigh and accept it. the moment you say okay, choso is practically sprinting to your bathroom and back with a towel. you can't help but smile gently as he hurriedly, yet gently, cleans you dry, holding your legs in his palm and easing them to the side when he's done.

"do you have to pee?" he asks you rather bluntly, gazing up at you as he folds the towel and places it on the ground.

you groan at the thought. "yeah, but i don't feel like it."

"that's okay. i'll take you."

"to pee?" you quirk a brow.

"yes?" he answers as though you questioning the thought is absurd. "i don't want you to go yourself. you're tired."

"yeah, but then that means you'll just be listening to me."

"(y/n), i've seen every part of you. i don't care about watching you pee."

"why would you want to hear or watch me in the first place?" you whine.

"to make sure it doesn't hurt you when you do."

"cho, baby, you did not hurt me that bad. oh my god," you run a hand over your face and shake your head with your laughter.

"i just want to make sure you're alright. i can close my eyes if it helps," he says stubbornly, leaning down to gather you slowly into his arms. your arms go to wrap over his neck as he lifts you up and walks you off.

"it's honestly fine whatever you do, cho, i just think it's a little funny."

"to worry?"

"nooo," you sigh, knocking your head against his shoulder. "nevermind."

choso responds with a peck to your head before sitting you down in the restroom. once the both of you are settled, you're back in bed under the covers. choso holds you with your back to his chest, palming soothingly over your abdomen as you drift off to sleep with the feeling of his chest rising and falling against you.

"(y/n)," cho's voice rumbles into you. you hum contentedly half asleep, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "thank you for being honest with me. i love you. i love you so much."

"mmm. i love you too, cho. thank you for always listening to me."

toji fushiguro:

toji, mentally and physically, can not get enough of you, especially after long stressful days on the job. when he comes home from work and is greeted by the sight of your pretty face after having had guns pointed at his head, blood spilling on his face, and the weight of exhaustion and sore muscles hanging on his back, seeing you is like seeing the gates of heaven after death.

the assassin is always so quick to fall over you, pressing you to him and smothering you in long, deep, hot kisses as he walks you back or picks you up to carry you to your bedroom, or to the shower, or hell, even to the countertop in the kitchen.

toji fucking loves being inside you. he loves tasting you on his lips, feeling you clench around his fingers, watching you squeeze over his heavy cock as he sinks into you with a guttural groan and a devilish smirk. he loves the way your soft skin feels beneath his calloused hands, he loves licking the salty-sweet sweat from your neck as you toss your head back, he loves the sound of your pussy gushing around him with each slow stroke that inevitably transitions into ruthless pounding.

god, he loves fucking you as much as he loves you, and the moment he's got you in his arms with a week of stress pent up within his chest, he's pouring all if it straight into the way he fucks you, and he gets lost in the euphoria that is you.

you're such a pretty thing beneath him, so small compared to his bulking frame, and he is obsessed with it. one second, he's stroking in leisurely, absorbing every second of the way he slides his girth between your gummy walls, soaking up the way you greedily drag him back in with each thrust. and the next, you're in a mating press and he's grunting into your mouth through a sloppy lip lock, slamming in rhythmically, stilling his cock inside you for a second longer each time so that you can feel just had deep he is, just how deliciously he's stretching you open. hell, he doesn't even know when or how it happens. he just knows that you have him whipped, and his stress melts away with each drag of his seed he pumps into you after the umpteenth round.

"fuckin' hell, doll, keep drainin' my cock just like that. thaaaaat's it, pretty baby- hah, fuck- take me so deep inside this perfect lil' pussy..."

toji has always been well aware of the size difference between the two of you. he's always been a freakishly large man, and that fact of course applies to the generous width of the monster he carries between his legs. he knows you struggle at times when he has to take a good minute or two to help you relax as he eases himself into you while you whine, that his size can be a bit overwhelming, but you've accustomed to him so well that he completely forgets about how much stronger, heavier, and bigger he is- especially so when he is stressed.

he is, however, unfortunately, reminded after he has curled your lower half up from the bed with your legs over his shoulder. your knees are hovering by your ears as he plants himself over you with his feet on the bed, holding onto your hips and pounding himself down into you almost vertically, keeping you flush against his torso.

his day had been particularly long and grueling, and the job he had been on took far longer than expected just for his client to argue with him about some bullshit once he had finished. toji's irritated, and he's fucking you like he is.

normally you don't have much of a problem with that, but this position he's got you in has you widening your eyes and practically screaming. he's too deep, pushing in too hard, and this angle gives you no room to squirm away or for his dick to angle anywhere but straight into your guts. it hurts, and his face is tense with blazing jade irises of fury, fingers digging into your skin bruisingly, and he's on the verge of going impossibly harder.

you choke, scrunching your face and moving to press against him. when he starts to reach for your hand and pin it down, you shout.

"orange!" you cry. "stop, toji, orange!"

he instantly stills, face falling as he stares down at you in shock. "oh shit, baby, for real?"

you nod quickly with a tight face and he's retracting within seconds, pulling out carefully and bringing your legs back down to the mattress.

"fuck, alright," he says, climbing over you and pulling you down gently. "sorry, baby, was it the angle?"

you don't say much, only nod again as you fight the tears that prick the corners of your eyes. you keep your eyes closed and toji wraps you up, laying back on his side and pulling you into his chest. he feels your legs twitching against his and your shoulders shaking as he holds you, and remorse floods his chest. "talk to me."

"w-was too deep, toji," you shudder, whispering shakily into him. "s'big, and that angle- it hurt."

toji's heart clenches as he holds you tighter around your shoulders. he kisses your forehead, pressing his lips to your hair. "i didn't realize, baby, i'm sorry."

"i told you it was too much..."

"i know, doll, but i didn't think you meant it. you usually don't."

"s'why i said... the word."

"yeah, you did. you did exactly what you were supposed to. good girl, doll," he praises, rubbing over your back slowly. he's never seen you look so pained in such an intimate space with you. the way your brows were pinched angrily when he looked up, the way your teeth bared in a soft grimace, the way you pushed against him and wanted him to get off, it breaks his heart. he feels like a complete piece of shit, especially so because he didn't notice until your safeword came flying out of your mouth.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again. "i should've been payin' attention. i had a bad day... fuck, sorry."

you can tell he's remorseful, and that combined with the fact that you've been fucked stupid for the past hour and a half has you shaking your head against him forgivingly, head dizzy as you finally take a moment to collect yourself. "it's okay," you mumble into his neck lightly.

"it's not, doll. it ain't even fun or sex anymore if i'm hurtin' you," he frowns. you make a soft noise but don't respond to him verbally. toji looks down at you, gently lifting your head to catch the fuzzy look in your eye. "you hearin' me? you okay?"

you nod dumbly, a hint of unease pinching your brows when your legs twitch again and the ache in your core throbs. you burrow your face in toji's neck and he sighs.

"i gotta get you cleaned up, doll. then i'll make up for it."

"wait," you mumble the moment you feel him pulling away. he stops as you cling to him, peering up at him through sleepy lashes. "don't go."

"i'm just gettin' you a towel. i'll be right back."

you look at him sadly once he has completely torn away from you and stood at the edge of the bed. he watches the way you bring your knees to your chest and look up at him with sleepy, desperate eyes. toji exhales, tilting his head.

"you want me to take you with me?"

"yes..."

he allows himself to smile lightly in amusement. "alright, but you're not walkin' anywhere, you understand?"

he leans down and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. he hoists you up cautiously by your bum, allowing you to wrap your legs around his torso. you cringe slightly at the action, your legs burning after having endured such exertion, and toji can feel you shift against him as he holds you with one arm by your waist.

"that's not comfortable, is it?" he turns to your face, but it has already disappeared into his neck. you don't respond and toji exhales at the stubborn clinginess that you resort to in this fucked out state at the cost of your comfort.

he aids you by holding one of your thighs gently as he walks to your bathroom to retrieve the things he needs. with one hand holding you and the other gripping some cloths, he carries you back into your room and sets you softly onto your back on the cushions.

he gently unwinds your legs from around him and kneels on the bed beside you. he ducks down to kiss you softly, and you hum in satisfaction against him before he pulls away, stroking your forehead.

"close your eyes, doll. let me take care of ya."

a warm rag runs over your body, wiping over dark hickeys and lines of sweat. his lips follow in the cloth's wake, kissing over any part of you that he deems he has treated too roughly in his haste to relieve himself of stress.

he reaches your thighs, where the most pain resides, and presses his lips to them softly. his fingers run over your calves, up the sides of your plush flesh and he proceeds to pepper kisses between your legs, swiping the cloth over your damp entrance tentatively, keeping his eyes on your face to ensure that he isn't further harming you. you do jerk slightly, but that is the extent of your physical reaction.

"i got you, don't worry."

the second you feel the cloth leave you, toji's hands are pulling you up again, moving you around so that he can lay flat on his back beside you. you open your eyes, watching him curiously.

"come lay on me, baby," he guides you by your arm.

you do as he says, easing yourself chest-first onto of him and allowing your body to sink into his heat. his hands come over you and his palms work into the knots in your lower back, over your bum, and in your shoulder blades. he kneads into the balls of tightness, rolling over and rubbing them through lazily.

your eyes flutter at the relieving sensation, the green-eyed man's rough hands smoothing to rid your body of excess tension. "there you go," he kisses your shoulder. "i'll make you feel better, i promise. no more pain for my girl."

"love you, toj," you whisper sleepily into his skin.

"love you too. i'm sorry for hurtin' you. i'll be more careful."

ryomen sukuna: you know sukuna to be rough in all aspects of his life, and that certainly does not change when it comes to the two of you having sex- in fact, that very trait of his is enhanced. the moment he slips inside of you, he's pushing your head face first into the pillows, gripping your waist or your thighs or your throat with his large palms as to prevent you from running away, spitting into your mouth, fisting your hair, leaving red bite marks in his wake, anything he possibly can to remind you that you are his to devour whole.

you've always enjoyed the way he tosses you around or fucks you over the velvet pad of his throne, or holds you almost violently by the thighs in the air and spears you down on his ungodly thick cock while sitting at the edge of your bed with his feet planted into the floor. he knows he's not gentle with you, but aggression is the only way he knows to take you by, to show you how much you drive him fucking crazy, to bask in your enchanting screeches and your doll-like, hazy expressions.

and like the good girl he knows you to be, you take him every single time, and it spurs him on. it encourages him to plow harder, to grip tighter, to render you completely immobile beneath him as he ruts himself into you like it's the end of the fucking world and the only way for him to survive is to fuck you like a worthless whore, though you're nothing close to one.

while he always leaves you in a pool of your mixed fluids on the verge of losing consciousness, shaking like a leaf kissed by the breeze, you've never expressed an inability or refusal to handle him. you take him so well for a human, and sukuna's captivated by your strength, your insatiable desire when he's bullying his dick into your swollen cunt. while you get overstimulated, or hell even beg him to go slower or softer, he knows you don't really want him to stop because you haven't uttered the one word that he told you to reserve only for the times you feel you are beyond discomfort.

that is, until a few seconds ago, when the muffled word rips from your hoarse throat through the ball of your panties he's stuffed into your mouth.

sukuna's on top of you, pressing his heavy weight over your back with his arms wrapped under your frame and his thighs crushing in on your on. you're on your stomach, tears dribbling from your eyes and down your face as sukuna finally stills inside you after having thrusted painfully into your cervix over and over. he's so deep inside you, and he wants you to feel. he wanted to see how much further he could break you in, but clearly, he had mistakenly forgotten that you are still fragile.

the king of curses' eyes go wide, and he rips an arm from under you to tear the gag from your mouth. you heave out a sob, face falling into the pillows as you murmur your safeword again, a string of practically unintelligible spent moans that only sukuna can understand because he's never heard you utter that word before.

