#con;;artemis

[buried-l0cket]

Hyper specific drawing just for me

[thedivinemechanism]

Nonsense, you're not late to anything, darling.

That's beside the point. I'm typing this at 6am because, and the next thing is to be understood OOC: I DREAMT OF YOU

Like, you, guy who runs this blog

I dreamt that we met on some kinda comic con and you signed my arm in-character as Viktor and everything was beautiful, am I loosing my marbles now??? What does this mean???

...

I should go back to sleep and stop blathering, forgive me.

~ L

Ooc:

It's funny you should say that because I'm going to be at the 2025 Hall of Heroes Comiccon in Elkhart, IN. Not only that, but I'll be running a booth for my comic (shameless plug under the cut).

I also have a Viktor cosplay planned for that exact event.

Maybe you're psychic 😂

If you are iiinnnterestedd in my comic it is available online for free. If you like queer or disabled-centric romance or early 20th century period pieces this series may be up your alley. Or just if you just like sad, slavic men.

◇ Gentle Hands ◇

《When Jadyn. An American medical student studying in France, is assigned to help nurse a paraplegic soldier back to health, he begins to pick up on some alarming details. Dmitri, after burning through numerous nurses and hospitals, is surprised to find himself at the hands of a charming and compassionate young man. Did Jadyn get the short end of the stick, or is Dmitri not as bad as they say?》

•.°○ Read Here ○°.•

For more information, questions, bonus art, or all of issue 1 on tumblr, see my main blog: @leonardoeatscarrots

[specialagentartemis]

there is something that I find very fulfilling and worthwhile, it leaves me in a good mood when I finish and also I usually come home with fresh fruit

on the other hand I have to wake up early in the morning to do it

and every single goddamn time I weigh the pros and con

[miraclerat]

It's pathologic month time for posting my friends' and I's cosplay pics from otakon (this was definitely intentional timing, and not because I forgot)

These cosplays were a blast to make and wear around! I'm excited to wear them again sometime when we won't be melting from the heat

Clara; me, Daniil; @halloweenvampire , Artemy; @icarusflightplan

[altocringe]

☆☆☆

"Artemisa es lesbiana y le gusta Calisto. Cero dudas, 100% pruebas." -Apolo, probablemente.

[soulchronicity]

you know the au brainrot goes deep when i get a second fictive from the same au. and its only a few days after the first one

[dynamo-deepblue]

Themed badge I finished of Artemis! I haven't drawn a themed badge in over a year and wanted a new example for standard and custom charm comms, as well as a new badge for myself. She's an adventurer and a treasure hunter so ofc a treasure chest was a perfect choice. Super happy with this one, she came out great 💙

I'm also going to be opening custom charms on 4/19! Click here for more info.

You can also join my Telegram below to get notified of the opening first! Form will be available on 4/19 to fill out.

---

Website | Commission Info | Shop | Ko-fi | Telegram Art Feed

Twitter | Tumblr | Mastodon | DeviantArt | Bluesky | Fur Affinity

[the-nova-council]

I'm tired of being the host I'm tired of being the host I'm tired of being the host I'm tired of being the host I'm tired of being the host I'm tired of being the host I'm tired of being the host im tired kf being the host I'm tired of beinh the host I'm yored of bejng the host I'm tired of being the host I'm hired in ring the host I'm yired if being the jist I'm tired ifnbeing yhd host im tired kf being the host I'm yired if beinh the host I'm hired if beinh gbe body km tired of being the hist jn tired kf being the host im tired kf being the hist jn tired kf being the jist im tired kf being the host IM TIRED IM SO TIRED IM SO SO SO TIRED ALL YHE TIME IM EXHAUSTED IM SO TIRED

[michaelgabrill]

Acuerdos de Artemis alcanzan 50 signatarios con la firma de Panamá y Austria

Read this release in English here. Panamá y Austria firmaron el miércoles los Acuerdos de Artemis en ceremonias que tuvieron lugar en la sede de la NASA en Washington, convirtiéndose así en los países número 49 y 50 en comprometerse a explorar el espacio de forma responsable para toda la humanidad. “La NASA da la bienvenida […] from NASA https://ift.tt/9GKo2T3

[iwantjellyfsh]

It's a really cute fanart

New pfp hello

[navelgazed]

I want to like that post about selling at fairs and art shows and whatnot but then I remember the bunch of prints I never sold still molding away in a box somewhere and how much those cost to print and how much good home printers are and how much traditional art supplies cost and I seethe

[plethorawrites]

TW: Mentions of dub con/non consensual intimacy or coercion. (From his past lovers, not reader) (A/N this is my favorite thing I've ever writtenreader

TW: NSFW content.

2.5k word count

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Okay, this could be a bit of a hot take, but I am a firm believer in soft Jason Todd during sex.

Especially at the beginning of a relationship. He died young and his only sexual experiences were with Talia, who groomed him, Essence, who he believed betrayed him for the longest time and maybe Artemis, (Idk if that's canon? Can someone confirm or deny?) who was probably pretty rough given her arrogant, abrasive, and violent personality.

So, when he dates you, he's more than just hesitant. He's pretty much terrified. But he's used to hiding his feelings because they make him feel vulnerable and weak, which he hates. When you start tearing down his walls, he starts to panic. He likes spending time with you, thinking about you, kissing you. Especially that last part.

But it never goes very far because he always pulls away when things get more heated. Like, you in his lap, him nearly fully hard before quickly picking you up by your hips and moving you to the other side of the couch before standing up, clearing his throat and leaving.

It takes over two months before he feels comfortable enough to even tell you the reason he doesn't want to be intimate and the only reason he did is because you started to feel like he wasn't attracted to you or you had something wrong.

He rushed to reassure you that wasn't the case and finally told you the —partial— truth. He had scars he didn't want you seeing, he had bad prior experiences, he felt like he was being used almost every time he slept with someone and couldn't stand that feeling because it made him physically ill.