"red, red, red," you snivel, and sukuna's face relaxes.

"i heard you," he murmurs gruffly. "give me a moment."

you whine as your entire body collapses with the withdrawal of sukuna's arms from your body. he sighs heavily, looking over your marked skin as he smoothes a hand up your spine. you flinch with a whimper, and he clicks his teeth.

"this is what happens when you grow cocky."

"h-hurts, kuna. too hard," he thinks he hears you simper.

"never heard you say that before," he murmurs. "know your limits, woman."

he slowly eases himself out of your warmth with a clenched jaw and angled brows, watching your arousal gush onto the sheets the moment he's pulled back. you jump and curl further up into the pillow.

"oh my, how far have i taken you this time?" he hums, watching as you squirm under even the slightest touch he gives.

"ryooo," you whine.

"alright, alright," he comes back down over your limp body, curling his fingers over your forehead to pull your face up and gently brush your sweaty hair away. your eyes are closed as he turns inward to look over you, caressing your damp cheek softly. you're so warm, so shaky beneath him. your brows are pinched together in pain and exhaustion, and your lips are wobbling. hell, he's never seen you look so weak before.

"hey," he coaxes gently, voice rumbling tenderly against your back through his toned abdominals. you're releasing a series of trembles, broken hums, likely unsure of where you even are, and sukuna curses internally. he softens. "what do you need, peach?" he asks you in a low whisper.

your response is near incomprehensible, but sukuna is already thinking and moving before you even open your mouth. he exhales heavily and presses himself back up so that he can stand and gather you in his arms. you whimper when he goes to delicately flip you over.

"relax," he orders softly, smearing the wetness away from your cheek and smoothing his hands over your heated skin. you obey him to the best of your ability as he pulls you up.

as though it is muscle memory, you lean into his bare chest once he is holding you bridal style. you continue to tremble, and sukuna's crimson eyes roam your body carefully. he's truly done a number on you this time.

normally when it came to baths, sukuna would have one of his servants or uraume run them for you, but instead, he feels the need to take the duty on himself as he carries you into your large connected restroom. he sets you down within the inhumanly large royal tub slowly, and the moment he pulls from you, you reach for him lazily in retort as your head rolls back against the rim.

"be patient, i am not going anywhere."

he reaches to turn on the faucet as hot water streams around your feet. he's hasty with his movements, focused, knowing that you do not desire to be cold in this moment. he stands to retrieve the oils and soaps he's purchased solely for your pleasure and sits back down beside the tub.

"open your eyes," he reaches in to cradle your chin. you scrunch your lids and tilt your head to him, peeling your blurry eyes on his command. "lavender or peppermint. pick one."

your eyes weakly drift to the array of bottoms lined on the ledge. "lavender," you request tiredly.

your voice is so small, so light, a heady contrast to the way you normally challenge him with your playful tone. sukuna looks at you momentarily, soaking in your sweet mellow state, before retrieving the said bottle and pouring it into the rising steamy water.

he keeps a hand on your shoulder, rubbing over a bite mark with his thumb, as bubbles, soothing fragrances, and petals fall into the tub one by one. the hot water crowds over your bare skin, alleviating the dull ache between your legs and the stings of the marks on your skin.

sukuna holds an intense look of focus, swishing his arm around the water to ensure that all the properties he has included mix together well. you watch him, dazed, cheek propped against the porcelain with heavy (e/c) eyes studying his attentiveness. he feels your eyes on him, but only raises a brow at you once the bath is finished.

you truly aren't all there.

sukuna rises to his feet, slipping his arms behind you and under your own to hold you up as he steps inside with you.

you let him manuever you, your body too exhausted to dare to try to move. he pulls you flush against his chest, his thighs crowding over your own. you sigh out, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he brings a cloth over you, washing away remnants of spit and cum, massaging into the aches of your body wordlessly.

his chin comes down over your shoulder while his hands wind over your waist to stroke your legs. his fingers dance gently over your inner thighs, up your abdomen, ghosting over your neck. he's everywhere, and for the first time, in a supple, tender way, as though he is polishing glass that he does not wish to break.

you're humming, breathing steadily, chest rising deeply and slowly. sukuna's hands curve to smooth over your tits, and you flinch, leading him to smirk lightly. "sensitive, are we?" you pout, brows curling, and he turns his lips to your neck. "calm down, brat, i'm not going to push you. keep still."

his palms work over the sore plush of your breasts and you melt, arching into him as he massages over you with such care. a weak moan threatens to escape you and sukuna shakes his head. "do not. that is what led you here in the first place."

his hands release your tits and follow the curve of your body downward once more. he continues his massaging and caressing of your body until you're no longer twitching.

his hands fall over your hips, smoothing over your stomach. he lifts up slightly to look down at you. "are you still in pain?"

you take a moment to respond, but eventually, your eyes open again and they meet sukuna's lax gaze. despite the permanent angle of his brows, he appears calm before you, mutely compassionate.

you lean against him, holding his gaze, and shake your head slightly, a bit of your senses slowly returning. "only a little between my legs," you murmur.

he hums. "and how would you expect me to tend to this pain?"

you don't say anything, but the soft glint in your eye speaks for you as sukuna's hand slowly trails down your stomach and past your clit lightly. you inhale sharply, still thoroughly sensitive.

sukuna's eyes look over the whole of your face. "do you wish me to massage your sore cunt from the inside? is that what you so desire?"

you moan out a gentle sigh, heavy lids falling over your eyes in a blink as you nod helplessly against him. "slowly..." you murmur.

"you are insatiable," he mumbles lowly. his fingers ghost over the lips of your pussy, circling them gently before sinking past and sliding into your warm walls.

your mouth parts and your head knocks back as sukuna watches you closely. the water swishes around your legs as you move, sukuna's lips crushing slowly over your mouth.

"i suppose i can assist as a reward for you speaking up."

[hungharrington]

show-time

request: i cannot stop thinking about asking steve if he ever got himself off to you before you got together. he’d be so blushy and sheepish about it but man it’d be fun to watch him squirm 🤤

2.1k words, established relationship, masturbation (steve), gn!reader, MDNI this entire blog is 18+

It’s a universally awkward experience to have a sex-scene come on in a movie. Unless one’s watching it alone, of course.

You are not. Cuddled in behind you, cushioning you against his chest, Steve lounges, his eyes fixed on the screen.

Sure, in terms of awkwardness-rankings, watching this with your boyfriend who you also have sex with isn’t as bad as, like, watching with parents.

But still. You kinda can’t tell if you should be watching or averting your eyes — and you don’t want to peek over your shoulder to figure out what Steve’s doing.

The man in the film grunts, his hand in his pants jerking furiously, his eyes fixed on a polaroid of the film’s love interest.

You squint—surely this is stretching the truth a bit?

Yeah, yeah, guys jerk off, you know that - this isn’t your first day on earth.

You just didn’t think it would be like, romantic style. People in movies kiss in the rain and run through airports, so they’re hardly known for being grounded in reality.

The man in the film groans lewdly and you feel Steve shift slightly behind you, his fingers looped around your middle twitching.

Did he-? When you-? You suppose you’ve never really thought about it.

You’re asking before you can second guess yourself.

“Did you do this?”

Steve’s attention switches idly from the screen to you as you crane your neck to look back at him. His brows pinch together.

“Did I do what?” He asks, doting brown eyes searching your face.

You fluster a bit. This is certainly moving you up through the awkwardness rankings. But now it’s in your head —now you’ve said it — you can’t turn back.

The thought of it blazes hotly through your mind.

Steve, all those months ago, still just crushing on you, but never quite making a move. He’d told you, whispered his secret, when you’d finally gotten the nerve to ask him to be your boyfriend officially, that he’d been sweet on you far longer than you knew.

But the image of it is what has you interested. You imagine Steve, his fist stuffed into his tight jeans, working himself over and biting his fist to hide his moans, at the mere thought of you.

You’d had plenty of long, late night conversations on the phone before officially getting together.

The thought of if he’d ever touched himself while you talked, none the wiser on the other end, wanders into your mind — and your stomach clenches hotly at the thought.

Clearing your throat, you tip your head towards the screen.

“Like, before we got together?”

It takes Steve another glance at the screen to realise what you’re asking. A simmering, pink colour crawls up his neck and in a moment, you go from feeling awkward to feeling downright devious.

Steve clears his throat, his eyes darting rapidly back and forth from the screen to your face. “Uh, I- I mean, why do you ask?”

A coy smile curls at your mouth. “I wanna know how accurate it is.”

Steve stares down at you, the pink now creeping up his cheeks and to the tips of his ears. God, he looks delectable like this.

Is this how he looked when he did it too? Blushy and embarrassed to commit such a filthy act thinking of someone that wasn’t his? A hot buzz drizzles through your core, fringed with endearment.

Steve licks his lips nervously. His hands on your stomach stiffen and then relax. The film plays on in the background. His expression shifts towards something sheepish.

“It’s — I, uh, well, yes.” He stammers. “It’s accurate, yes.”

“How many times?”

Steve’s eyes narrow, but his face gets redder. “What is this, an interrogation now?”

You giggle, drinking in his evidently embarrassed state. The confirmation of him doing it solidifies the perfect image of him in your mind, your own film-scene imagining Steve in the same position as the character on screen. In real life, Steve moves his hand to tug at the collar of his shirt.

“I’m just… enjoying the idea of it.” You muse.

“Uh huh,” Steve says, tongue jammed into the side of his cheek. “Not just—” He fumbles for his words. “Just enjoying seeing me, I don’t know, like—”

His words trail off and his head tips back with a groan, exposing the delicious expanse of his throat. It begs you for kisses and love bites. He moves both hands up to cover his face.

You wait til he pulls them away to nod. “Absolutely, baby. Watching you squirm is far more interesting than this film.”

In the background, the man on screen gives a pornographic shout as he finishes in his pants. Steve manages to turn redder, even if he keeps his eyes fixed on you.

“But I’m just,” You huff and pout. “Put out, I guess. You did all that for me and I didn’t even get to see it.”

At the exact same time, you watch as Steve’s pupils dilate, blowing out in obvious lust, and something pressed against your back thickens up.

Steve, to his credit, only makes one strained noise which he immediately smothers with a cough. You feel his hips twitch beneath you and make a quick decision, confidence built on the sweltering heat of Steve’s face.

You push forward and up, then quickly turn, slotting your knees across either side of Steve’s thighs, perching atop them nicely.

You’re not outright in his lap—there’s room between the two of you for what you hope will happen.

It takes Steve another long moment to catch your drift.

“Wait, you want-?” He inhales sharply. You can see the twitch of his cock through his loose sweatpants. “To see?”

“To watch,” You clarify, smiling almost mischievously. “Yeah.”

Then just to check, “Is that okay?”

Steve’s breath shudders out of him but he’s nodding before the question is completely out of your mouth.

“H-Here?” He checks. You nod, resting your hands atop your thighs to show you don’t plan on using them. Steve’s hungry eyes scan you up and down, the tent in his pants pitching up in arousal.

“Just show me how you did it,” You murmur, words on the side of sultry. Your own excitement, that faint thrum of pleasure, has already started to pool low in your gut.

“Yeah, but I normally don’t have an audience for it,” Steve mumbles, his left-hand reaching for the drawstrings of his sweats.

They come undone with a simple tug. Steve stretches the elastic out a bit and then slips his hand in.

You know the moment his large hand settles around his cock from the flutter of his lashes, the soft groan that curls out his throat, rough and sweet all at once.

This… This is new. You usually don’t get such a focused look at Steve’s pleasure, at the little shifts in his expression, too wrapped up in your own pleasure to pay proper attention. Getting this much detail sends a delicious throb between your thighs. You hardly want to blink.

Steve’s hand moves slow to begin with, slow, gentle strokes to get himself properly warmed up.