It took several weeks after that to slowly adapt to that realization and discuss how to make that feeling go away. Taking things slow, making it last, keeping it gentle, seemed to be the best way. And it was somehow perfect and tortuous all at once. He let you ride his thigh, at first. That was the first time he'd ever allowed any form of intimacy between you too. Partially because you looked desperate and he felt bad and partially because he genuinely wanted to see what you looked like while doing that.

Not to mention, he was still too afraid to be the one doing anything. So, it was best if he just helped.

His grip was firm, his eyes glued to you. You whispered more praise in those few minutes than he had heard from anyone in months all together, maybe even the year. He felt good. He was helping you. You appreciated it. You appreciated him. He was attractive. You were thanking him for giving this to you. Practically begging for his help.

And it made his heart clench, not to mention his teeth. There were other forms of physical intimacy after that, still only to you, because he didn't want to risk showing his scars or get that nausea in his stomach again during sex. You'd allow him pretty much anything and everything, if it meant he was more comfortable with you and your body. Sliding his hand under your shirt while you slept over (quite literally just falling asleep after eating dinner together) brushing his knuckles against your breasts, hesitant to touch them, but finding comfort in it all at once.

You assured him three different times—before he did it, when his hand was just barely under your shirt, and when his fingers first tugged at your nipples. It's when he's finally a bit more comfortable, pressing his lips to your shoulder blade that you hum and roll over. Your hair finds his hair, stroking it and he presses his lips to your neck, almost on instinct. You let him kiss lower and lower, gently guiding his head towards your breasts, all while repeating more and more praise, reminding him he's under no obligation to do anything, ever, if he doesn't feel comfortable.

But he does. With you, he does.

It leads to him kissing and sucking at your chest until he loses track of time and you're painfully wet. That was plenty, you promised. He doesn't need to do anymore than that. But he does, because he doesn't want to take his hands off your soft skin. So you gently drag his hand down, keeping the other firmly on his shoulder while you stare into his eyes, as his fingers slide through your slick. A sharp inhale makes him hold his breath. The other women he'd been with only ever wanted the most physical part of sex, never to do something like this. You were so soft and warm, assuring him he was doing fine while guiding his hand until you eventually couldn't keep looking at him and had to close your eyes. He liked that. A lot.

The way your hand moved, letting him do what he wanted while you gripped the sheets. He listened so well, trying to make you happy or just keep making those sounds—his name falling from your lips. If you wanted his fingers to move faster, they would. If you said deeper, they were. If you said to curl them, they'd curl. You were so... captivating, he had found. Usually, he was too in his head, so focused on how long until it was over that he never even considered being able to enjoy it.

But he wasn't rushing with you. He didn't want you to stop saying his name. When you finally came down from the high he'd brought you, your first words were a question, asking if he was alright. When he nodded, you started telling him how perfect he was, how good that felt. He liked that almost as much as your moans.

Yet, you felt guilty, never taking care of him. He never asked. In fact he repeatedly denied the offer until you chose to stop asking rather than upset him.

Until one day, when you were on the couch, leaning against him as he read, your hand perched on his thigh. He didn't know if it was the fact that you were wearing such a low cut tank top or how you'd been absent mindedly rubbing circles around his sweatpants while reading over his shoulder, but he was worked up. It took twice as long to finish a page with your motion making his mind go to places it shouldn't.

He was worried, about you rejecting his desires, or something like that. Something mocking or doing something that was uncomfortable. People had done that before, eliciting physical reactions he didn't want to feel. But he wanted to try, to feel you on him the way he'd felt you.

His hands grabbed yours and when you looked up in confusion, he just gently and silently slid your hand a bit further on his leg, towards his erection. He'd absolutely taken care of himself, and often, because it was a quick stress relief that left him tired before bed. But lately, the more he did it, the more his mind wandered to you and that, for some reason, made him finish a lot harder than usual.

Your hand brushed against it and you asked if he was sure before pressing a kiss to the side of his shoulder and sinking down to the carpet below, on your knees in between his legs. Running your hands up and down his thighs in a soothing sort of gesture both calmed him and felt like torture all at once. But it only lasted a little bit, while you promised him he was in control, because that's what he needed to hear.

That he could say no at any time if he was even the slightest bit uncomfortable. When you slid his boxers down, his heart jumped in panic. Of course you noticed the scars on his thighs instantly. But ignored them, because he still hardly ever showed them aside for occasionally wearing short sleeves. You were silent and he was scared but all you'd said at last, was that he was pretty.

"Pretty."

That word had never been used to describe him. Not before his death and certainly not after. Even the feeling of your gentle kiss on his skin and your thumb swiping over the top had him gripping the pillows, still stressed. Your hand took his, squeezing it when your lips finally enveloped him, his length disappearing into your mouth. His breaths were shaky, his hold on your hand getting painfully tight.

He felt like he was in pure bliss, his mouth falling open to pant as his head fell back against the couch practically begging you to keep going. The feeling of your hums had done him in. And his moans, loud and tough, getting whiny towards the end as the euphoria wore off assured you he was fine. He slid his boxers and sweats up quickly, his cheeks red, from the act not embarrassment (he'd say and lie) but you just laid your head on his knee, staring at him, asking how he was.

Good was an understatement. Great, too. Incredible. Amazing. None of those compliments came out. He couldn't speak, just looked back up at the ceiling as his breathing came back under control.

All you'd done in response was tell him he didn't have to say anything if he didn't want to, climbing back into the couch and wrapping your arms around his midsection, resting your head against him. You stayed like that—silent. The only question you dared to ask was if he'd want that again and his response was a kiss.

He realized after that, how truly deeply he loved you.

A feeling he was so unused to, he couldn't pinpoint it for the longest time. You felt safe. Maybe that's what made him want to finally seal the deal with you. Or maybe it was the way his body physically ached in a way that no amount of help from his own hand or your mouth could fix.

Something about it was missing.

He wanted the lights off. You had accepted that, but told him you'd really rather see him. He caved almost instantly, because as afraid he was of you seeing him, he wanted to see you too bad to care enough. You were undressed first, naturally. He'd seen that before, in bed while touching you, or just as you changed it got in the shower. He wasn't any less smitten, still obsessed with every inch of exposed skin. It took a few deep breaths and reassuring words before he was willing to unbutton his shirt.

In fact, he couldn't. He'd asked you to do it.

That felt oddly more intimate to him. Your fingers moved slowly, undoing them one by one, a bit more of his chest exposed with each button undone. You had seen a lot of his scars, after he got more comfortable wearing shorts or shirts that showed his arms. He still never revealed his chest and when you did, he looked away, his teeth sinking into the inside of his cheek to keep from tears brimming in his eyes as he heard the small gasp leave your lips.

He almost jumped when you touched one, your fingertips feeling light as a feather. Tears kept pricking but he refused to let them fall. He was being vulnerable but he couldn't allow himself to be that weak. Your other hand found his cheek, pulling his face to look at your face, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip as you pursed your own, tightly to keep from any strangled sounds escaping.

Your voice was equally as emotional when you eventually spoke, telling him in a shaky voice that he was still pretty. Those words or perhaps how your voice cracked when you said them, broke him. A tear slipped down his cheek and you were quick to brush it away with your thumb and kissed his cheek softly, confessing that you loved him.

He couldn't stand it anymore.

He wrapped his arms tightly around you, burying his face in your neck letting himself breathe for what felt like the first time all over again. A real breath. One without any heaviness attached to it because you'd stolen all the stones from his walls one by one. You repeated it, so he knew it wasn't a mistake or accident and he started peppering short kisses to your neck, all the way to your lips, which he kissed deeply, his bare chest pressed entirely around your own.

Your arms were around his neck, in his hair, pulling him closer and his hands started to wander, desperately craving to have you without any barriers anymore. He stared at you, or at least tried to, when he felt your velvety walls surround him, clenching tightly when his hips were finally flushed with yours. His jaw was locked tightly until you started running your hand up and down his spine, telling him he could take a moment, if he needed it.

He did.

Not because he was nervous, since for once, he wasn't, but because he wanted to stare at you in this state and revel in your feeling for a moment more. He did, until it became painful for both of you and every thrust he made was slow and deep, staring into each other's eyes, taking full breaths in at the same time for several moments until his pace was quick, along with your breathing.

Your praise never stopped, even when it wasn't fully coherent and ended in a moan or whine. His own praise for you wasn't lacking either, telling you how perfect you felt, how badly he wanted you, how much he appreciated you waiting on him because he really was enjoying it, probably more than he'd enjoyed anything in his entire life.

When you're both a mess, panting and quiet from the feelings that washed over you both, his body goes limp, laying on top of you. Your hands rub his shoulders reassuringly, although slowly and his hands hold either side of your head, fingers threaded into your hair as he pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your breath on him. It was silent, until he eventually lifted his head to admire you, your stray hairs sticking to your face, your puffy lips, your blown pupils.

He said it back, at that moment.

He loved you too and couldn't stand letting you think anything else for a single moment more.

You didn't respond, but your lips curled into a grin and a heavy sigh left your chest, your hands moving from his shoulders to cup his face and lean up to kiss him.

He rolled you over, causing a slight squeal from you, letting you lay on him so he wasn't crushing you any longer. You rested your head against his chest, silently tracing his scars as he messed with your hair, the moonlight streaming in through the window.

His voice eventually broke the comfortable silence when he whispered to you, asking you to "Say it again."

You didn't hesitate to tell him you'd "Say it as many times as he wanted to hear it."

With his lips twitching, the slight wit he always possessed came back, questioning what you'd do if he "Wanted to hear it forever."

Like before, your response was immediate when you replied, telling him you'd "Say it forever, then."

[ofbatsandballads]

as the heavens set fire

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut MDNI, virgin!Jason and virgin!reader, grinding, thigh riding, non-penetrative fingering, implications of Jason being demisexual.

a/n: I wrote this ages ago and just now found it in my drafts. I love the idea that in between being brought back from the dead and his revenge plot and dealing with the trauma of both that Jay never had the time to find his hopeless romantic love for the ages. I also hc him as demisexual, so both of these things combined make him a virgin in my head. Also inspired by @sanguineterrain and @sunnie-angel and their magnificent writings of virgin!jason. This is directly related to my other two fics, and it’s all quickly becoming a little universe that I’m affectionately labeling as “Jason gets the girl”. so yes, please enjoy some very soft, sweet smut of two blushing virgins!

divider credit: saradika

Jason Todd has never felt desire before. Not really. Sure, he had his fair share of kisses and frenzied touches when he first came back to Gotham, but it had never gone farther than that. Not with Rose, not with Artemis. Any time it started to go further, a harsh flinch and the recoil of his body would cut off any hope of more. And before? In his first life? He was a child, and then his teenage years were absolutely consumed with Robin. So, yeah, Jason was a little inexperienced. A virgin, if you wanted to get definitive about things. At first he thought maybe he couldn’t feel that way at all. The idea of letting someone he doesn’t trust touch him like that is unfathomable. And the idea of trusting someone enough to allow them access to his body isn’t even a thought in his mind. So all of his pleasure comes from harsh, slick strokes just to get the job done and the vague notions of the classic romance novels he loves so much.