After a moment, he draws his hand back and some part of you worries he’s too weirded out now. But he only brings it up, to his mouth, and you realise what he’s doing.

Quickly stealing his hand, Steve’s eyes widen as you let spit drop from your lips and pool in his palm. Another soft, jagged noise drags from his throat.

“Jesus Christ,” He murmurs, more to himself. “This is not what it’s like when it’s just me, this is, like, ten fucking times hotter.”

His hand sneaks back into his sweatpants but this time when he grips his cock, the reaction this time is immediate.

Steve moans, louder this time, his eyes crushing closed and his hand starts moving faster. With the help of your spit, it doesn’t take long before you can hear it, the slick sounds of him fucking his cock desperately.

His head tips back against the couch and a piece of hair flops over, into his eyes.

You reach out and brush it to the side and Steve’s eyes crease open at the same time a whine threads through his moans.

“Fuck,” He grunts. He sinks in teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes desperately roaming your face. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty.”

“That what you thought bout?”

You’re impressed with yourself for the cool, calm demeanour you’re portraying. Steve nods, the motion a little wild, his hand still making those lewd, wet noises.

“Uh huh,” His voice shakes a little. “Just, fuck, dunno, like, your face and-uh-what y-you’d sound like.”

Your eyes glitter with interest, ego raring at the devotion your boyfriend is spilling out.

“What I’d sound like?”

“Y-Yeah,” Steve stammers, his breathing heavy. “Like, doing this.”

Now that’s a picture; Steve jerking off to the thought of you, hot and bothered with your hand between your thighs. You give a breathy gasp without meaning to.

Steve hears it, groaning louder as he quickens his pace. You sort of want to reach forward and ruck up his shirt, so you can see the glorious clench of his stomach as he rolls his hips up into his warm hand.

“Can I see more?” You ask tentatively. “Please?”

This time, it’s more like a whimper that creeps out of Steve’s throat.

“Oh my god,” Steve mumbles through a stilted moan. “Jesus Christ. Yeah, yeah, of course.”

He swallows heavily, his free hand reaching down to push at his waistband. You help, lifting up to help tug the fabric out of the way.

Obstructions removed, your mouth salivates. Steve’s cock is pretty — and it looks that much more enticing when it’s worked up, pink and the tip of it leaking all over his hand.

Steve’s a fucking vision. His head still lolled back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His throat, dotted with moles, crawling with pinkness. His big, veiny hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it steadily.

You think about how much you’d like the lick the trail of hair on his tummy, down, down, down.

“You seem close,” You say and it earns you a reedy whimper in response. “Is it- does it normally happen this fast?”

“Are you kidding me?” Steve whispers back. His eyes are closed and after a moment, you realise he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too quickly, even as his hand doesn’t slow. “I—ngh— n-normally don’t have such good, ah, material. My imagination is— is not this good.”

You’re equal parts flattered and flustered, heat twinging in your gut.

“Can— can I?” Steve whimpers out suddenly.

The question nearly throws you. You almost say Can you what? when the meaning of it douses you in fire.

He’s asking permission.

Oh, that does something to you.

“Yeah, Stevie,” You say, voice lilting closer to a coo. “I wanna see it, please.”

Something shifts in his motions, changing gear as Steve’s hand suddenly starts moving in smaller, tighter strokes, just over the head of his cock. His head tucks forward, his eyes scrunched closed, and he’s whimpers out, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

It only takes a few seconds, the whine in Steve’s voice pitching higher and higher, until something gives.

His hips take over, something desperate and primal shoving them up, his thrusts rapid and frantic. His hand doesn’t stop moving, not even as his cock starts to leak out ropes of cum, shooting out enough to cover the back of his knuckles. It joins your spit to rub slick against his cock.

He keens pitifully. For one long minute, you listen to Steve’s breathy whines get softer and softer, watch his desperate thrusts abate til an overstimulated shiver wracks through his body. Then, and only then, does he collapse back, sinking into the couch.

He’s a bit ruined, truthfully.

And you’ve soaked through your panties.

“You’re welcome,” You croak, throat dry. His hair is back in his eyes and lean forward, tenderly brushing it out of the way. You leave your hand there, cupping the side of his face, and Steve leans into it, still panting.

“What?” He asks.

“You were thanking me,” You point out cheekily.

Steve’s face plunges back to that scarlet colour you’re beginning to adore most ardently. He turns his face further to hide away in the palm of your hands.

“Shut up,” He mumbles.

“So you don’t wanna do that again?” You tease.

Steve pulls back and eyes you. “Now, hang on, I didn’t say that…”

[plutotheplum]

Resonance

sylus x fem!reader - read part 2!

summary: with the aether core's auction quickly approaching, you're growing desperate to resonate with sylus. fortunately for you, he has a suggestion... even if it is less conventional.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, fingering, teasing, spit kink, light choking, oral sex, praise kink, slightly ooc sylus?, minor canon divergence

wc: 4.5k

a/n: my first time writing a full fic or smut for that matter! given how many times sylus was trying to hold the mc's hand, i just figured he'd be into it. tried to be strong for zayne, but that didn't work out... sorry zayne. hope you guys like it! <3

also posted on ao3!

You’re starting to regret your plan to sneak into the N109 Zone. From being drugged to nearly being killed, you weren’t exactly faring well in the unfamiliar place. 

A deep sigh escapes you, fingers rubbing at your aching temples. The headache had gotten worse, the band around your head wrapping tighter and tighter. You couldn’t leave though, no matter how desperately you wanted to, not when the Aether Core’s other half was up for auction in a week’s time. Sylus had also been distant. Despite saving you from the night raid, he had hardly come to visit while you were staying at Onychinus’ base. The twins, Luke and Keiran had kept you company though. They weren’t as wicked as you thought them to be, only young men that were intent on working for Onychinus, driven by their own motivations. 

The week was bound to shorten however, and you were growing antsy. Any reservations you had about resonating with Sylus were fading quickly as the auction date grew closer. He was right in a sense, you two needed to resonate, especially after that night raid when the Wanderers had attacked. The auction wouldn’t go smoothly either, you knew that much. Sylus had money, but traitors were lurking everywhere. The shopkeeper’s voice rings in your head, reminding you that Sylus hadn’t been responsible for the explosions. Absolving him of being responsible had been hard enough.  

Plucking at the strap of your nightgown, you’re contemplating whether you should sneak out. Sylus had been accommodating enough so far, and you were tempted to push your boundaries. He had, after all, left a pile of clothes for you. Strangely enough, they were all in the right size, accompanied by Mephisto who had let out a loud caw before flying out, its claws making a playful swipe for your hair. 

A few more anxious plucks at the strap of the nightgown and you’re sneaking out. Feed pad against the floor softly, nightgown swaying as you move through the hallway. You pause when you hear voices, hearing the thud of your own heart as you hold your breath. It’s Sylus and another man. The conversation is too muffled to listen into, incoherent words blending in together.

The door creaks open and you’re tucking yourself behind a pillar, hiding in the dark. The sound of footsteps fades into the distance and the breath you’re holding escapes into a quiet exhale.

“You can come out now,” A voice drawls. Sylus. You hated how he could sense your presence. Stepping out from behind the pillar, your back straightens, walking into his room. It’s dark, just like him. Expensive furniture, books stacked onto a bookshelf and a bed on the other side of the large room. The curtains are open, moonlight flowing in through the windows, mixing with the ambient lighting. He sits behind his desk, eyes trained on you, nursing a cup of wine. “I see you’re wearing my gift,” he says, eyes dragging over the nightgown. You scoff, eyes narrowing at him, “It was hardly a gift, and it’s not like I could sleep in my Hunter uniform.”

He only takes another sip of wine, eyebrows raising. His nonchalance is making you feel irritated. “You’re avoiding me,” you announce, arms crossing over your chest, “is there any reason?”

He laughs, low and deep, “I thought you’d be grateful for the reprieve, or maybe you don’t hate me as much as you think you do.” That has you scowling. You want to wipe his stupid smug smile right off his face. “Relax,” he says, his fingers tapping against his desk as he leans back in his chair “I had more important things to attend to.” That catches your attention. More important things? Perhaps he’d have answers, and you needed answers, about the N109 Zone, about Onychinus, about anything . 

“Private matters,” he murmurs, red eyes keeping you in place “nothing for you to get involved with.”

Your scowl only grows deeper, almost forgetting what you came in here for. Your feet move across the carpet, hands landing on the edge of his desk in an attempt to look intimidating.

“I want to try resonating with you,” you say, deciding to change tactics.

He hums, red eyes boring into yours. “We already tried that, and unfortunately, you seem content on disliking me,” he replies.

A frustrated noise escapes you, “It’s your fault!” you accuse, glaring at him. 

He only stares back at you blankly. You feel like a child throwing a tantrum under his gaze. “Just- please? ” you ask, voice softening slightly. He’s letting out an inconvenienced sigh and your body is moving, red tendrils swooping around your body as he draws you closer to him. “Hand,” he demands. You reach forward, and his hand clasps yours, fingers lacing together. A deep breath gets sucked in through your mouth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to channel your energy and resonate with him. You think about his stupidly handsome face, his low voice and the times he had saved you. Both of your knuckles are white with how tightly you’re squeezing his hand. There’s nothing though, absolutely nothing. No sparks, no glowing light, no Evol resonance. Letting out a defeated sigh, you let go of his hand. He stares back at you, eyes searching. “There is something wrong with you,” he says, drawing his hand back to take another sip of wine.

“Maybe if you tried being more likeable, this would be easier,” you retort, sending him another glare.

Sylus only laughs, his head tilting, “You weren’t so intent on resonating with me earlier. So much so that you shot me.”

“You shot yourself,” you correct, voice sharp, “and the change in mind is because of the auction.”

He peers over at you, eyes calculating. You can’t tell what’s going through his head, you can never tell. It puts you on edge. Sylus is a dangerous man and you aren’t able to predict a single one of his moves.

“You’re afraid of Wanderers,” he surmises, hands clasping in his lap. 

His chair rolls out a bit from his desk and your eyes are dipping to see his legs spread as he gets comfortable. There’s a stretch in the black trousers as his thighs strain against the material and you’re swallowing harshly, eyes snapping back up to meet his gaze. If he noticed your wandering eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not scared!” you protest, feeling exasperated “I’m simply worried that something might happen. We both know that the Aether core might become unstable with energy fluctuations, and who knows what sort of Wanderers that flux might attract?”

“I am more than capable of handling any danger,” Sylus says, his tone dark, “or do you need a refresher of what happened after I saved you during the night raid?”

You wince at the memory. It appears he doesn’t like being underestimated. It’s even worse that you remember. There had been blood and screams when his Evol had eviscerated the men that had been there.

“No refreshers needed,” you reply quickly.

Your plan of resonating with him is ill-thought, you realise. You can’t get your mind to change, no matter how hard you try. Head hanging low, you decide to back off. Sylus is right at least. He would be capable enough of defeating any danger there, but his assurance isn’t enough to quell your doubts. Silence passes over you both, only interrupted by your feet shifting on the spot. 

“There is another way,” Sylus says slowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “it is less conventional of course, hardly attempted at.”

Hardly attempted at? Was he planning to put your life on the line? Maybe that would work out for him, weaken you enough to get you to resonate with him and then steal the Aether core lodged in your heart.

“And this way is…?” you prompt, raising your brows. 

His grin only grows wider. Sylus stands up, long legs stalking towards you until he’s standing in front of you, his red eyes staring down at you. His cold hand reaches out, fingers grabbing at your chin to tilt your head as his own head dips towards your ear. You shiver, feeling his warmth breath against your skin. “Sex,” he whispers.

Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, gaze averted to the side.

He clicks his tongue, “Why so embarrassed? I thought you wanted to resonate, sweetie .” 