Until now. Until you. It’s been two months since he came to you bruised and beaten worse than he’d ever been. Two months since you had tended to him, bathed him, clothed him, told him you loved him. Two months since he’d finally steeled his nerve and kissed you as both thanks and confession. You’ve been delicately together ever since. He’s dropped by your apartment every night, and he’s kissed you on more of those nights than he hasn’t. He’s felt an unfamiliar warmth stir in his belly on most of those occasions but he’s kept it in check. Well, he’s kept it in check until he gets home and throws himself into the shower, fist tight around his cock as he thinks of your sweet face smiling at him, your pretty mouth telling him you love him. But he’s got impeccable self control around you. Or he thought he did.

Tonight he dropped in injured for the first time in a while. One of Riddler’s goons had smashed a bottle against his forehead, the shattered glass leaving him with a cut and a blossoming headache. Jason is starting to regret his style change from helmet to domino mask and muzzle. His first instinct was to come to you. He figured it would be the same old song and dance you two had done for over a year now, except maybe with some kisses included. It fails to be the same song and dance the second he sees you in the tiny satin pajama shorts and cropped spaghetti strap pajama top. The set is a deep wine red color that looks so pretty against your skin. His head starts to feel a little fuzzy, but he thinks maybe that’s from the hit. He lets himself in through your window, loud and obvious so as not to startle you.

And, oh, you’re so kind to him. Always so kind to him. You guide him to your sofa and push him down onto the soft cushions (and his mind goes fuzzier). You kneel next to him, leaning slightly into his body while trying to reach the jagged cut on his head. But all Jason can see is red, red, red against your plush exposed skin. A groan of frustration pulls him from his trance.

“I can’t reach you like this, Jay,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“Can I sit on your lap?” you ask, and your face has so much concern on it.

Jason ceases to think. Maybe the hit has concussed him, made him stupid. He doesn’t even think he heard you right. But as you go to apologize for suggesting it, for pushing him into uncomfortable territory, he knows he did hear you correctly. And somehow your concern over his boundaries just makes his body burn hotter. He’d laid out ground rules when you two started this. He wasn’t familiar with physical contact without the intention to cause harm, so he needed time to adjust. And you’ve so diligently allowed him that time. You always ask if it’s okay to hold his hand, to rest against him, to kiss him. Even now you’re asking if he’s okay with you getting closer. He can’t bring himself to tell you just how much closer he wants you. So he simply raises his hand to cut off your apologies and nods.

The warm weight of you on his lap is heavenly. He’s keyed up, acutely aware of your body resting atop his. He tries to reign in his thoughts. The sensitivity of his body, however, can’t be controlled. You lean forward to apply the dermabond to his cut and he has to grip the sofa cushions as he feels your body press flush against his. He hopes you think it’s from the pain. You let out a soft sigh as you soothingly stroke his hair while the surgical glue cures.

“I’m so sorry, Jason. You’re doing so well, angel,” you coo at him.

Jason forces a harsh exhale through his nose. You’re killing him. He’s half hard in his pants now and the prospect of hiding his desire behind pain is dwindling by the second. He’s taking controlled breaths, willing himself to just get through this so he can go home and take care of his growing problem. But then a series of things all happen at once: you shift in his lap as you lean back to grab bandages, your eyes go wide as you feel him against you, and Jason whimpers at the feeling of you accidentally grinding on him.

His seafoam eyes shoot open, face red as his muzzle.

“S-sorry, ‘m sorry. You’re just really warm and so nice to me and I didn’t mean to–” Jason stutters, tripping over his own tongue.

He’s embarrassed. Humiliated even. One, he got hard when you were just trying to fix his head wound. Two, he’s been reduced to a bumbling fucking idiot over it. He’s about to pick you up off of him and go before he has to see the disgust on your face. But then he feels the press of your hands on his chest pushing him back into your sofa. He could easily stop you, but you’re looking at him in a way you never have before and Jason feels himself crumbling like a house of cards.

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize for wanting anything, not with me,” you tell him, hands back in his hair.

“How do you want to go about this?” you ask him gently.

Jason should say he wants to stop. Should tell you to get off him so he can cool down and you can pass the remainder of your time together peacefully. Maybe he should even tell you he wants to leave, that he’ll see you tomorrow. But your hands are playing with his hair so softly and your body is so warm and you’re looking at him like he’s something worth looking at.

“Kiss me,” he begs. “Please.”

So you do. You slot your soft lips against his and kiss him with everything you’re worth. Jason moans into it, the sound falling from his mouth to yours. He wraps both of his strong arms around you, pulling you tight against his body. He wrestles all of his self control to not rut up into you when doing so drags your hips against his. He’s licking at your plush bottom lip before he can stop himself and he groans when you immediately open your mouth for him. The slick slide of your tongues clashing makes you sigh against him. Your fingers tighten in his hair and your hips grind down of their own accord, eliciting whines from both of you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Jay,” you gasp as you pull back from him.

“No. You got nothin’ to be sorry for. It’s fine. It’s good,” he reassures you.

Just in case you don’t believe him, he brings his hands to your hips and squeezes as he finds the confidence to rock up into you. You moan as your eyes flutter shut and Jason swears this may be the closest to heaven he’s ever gotten.

“I’ve never–” you choke on your own gasp as he rocks his hips at a steady pace against you. “Never done anything like this before.”

“Me either,” Jason pants through strained inhales.

“I want this. I want you. Can we…can we keep doing this?” you ask against his mouth as you start to follow his rhythm.

Any worries or doubts that Jason had about your willingness in this fly out the window. He’s rambling mindlessly in response. Yes, yes, we can keep doing this, that sounds perfect, please don’t stop. His grip is hard on your hips, bunching the waistband of your shorts and pulling them tighter against you. The moan you let out fucking levels him. He never thought it could be this good. It seems to happen all too soon, that white hot coil curling in his belly. He’s just so sensitive and you feel so good grinding on his covered cock. You’re so kind to him and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. He babbles it like a broken record as he cums harder than he ever has in his life, soaking his boxers and leaving his tactical pants damp.

He’s whimpering from overstimulation at the hot, wet drag of fabric against his sensitive tip as your hips slow to a stop. He can feel tears of relief and humiliation pooling in the corners of his eyes. He came fast. Embarrassingly fast from such little stimulation. And he may be a virgin but he damn well knows women’s anatomy, so he knows you haven’t gotten off yet. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and you can feel the hot tears that fall from his pretty seafoam eyes.

“Oh, Jason, you did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you,” you breathe out.

Jason lets out a choked noise. You’re proud of him. Proud of him for cumming in his pants like a horny teenager. But there’s such sincerity to your voice that even his self loathing can’t overpower it. He feels your praise in his chest, warm and bright like a healing light. He wants to make you proud. It’s a feeling he hasn’t felt in so long–the desire for someone else to be happy because of him, proud because of him. It’s what gives him the nerve to manhandle you onto one of his muscular thighs. He starts guiding your hips back and forth, smiles when your head tips back and you grip his shoulders.

“Jay, ah, angel, we can stop,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head fiercely. There’s a determined glint in his green eyes that leaves no room for argument.

“Keep goin’. I want you—need you to feel good too,” he insists.

You nod your head and let your body fall against his. He guides your hips over his thigh again and again and again. Each pass rewards him with little mewls and sighs that Jason thinks he could get addicted to. Your hands are gripping his biceps hard, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He notices you getting antsy, whinier than before and a lightbulb clicks on above his head.

“Wanna take these off?” he asks you, tugging at the waistband of your pretty red shorts.

You mutter a weak uh huh and Jason’s standing you up to drag the slippery satin down your legs. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your black panties. They sit high just above your hip bones and the thin mesh leaves very little to the imagination. He can’t take his eyes off you as he pulls you back down on his thigh. He angles your hips forward and the high pitched moan that spills from your mouth assures him that he’s positioned you just right to grind your clit against him.

“There we go. Just like that, doll,” Jason says as you start to rock your hips at your own pace.

“Oh God, Jason,” you keen, the pet name going straight to your cunt.

Jason catalogs the knowledge of just how much you like him calling you doll. If his brain weren’t so hazy and fucked out, he might be embarrassed by just how much he likes calling you doll. But he can’t be bothered to care, not when you look so pretty riding his thigh.

“More. I want more, angel,” you whine, grabbing at his hand and slowly guiding it up your thigh.

You don’t push him further than the waistband of your panties. Even in your own desperate pursuit of pleasure, you’re still worried about his boundaries. Jason’s never wanted anything in his life as much as he wants to make you cum for him. He dips his hand under the black mesh, fingers brushing against soft hair before landing home on your cunt.

And, fuck, you’re so wet it makes him dizzy. The idea that he’s caused this, that all of this is for him? It doesn’t compute in his brain. It goes against everything he’s ever thought about himself. But the proof is slick and warm on his fingertips. He can be a source of pleasure, of desire, of something good. So he drags his fingers up and down your slit, reveling in the high pitched keens you let out. When he starts to draw circles around your clit, he’s rewarded with you calling his name in the prettiest whimper he could possibly imagine.

“‘S this good? Tell me what you need,” he rasps out, looking for your reassurance, your approval.

You frantically nod your head, quiet whines slipping from your mouth.

“Mmmf, it’s so good, Jay. Please don’t stop,” you moan.

Jason, ever the quick learner, does just as you ask. He keeps rubbing your clit with the exact pace and direction that has you crying out above him. Every now and then he’ll dip his fingers down to collect more of the slick that drips from you, bring it back up to your aching clit and shudder at the noises you make from the stimulation. He’s taking in your body language, studying you like you’re the finest piece of art he’s ever laid his eyes on. Your hips start to jerk erratically under his free hand and your moans turn to breathy whimpers, and he knows before you even tell him.

“Jason–ah–s’too much. I can’t I can’t I can’t,” you babble.

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Just let go f’me. I’m right here with you,” he encourages you gently.

And maybe it’s how sweet he’s being, or maybe it’s the way his free hand starts comfortingly stroking along your spine, or most likely it’s the unrelenting swirls he’s making on your swollen clit, but you’re tumbling over the edge before you even realize what’s happening. It’s burning, white hot and alive. It’s new and it’s consuming and it’s all Jason. You don’t think you’ll be able to live without him after this. You know you won’t want to.

You’re both breathing heavily as you come down, your body limp against his. All that surrounds you is each other. Touch, scent, sight–only the two of you exist in the warmth of the afterglow.

“I love you,” you whisper, face buried in his neck.

He holds you tight, nuzzles into your mussed up hair.

“I love you too.”

Jason realizes that’s all that was missing. Love. That love and want are inextricably tied up for him, that the latter can’t exist without the former. Because he loves you, and for the first time ever, he knows what that aching hunger feels like, knows what it’s like to have fire lick across his veins. And he’s so grateful to you, so grateful for yet another gift you’ve given him. Kindness, tenderness, love, desire. He’d known none of it before you dragged him through your window. And maybe he doesn’t really believe in God anymore, but he’s positive that you’re nothing short of a miracle he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to deserve.

[chiasaaa]

—i’ll be your model

itoshi sae x f! reader

summary: dating a fashion designer has its pros and cons the same way dating a famous football player has its own. however, sae realized that you haven’t used one particular pro yet in your three years of dating.

warning: english is not my first language. apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors.