“You’re more insane than I thought,” you hiss, shoving at his chest. 

He lets out a throaty laugh, a smirk spreading across his lips as he stumbles back a bit at the force of your push. 

“You seemed desperate,” Sylus says when he stops laughing, “I was only letting you know of all the options.”

“That shouldn’t even be an option!” you snap, growing flustered by the second. Sex with Sylus ? He was a murderer and completely and utterly unhinged, not to mention the leader of an illegally run gang. You were not having sex with him. Your irritation festers, head falling into your hands as you stand there. He doesn’t say anything, only reaching for his wine and finishing off his cup. 

“Fuck me,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing at your aching temples again.

“Don’t tempt me,” he replies. Your head snaps upwards at that, glaring at him. Irritation has only led to you making a poor choice of words. 

“I’m leaving,” you say forcefully, holding your head high.

You should be leaving by now, storming off back to your room lying a few doors away. You should be, except your poor feet aren’t working.

He stares at you expectantly, a hint of smile on his face as his brows raise.

“I am leaving,” you repeat, voice hardening.

He only nods his head towards the door. Part of you wants to stay, to find out what he means, but the implications are clear and you won’t do that with him. Especially not him.

You don’t get very far though, the door lock fastening in place with a resounding click . His Evol curls around your body, the inky red and black lines tugging you back towards him. Sylus is reaching for you, his hand cupping your cheek. You have half the mind to lean into his touch. “I think we’ll both have more fun if you stay,” he whispers against your ear, arms drifting across your nightgown to wrap around your waist and tug you closer.

He peers down at you, and your breath catches in your throat. Without thinking, you’re leaning into him, body pressing against him.

“I think you want to stay,” he continues, hands sliding up to pet at your hips.

“You- you don’t know what I want,” you manage out, voice airy, “and I want to leave.”

He hums, hand finding your cheek again. His thumb rubs across your skin, and it sets you alight.

“Did you forget?” he murmurs, head dipping to meet your height, “I can see what people desire the most, and it appears you, my dear Hunter, desire me.”

You’re letting out a soft curse. You had forgotten about that stupid detail, about his ability to see what people desired. Squirming in his grasp, you try to get away, but he holds you still, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“Will you not indulge yourself?” he whispers, voice lilting. You think he could be a siren in disguise.

There’s a shuddering breath escaping you. You don’t get a chance to answer, not when he’s smiling against your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to it. Your hands find his shirt, forming fists to prevent your knees from buckling.

“We are the same,” he reminds you, lips brushing across your skin as he backs you up against the wall.

You manage a scoff, “We are not the same. You’ve done terrible things and killed people. You do whatever you want, sacrificing whoever you want if it betters your cause.” 

“Such insolent words,” he purrs, his hand curling around your neck “I have treated you with far more kindness than others that have crossed my path.”

A squeak leaves when he squeezes around your neck, your fingers trying to pry his ones away from your neck. He only tightens his grip, landing another kiss to your cheek and there’s heat between your thighs, a whine escaping you before you can swallow it down.

Sylus laughs, his hand falling away from your neck to grab at your hips instead.

“Caught you,” he coos, and with that his head is dipping, lips pressing against yours.

You whine again, arms wrapping around his neck. You’re too far gone to care, feeling the plushness of his lips against yours. It feels as though he’s trying to devour you, trying to swallow you whole.

The kisses are rough and harsh and his hands are slipping under your nightgown, sliding up the backs of your thighs to grasp at your ass. You gasp into his mouth, scrabbling at his shoulders. He grunts against your mouth, guiding your leg to hook over his hip.

“You are far more eager than you said you would be,” he murmurs, finally pulling away to let you breathe. 

Soft pants escape you, chest heaving as your hands drop from his shoulders, landing against his chest instead. He stares down at you, crimson eyes bright with arousal as they flit about your body.

“You’ve done something to me,” you mutter lamely, a weak excuse for responding so eagerly.

He raises his brows, his thumb brushing across your lips. He repeats the motion, over and over again until you're tempted to press a kiss to the pad of his thumb. You don’t get a chance, not when his thumb is pushing past your lips and meeting the resistance of your teeth. Blinking up at him, you tilt your head.

“You know I haven’t done anything to you,” he replies, “that would be too far, even for me. Now be good and open .”

He has to have done something to you. What other explanation is there for the way your mouth opens, sucking his thumb inside eagerly? Your head tips back as you suck on his thumb, tongue swirling around the digit. He groans, deep and unabashed and it has your hips bucking. “Patience,” he whispers, pushing his thumb further into your mouth. You gag slightly, sending him watery glare. 

Sylus only smiles back, keeping you in place as you suck on his thumb. The ache between your thighs is too hard to ignore, and your hand is sneaking down in an attempt to relieve the ache.

You’re horribly wet between your thighs, feeling your thighs practically slip against each other as you squirm. Your fingers only manage two full circles against your clit before Sylus is letting out a growl, tugging your hand free from where it had snuck into your panties. 

“I- I need-“ you whine, trying to sneak your hand between your thighs again.

“You need me ,” he hisses, eyes hard as he grabs at your wandering hand, gaze locking onto your slick fingers. There’s a sharp gasp that leaves you when his own mouth is enveloping around your fingers, his eyes on yours as he sucks them clean. You feel weak at the sight, a dreamy sigh escaping you. He smirks, forgetting your fingers to kiss you again. You taste yourself on his tongue, feeling the way he licks into your mouth, his hands squeezing at your hips.

He’s picking you up before too long, dumping you on his bed. You hide shyly when he rips your nightgown from your body, his eyes staring down at your bra and panties greedily. The bra goes next and he’s lowering his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking against the pebbled bud. You don’t know what to do, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him there, trying desperately to seek relief. “So impatient,” Sylus mutters against your spit-slick skin, opting to suck on your other breast as his hand delves between your thighs. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, eyes slipping shut “please, don’t stop.”

He lets out a low laugh, fingers rubbing at you through your panties. “How obedient you’ve become. Squirming under my fingers like a little slut. Didn’t you say you hated me before?” he whispers. 

“I- I do hate you!” you grit out, but your hand is finding his wrist, keeping his hand there as you grind your clothed pussy against his fingers.

He scoffs disappointedly, body slinking down the bed until his nose is pressing against your panties and he’s breathing in. You feel as though you might faint at the depraved sight. His tongue laves across the fabric of your panties and you moan his name, fingers finding their home in his hair.

Sylus sucks at your clit through your panties, licking at the slick that seeps through the dampened fabric. 

“An intoxicating taste,” he comments, pressing a kiss to your thigh “I could do this for days.”

That little comment has you letting out a shuddering breath and words you might regret if your mind wasn’t so stupidly hazy. “I would let you,” you mumble, tugging his face closer to where you want him, feeling the press of his nose against your clit. He grins, red eyes staring up at you, “that can be arranged.” Sylus’s long fingers are pulling down your panties and he’s staring at your cunt, a deep groan escaping him. “Such a pretty pussy,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. 

A strangled noise leaves you and his mouth is latching onto your pussy, sucking and licking like a man starved. Whines and whimpers escape you as you grind your hips against his tongue. He moans back into your cunt, the sound shooting up through your body, thighs twitching. Sylus keeps you pinned down, tongue laving against your wetness, drinking up your slick as it leaks. It’s almost too much, which is why your hand reaches for his. Sylus gives his own hand, fingers lacing with yours. You’re so lost in the haze of his tongue against you that you can barely hear his voice.

“Resonate,” he speaks into your pussy, his hand gripping yours tight. “What?” Your dazed eyes find his, bewildered. “I said, resonate ,” he repeats, sucking your clit into his mouth harshly. 

His teeth graze against the sensitive bud and your back is arching, hand squeezing his one back. Your Evol comes much easier this time, light emanating from both your hands as you resonate. The linkage takes place, and it has you reeling, body twitching as you come on his tongue. The light soon fades, his own Evol dimming down. He presses another soft kiss to your sensitive clit. “Some incentive and your body is reacting remarkably well,” he smiles down at you. You could hardly care about resonance at this point, pushing at his shoulders and crawling up onto his lap, lips pressing against his. He grunts at the sudden change in position, but kisses you back, his hands groping at your ass appreciatively. A whine gets swallowed up by his mouth, your hips rocking against his hardness wantonly. Your fingers pull at his shirt and he’s staring at you with spit-slick lips. He tugs his shirt free and you suck in a sharp breath, taking him in. While you do this, your hips pause in their movements and he’s letting out a click of his tongue, using his hands to guide you start moving again. “You resonated with me,” he whispers against your lips. “Hardly,” you murmur back, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t be like that,” he chastises, “I made you come on my tongue and this is how you treat me?” he pouts mockingly.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He coos, guiding your hips to move in the way he wants to, “moaning and whimpering for me. Perhaps I should’ve suggested this path from the start.” You try to glare at him, but he’s only gripping your cheeks, prying your mouth open before his tongue is lolling out, dropping a glob of spit into your mouth. “Swallow, baby.” You do so almost immediately, mouth opening eagerly for more. He laughs, almost in disbelief, kissing you messily this time, letting you suck on his tongue. “I need you,” you whisper, pressing his hand against your tummy “need you in me, Sylus.”

His eyes flash and he’s kissing you harder, clothed bulge grinding up into your bare pussy. The drag of his trousers is stimulating, catching on your clit in a way that has you shaking on his lap. “You’re filthy,” he hisses, sucking harsh kisses against your neck “such a filthy slut, begging for my cock.” You whine in agreement, nodding mindlessly. The world is moving then, your eyes finding the roof as he settles between your thighs. He kisses you over and over again, before he’s drawing back, slipping off the bed to pull his trousers down. A loud moan escapes you at the sight, his fat cock bobbing between his thighs. The tip is dark with arousal, veins prominent against the skin. Part of you wants it in your mouth, to swallow his cum and feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, and the other part wants it inside of you, filling you up. Embarrassment forgotten, you’re spreading your thighs in what you hope is an enticing manner, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes over at him. He glances down at your glistening pussy, licking his lips. “In me, please” you sweetly request. He hums, crawling over you. He grasps his cock, tapping the tip of it against your clit a few times. Pre-cum beads at the tip, a fat glob dripping down. Your hand shoots out before it’s wasted, fingers catching the glob. Smiling up at him, you suck your fingers into your mouth, letting out an appreciative moan at the taste. His eyes darken at the sight, fingers dimpling the flesh of your thigh as he squeezes.

“You’ll regret this when you have to leave me,” he warns, “I won’t be there to stuff your pussy full or lick that pretty cunt when you’re feeling needy.” “Then make it count,” you retort, legs wrapping around his hips. He lets out a short laugh, kissing you again. Soft whines leave you when he pushes in, his cock sinking deep into your pussy. You think you might be able to feel him in your throat, his cock stretching you out so deliciously that it has you writhing. 

“So fucking tight,” he breathes out, kissing along your jaw “so warm. I can feel you clenching around me, baby.” 

“Fuck,” you mewl, nails scratching down his back as he thrusts into you. In any other situation, you might be mortified at the sounds.

The squelch of your pussy, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he fucks you. It seems like his favourite thing to do is to hold your hands, though.

“So pretty for me,” he sighs, hips grinding deeper into your wet heat “such a good girl, hm? My good girl.”

The praise has your heart fluttering wildly, cheeks flushing.

“Oh, you like that,” he murmurs, his lips latching onto your tits again, “my pretty, little slut, all laid out for me. You could’ve had this cock earlier, I would’ve given it to you. I could’ve stuffed you full, or bent you over my bike and pounded this tight little cunt until you were screaming.” 

A hoarse moan leaves you. Your hands are squeezing his, legs tightening around him.

“That’s it,” he whispers encouragingly, “take my cock baby, it’s all yours.”

“Stop- stop talking like that,” you whine, writhing under his body.