— itoshi sae is the kind of man whom his lover could describe as selfless. contrary to popular opinion, getting to know sae proves that point pretty well. sae will always come to your beck and call. he will provide you things you both need and want without you having to ask. he will most definitely drop whatever it could be he’s doing if it meant tending to your requests.

it already nearly happened one time when you called thirty minutes before an important match, telling him that you need to go to your gynecologist for your yearly check-up. it wasn’t anything serious, but he meant every fibre of his being when he said he’s going to drive all the way back just to accompany you.

if it weren’t for you threatening to lock the doors of your home from him, he would have ditched the game altogether and leave billions of fans disappointed along with his team. it was a good thing he ended up with someone like you.

someday, the whole world will thank you for it.

call him a lovesick fool, but itoshi sae will always and forever be hopelessly in love with you. he doesn’t mind if you want to go to greece in three hours; he’d already booked the earliest flight there. it indeed happened when you both sat in your living room one valentine’s day and you joked about making spontaneous plans like flying out to greece just to have a moonlit dinner with the temple of artemis in view. sae hadn’t known you were joking because he fished his phone out quick to do whatever it is you kept blabbering on.

candlelit dinner? check.

romantic violin music? check.

private villa overlooking a beautiful view? check.

economy tickets? he booked first-class.

and of course, he had long prepared his gift and your five-flower bouquet. you weren’t one for big bouquets as you loved preserving them in frames, and so you requested that if he were to give you such, he will have to make do with only five main flowers.

doesn’t mean he can stop putting blind boxes in them, though. you’re quite the menace when it comes to it.

sae had continuously provided you all your wants and needs, yet the one thing he finally realized is that you never asked for any of it.

much like today, as you’re earnestly looking through portfolios of famous celebrities who proposed to be your brand’s model. you did think that it’s about time for you to expand your model pool (you’re in it for the money) and you searched high and low for the perfect person to adorn your new creations.

specifically, the men’s product line.

sae picks up one of the photos you have scattered on the countertop, realizing that it was none other than isagi yoichi.

“athletes are part of your options?” he asks, turning the page to you. you didn’t even bother looking up as you responded back.

“yep, i’m looking through other athletes i can reach out to as an endorser.”

weird. isn’t he an athlete?

why didn’t you ask him first?

sae sets his teacup down its designated saucer, breathing in and out shortly to prepare himself for yet another confrontation. he’s still in the process of being more honest with you, when it comes to how he feels about certain things happening within your relationship. sae always tries his very best for you, and that includes biting back his usually sharp tongue because he knows how sensitive you can get.

“i assume you have strict requirements in finding one?”

“not really. i just need to look for someone who i can say is the one for the job,” you finally look up, smiling tiredly, “the same way i saw it when i looked at you.”

he must be dying early because the way you said it might as well make him combust. his heart pounded against his rib violently, wondering what you meant behind such words.

you knew he had fallen in love with you since you kicked a ball straight to his head (accidentally), but when was this time you’ve known he’s the one with a simple gaze?

as heart-fluttering as it is to think about, it’s not the current matter at hand. he couldn’t help but frown a little at the realization that he wasn’t the first person you thought of when you wanted to have a celebrity model your work.

he’s pretty famous, isn’t he?

not only that, you have always been so vocal about how he’s so handsome that the model industry’s lucky he chose to play football as his career path. that has to account for something, right?

as a fashion designer, you have one of the most keen eyes when it comes to potential models.

you’ve seen it in him.

“what do you mean by that?”

“exactly as it means, querido.” you hum, already back to work. you take a pencil from the counter and used it to tie your hair effortlessly, a few strands falling to frame your beautiful face. if it wasn’t for the fact that this is a big deal to him, sae would have long been hypnotized by your beauty.

“why don’t you use me, then?” he said it in a way that showed how upset he actually is about the situation. you couldn’t have possible missed that, and you really didn’t. you look up from your work, hiking your specs right up your nose with the joint of your finger.

“what do you mean?”

“exactly as it means, hermosa.”

you snort. of course, sae used your own words against you. though, you couldn’t say that you didn’t expect that from him. sae is too selfless for his own good, and as his partner, you’re not about to let him sabotage himself with this ridiculous adventure of over-generosity. you didn’t even know it was a thing until you met him.

as much as you loved that he will sacrifice anything and everything for the people he cares for, you must admit that it bothers you a little. that is why you took control of what you can and avoided his involvement as much as possible.

“i can’t possibly do that to you.” was your response after a short while, propping an elbow on the granite to rest your chin upon the palm of your hand. you twist the stool you’re sitting on to face him, taking his hand with your free one. “i’m not about to use you for my own benefit, querido. i didn’t date you just to have your face on my brand and milk you.”

“but you’re not,” sae raises your locked hands, planting a gentle kiss on the back of your palm. “i want to do this for you. honestly, i’m a little upset that i wasn’t the first person you thought of.”

you chuckle. “didn’t you hear me earlier? i said i’m looking for someone who will make me think ‘he’s the one!’ the same way you made me think that.”

the confusion soon replaced by embarrassment in the form of tinted cheeks and reddening ear tips had you pause for a little.

“did you take that in the romantic context?” giggling, you lean closer to him and ruffled his hair. “you’re my blueprint right now as i searched through these files. i was looking for someone like you.”

then, as if there’s a sudden change in the wind, sae regained his confidence and fired back at you.

“there’s no one else like me.” he takes your chin between his fingers. “so use me, hermosa.”

and you gave in the same way you allowed him to kiss you long and deep, telling you in every way possible that he loves you even after the universe collapses.

itoshi sae is a selfless man, yet you didn’t know that he’s only ever like that when it comes to you.

it didn’t matter if it was spontaneous trips, ditching big games, or standing in front of the camera for you.

whatever it is, as long as it’s you, then he will do everything in his power to make it come true.

[jinxs-gf]

Can I? (kiss the hurt away)

YJ!Conner Kent x Spider!Reader

summary: you get hurt during a mission and Conner just wants to help. this finally brings you two together.

content/warnings: set in s1, lots of wounds, blood mentioned, awkward flirting…this was a shared prompt w my two besties, here’s my version! (I switched it up a bit), funny writing bc it’s from spider!reader’s perspective (mostly)

word count: 2.1k

a/n: FIRST CONNER FIC YAYAYYAYAYAY I hope people actually read for him lmaooo…enjoy!

There's a ringing in your ear for a while, your vision blurred. Just as you come out of it there's a voice—

"You okay?"

One you're very familiar with.

You slowly blink your eyes open. You're not sure what the hell your enemy just blasted you with, but it was enough to knock you out and make everything hurt. A lot.

"Uhh I think so?" Conner watched the white eyes of your mask blink, he could tell you were in fact, not okay.

He could see it from a distance, the distance he unknowingly made while fighting. He promised himself he'd stay close at all times when the team was in danger, when you could potentially get hurt. And look at you now. His ignorance to what was going on around him got you hurt.

At least that's what he told himself.

You swat his hands as he starts fussing over you, too disoriented to think about the action. Until you see his hurt face. He was only trying to help.

But Conner thinks, you were pushing him away, and rightfully so when he's the reason you're hurt in the first place.

"No no it's-" you heave a rugged sigh, your lungs feeling heavy. "I'm just out of it. Sorry. What was that guy packing in his gun anyways?"

Conner's reluctant in his assistance to you now, but you encourage him with a smile. He lifts you to your feet, securing an arm around your waist to ensure you wouldn't fall back down. You definitely weren't in a state to be walking and that's proven when your legs wobble and all your weight falls onto him. Something he doesn't mind and in a different situation would smile at.

But you hiss as his pulls you up, and he's brought back to reality.

"Thanks Con-man." Another smile for him and his shoulders relax.

"I have no idea what that man was packing in his gun. All I know is it hurt you...really badly. You were out the rest of the fight."

"I was?" A quick look around and sure enough, you were. The quietness of the area should've been a clear sign there was no longer a battle going on.

"Looks like I was." And suddenly the team is behind you. It's a miracle the rest of them avoided getting hurt the way you did (which was a little embarrassing considering your spider senses).

"You alright, Spidey?" Wally and Artemis ask at the same time, they glare at each other for it.

"Jinx. Artemis, you owe me a soda."

"I do not-" you cut them off, ending the argument before it could start.

"Yeah I'm alright." But the way you leaned heavily onto the SuperBoy and breathed unevenly told a different story. Although that was nothing new, was it? You somehow were constantly hanging off the boy one way or another (not literally...though you wish it was).

"Are you sure? We'll have you get checked back at headquarters," Kaldur speaks. You simply nod, too weak to really do much else.

Robin was looking worriedly, trying to hide it but you could see right through him. You shot him a smile.

While the team discussed what to do with the bad guy, you stayed with Conner. There was an awkward silence until he spoke up, having enough of your small hisses and puffs at his side.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know, everything? I'm hurting everywhere," you were practically mumbling, fatigue evident with every word you spoke.

He huffs and places you on the floor again, carefully avoiding any rubble from the fight. Another pained hiss from you.

"Sorry sorry, I know," he's trying to figure out his next move. "I don't know how to make it better."

You shake your head, "that's alright Conner. You don't need to, you're not a doctor or anything."

And yet he looks guilty, like your wounds and the fact that he hasn't already done something to ease the pain was his fault. He eyed the arm you've been holding around your abdomen this whole time.

"You being here right now is enough. I promise. And this," you lift your arm finally, making a soft noise of pain in between, "it'll go down by tomorrow-"

"Shit! When did that happen?" His voice startles you, the sudden noise rattling your probably concussed brain. You finally look down to see blood dripping from a scratch in your suit.

"Shit. When did that happen? How..."

"I didn't realize it was that bad. I'm sorry."

"No Conner, it's okay-"

"Can I?"

"Huh?" And Conner is gesturing to your mask, your eyes widen.

"You're breathing too heavily for it to be comfortable. Please?" He wouldn't say part of it was because he needed to see your face to comfort him.

You nod.

He doesn't freak out when he takes it off, so that's a good sign.

"How do I look?" he doesn't answer for a few seconds, he's carefully observing your face it seems. You can't help but smile.

And he smiles back, "still beautiful as ever."

"Okay lover boy," you desperately wish the mask was on, if only to hide your timid expression. "You don't need to flatter me."

Conner clears his throat quickly, awkwardly. As if he didn't realize he said it out loud.

He really didn't mean to. But seeing how shy and...dare he say happy you looked after he said it, he thinks it wasn't such a bad thing.

"You have a few scratches. But you're still-"

"Beautiful as ever, yeah yeah I heard you," maybe he wasn't going to say it again, but you weren't going to risk it. You don't think you could take it if he said it. You'd probably do something stupid like kiss him—

He swallows thickly, still embarrassed. "We need to get you back," he goes to pick you up, only this time it's not so you can stand upright. No. He's preparing to carry you bridal style. Oh no. Now you really might kiss him (that is if you don't pass out within the next few seconds). "Can I carry you? I don't think you're in good enough shape to walk right now."

"Rude."

"No I didn't mean-"

You laugh, maybe a little meanly, you knew he wasn't good on certain social cues yet, making teasing him easy, "sorry- I know what you mean. Yeah it's...alright. You can totally carry me." Now you were beginning to feel awkward.

He picks you up easily. And you're starting to agree with him, you definitely weren't in any shape to walk if him lifting you was enough to make you dizzy.

You weren't kidding yourself when you said you'd pass out before you could kiss him.

Your head lays comfortably on his chest...right over his heart which happened to be beating like crazy.

Was that your doing? You really hope so.

He carries you a little behind the rest of the team, murmuring reassurances and praise. 'You did good back there.' 'You're gonna be okay, I'll make sure of it.' 'Stay close to me okay? I'll make it better.'

Bioship took you all back to Mount Justice, M'gann talking your ear off the whole time. Starting with worried rambles about how hurt you looked and fading into a new tv show she got into. One she wished her people on Mars could enjoy.