“Why?” he responds, “does it feel better than you had imagined?”

“I wasn’t imagining-“

“Hush now,” he whispers, kissing you over and over again. You’re not sure how much more of this you could take.

His cock is pounding into you, punching out the air in your lungs. It feels too good, the throb of his cock and his whispered words against your ear. You hiccup, peering up into his crimson eyes. He stares right back at you, the look behind his eyes startlingly soft.

You shy away, head turning to the side, cheek squishing against the pillow. His hand turns your face back to him, nose nudging against yours gently. He kisses you softer this time, the sound of your kisses drowned out by the drag of his cock in your cunt.

“Come for me, baby” Sylus whispers, squeezing your hand “cream my cock.” 

It’s enough to have you shuddering around him, a whine of his name leaving your mouth as you cream on his cock, just like had told you to. He drinks up every noise, lips working against yours as he fucks into until he’s burying his cock deep inside, letting out a low growl against your ear as hot cum spurts from his tip, filling you up. 

You sigh at the feeling, body feeling limp. Sylus is slumped on top of you, his weight oddly comforting against yours. A kiss is pressed against his cheek and you can feel his smile from where he’s tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

It’s a little uncomfortable though, so you’re pushing at his chest to get him to roll off of you. Sylus does so with little noise and you’re curling up against his side, already missing the stretch of his cock.

“You were being nice,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

“Would you prefer it if I were rougher?” he asks in return, rubbing his hand against the curve of your hip soothingly.

You roll your eyes, pinching his bicep. 

“The auction will go smoothly,” he announces, his hand drifting to squeeze your ass, “we did resonate, after all.”

You had almost forgotten about that. A nod is your response and he’s dragging you closer to give you another kiss.

“Training begins tomorrow morning,” Sylus continues, “I need to see how strong we can be together.”

You’re letting out a groan, swatting his chest and shoving him away. 

“Leave me alone,” you mumble, burying your face into the pillows.

He smiles, arms curling around your waist to tug you back into his warm chest.

“Now, now. You were being so good earlier,” he whispers “I’d be happy to reward you, if you perform well tomorrow.”

His hand smooths across your stomach, hand drifting lower to delve between your thighs. You muffle the noise that threatens to spill out.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, eyes slipping shut.

“I think you like that about me,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers curling up inside of you, beginning to move at a leisurely pace. 

“You’re the worst, Sylus” you whisper, hips rocking as you try to get his fingers to sink deeper.

“Yet here you are, trying to fuck yourself on my fingers,” he purrs, his arm winding around your neck. You feel him squeeze and you’re whimpering, sinking your teeth into his bicep as he holds you in place, letting his fingers fuck in and out of you.

It’s going to be a long night.

[lynxgriffin]

Eldritchrune - The World Revolving

1 | 2

Story Setup Eldritchrune Masterpost

While exploring the ruins of Card Castle, Kris stumbles across a bound god of chaos hiding just under the surface...a foe way more formidable than any they've faced yet!

PHEW I swear, it feels like I've been working on this particular scene forever! Been distracted by many things...other comics, continued wrist troubles, winter break, etc... but finally, it's done and here! This one is probably the most gnarly one yet in terms of body horror, so heed the warning tags!

The latter half will be out tomorrow!

Alt text for these pages is under the read more:

Page 1

Panel 1 - A wide shot as Kris, Ralsei, and Susie make their way through the card kingdom castle…a wrecked ruin, with half-broken towers and ripped banners fluttering in the open air. Lancer sits happily on top of Susie’s head. “Are we there yet?” asks Susie. Lancer replies with a simple “No.”

Panel 2 - Closer on Kris as they look downwards. Something has caught their attention. In the background, Susie and Lancer repeat the exchange: “Are we there yet?” / “No.”

Panel 3 - Kris notices what looks like a trail of parchment torn into different shapes, leading down into a lower level of the ruins. 

Panel 4 - Kris begins to follow the scrap paper trail across large stones, straying off of the pain path through the castle ruins.

Panel 5 - Ralsei notices that Kris has wandered away from them. Susie and Lancer also look on in the background. “Kris? Where are you going?” asks Ralsei.

Panel 6 - Kris points at the scrap trail leading down into the rocks, still focused on it. “The old shopkeep, Seam…they mentioned something about a path cut from pages…”

Page 2

Panel 1 - Side view of Ralsei as he watches Kris descend down, and cautiously holds up a hand in warning. “It’s not wise to wander too far off-course, Kris!” he says. 

Panel 2 - Kris doesn’t seem to pay attention to the warning. In a wide shot, we see them following the trail down a series of large stone steps that seem to be shaped into a spiral. At the bottom of the spiral is another stone with unknown markings on it. “They said there could be something useful to us at the end of it…” Kris says.

Panel 3 - Wider shot of Kris now at the bottom of the spiral. Ralsei, Susie and Lancer watch warily from above, back on the main path.

Panel 4 - Kris approaches the stone at the center of the spiral. It seems to be covered in moss, but something else catches their attention first–

Panel 5 - Closer on the stone, it shows that it has markings on it: a cross, divided up into the four card suits. Kris leans in closer to observe and brush the dirt from the stone. “There’s something here…” they say.

Panel 6 - From high above, Ralsei sees Kris focusing on the stone in the spiral. “Kris? Hang on just a second…” he says, holding out a hand in warning.

Panel 7 - Closeup on Kris’s hand as they brush against the marked stone. Their thumb touches a trigger hidden on the side of the stone, which gives a sharp ‘CLICK’.

Page 3

Panel 1 - Kris lets out a surprised yell as very suddenly, they plummet down beneath the stone–

Panel 2 - Their yell continues as they vanish into what is revealed to be a sudden trap door, opened right below where they were standing. 

Panel 3 - The remaining Fun Gang look on with shock and surprise, and call out as Kris vanishes. Susie gives a shocked “Woah!” and Ralsei cries out “KRIS!”

Panel 4 - A vertical panel as Kris plummets down into open darkness, their limbs flailing. Light from above shines on them as they fall.

Panel 5 - With a grunt of pain, Kris lands on what appears to be a sandy hill–

Panel 6 - And continues to tumble down the hill, sand trailing behind them–

Panel 7 - Very wide shot as Kris’s fall continues, showing that they are sliding down an enormous sand hill, like the inside of an enormous hourglass. Only a single shaft of light shines from where they fell. Otherwise the area is empty darkness.

Page 4

Panel 1 - Kris’s finally slides to a stop somewhere in the sand. They grit their teeth, and try to get back onto their feet. 

Panel 2 - Kris suddenly springs back up, eyes wide in shock, as a strange, bellowing laughter booms around them: “UUH HEE HEE HEE…”

Panel 3 - Kris looks ahead of them…at the very bottom of the sand pit, like an antlion at the bottom of a pit trap, sits what appears to be a bulb, or a closed circus tent. 

Panel 4 - Wider shot as Kris gets to their feet, very wary. “Who’s there?”

Panel 5/6/7 - Multiple panels as the enormous circus tent moves, and begins to unfurl itself…showing massive hands made of bone and stretched tent material, like sinewy skin. Each bony finger is tipped with an enormous scythe. The creature lifts itself up enough to show the a jester’s head, hanging upside down from the bottom of the tent. The jester’s face sports slit eyes, multiple hoop earrings on its pointed ears, and a smile of jagged teeth. 

Panel 8 - Wide shot as Kris stands tiny before the enormous form of Jevil - a creature of bones and tent skin and scythes, balanced precariously upside-down over what appears to be a bottomless pit. Jevil looks at Kris and declares, “WELCOME, WELCOME, LITTLE LOST HUMAN! YOUR FREEDOM IS WITHIN REACH!”

Page 5

Panel 1 - Kris looks up in fear and confusion at the giant creature, and tries to step back. “What are you?!” they ask.

Panel 2 - Focus on Jevil’s upside down face as he grins back at Kris, and says, “A GOD, LOST HUMAN! A GOD OF CHAOS, CHAOS!”

Panel 3 - Kris stands small against the chaos god as he continues to grin down them. “COME CLOSER, AND WE SHALL ENGAGE IN SUCH MERRIMENT!”

Panel 4 - Kris eyes the enormous scythes at the end of the fingers, and continues to step back, extremely cautious. “A god, is it? I think I’d prefer the rest of my party be here for any ‘merriment’,” they reply.

Panel 5 - Jevil twists his head to the side with curiosity and glee, and replies. “I INSIST! I SEE YOUR SOUL DESIRES CHAOS! WHAT EXCITEMENT, WE ARE KINDRED SPIRITS!”

Panel 6 - Focus on Jevil’s scythe fingers as they begin to move through the sand, creaking with the effort. He is beginning to spin.

Panel 7 - Shot from above on Jevil as he spins faster and faster, the tent body and splayed scythe fingers blurring into a hypnotic spiral. The wind howls around him with the spinning.

Panel 8 - Kris jolts forward as the winds pick up around them. The spinning is creating a gyre, drawing them in closer.

Page 6

Panel 1 - Kris tries to slow their slide as Jevil continues to spin and spin, drawing them in closer. The winds and movement are hard to resist. “LET US PLAY, PLAY!” Jevil cries in delight. “TRUE FREEDOM AWAITS YOU!”

Panel 2 - Kris looks up at the revolving god, unable to stop their slide through the sand. The winds whip their hair and cowl around them. However…

Panel 3 - “If I can get past those blades and make the jump…” Kris thinks to themself, as the scene shows Jevil’s smiling face through the whirlwinds.

Panel 4 - Closeup on Kris. They grimace to themself as the wind continues to buffet them and pull them in, and finish the thought: “...One good swing should sever the head and end this!”

Panel 5 - Kris pulls out their sword as they continue to slide closer to the edge of the gyre. Jevil looks on as they say aloud, “I don’t know that I trust a bound god’s concept of freedom.”

Panel 6 - Jevil tilts his head down at them, still smiling as always, and replies, “BOO HOO  HOOEE HEE! AND DOES YOUR SOUL KNOW IT?”

Page 7

Panel 1/2/3 - Multiple panels as Kris slides down the sand, holding their sword at the ready. They ready their sword in another panel, back to the camera, facing down a laughing Jevil. The final panel includes a closeup of their hand gripping the sword, although their hand is shaking. Across all panels, Jevil continues to taunt them: “IN THE BELLY OF A ROAMING BEAST, IN THE OWNERSHIP OF A DEMON PRINCE, IN THE RIGID RULES OF YOUR LIGHT WORLD? IS IT THERE?”

Panel 4 -  The scythe fingers swing by in a blur as Kris slides into the gyre, and pulls their arm back, ready to strike with their sword–

Panel 5 - A black and white abstract panel - something sharp slices through the darkness, and strikes home.

Panel 6 - Closeup on Kris’s face as they look shocked into silence–

Panel 7 - And the camera pulls out to reveal that their sword arm is gone, sliced off completely at the shoulder. They can only look down at the stump where their arm once was in horror.

Panel 8 - Kris screams as they’re thrown helplessly into the center of the whirling gyre, blood streaming behind them from their severed arm. Jevil faces them with glee and declares, “NO, NO! YOUR FREEDOM IS HERE!”

Page 8

Panel 1 - The panels are jagged now, coming apart along with the world itself. Kris is trapped in the searing whirlwind, orbiting around Jevil’s spinning head. The world is a blurred tornado. Jevil cries, “A SIMPLE CHAOS IS ALL YOU NEED! UNRAVEL MIND, BODY AND SOUL!”

Panel 2 - Kris is subjected to the god’s command. They scream into the void as their body is unraveled in the gyre, starting at the stump and spreading out to the rest of them in strips of cloth, flesh and bone. 

Panel 3 - A massive panel as Kris is completely torn apart at the seams. Their glowing soul is revealed as their body is peeled away in stips from them, leaving only a few bones and muscles trying to stay together. 

As Kris is pulled apart, Jevil’s voice rings out: “SEE, SEE HOW ALL THE RULES AND ORDERS HAVE TRAPPED YOU? HURT YOU AND KILLED YOU?” In the strips of Kris’s body pulled apart are scenes that seem to confirm Jevil’s worldview: Empire guards chasing down Kris as a young child. Toriel kindly shooing Kris away from a pie they were interested in. Asgore keeping Kris from plants he knows are dangerous. Kris on the altar as they are sacrificed to the demon. Kris giving up their soul to Ralei. Kris being devoured by Susie. Kris trapped at a door by Mr. Society and Mr. Elegance, keeping them from advancing with rules. Kris being revived, again and again, by Ralsei’s control over their soul. “BUT HE HAS SHOWN ME, IT ALL MEANS NOTHING, NOTHING!”

Page 9

Panel 1 - The panels continue to be jagged and harsh as the rest of Kris’s body is completely obliterated in the whirlwind, leaving only their soul spiraling in the gyre. Jevil’s voice continues: “NO RULES, NO HURT, NO PRISONS FOR YOU! SHARE YOUR JOY WITH ME!”

Panel 2 - Kris’s soul begins to break under the strain of Jevil’s version of joy: a swirling mess of eyes, teeth, claws, screaming faces, beasts and sinew and armor. They all close in on their lost soul in a mess of chaos and madness.

Panel 3 - As the winds turn to pure darkness, Kris’s soul begins to dissolve in the gyre as well, broken in the relentless chaos. Jevil’s voice rings out once more: “SHARE YOUR SOUL WITH ME, A TRUE CHAOS, CHAOS!”

Panel 4 - As Kris’s soul is nearly dissolved and lost in complete blackness, another voice cries out: “KRIS!” From the darkness, Ralsei’s glowing eyes and fiery claws reach out to grab Kris’s soul before it’s lost. 

[thekinslayed]

Sweet Disposition

summary | Gwayne is welcomed to King's Landing by his beloved niece.

pairing | gwayne hightower x niece!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! oral (m), oral (f), just the tip, cum eating, reader has blue eyes and red hair, gwayne is a classist (and is in love with the niece that looks like him lol), incest, lotsa rubbing, lotsa yappin'

song rec | Sweet Disposition - The Temper Trap

wordcount | 3.2k

note | welcome to the stage, gwayne hightower!!! i just had to, u guys. i’m not too sure how the age gap’s looking since idrk how old gwayne is, but do assume they did stuff the first time when the reader was of age :)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

“Ah, sweetling!”

You squealed at the sight of him, rising from your seat by the window to rush over to the door. Your uncle grunted in surprise as you jumped into his arms, chuckling amusedly in your embrace. You had waited all day for him. Worry began to fester in your gut when there was no sign of him as the day grew dark. Mother said they must’ve gotten held back by the impending storm that was painting the blue sky a desolate gray. However, the gods have granted you your wish. Soon enough, a flurry of green flashed through the gates of King’s Landing, and Gwayne Hightower made his way to find you.

“What took you so long?” you asked, pouting at him. His chest rumbled against yours in another chuckle, the rich sound of his amusement a lively song.

“My deepest apologies, princess. Some trouble down in the Kingsroad had us going a longer way. No worry now, I am here,” he explained, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. “Brother dearest keeping you locked in here?”

You scoffed, pulling away from your uncle. His bright blues wandered around the expanse of your chambers, observing the various Valyrian tapestries decorating your walls. He admired you, as you trailed your hands over the cushions of the settee. Pure Targaryen, all except for the vibrant red of your curls. That was all Hightower, much to his delight.

“More so mother than Aegon, he doesn’t give two shits about me. Either way, it’s always him and mother huddled together in those council meetings. And Aemond, when he’s not off to gods know where. War feels pretty boring if you ask me,” you responded, earning a raise of the eyebrow from the redhead. 

“It won’t be boring once thousands of men die for your cause, princess, all so you could stay here and sit prettily while we fight for you.” He remained standing as you plopped down onto the plush chaise, reaching for a cherry from the plate of fruit situated on the side table.

It was tart, bursting with its dark juices as you sunk your teeth into its plump flesh. Gwayne watched as you wrapped your lips around the round fruit. It tainted your lips a luscious red, utterly delectable.

Your brows furrowed in offense, while a frown turned your pretty lips downward. “Are you saying I’m useless? If only I were given the chance, I could fly off on my dragon and burn more than half the enemy’s army before you could even engage,” you said, to which Gwayne replied with an understanding nod. 

“I know you would, darling, but we cannot have you harmed. You are too precious to be sent off to battle, take it from me,” your uncle replied, placating. You huffed, grumbling under your breath, making Gwayne bite back an amused smirk. Throwing away the cherry’s pit, you grabbed a strawberry this time, wrapping your fingers around its leaves to deliver it in one bite. Your cheeks had hollowed as you sucked on its juices, provocating… inviting. This had wiped the amusement off the elder Hightower’s face, making him clear his throat and shift where he stood, A smirk of your own rose on your lips at this success.

“How does Daeron fare?” you asked nonchalantly. Gwayne shrugged, waving a hand dismissively as he continued his exploration of your apartments. It was quite spacious, though the smallest out of the entire royal family, but it was comfortable enough. It was situated at the far end of the hall, farther away from prying eyes and curious ears.

“You know him, itching to fly back at a moment’s notice,” your uncle informed, to which you nodded in understanding. In truth, you hadn’t spent much time in King’s Landing, only in recent years. When the youngest was sent off to Oldtown to squire, you were tasked with accompanying him as his eldest sister. You were ten and five then, only returning after six years when your grandsire decided it was high time for you to be married off. In your time away from the capital, you had missed much, evidently enough. The war had put any courtship or marriage proposals on pause, which aggravated you. If only you had known, you would have spent your days back in Oldtown happily. With Daeron and your dragons. With Gwayne.

“Not curious as to how I’ve been, little red?” he mused. You smirked at him, tilting your head to the side in feigned curiosity. 

“How are you then, uncle? Missing your little squire?” you queried, teasing. Gwayne narrowed his eyes at you, which you mimicked. You were no stranger to your uncle’s tastes. Being away from the careful watch of your grandsire allowed him much freedom to do as he liked, especially when the old codgers were asleep. It was why you hadn’t seen much of him in your first years in Oldtown. The elder Hightower used to barely show an interest in his sister’s children, kept occupied by the pursuit of his merriment. He remained detached from you, up until you accidentally came across some unknown servant stumbling out of his chambers late one night, doublet unbuttoned and breeches unlaced. It sparked your curiosity, had ignited a carnal hunger deep within you. He had opened your eyes to such proclivities, had broken away the conservative mold your faith had locked you in. 

Gwayne feigned a sarcastic laugh, walking around you to your window. “Funny.”

One could see the vastness of the horizon past the Bay from this view. The breeze a salty, refreshing prickle. It held little of the nose-scrunching stench of Flea Bottom. You craned your head to watch your uncle face the wind. His hair had gotten longer, you noted. It looked better. “Though I am a bit peeved to travel all this way to not be welcomed by my whole family, but I suppose our new Hand has been keeping your mother company,” he said, a bite of bitterness in his tone.

You stood from your seat, approaching to stand by his side. The greens of your garments matched perfectly, and so did the reds of your tresses. You were always happy to look more Hightower than Targaryen, though your blood always ran hot, much like a dragon’s.

“Jealous much? Perhaps you could ask to join them,” you teased, bumping your elbow into his playfully. Gwayne merely rolled his eyes at your implication. The sight of the Dornishman leaning too close to his sister had confirmed the rising suspicions his father had made him aware of. How convenient it was for him to be made Hand too, granted a position that brought him closer to Alicent’s level. And to share her bed at night. How exhilarating it must be to a man like Ser Criston.

“I’d rather indulge with someone that stirred something in my loins without stepping on my shoulders for leverage in this society, thank you very much.”

“Anyone in mind?”

Gwayne turned to meet your gaze. The blues of your orbs were much like his, icy and deep. He could see the freckles that dotted the bridge of your nose from the proximity, could spend all day to count each one of them. The corners of his lips quirked upwards, as fast as a blink, before pursing.

He regarded you with a gaze so familiar, yet tantalizing enough to warm the meat underneath your skin. The hairs on the back of your head stood tall in attention, prickly underneath his stare. He turned his body to face yours, and you followed suit. Gwayne could almost feel the heat exuding from you, the dragon that you were, from this distance. Almost. 

You watched him watch you. The momentary flicker of his eyes to your lips was not overlooked, igniting a spark of excitement deep in your chest. Your feet took a step closer to him, nearly closing the gap. Gwayne mimicked you, taking a step of his own. The air between the two of you grew thick, almost dizzying with tension, but neither of you made the move. This was a familiar game with your uncle. It always left you thirsting for more, had made you an addict. It had you almost sneaking off on your dragon back to Oldtown just for a taste. 

“When are you to set off then?” you asked, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper. You felt his fingertip begin to trace the outline of your curves, though you paid them no mind. 

“Well, it was supposed to be on the morrow, but this storm hasn’t worked out in our favor. In two days’ time, perhaps.” He had flattened his hand on the small of your back now, pulling you in subtly. You planted your hands on his chest, caressing the firm planes hidden underneath his doublet. His breath was hot on your face, bringing about a flush on your cheeks. 

“So soon?” you pouted. “You’ve only just gotten here.”

A heavy sigh escaped Gwayne’s lips. The skin on his neck was pale as he tilted his head back, littered with a light dusting of freckles. He was close to tipping over, you could feel it.

“War waits for no one, I’m afraid,” he muttered. You hummed in agreement, taking a bolder step by wrapping your arms around his neck. He tutted in warning, to which you only responded with an innocent bat of your lashes.

“We should make most of our time then,” you suggested, preening up at him suggestively. Your uncle bit his lip, pondering, deciding whether it was time for him to succumb to the magnetic pull of his body to yours. 

“Princess.” A warning.

“Uncle.” An invitation.

Gwayne pressed his lips to yours, sweet like cherry. You moaned in delight, a budding warmth in your chest bursting at the feel of his kiss. It was hungry, urgent, tainted with the promise of making up for the time you had spent away from each other’s warmth. Roaming hands found your rear, squeezing the plump flesh through your skirts. Your uncle’s wandering lips traveled their way downward, trailing to settle on the length of your neck. A whine echoed through your chambers as he bit on your neck, before smoothing over with his tongue. Something was starting to poke your hip, and your hand descended to cup it, earning a grunt from the redheaded man before you. 

A breath was hitched into his throat when you dropped to your knees, making quick work to untie his breeches. The heady scent of his cock was familiar, albeit he was unwashed, and it almost felt like coming home. Gwayne was your home. You wasted no time to press kisses to reddening tip, licking a stripe down the underside of his length before taking him whole. Your desperation was evident in your movements, head bobbing up and down fervently while you kept your eyes on him. Above you, the knight could only grunt, running a hand through his ginger tresses to keep himself grounded.

“How is it you’ve gotten better at this in my absence, hm? Had done your own practice?” he groaned, placing a guiding hand on the back of your head. You hummed around his length, the vibrations of your cavern making his cock jump. A hand replaced your mouth when you pulled away, stroking at a uniform pace as you looked up at him.

“One of Aegon’s friends said I certainly do it quite well. I have you to thank for the knowledge, I suppose,” you bragged, smirking when his blues visibly darkened at your words. He pulled you up back to your feet, leading you back to lean against a sidetable before claiming your lips once more. He was unbothered by the taste of himself on your tongue, nor by the spit painting both your cheeks in this messy exchange. You took hold of one of his hands to guide up your skirt, past your smallclothes, and settling on your mound. 

Gods, you were soaked. You had been the moment you felt his warmth, had pressed your nose into the familiar scent of his flesh. 

His fingertips trailed down your slit to collect your essence, before taking it into his mouth for a taste. You watched, hypnotized as his lips wrapped around his fingers. Your skirts were then bunched up to your hips, your smallclothes falling to the floor once you untied the ribbons that held them together. The figurines on your table rattled as the wood accommodated your weight when you had shifted to lean further. You beckoned him closer by wrapping your leg around his trim waist, and an arm around his shoulders. It was almost like you readied to dance as he took hold of your waist, an embrace so rehearsed, so familiar. The underside of his cock pressed against your weeping cunny, and with the sway of his hips, the sweet song of your whines filled Gwayne’s ears. His cockhead snagged against your pearl when he pushed his hips at a perfect angle, making you both moan. 

Calloused hands took hold of your thighs, dimpling the soft flesh under his hold. You gripped the edge of the table to ground yourself, throwing your head back as your uncle rubbed against you deliciously. He knew how much you liked this, well aware of how much power he held over you when he teased you with the promise of his claiming of your maidenhead. It stoked a fire deep within your loins, though today, it was not enough to burn you under.

“Gwayne…” you whined. “More… I need more!”

His red tresses swayed as he shook his head in refusal. His eyes were trained on the sight of your essence coating his cock, angling his hips to press against your pearl more. “I can’t… not yet, my love, you know this.”

You gripped his shoulders in frustration, urging him to look at you with your hands cupping his jaw. Your lips displayed your desperation as you kissed him. You have always asked little from him, naught but for one thing. 

“This could be the last time we ever see each other. Please, uncle,” you pleaded, burying your head into his neck as you sobbed. 

Your uncle had shown you much, had taught you much. However, there was one thing that was not for him to take. He dared not sully his niece, his beloved sister’s eldest girl. That kind of depravity is for Targaryens, and Gwayne thought himself a dignified man, honorable. Yet as you bit your lip temptingly at him, your brows furrowed adorably, the tight noose of virtue continued to loosen.

He grabbed hold of his cock, directing it to your slit. Gwayne kept his hand on the lower half of length to restrain himself, lest he lost all control. His tip breached your walls, reaching only far enough to feel your heat. “Just this much, and I promise when I return we will have so much more,” he panted into your ear. His thrusts were shallow, though some threatened to reach deeper, farther into your warmth. He alternated between rubbing and breaching, an assaulting tease to your senses. 

You moaned his name like a prayer. Devoted pleading. Your grip on the back of his neck was grounding, keeping his head from floating to the heavens to be here with you. You were all over him, from your hands in his hair, your lips on his jaw down to your juices that coated his cock. 

It was too late for him, he realized. To try and outrun a dragon’s fire was a futile attempt, and all he could do was welcome it with resignation. How ever could he deny himself this bliss? How could he deny you?

He came as his cockhead snagged on your folds once more, painting your mound with his pearly seed. Barely catching his breath, your hand on his shoulder ordered him to his knees. Like a devotee, the Hightower kneeled before you, descending his mouth onto your cunny. His own spend was salty as it coated his tongue, mixed with the sticky sweet nectar of your maiden core. The sight of his reds in between your thighs was a heavenly sight, and you could only pray to have him like this until the end of your days.

You were nearing your precipice, evident by the grinding of your hips against his face. With a thumb on your pearl and his tongue dipping in and out of your cunt, you came with a cry. Your uncle slurped up your release like a man starved, groaning against your mound.

When he had returned to his feet, Gwayne’s lips glistened with your essence. Breathless, you bit back a smile, but as his own flushed lips widened, a giggle bubbled from your chest. Your uncle chuckled, planting a small kiss to your forehead before taking you into his arms.

“How I’ve missed you, little red.”

“Why does it have a skirt?” 

You poked the ornate metal decorating the horse, confused at such attire. It even had a matching mask on its head, and you wondered if the poor thing could even see. 

“Tis armor. To ensure my royal steed is kept safe and no harm comes to it, and by extension, me, gods willing,” Gwayne explained, busied by the preparations of the move. Your uncle leaned closer to your ear, the distance between you tethering on violating propriety. “So I may find my way back to you.”

He was clad in his armor, silver steel paired by velvet Hightower green. He looked exquisite. If you were a lesser woman, there was no telling what you would have done right then and there, in the middle of the Keep’s courtyard. You regarded him with a dark gaze, uncaring of hiding your desire despite your mother and the Hand standing only a few paces away. 

Your chest was heavy with dread. A worrying nagging in your head growing harder to ignore. Their journey was sure to be hard, and who knows what else they were to face other than harsh terrain. What if there were dragons? What were he to do to defend himself from such fire? You would beg your brother to let you fly with them, but the fucker barely spared a second of his day for you. 

The prospect of losing Gwayne was daunting enough to drive you mad, yet there was little you could do. He could see it in your face, could feel the fear emanating from your anxious form as you watched him prepare. “Will you be careful?” you asked quietly. 

He gave you a downturned smile, heart swelling. “I will, little red, I promise,” he replied. His vow did little to quench your apprehension, evident in the way you looked at anywhere but him. The knight took hold of your elbow, giving you a comforting squeeze. “And when I return, we could tell your mother,” he vowed.

Your orbs were bright in surprise as you looked up at him, making Gwayne smile. The passing of a stableboy reminded you of your surroundings, making you huddle closer to him. “You don’t jest?” you whispered.

“Never about you,” he responded, sincerity clear in his voice. He took hold of your hand, placing a kiss to your knuckles. “I shall win the king his army, and ask for his blessing. Until then, wait for me, my sweetling.”

The ground thumped as the knights marched out of the city’s gates. They made for a menacing sight, a symbol for the war that was starting to brew. As you stood with your mother, you uttered a silent prayer. You hoped the gods would hear you now, would let Gwayne find his way back to you.

[kitkatscabinet]

SNUGGLE BUG

Summary: The boys try to get out of bed, their partner has other plans.

Pairing(s): Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, x reader

A/N: unedited

DICK GRAYSON

Dick's always been a physically affectionate person, far more so than the rest of his family. It's why he'd been so ecstatic when he'd found you, a partner that was just as, if not more affectionate than him.

On more than one occasion his siblings had been given front-row seats to the snuggle show when they broke into his apartment, served them right really.

What Dick hadn't accounted for, was just how difficult it was to peel himself from your arms in the morning. Torture would hurt less he's sure.

"Ten more minutes," you whined childishly, burrowing your face into Dick's bare shoulder, tightening your arms around his torso.

"We've already said that three times." Your partner laughed, wriggling out of your hold but with far less strength than you knew he was capable of.

Both of you were fully aware just how quickly he could extracate himself from your arms should the neccessity rise. Technically speaking he did have to go to work, but surely it couldn't hurt to be a little late?

Though a quick glance at the hello kitty alarm clock on the bedside table confirmed he was already late.

"Dickie, can't you just call in? I wanna cuddle."

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

It wasn't like he really needed the money anyway.

His boss's ire is worth it to feel the way you smile into the skin of his neck, your warm breaths and little laughs as you lay tangled together.

So worth it.

JASON TODD

"You planning on letting me go anytime soon?" Jason grunted, though you know him well enough to hear the smile he's attempting to hide.

"Never," you mumble into the skin between his broad shoulder blades, the mattress slouching beneath the combined weight of you and your boyfriend.

Jason, undeterred by your attempts to drag him down, stands with a grunt. A cracking noise you know to be his knees rings out, and though you feel a little bad, you're unwilling to back down in your quest to get him back into bed.

Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is built like a brick shithouse and is just as stubborn as you. Slowly, he manouevers around your small apartment all the while you hang off his back like a drunken Koala.

"Babyyyy," you whine petulantly into his ear, arms tightening around his neck in an attempt to only slightly choke him into submission.

Sighing, Jason starts to wander back into the bedroom. Just when you think you've won, he spins around, falling backwards onto the mattress and crushing you beneath his bulk.

In the minutes you spend winded, recovering, from being squished like an ant, Jason makes his escape. When you finally manage to come back to yourself you notice something incredibly distressing.

"Clothes! Why are you wearing clothes!" you wailed, sliding off the mattress and onto the floor in a pathetic slump.

Despite himself, Jason smiles at the sight, bundling you up in his arms before hopping back into bed with you. "Ok, you big dramatic baby."

Hey may have sounded put out, but the both of you knew he wanted to cuddle just as much. Besides, nothing was as important to him as you.

TIM DRAKE

He’d tried to be quiet. Truly, with years of training in the art of stealth Tim had intended to simply slip out of the bed and leave you to the sleep you needed.

He’d almost made it, both feet on the floor and the mattress no longer bearing most of his weight when all of a sudden a hand darted out, grasping his wrist.

Tim froze, slowly turning to look down at you with wide, guilty eyes. You're glaring up at him, sleep-addled face far more adorable than threatening, not that he'd ever tell you that, for fear of getting his ass beat.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" your voice is hoarse and gravelly from sleep but the threat is evident.

Mouth suddenly dry, Tim awkwardly chuckles, "Oh, babe, you're awake."

"Thanks to you," you grumbled sleepily, guilt and fear in equal measurements settling heavily in his chest.

"M'sorry, tried not to wake you but I gotta get to work on this case."

"No." You grunted, wrapping your arms around Tim's waist with freakish speed, nuzzling your face into his side.

He can't help the way his heart skips several beats at your casual affection. Tim's always been starved for touch, for the soft loving touch that you've always provided as if its as natural as breathing.

He should be used to it but despite the years worth of love and affection you've poured into Tim in the time you've spent together he still hasn't acclimated.

Tim knows, that you know, just how weak to your touch he is. It still doesn't prevent his resolve from crumbling when you refuse to let him budge, tugging him back down into your warm embrace.

"Good boy," you murmur against the skin of his neck, wrapping around his back like an octopus and trapping him against the expanse of your chest.

His skin runs hot at your words, mind numb to anything that's not your touch as he's eventually lulled back to sleep to the soothing sounds of your breathing.

[sir-heichou-smith]

Johnny thinks you and Ghost only want him for the sex.

He won't tell either of you he's ass over elbows for both his lieutenant and his girlfriend because he doesn't want to make a fool of himself.

No, he can't tell you because he's the idiot who fell in love with the two people he couldn't even dream of having.

No one else has ever made him feel so cared for or special before you two though, and it confuses the hell out of him to the point where he can't help but think he has to leave after every session.

He doesn't want to overstay his welcome, meanwhile you and ghost think he doesn't want to be with you and only wants the sex, which is fine (you'd really prefer that he stayed for aftercare since it is real important to you, you know how Simon could get and it's not easy coming back up on your own from how far he puts you under) but you know something is wrong when he stumbles out of bed and limps to the door after throwing his pants on, mumbling something about having to get going for some thing or another.

One night Simon and Johnny stumble through the door after a few drinks, their hands wandering and teeth clinking out of desperation while you trail after with a hand on each of them.

Clothes are thrown and kisses are traded all the way to the bedroom. You hear Simon utter praises in the Scot's ear, "such a good boy f'me Johnny. Gonna show the mrs how well you can take it for me? Let's give 'er a show."

He shudders in the larger man's embrace, and you think you see something flicker in those baby blues as he kneels to undo Simon's zipper with his teeth.

But you're tipsy like they are and you can only focus on it so much until Simon pulls you in and groans into your mouth, one of his big hands on the back of your head and the other tangled in the mowhawk bobbing up and down on his cock.

That morning you wake up quietly, before either men, and you take the moment to enjoy having both of them in your bed.

Johnny wakes up quiet too, thinking himself a goddamn idiot for giving in to staying the night when he tried so hard not to.

He does his best to untangle his limbs from Simon's meaty arms and your thick, supple thighs. It's so warm and comfortable and everything he's ever wanted and he doesn't ever want to go, but he has to. It doesn't belong to him, you're not his and neither is Simon and he's just in the way.

God he's so fucking stupid for this, all he's doing is making himself hurt more than what he has to. He just can't take what he's given and accept that he'll never have what his heart truly, unrightfully wants.

While you think nothing of it as he slithers down the bed, (assuming he needs the bathroom and he'll come right back into your embrace) Johnny is pulling on his clothes from the night before as quickly and quietly as he can, tears building up under his lash line and threatening to spill over his cheeks. His breaths come in short staccato so he holds it until he can't, breathing out slowly through his nose and in through his mouth.

He needs to leave, can't be here any longer because he's already overstayed his welcome.

Hes not supposed to feel this way, he's just a toy for you and Simon to enhance your guys' relationship. Your beautiful, loving relationship that he's stupid for wanting to get in the middle of because he'd never expect either of you to return his feelings.

He thinks he's in the clear when he looks back and notices Simon's heavy chest still breathing evenly, taking one last glance at his magnificence before turning around for good because he can't put himself through this anymore, he's not enough and he just needs to accept that now before he can never recover from the heartbreak.

"Johnny?" He's hears your low voice come from the cocoon of warmth he craves with ever fiber of his being. Your precious face looks confused and, dare he say it, a little hurt. "Where are you going?"

His heart shatters. "I-I... I'm heading out now. I didnae mean to stay so long. Sorry 'bout that, bon. Nothin' to wake the big guy over."

Before he gets his shirt on he hears you shift. "Johnny wait-"

"No. No, I cannae do this anymore okay?" His chest heaves with what feels like the weight of the world, and the tears start to fall.

"I know my place, and I keep forgetting it when you hold me so close and tell me I'm your good boy. When you kiss me and it feels like nothin else matters anymore. I never wanted to come between you and Si but I overstayed my welcome now and I need to leave so that I can-"

"What are you on about?" Simon blinks his eyes and rolls onto his back, a thick arm behind his head and the other stretched out across the empty space where Johnny just was.

Blue eyes shut and his pretty face scrunches up in pain, but he turns around before he thinks either of you can see. His shirt is hastily pulled over his head and he trips over himself pulling on a shoe from the night before.

He doesn't get to leave after throwing on the second one. A big paw of a hand circles his bicep almost completely.

"Don't think you're goin anywhere now, mate. What's this about?" Tired honey eyes look up in confusion and concern, their owner now sitting up and the thick comforter slides down to meet his naked hips. Baby blues can't help but trace the movement.

Your feet touch the cold floor as you get out of bed and circle around to the Scot. "Johnny when did we ever say we don't want you too?"

His head whips up in confusion and he looks between the two of you. "But.. But you-"

"Baby, take those clothes off and get back in bed." Simon pulls lightly on the arm in his grasp and Johnny can't help but follow.

"From now on it's non-negotiable, you stay here with us and get your aftercare in before you even think of leaving. Not that we ever wanted you to."

Big hands pull at the hem of his shirt and it goes without thinking. You stand behind him and wrap your arms around his naked torso to unfasten his jeans.

"Such a pretty boy, Johnny. You're our pretty boy and we want you just as much. Please dont leave us again." Your words bring tears to his eyes again, these ones accompanied by a bright perfect smile and a small huff of disbelief.

The three of you fall back into bed, smothering Johnny in all the kisses and words of love he never even fathomed could be true.

Limbs and tongues tangled alike, and the morning was spent mostly in bed, the Scot wedged tightly between you and Simon. As if he'd still possibly think of leaving now.

[buckyalpine]

2025, lets GO. 18+ Minors dni. A teaser of my thots. Don’t know what's wrong with me and tbh I don’t think we’ll ever find out. But I can’t stop thinking about this man’s cock. Such a pretty, pretty, super soldier cock. In the most descriptive way imaginable. Imagine a touched starved menace Bucky. The way he’d want to be touched, how fucking good it feels when your lips wander to his most sensitive areas. Getting him so horny, he’s telling you every damn thing his cock is feeling without holding back because he’s so desperate. 

“Suck the tip angel, please” The last word nearly melts into a sob because you’ve been teasing him for far too long and you know exactly where he wants you. 

“Yeah? Why should I baby?” You coo, rubbing the sides of his thighs, “What’s so special about that, m’already sucking you here” Your lips drag up his shaft, letting your tongue lave up and down, ignoring the little mess he’s making with precum dripping from his slit. 

It’s torture.

Beautiful, delicious torture. 

“C’mon, please, don’t make me beg doll, it’s swollen n’sensitive there, just suck it a little, m’so hard” You love the way his thighs squirm on the bed, spreading wider for you because he needs to much more. 

“Poor baby, you like it when I suck your cock?

“Y-yeah baby, fuck yes” His head is thrown back on the pillow while he chest heaves when you move down to take one of his balls in your mouth, his soft sack throbbing each time you toy with him. They’re so full, he has no idea what to do with himself. 

He’s fucking aching because there you are, worshipping him in places he’d doesn’t expose to just anyone. His length stands tall and proud, a sheen of sweat covering his body because each time a drop of precum slips out, you tap your index finger against his slit to collect it, just to lick it with your fingers. 

“Angel, just-please-mph-” He cut himself off when you brush over his frenulum with your tongue, he didn’t even know he was capable of making such a sound when he whines for more. He was being such a needy thing, you give into his pleading, taking that plush tip between your lips, the cry he lets out makes you drip. “Is it right there, baby? That’s where you wanted me to suck you?”

“Right-fuck, right there, don’t-don’t stop, don’t fuckin’ stop, please angel, please-shit-” The rest of his voice dies into a series of whimpers when you begin to nurse on him and he swears his soul leaves his body. He looks down to find your eyes looking up at him, your mouth so full, the veins along his length pulsating. “I can feel it fuckin’ swelling in your mouth, it’s so hard, fuck it’s never been this hard” 

You start to take more of him in, letting his tip hit your throat, suppressing a gag and that really sets him off, he’d never been this mouthy before, to be fair he’d also never gotten head like this before, also he considered himself a gentleman but God you made it so difficult with the way you sucked his soul-

“Just like that baby, sucking my cock so good, so fucking good, my balls are so full of cum for you, m’so full n’hard-”

“Don’t stop-don’t-st-stop, mph, yeah, yeah-” his eyes struggle to stay open, those pretty nipples hard, his muscles tensed when you move faster, “I can’t-need to be inside you-fuck”

Before you can do anything, he pulls you off his cock and manhandles you onto your back, spreading your legs apart and tossing them over his shoulders. He can smell how fucking soaked you are, slamming his cock in all the way with a brutal pace.

“FUCK J-JAMES” Your nails dig into his skin to hold on for dear life with the way he’s selfishly taking, his voice muffled with the way his lips have found their way to your neck, needly sucking between rambling about how good you feel-

“Say my name again, fuck-again doll, need it, wanna hear my name on your lips with my cock in you, s’all for you, fuckin’ hard n’aching for you baby, say it-

“JAMES-Oh god- I”

“Fuck, m’already making a mess” His hips work faster already feeling his orgam ready to blow, “You make my cock so fuckin’ leaky, can feel it squirting out of you-y/n, I can’t-gonna cum, m’gonna cum so fuckin’ much-

His hands come to lace with yours, his full body weight dropping while he start to grind into your cunt, burying himself as far as he could go. He doesn’t pull away from your neck hiding away, his breath panting against your skin.

“M-cu-fuck, m’cumming-shit” He makes the most obscene moan you’ve ever heard, his body stilling with his cock bursting with streams of his seed. You can feel him twitch inside you, the sensation alone enough to make you squeeze around him, clinging onto him as you cum with him, “Oh God baby I can feel you -milking my dick,-gonna-oh fuck m’cumming again!!” His hand slams the mattress, giving you a few harsh sloppy thrusts, slamming into you fully unload every bit of him into your pussy.

Now, don’t get me started on how this man spends the night pumping you full, only pulling out (reluctantly) when he’s soft. He’s used to having clothes on by now so he’s a little self conscious when your eyes drift down to his no longer hard length covered in a mix of you and him. His cheeks warm at the way you look at him, he’d about to cover until you lick him clean, he’s so fucking sensitive but it feels too good, he’s still leaking, his very pink, silky an soft cockhead continuously making a wet mess and if he hadn’t died before, he definitely did now-

So this was in the drafts for years months. I have so many more that I have to finish but one at a time. Also, I really need to post a life upate. 

[baeshijima]

mr reca fic where he’s suffering a creative slump due to the lack of good scripts (by his standards) from various screenwriters. he feels himself going positively insane with every script he’s given.

it’s too dull. it’s too predictable. this one has no creative flair whatsoever!! that one just doesn’t spark enough imagination!!!

it’s troublesome, really. some think he’s really going through it, while others believe the scripts he’s been given won’t bring him enough money. but really, who cares about monetary value when it is he who cannot even begin to picture himself enjoying the process that comes with each script?

and so that is how he finds himself wandering around aimlessly. sometimes the outdoors is necessary for the mind, and who knows? perhaps he really will find something that will give him a spark. hmm, those trees are looking a little dull. the sky overhead is too cloudy. hm? did he just hear thunder—

something collides into his chest, a choked “oof!” following soon after. he stumbles backwards a little, papers flying through the air around him. he blinks once, twice, at the sight of you on the ground, muttering something under your breath before a sharp gasp escapes you, hastily scrambling to gather the papers fluttering and strewn around.

one such paper falls into his hands. he glances over its contents, skimming through it as he goes to pass it over to you with an apology at the tip of his tongue, only to freeze.

this… this is genius! this is absolutely the pinnacle of writing!! while a little rough around the edges (as drafts usually tend to be), his once clouded mind is now clear, giving way to a blank canvas which slowly depicts the imagery your writing induces. idea after idea pours into his brain as he can visualise exactly what he wants, his body trembling and heart pounding as he insantly fixates on your panicked form still collecting all the fallen papers.

“yes… yes! this is what i was looking for! everything about this is pure artistry! the possibilities are endless, the sky is the limit!!”

this is possibly the happiest and freest he has felt in what seems like eons! seriously, compared to those other mind-numbing scripts this truly is the pinnacle of writing itself.

a laugh full of pure, unadulterated glee escapes him, careful not to crinkle the god-sent paper cradled in his palms. “you! you’re a genius!”

“i’m a wha…?”

he whirls in the direction of the source of the voice, further praises and a proposal for a collaboration on the tip of his tongue, only for his breath to catch in his throat.

you… you’re so radiant! even with that disheveled appearance and absolutely adorable confused expression you’re giving him, he never realised such beauty existed! not only does your writing fill him with endless creativity, but his pounding heart, parched throat and warming skin tells him you’re definitely the main character!

but wait! if you were to be the main character, then would that make him the main character’s love interest? surely he wouldn’t have had such a cliché meet-cute like bumping into each other if he wasn’t the love interest! but what if there is a second love interest? no, no, he can oust them…

you, on the other hand, believe you’re about to get whiplash instead of the man, baffled at how he instantly switched from a maniac to stark silence to muttering senselessly with a dreamy expression.

well, each to their own. you have more pressing matters, and that’s to quickly return home and continue fantasising before you forget the idea! but first, you have to get the last piece of paper back…

“um… sir? can i have my paper back, please?”

in an instant, he kneels in front of you. now that you’re at eye level, he certainly is very handsome. if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought this was some movie or drama plot with him as the main lead! oh, but why is he holding your hands—

“yes, i will spend the rest of my life with you.”

“…what?”

tldr; you’re just a silly writer who daydreams far too much for their own good, and somehow managed to bag top-tier director mr reca with the power of said daydreams. (his ever-growing obsession with you is concerning to say the least but, hey! what genius isn’t at least a little insane?)