Usually you wouldn't mind it, but you could feel an oncoming headache the whole ride. You didn't have the heart to tell her to stop nor that you weren't really listening. Not feeling bad only because Wally seemed enthralled with her storytelling (suck up) and flirted here and there.

You were too busy focusing on your shadow anyways. Aka the SuperBoy who refused to leave your side and was quite literally on you the whole way. Between him, M'gann, and Wally's flirting with her (and Robin's occasional butting in to tease) you were surprised you didn't go insane on the ride back.

When you did get back, they told you it was bad (fatal for a normal person) but nothing you couldn't handle. Just a broken rib (unfortunately common for you) and a slight concussion. Great. Accompanied with bruises and the big gash on your abdomen. That weapon really did a number on you. Conner went off on the adults for saying it was "nothing you couldn't handle" because you were "on the brink of dying". Which is a bit dramatic, but having him be so protective over you was kind of nice...or whatever.

They suggested you took a break for a week and a half (a conclusion you came to after you'd negotiated with them for a good 5 minutes. because who do they think they were benching you—for good reason—for 2 weeks?!) should a mission come up within that time.

You sighed on the couch, everyone was either in their rooms or went home for the day. They said their goodbyes and wished you well, to which you replied 'pfft I'll be better by tomorrow. just watch.' It would be really embarrassing if you weren't better by tomorrow...you unfortunately bet money on it. Stupid.

"You okay?"

"A little better now. Thanks for taking care of me."

"I wish I could've done more...I said I would but all I did was sit back and watch everyone else take care of you." This was clearly eating at him, although it's a wonder why.

Nothing about the situation was his fault nor should he feel guilty about "not doing enough."

"Conner, I told you it's alright and that you being there for me was enough. And I meant every word."

He sits with you, thigh to thigh with his head in his hands.

You pat his shoulder, "it's alright big guy. I'm okay, I'll be fully recovered soon."

"Not soon enough."

You sigh, he could be really stubborn sometimes. Frustratingly so.

"Con, please. Look at me?" He listens. And you regret asking him. You hate the look in his eyes, or rather you hate the way it makes you feel. Another case of you're going to kiss him if he keeps this up.

How could such a big, stubborn, and (apparently) non-affectionate guy have the biggest puppy eyes? Ones that have you melting.

His face is now in your palms. With the way he's looking at you, surely he wouldn't mind if you gave in and...kissed him, right?

"Can I kiss you?"

He's stunned for a moment before finally speaking up, "isn't it obvious that I want you to?"

You both share shy smiles thinking, finally.

You lean in, hands still cupping his face, his now doing the same.

Although the kiss was a little awkward, the two of you not exactly experienced in that department (him coming out of a literal tube only months ago), as well as a little...messy—it was everything you could've wanted in your first kiss with him. A kiss that was going to be the start of the two of you. SuperBoy and the Spider. You hated how warm the thought made you.

You were practically radiating giddiness, Conner could feel it. He pulled away still smiling, "I've wanted to do that for a really long time now."

"Me too. You know what also was great about that? You kissed my ouchies away. I'm all better now."

"Ouchies? What are we, five?"

There's silence, not of awkwardness, but from two of you reeling from the kiss, processing the fact that it was real.

"I don't want to be the one to break this up but...we should really get to bed. With your concussion and training being early tomorrow..."

"Yeah, of course," the giddiness hasn't left, "would you uh...want to come? With me? To bed."

"Gee Spider, at least take me to dinner first."

"Oh, so he's got jokes now?"

"Only for you, babe."

"Ew, you sound like Wally."

"Ouch? Don't insult me like that," but he doesn't look offended in the slightest. There's probably the biggest smile you've seen on his face, ever.

Safe to say it was not fun explaining why Conner was in your bed the next morning, trying to convince everyone it was purely innocent.

Batman was disappointed, reminding you that you needed to wait until you were healed before you did anything physical. Haha. Very funny.

And the team snapped pictures that they would definitely use against Conner (seeing as he was the more...emotionally constipated and reluctantly affectionate one).

But you honestly couldn't be happier. And neither could he.

does it seem a bit rushed at the end? unfortunately

do I have the patience to fix it? no

hope you enjoyed :D

[leona-hawthorne]

FICMAS... with the slytherin boys

leona-hawthorne

hi hi hi!!! i decided to take a small break from my 1k celebration and work on this instead. little disclaimer that not all the fics actually have anything to do with christmas lol. anyways i hope y’all enjoy 🤍😚

navigation other masterlists

december 1st. fluff.

whiskers and whizbees mattheo riddle

— being an animagus has its pros… and its cons.

december 4th. fluff.

kiss it better theodore nott

— he doesn’t mind using extreme measures to get you to put your lips on his.

december 7th. smut.

love potion mattheo riddle

— when he’s all over you after a love potion gone wrong… aka pussydrunk!mattheo!

december 15th. smut.

slow down! mattheo riddle

— mattheo’s got a little crush on you, but you keep running away every time he tries talking to you!

december 16th. fluff.

salty theodore nott

— theodore is so down bad that he is physically unable to tell you when your cooking is bad.

december 18th. smut.

time out lorenzo berkshire

— sometimes, it’s just obvious how badly your boy needs a small punishment.

december 22nd. smut.

what’s your type? theodore nott

— theo is smart, but he’s an idiot when it comes to taking hints. sometimes, you have to just give it to him.

december 23rd. fluff.

he’s mine! mattheo riddle

— it seems to be a little hard to get into the christmas spirit when your little sister is hogging your boyfriend!

december 27th. smut.

wrapped in red lorenzo berkshire

— surprising your beloved boyfriend in your favorite festive colors…

december 28th. fluff.

grandpa glasses mattheo riddle

— how could you possibly resist teasing your boyfriend when he looks like he stole dumbledore’s glasses? you can’t!

december 31st. fluff.

is it new years yet? theodore nott

— after the shittiest year of his life, theodore turns to you to make his new years one of a kind.

ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan