#free x gn reader

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

🏊‍♂️Free!🏊‍♂️

���Nanase Haruka ➳

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🐋Tachibana Mikoto ➳

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🐧Hazuki Nagisa ➳

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🦋Ryugazaki Rei ➳

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🦈Matsuoka Rin ➳

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🦭Yamazaki Sousuke ➳

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🦆Nitori Aiichirou ➳

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🦦Mikoshiba Momotaro ➳

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🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Back to the Masterlist Hub?

[monstersholygrail]

In a Free Use City, there are two ways you can get promoted. You can put in the hard work by taking on extra responsibilities, going longer hours, and putting in the initiative. Or… you can sleep your way to the top. In a Free Use City, sleeping your way to the top isn’t frowned upon but instead highly encouraged. Especially by your bosses.

While everyone tries to sleep their way to the top, you’d be surprised to know that most people get promoted through hard work. Because… In a Free Use City, sleeping your way to the top is actually harder to achieve than putting in the work of the job.

When you decide to sleep your way to the top, you are heavily surveyed and judged based on your ability and skill of fucking and pleasing your bosses. The committee that makes the decision all must be pleased with your individual performances.

Even lost in the throes of pleasure, they remain focused on how well your pretty lips looked wrapped around their thick cocks, how deep you can take them down your throat, how much you can hallow your cheeks and swirl your tongue around their lengths. They count how long they can deep throat you and the amount of time it takes before your tears are dripping down to their heavy balls. Some count more tears as a positive while others consider it a negative.

The next part of the evaluation has them slowly moving down to your holes. They evaluate how turned on you got just from sucking them off. Similarly, some wanna see you leaking buckets while others wanna prep you themselves. They dip their fingers inside of you, teasing you just right. Analyzing how tight you are and how tight you can clench around them.

But they don’t take the time to stretch you. No, that would be cheating on the evaluation form. They need to know how well you can naturally take their fat cocks down your tight core. Some of them give you more points the more you arch and writhe as your body accommodates their girth while others remove points for not just taking it like a good whore.

As they finally properly fuck you, their analytical gaze never wavers. Evaluating your stamina and how quick you bring them to the brink of an orgasm. They have you ride them so they can see your entire body as you bounce on their cocks. So that they can see how deep they’re taking you, their cocks creating a nice pretty bulge in your belly with each brutal thrust. Even the way you cum around their cocks is evaluated and processed in the promotion consideration.

Very few workers meet all the requirements and surpass the points needed to fuck their way to the top. But you don’t care about the odds, you don’t even care all that much about the promotion. You just really wanna fuck all your bosses.

And you end up being the highest scored employee in the history of their company… Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted.

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd chapter here. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

--------

Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

[stellewriites]

Hii! Can you do ghoap x reader fluff? Like cuddles with mild flirting (from soap, obviously) and like soap is the little spoon, because in return he gets head scratches in return, reader in the middle, and Simon as the big spoon just pressing his face into the crook of readers neck?

Would rlly apreciate it <3

-🌑

i loved this idea when i read it and then proceeded to take far too long to actually answer it lmao BUT!! here it is,, ghoap x fem!reader fluff - ty for the request 💓

you picked up the cheap jar of pasta sauce and compared it to the branded version stacked next to it. as far as you could tell, the ingredients were the same and the little veg chunks included weren’t any smaller.

you nodded to yourself. it was decided, you weren’t paying two quid extra just for a name, fuck dolmio.

you looked higher to the top shelf and frowned when you saw the pasta had been pushed away from the edge and you’d be unable to reach it on your own.

“need a hand, dove?”

you turned to see a handsome man with a mohawk beelining towards you, his eyes tracing your frame with hot familiarity. without waiting for your response, he bullied his way into your space to reach over you for the pasta. barely stepping back, he handed you the pack and looked you up and down.

“thanks, stranger,” you said, holding back a laugh at his amused smile. you saw the moment he decided to play along.

“pretty skirt,” he said and nodded down to your bare legs peeking out beneath the denim.

“hm, my boyfriend got me it,” you said, a little teasingly.

“oh? and this boyfriend, he’s left ye all alone to do the shoppin’ has he?”

“no, he’ll be back soon. and he’s kinda protective, won’t be happy seeing me talking to other guys,” you said trying not to smile.

“ah’m no’ scared,” he scoffed, his own smile breaking out as he looked around the aisle eagerly for the aforementioned boyfriend.

“i don’t know, he’s pretty big and strong, wears a scary mask,” you said.

“aye? reminds me o’ my boyfriend,” he said and you finally giggled, leaning in to kiss him and giving up playing pretend.

“dove, they got their tiger bread in stock again,” simon said as he rounded the corner of the aisle and interrupting your kiss. “i ha’n’t ‘ad this in ages.” simon barely paused at the unexpected appearance of johnny, his eyes turning up in the corners as he smiled under his mask. “johnny, look, tiger bread.”

“yeah, i seen, si,” johnny said fondly, crowding you back against the trolley. “only getting the one loaf?”

simon paused. “hm. you’re right.”

you snorted as he dropped the bread into the trolley before heading back to the bakery section and leaving the pair of you alone again.

“work was a fookin’ drag, dove, cannae stand all this paperwork they’re keepin’ me busy with,” johnny groaned into your temple. you petted his arm consolingly before turning back to your list and shopping trolley.

“you were injured less than a month back, john, you can’t have been expecting to be back in the field so soon?” you hummed as you continued shopping with johnny leant over your back.

his silence spoke volumes.

you shook your head as you made your way through the store and waved simon over as you passed him by, hoping he hadn’t harassed the bakery staff into making more tiger loaves last minute for him. the absolute fiend.

“wha’s wrong with him?” simon asked as he got back, hands full as he nodded to johnny’s slumped frame. you refrained from asking simon if you really needed three tiger breads and instead nudged your other boyfriend up from your shoulder.

“he’s bored,” you said easily, grinning when johnny pulled back properly to send you a betrayed look.

“fuck’s sake. c’mere,” simon huffed before dipping down to kiss him, chuffing a laugh as johnny sputtered at the woollen texture of the mask in between them. “you’ll be back in no time. just behave or it’ll be longer.”

“ye sound like cap,” johnny grimaced. he wiped a hand down his tired face. “when are we goin’ home, hm? fuckin’ knackered, could do with a nap before dinner.”

“y’drive ‘ere?” ghost asked while you grabbed a box of eggs, checking for any cracked inside.

“aye.”

“then you can leave whenever,” ghost said flatly, though the glint of his eyes in the overhead lights betrayed his amusement at johnny’s plight.

johnny pouted.

“yer cruel, si. tell him, dove, he’s heartless,” johnny bemoaned dramatically.

“you’re cruel and heartless, simon, would you prefer strawberry jam or raspberry for a change?”

“could be a treat,” ghost conceded.

johnny groaned at the both of you, pinching your hip when you laughed.

“you both know i cannae sleep without someone’s arms around me,” he huffed, turning his big puppy eyes on you both.

you caved immediately.

“aw poor baby,” you cooed, biting your lip when you saw simon roll his eyes. “let’s get this done quick then, yeah? go grab the burgers we like from the frozen section and that ice cream we got a couple weeks back.”

“yes, ma’am.” johnny jogged off.

“si, can i trust you not to make your way back to the bakery if i give you a list of items to grab?”

“no,” he admitted without shame. “i saw the lad in the back prepping more for tomorrow, think i could convince ‘im to cook ‘em now for me if given the time.”

“right. hand holding it is as we find the toiletries then. ‘s like herding cats with you two.”

simon hummed, his eyes trained on the section you knew the bakery to be hidden in.

—

once home, johnny packed away the majority of your shopping in record time, snatching the jam from simon’s hands and almost throwing it onto the work top before plying his mask up one handed and dragging him down into a rough kiss with the other. you watched, amused, with raised eyebrows as johnny dragged him back towards the bedroom desperately, waving a hand at you and gasping out a needy, “dove, c’mon, stop fucking around,” in between wet kisses.

you didn’t need to be told twice before attaching your hands onto simon’s thick waist from behind, guiding them from bumping into any furniture or walls as they stumbled blind to the bedroom.

johnny pulled back with a dopey smile and pushed simon none too gently onto the bed. you took advantage of his lowered height and pulled off his mask completely, rubbing a gentle hand over his buzz cut hair and down to his jaw. you leant in for a soft peck before feeling johnny’s hands and arms wrap around your soft stomach.

he clung to you, nuzzling at your cheek over your shoulder until you turned in his arms to share your attention.

you heard the bed creak as simon settled further up the bed as johnny kissed you. you shuffled back, parting from johnny just long enough to get your bearings and climb onto the bed, simon’s hands moving to guide you back as johnny hummed against your lips.

you flopped back into simon’s arms, got comfortable as he wrapped you up and held you tight against him.

johnny sighed in relief at the sight and shuffled down so he could rest his head on your chest.

you gathered him close and laughed when he started whining when your hands stayed on his shoulders.

“so needy johnny, have you ever heard the phrase ‘patience is a virtue’?” you teased as you started to run your nails through his hair, lightly scratching until he sighed and dropped his body weight against you and simon.

“too t’red,” he mumbled.

simon lifted his warm hand from your hip and draped it heavily over the back of johnny’s neck, keeping him close. soon enough, the scot was snoring.

you tried not to laugh, your chest bouncing johnny with your muffled chuckles. “i think that might be a record.”

“tired lamb,” simon said condescendingly, but he rubbed his thumb lovingly over the soft skin behind johnny’s ear.

“don’t be mean.” you grinned back at him.

simon hummed and rested his head into the crook of your neck, tucking you in closer with the arm still wrapped underneath your waist. “not bein’ mean.”

he nipped at your neck, a soft nibble that had you gasping and clenching your thick thighs around the one johnny had slipped inbetween.

“prick,” you huffed without malice when he stopped and let out a long tired breath in your ear. he hummed with closed eyes, clearly not listening.

you chuffed a laugh into johnny’s hair. the low thrum of arousal simon had brought on was easy enough to ignore but you’d have rather he’d finished what he started. instead, you tucked your cold toes between his large calves behind you in penance and tugged johnny even closer, enough to smother him. with your arse perched perfectly in simon’s lap and johnny nestled close to his second favourite place on your body, you were sure they’d give you what you were after once their nap is over. you closed your eyes with a smile; you could wait for them to get their energy up, and you loved your puppy piles just as much as they did.

[mxltifxnd0m]

in the side of my neck ⧨ s. winchester

summary: you help sam out when he accidentally wakes you up in the middle of the night

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x gn! reader

word count: 1K

warnings: slight sub/dom dynamics, subby! sam, handjob m! receiving, praise, smut, reader is a little mean (not really), no use of y/n, kinda edited

a/n: MINORS DNI! 18 + ONLY

did i do this instead of my homework? ...yes. but it was supposed to be a quick little blurb but alas it has hit 1k words loll but i wrote this bc i could not stop thinking about sub!sam since saturday :) title is a lyric from red wine supernova by chappell roan

anyways enjoy! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me loll!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

The sound of clothes rustling and something rutting against you was what pulled you from your dreamscape. You could feel Sam’s warm breath against your neck as he let small whimpers escape his parted lips. 

His hard cock was covered by his boxers, but you could feel it perfectly against the crack of your ass. You knew Sam was still asleep. You could feel his even breaths as he rutted against you. You figured it was still late in the morning; the motel room still shrouded in darkness as you blinked away the sleep from your eyes. You were facing the not-so-empty bed near the door. Dean’s back was facing you as he slept soundly, tiny snores escaping him. You were surprised that he had come back to the room at all; he was still out at the bar by the time you and Sam fell asleep. 

Sam started to grind against you more insistently, his whimpers becoming more frequent as they were muffled against your neck. You twisted in Sam’s grip to face him. Your sudden movement made Sam stir. His hazel eyes blinked open, breaking through the haze of sleep and glazed over with lust.

“Good dream?” You whispered to him, a teasing smile on your face as you took in the familiar pleading look on Sam’s face. 

Even in the dark room, you could tell that Sam was blushing as he tried to shy away from you. You moved your hand to the back of Sam’s head and pulled on some of the strands to pull him away from your neck. A soft moan escaped his mouth, making the corners of your lips twitch. 

“Don’t be shy, handsome.” Your hand left his hair to trail down his bare chest, down his happy trail leading down to the waistband of his boxers, before tugging on the waistband teasingly. “Do you want me to take care of it?” 

“Please.” Sam whispered, his tone filled with want. You smirked before planting your lips on his as the hand that was tugging at his waistband slipped past, and your hand grabbed Sam’s cock. 

A choked moan escaped Sam as you began to stroke him slowly, using the precum that was dribbling from the tip as a lubricant.

Sam broke away from the kiss with a gasp as your grip on him got tighter, and the pace got faster as you twisted your wrist every time you squeezed his tip. He shoved his face into your slightly sweaty neck to muffle the small groans and whines leaving his pink lips. 

“Wish I could hear all the pretty noises you make. But we don’t want to wake up Dean now do we?” You whispered in his ear before nipping at his earlobe. A louder whine came from Sam in response to your words. You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh at his reaction as you continued your steady strokes on Sam’s cock.

God, you wished you could see it right now, the tip flushed red and leaking a steady stream of precum. You really wanted to put Sam on his back and trail your lips over his chest and thighs, teasing him until you took him in his mouth whole, your nose nestled in the thatch of hair at the base of his cock, relishing in the moans and whimpers escaped Sam’s pretty mouth. 

But for now, you’ll have to take the choked whimpers and low groans coming from Sam as he begins to thrust up into your grip. You could tell he was close and desperate to come, feeling his cock twitching in your hand. 

“Gonna cum Sammy?” 

He nodded into your neck. “Wanna cum so bad. Please.” Sam whimpered your name as he distracted himself by suckling at the soft skin on your neck.

“Be a good boy and cum for me okay?”  Sam started to thrust harder in your hand, it sticky with his precum. 

The room was mostly silent, barring the shuffling of the sheets from Sam’s hips rutting upwards in your grip and the quiet, repetitive shlick sound as your hand moved up and down on his cock.

Sam came with a whimper and bit you where your neck met your shoulder, and you let out a soft groan at the feeling but you kept stroking him through his orgasm, your hand and the inside of his boxers covered in his cum. You slowly withdrew your hand, and Sam pulled his face away from your neck. You could see the blissful smile on his face before his eyes widened slightly as he saw you clean your hand with your tongue. 

You couldn’t help but smirk at the awed expression on Sam’s face as you lapped up the last of his cum off of your fingers. You leaned forward to give Sam a soft kiss, but it quickly turned filthy as Sam invaded your mouth with his tongue, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as you realized that Sam was tasting the remnants of himself in your mouth. You felt Sam begin to paw at your shirt, and you knew that he wanted to return the favor. 

You broke away from the kiss, Sam chasing your lips before kissing your cheek sloppily and trailing his lips down to your jaw. 

You acted quickly and moved your hand to the short hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him away from your neck. 

“Not now, Sammy.” You whispered harshly at him. 

You could only imagine the pout on his face. “But-”

“You can return the favor later. S’late.” 

“Fine,” Sam grumbled under his breath before he grimaced as he shifted around in bed. He decided to kick off his boxers, and you realized that the cum drying in them wasn’t the most pleasant for him. 

Once they were off and lost somewhere in the sheets, Sam pulled you into his warm embrace before burying his face into your clothed chest. His breathing began to even out as you played with his soft hair. The last thing you noticed was that the room started to become brighter before you had been pulled back underneath the veil of sleep. 

[luminique]

oh i did have this thought like forever haunting me in my head but because its so cheesy and cringy, i quite hate writing it out.

just imagining slowly kissing lighter and then removing his glasses off of him while doing so. like ARKSBAKDB i hate myself for thinking about it but him and his shades have me wanting to kiss him stupid ! he’s definitely a mess after though and looks back at you with the soggiest eyes, as if asking for another without saying a single word.

and then he realizes his sunglasses are off and he’s turning all shades of red. immediately trying to get them back and this is when another kiss occurs, slowly slipping the glasses back on him. he clears his throat after and fixes up his appearance, trying to not focus on what had just occurred.

[traumawhomst]

Vampire v Hunter Fledgling let’s goooo

Tw: Reader is fatally wounded and dies but it is not shown graphically.

Honestly it was cute in the beginning, to be singled out by a Hunter, it hadn’t happened in centuries. It was a bit of an ego boost to think his name was still being spread.

The first time he sees them he almost coos, looking at this twee Hunter, all serious in their leathers, a black mask staring at Him across the room. What really piqued his interest was the fact that they never spoke.

Their first fight was more, well, a play fight for him if he was honest. He threw insults and witticisms trying to get a reaction from the Hunter with no luck. No matter how much he mocked and belittled them, they never once spoke back. Or really make noise other than grunts or slight groans due to exertion. It was charming actually, so many Hunters had their little speeches ready, about their tragic life or to mock Him, or worse go on a tirade about ‘good’ and ‘evil’. Those ones never lasted long, too caught up in their egos to focus on the extremely hard task of actually killing a vampire.

If they’re silent well, that means business, a single minded focus that He could respect. So he lets them live after the first fight. A reward for tracking him down when so many had failed in the first place, something to soften the failure of trying to kill him. He figured he’d never see them again, and he was feeling generous.

Oh but you had to keep finding Him didn’t you? Second time you ambushed him he chalked it to dumb luck, and fought you off with him seriously pulling his punches. You were still silent and nothing he seemed to say got you to crack. The third time was just annoying, he was headed to a party hosted by a dear friend, only to find you waiting right outside for him. He didn’t kill you that time, mostly because he didn’t want to be more late because than he already was.

The fourth time you appeared he was completely done with the situation. It has been fun the first few times but it was starting to seem like you needed a harsher lesson. He was going to just break a limb or something, force you to stop for a while.

And then you winged him, the spike firmly lodged in his left arm. That’s when he was done playing. Faster than you could see he moved forward and threw you into the nearest wall.

It was pitiful, even if he didn’t have much pity at the moment, to see you on your side breathing ragged your body too hurt to even curl into yourself. He pulled out the stake complaining about his shirt and the hole left behind as he strolled up to the Hunter who was trying and failing to reach their cross-bow stake launcher, and He stepped on it, breaking it with a satisfying crunch.

The Hunters hand fell and their body stilled as he got closer.

“Honestly, if a vampire beats you three times you should learn your lesson. I was being quite generous with you, but the ‘indomitable human spirit etcetera’,” he said his tone bored, as he prodded at the Hunter’s quivering body. “That would be the shock settling in,” he said blithely, going to stand up before changing his mind. “Actually,” which was the only warning you got when he pulled off the mask and you closed your eyes waiting for the killing blow.

When you looked at Him, abject horror was not what you expected to see on his face. Had you been injured that bad? You don’t think he got your face. The Vampire’s face was glued to yours and for a moment you were unsure if the silence was worse than a quick death.

“You’re eleven!” He balked pulling back for a second. He was of course off by a decade more or less, but the thought was still mildly annoying.

“Who’s letting you do this? Where did you get your equipment? Where in gods name are your parents?”

From your limited prospective he seemed to be having a complete mental breakdown. He kept speaking in some language you didn’t recognize as he looked over your body again and again. Then his eyes seemed to get wider as he remembered that you were in fact dying at the moment. There was no hospital near enough even with his supernatural speed it wouldn’t be enough time, even if someone came at this very moment he didn’t like your odds of survival.

Part of you relaxed when he finally bit down on your wrist, some of it due to his venom, but the other smaller part who was just ready for the pain to end.

You had not expected to come to, still laying on the ground as a seeping cold numbness grew. Your body hurt but not like it had before, somehow this pain was more terrifying. You spoke for the first time, asking in a broken voice what he’d done to you.

He on the other had just seemed relieved to see you awake. “I saved you darling,” he said running a hand over your head. “You don’t have to worry about anything ever again.”

How big of a lie it was.

[chsopnk]

「 ✦ SOOTHE THE BURN ✦ 」

☆. # SHIP — aventurine, blade.

☆. # AUTHOR’S NOTE — two little ideas that i havent explored enough to write full fics about but have been obsessed with. pls tell me what u think nd which one u would like to see 👍

☆. # WARNINGS — smut. gambling, handjobs, exhibitionism, praise kink.

AVENTURINE:

imagine sitting at a poker table with aventurine. your hand down his pants as you slowly jerk him off while he tries to win the game. he has to keep a straight face—not just so you don’t get caught, but also because he’s playing and his poker face has to be perfect. you watch silently as the new cards are dealt, fingers gliding over the tip of aventurine’s cock. he twitches, biting his lip as he tries to concentrate. he looks down at the two cards in the middle of the table, trying to keep quiet as your hand slides down his length again. but really, at this point he has no idea what he’s even doing anymore. all he can focus on is your soft hand on his cock and the way he wants to thrust up and tell you to go faster. maybe if you tell him if he wins this round with a royal flush you’ll suck him off in the bathroom of the casino it’ll motivate him a little.

BLADE:

blade’s such a tough guy that only wants revenge, but the moment you’ve got your hands on him it’s as if none of it even matters. he says he doesn’t need it, doesn’t even want any of it—but when you fuck him so good and lean down to whisper in his ear how much of a good boy he is, he’ll cum instantly. even when you’re both just in bed… if you stroke his hair while looking at him with those eyes of yours and call him all those things: pretty, beautiful, good, strong, it makes him so hard that he’s aching for you to touch him. he’s not above begging if he has to, just to hear you say it one more time. the amount of times he’s had to hold back from creaming in his pants because you called him “my pretty boy” is a little concerning, to be honest.

[thefoxtherapist]

Thinkin thinkin thinkin....

Reader who always wears a mask and people usually assume it's just so they could look edgy but in reality it's to cover up their face that is distorted from scars and on a random day character witnesses them without mask

Wuwa characters reacting~ (man I just don't really know who to name but maybe maybe include mortefi and scar *blinks cutely*)

No.. This isn't for self indulging because I made a wuwa character with a crow peak mask, no, not at all /liar

Anyways I know this might be more on the.. Darker side? I suppose and i tbh didn't know if you would be cool with it or nah.

I feel really chatty today forgive this yapper Anon, Have a lovely time zone🫡

Actually.... What is your favorite animal? Mine are crows :]

Hello thank you for the request! I never mind rambling don't worry! Haha I love the wuwa character inspired asks don't worry, my friend sent me one for Aalto based off of MY wuwa oc so (,: <3 handshaking.

CROWS MAKE SENSE! Mine are foxes<3 Specifically silver foxes or arctic foxes. But I love all foxes. My beloved creatures.

I hope you don't mind that I did headcanons!

Scar is almost insulted you didn’t tell him? The disgust in his mind is entirely based off of the “my fellow black lamb is even more similar to me and HID IT?!” thought.  He confronts you about it. If you have your mask in hand, he grabs your wrist before you can put it back on. “Hello, beautiful.” while staring deeply at your face. “Shameful of you to hide such beauty from me.” Scar, you're so weird. Surprisingly sweet though..

Scar doesn’t really give you time to react before his lips start pressing against the outlines of the scars. If there are no outlines, he just starts smooching from your cheek across your face, your nose, your jaw, your chin, your forehead, before finally. He kisses your lips.

“You should really grace me with this sight more often~” Thanks Scar.

Anyways any time you two are alone in private he will POUT for you to take the mask off so he can kiss you and stare at you. Scar will compliment you a BUNCH. Anything to make you blush or smile.

He will also encourage you to touch his facial scars. And yes, he rubs his scarred cheek against your face. Like a cat. Congrats on the cat.

Mortefi literally doesn’t care.

He doesn’t even notice, he is mid sentence, hence why he caught you in such a situation. And he will NOT stop his sentence. Once he’s done rambling you’ve probably already got your mask back on. And he’ll stop you from responding by raising an eyebrow and “Why did you put it back on?”

“I’m more comfortable this way.” and that’s it, end of conversation. Mortefi respects you more than he feels the need to be curious about their origins. And he’s right back to talking about whatever it was he wanted to bounce off of you.

If you begin to take your mask off around him more often in private, he will notice, but he won’t comment on it. Mortefi isn’t a big show of affection guy, but he’ll encourage this by kissing your cheek whenever he’s on his way out or his way in.

Mortefi doesn’t see the need for verbal reassurances. He’s a bit of a stiff lover anyway. But he tries his best to show you support and affection. Its clearly a sensitive spot, and while he doesn’t really get it, especially as a Resonator with physical changes caused by his awakening and overclocking, he knows he doesn’t /need/ to understand to be supportive.

Aalto is soooo curious, unlike Mortefi, he STOPS MID SENTENCE. And stares. Then realises he shouldn’t stare and turns around. “Sorry, babe! Didn’t expect you to be changing.” You weren’t, he just does not know how to phrase it. He’s definitely the ONLY one on /this/ list who actually thought it was for edgy purposes :sob: loser

Once he has a sign you have it back on, he WHIRLS AROUND. “As cool as the mask is, you should show off a pretty face like yours more often!” he wants to ask SO BAD. But Aalto knows he shouldn’t. And he’s a respectful guy! Sometimes.

Resumes what he was saying but he’ll be thinking about this allllllll night forever and always. 

The next time you have your mask off around him, knowing he’s supportive of your skin, he feels GLEEFULLLL. Aalto is so happy. Aalto “You shouldn’t make ties with other people” Black Shores realises from this ordeal that he is in DEEP. SO SO deep. 

That isn’t his problem though, he’s busy trailing his fingers over your jaw, neck, collarbones as he spoons you from behind. His aero abilities always leave a nice sensation against the scar tissue. Especially a fan of your jaw if there are any there in particular. Aalto is a jaw kisser through and through.

[pfhwrittes]

child free!reader thoughts that have been bubbling away in the brain soup document below the cut.

kyle garrick x gn!reader but with appearances from john price, john mactavish, simon riley and the beloathed brandon (who i've shamelessly stolen from @dragonnarrative-writes)

tags/warnings: pregnancy mention right at the end of the fic (not the reader character), fluff, vague allusions to eating at restaurants (non descriptive).

(banner by @/cafekitsune)

child free!reader who has "child free, that means i don't want kids - not even yours!" as the first line on their dating profile.

child free!reader who goes on a date with john price. he's charming, polite and funny. john tells you early doors that he misread your profile but he didn't want to be rude and cancel the date on short notice so he hopes you don't mind sharing a meal with him. you don't mind as he's good company and takes care of the bill like a gentleman and apologises for wasting your time. you part ways amicably and both wish each other well with the dating scene.

child free!reader whose next date is with john mactavish. he says he doesn't mind if you call him johnny. he's good company and makes you laugh so hard that other people in the restaurant look over at your table. you're having a great time but he brings up his flatmate simon an awful lot. you end up gently suggesting that maybe johnny would prefer to take simon out for dinner instead. johnny gapes at you like a fish for a minute before realising, that yeah, he really would. you exchange numbers at the end of the date and ask him to keep you in the loop with how things go with the mysterious simon.

child free!reader who goes on a date with brandon. it's a crap date. he's late, doesn't apologise, presumes you want to head back to his place and gets annoyed when you pull the brakes on the whole thing. brandon then tells you that he doesn't care any way as he has to pick up his kid from their mum's house in the morning. you leave him to foot the bill and call johnny on your way home to complain about how crap the date was and how you should never have agreed to go on a date that your friend vouched for.

child free!reader who goes out to brunch with johnny and simon the following weekend. you spend a good portion of the brunch watching johnny lean up against simon with a little smile on your face and waggle your eyebrows knowingly when simon steps outside to smoke a cigarette. when simon rejoins you both, you tell them how you're considering deleting your dating profile and embracing singledom forever. simon makes you promise to keep your profile for at least another three days which is weirdly specific but you agree.

child free!reader who gets a message on the dating profile from kyle garrick two days later. you're pretty blunt about not wanting kids and how you won't change your mind and neither are you looking for some short term fling. despite that, kyle is friendly, funny and a little bit flirty over messages so you agree to go out on a date with him. he's even prettier in person than in his photos. kyle is flirty without being pushy, asks you questions about your hobbies without prompting, and he admits that it was simon that gave him a gentle push to message you when you explain that a friend stopped you from deleting your profile before agreeing to go on a date with him.

child free!reader who agrees to go on a second date with kyle after he tells you that he got a vasectomy at 21 because he knew even then that he never wanted to be a dad.

child free!reader that messages the group chat you have with simon and johnny absolutely gushing about kyle's eyes, arms and smile. johnny replies with endless eggplant emojis and simon sends a singular thumbs up.

child free!reader that after four fantastic dates (and one mind blowing night together) decides to delete their dating profile after kyle sleepily mumbles into your neck about wanting to be exclusive.

(and a little bonus scene that i just can't scrap)

child free!reader who goes as kyle's plus one to john price's wedding a year later and you both laugh yourselves silly when you tell your boyfriend that you went out on a very nice date with the groom once upon a time. you toast the bride with matching flutes of a non-alcoholic mocktail as she rests her hand on her very pregnant stomach at the sweetheart table she shares with her new husband.

[miscellaneousdae]

[ 8:43 pm -> 4:27 am ] — Jeong Yunho ᡣ𐭩

(Just a little blurb because i’m down bad for this man rn)

Jeong Yunho is the kind of person to fall in love at first sight, but it has nothing to do with how you look. I mean, he thinks you’re beautiful, but it’s your aura. Your presence draws him to you, and when he speaks to you, it doesn’t feel like this is a man you just met, no. It feels like you’ve known him for years, unlike anyone you’ve ever come into contact with.

You immediately feel safe with him, comfortable in your skin. His sweet eyes and warm smile melt your heart, and you get so lost in speaking to him that you don’t even realize how much time has passed until he brings it up.

“It’s almost ten,” he says, sighing softly. The sigh seems somewhat sad, as though he may just be disappointed that the nights coming to an end, but also content, like he’s pleased with how he spent his night - you hope he is, as it was spent talking to you. “Can I bother you for your number? Or if that’s too personal, your instagram?” He asks, making you grin at how respectful he is and has been. Trusting him, and truly wanting to get to know him better, you give him your number, and wish him a good night.

While you can no longer see the man, his handsome face doesn’t leave your mind, and as soon as you begin to almost miss him, despite having just met him, your phone buzzes.

‘Hey, this is Yunho, the guy from the restaurant. It’s late but I was too impatient to wait until tomorrow to text you. So i’ll say goodnight and let you be. Enjoy the rest of your night. ❤️’

You smile widely at the message, and against your better judgement - the voice in your head insisting that you be responsible and go to sleep - you text him back. The two of you stay up way too late, as if you were teenagers and not adults. You don’t regret it, and neither does he. If only you could see just how big his smile is on the other end of the phone.

[yayll]

I’ve never seen anyone write this but maybe a reader who is afraid of dogs? Like, really afraid (me😭) only If you wanna do it ofc <3

sweet baby angel thank u for waiting, i hope u like this and it was what u wanted! i think this concept was so fun AND SO FITTING BC DAZAI + DOGS... A MESS. and when ur involved, chaossss bc he has a little angel and devil on his shoulder. so basically i love u. mwah.

~ a little something about defending your honor... from dogs ~

"Eugh! what a petulant little thing!"

"Osamu! don't bark at it, it'll bite!"

"I thought you were afraid of dogs?! it disrespected you, the ferocious beast!"

You sigh, your nerves only settling just a bit so you can take the time to explain to him the consequences of his actions. You take a deep breath, swallowing with a loud gulp as you tremble.

"He only barked at me, Osamu... Ahh, c'mon, let's just go or he'll do worse! We also can't afford legal troubles if you get arrested for messing with a dog."

He feigns indignation, and stands a little taller.

"I'll have you know the agency would NEVER let me drown in legal fees! And unfortunately, drown in general..."

He then smirks at you, tapping the tip of your nose with a wink as he continues.

"... Besides, I'd make a pretty hot jailbird huh? I wonder, would I be dressed in white like a virginal bride or that awful shade of Orange-"

You cut him off, rolling your eyes as you tug on his arm.

"Can we like, get back to the topic of you beefing with a dog? No one is going to jail."

"Except for me if you won't let me do my job!"

You scoff, raising a brow as you glare at him in disbelief, your eyes darting between the dog and Dazai.

"You already HAVE a job, and you barely do it might I add."

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and giving you an exhasperated sigh like the brat he is. He knows you eat it right up! He does it for you, after all. Though with the way you look so afraid and skittish right now, he can barely hide how thrilled it makes him to be able to at least distract you from the situation with his antics. The unstoppable jester in your sweet court.

"Oh please, you're just deflecting now. You know I'm a dabbler! You can't pin me down!"

You nod in faux understanding, unable to hide the smile that's beginning to imprint itself on your face as you try to resist his nonsensical charms... And failing as always.

"Ah.. Right, right. Can we just go? I'm kind of freaking out right now."

He clicks his tongue and walks closer to you, leaning in and scanning your very aura with his trademark elusiveness, as if x-raying your soul. He has no use for the concept of personal space, and it's even worse when the scent you're currently wearing keeps roping him closer and closer.

"Just answer me something. Would you visit me in prison? Y'know, for bringing justice against the criminal offenses being carried out on you today by this little rat?"

He states firmly, not really a question at all. He glares at the dog, who begins to slowly cower away from you both as if getting the message.

You tilt your head, shrugging as you think it through despite how abrupt the circling back of the topic was. Dazai really was odd when he wanted to be, but his offputting nature was one of the most alluring things about him, it was over for you the second you both laid eyes on each other.

"... Well, I'd think it's silly that that's the reason you ended up there, but of course I would."

He smiles wide at that. Of course you would.

You eventually manage to mediate the altercation between the canine and your boyfriend after much bickering; the dog leaves you both alone and you go on with the rest of your day together in as much peace as one can have around Dazai. When it gets late, you part ways with a lengthy kiss goodnight, everything from the earlier melting away into a fuzzy bliss when he squeezes your waist and whispers your favorite things into your ear before reluctantly letting you go. You're starting to walk a few feet the opposite way when your cellphone begins to ring.

It's Dazai.

You pick it up and mumble with confusion, seeing as you just left him.

"Osamu?"

You can hear mischief in his voice when he replies, his voice dropping to a low and sultrier tone laced with something else you can't identify.

"Bark Bark."

"Huh?"

"Hi again, honey!~ Just wanted to let you know that the only dog allowed to bark at you is me. You better run along home now, or I might just follow you~"

"Ah, I'm trembling."

You roll your eyes, but the pink hue in your cheeks betray your sarcasm.

"Oh my! Don't say that, I'm not liable for whatever happens next if you keep talking to me so dirtyyy."

You turn around, smirking as you shake your head in mock disapproval at the way he won't let this topic fully die down. You just have to admire his commitment to the bit... And the way he shamelessly flirts with you every chance he gets. You find him simply staring at you with such intensity, not having moved at all from where you had said goodbye with his phone glued to his ear, his smugness practically glowing as if it were radioactive.

He waves, blowing you a kiss like the menace he is.

You catch it, laughing softly as you bring your closed fist to your mouth. This causes him to clutch his chest and stumble as if he were about to fall backwards, giggling before sticking his hands into his coat pockets to finally be on his way.

When you start walking again, he stops one more time, turning back to watch you with his forever attentive eyes. They darken at the memory of you being so afraid earlier, a small smile tugging at his lips when he thinks about how much more carefree and content you looked just a second ago... Because of him. He meant it when he said he'd defend your honor and he thinks it's adorable how you don't think about the awful things he's done to others in the past for much less.

It's a Bark Bark world and he's happy to be on your leash. What can he say? You keep him a virtuous man.

[adddddiiii]

Could you do Jason Todd x Male!Reader who grew up on the streets together before Jason was adopted and meet up again when Reader signs up to be one of Hood’s goons to make money to feed fellow street kids?

Reunited Under The Hood

Author's Note: Sorry this took so long! Also made it gender neutral reader since I usually write in second person, hope you don't mind 💕

Contents: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Warnings: One use of y/n

The back alleys of Gotham hadn't changed much, not in the ways that mattered. The same cracked concrete, the same faint stench of garbage and rain, and the same desperation in the air. It felt familiar. Comforting, even, despite everything.

You tugged your jacket tighter around you. The cold night crept through the broken windows of the old factory you were waiting outside. You leaned against a pillar, trying to blend in with the other new recruits.

You had heard rumours about the Red Hood — how he ran his operations like a well-oiled machine, an obscure mix of vigilante justice and ruthless crime. You didn't care much about the reputation. You cared about the paycheck.

The kids back at your shelter needed food, clothes, medicine. You'd scraped by for years, keeping them safe, but things were getting harder. The only way to make ends meet now was to take a risk.

"Alright, listen up!" A commanding voice snapped through the warehouse, cutting through the low murmur of conversation. Heavy boots echoed as the man himself entered. His red helmet glinted under the dim lights.

You froze. That walk. That posture. It couldn't be.

"Look alive," he continued. His modulated voice made it impossible to hear any familiar tones. "You're working for me now. Mess up and you're out." He walked till he was right in front of the new recruits "Or worse," he added casually.

As he paced before the group, your chest tightened. Every move, every subtle tick. It was him. It had to be him.

"Jason?" you muttered, almost to yourself.

The helmet snapped toward you instantly. He stopped dead in his tracks and the room went silent as all eyes turned in your direction.

"What?" His voice was lower now, laced with something sharp.

You took a small step forward. Your heart was pounding. "It's me."

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he grabbed your hand. And then immediately, he led you dragged you inside the abandoned factory, to a secluded corner.

"Jason, it's really you, isn't it? Do you recognize me?" Your speech was faster, rushed.

He stood before you and you could tell his eyes were narrowed. He reached up and removed his helmet.

The sight of him — the scar along his cheek, the streak of white in his hair — made your breath hitch. He looked older, harder, but there was no mistaking the boy you'd once run the streets with. The one who'd scraped his knees climbing rooftops and shared stolen sandwiches with you under moonlight.

"Y/n?" Disbelief flashed across his face.

"Yeah," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "it's me."

For a moment, the two of you stared at each other, the years of separation hanging heavy in the air. Then his expression shifted to a mix of anger and worry.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Trying to keep some kids alive," you said bluntly. "The same way you kept me alive back then."

Jason's jaw clenched and he looked away, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You shouldn't be here. This isn't for you."

"Neither were the streets," you stepped closer, "but we didn't have a choice, did we?"

He met your gaze with stormy blue eyes. He said nothing. Then, with a sigh, he muttered, "You always did know how to get under my skin."

You smiled. Some of the tension eased away just slightly. "Some things never change."

Jason's lips twitched upward. "Fine. You're in. But you stick close to me. Got it?"

Relief washed over you. "Deal," you agreed.

The two of you started walking back out to the other recruits. As he put his helmet back on, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort. You might have taken different paths, but here you were again, standing next to each other in the shadows of Gotham. Suddenly the years between you didn't seem so far apart.

[inuiiwonderland]

Please don't skip my message 🍉🇵🇸 to our honorable people in the world My name is Abdul Rahman from Gaza.. I lost everything in life.. My wife was martyred and my child and I were injured by a missile that fell on us.. My life was completely destroyed and I was severely injured all over my body especially my legs.. The missile tore my wife apart while she was carrying our child.. I ask for your support to start my life anew and overcome the tragedy I am going through.. Please help me with any amount no matter how small to treat my injury and my child's injury and get out of the Gaza Strip and start a better life.. And spread my campaign and my story so that everyone can see it 🍉🍉🇵🇸🇵🇸

Vetted by 90-ghost

https://gofund.me/c810ba27

!!!!

Random tags to boost!!!

[munsster]

cropped

A/N: if i had a boyfriend i would simply cut off the bottoms of all of his shirts. it’s not toxic, im just a girl (gif creds: @lomlkeery)

Pairing: Walter “Keys” McKey x GN!Reader

Summary: You convince your easily flustered boyfriend to put on a crop top. 0.7k words

Warnings: a little bit of physical insecurity, fluff, kissing, pet names (sweetheart)

"Keys, get your cute butt out here! I wanna see."

Oh, but he's groaning through the door already. You had burst into the apartment parading an overzised bag full of soft cottons and light denim, dropped it at his feet, and declared you bought him a new outfit. And that he must try it on. You picked it out special for him after all.

"Really? I mean, it fits great, I just..."

You've been pining over his midriff since he yawned one wednesday afternoon, arms stretched high above his head, shirt riding up just enough to expose his navel to your wandering eyes. So, of course, you warmed him up to the idea of shorter shirts. Crop tops, to be specific. You know, like the kind Johnny Depp sports in Nightmare on Elm Street. Or Mark Wahlberg in that cheeky Calvin Klein ad.

Keys wasn't sure for a while, but he noticed the way your face lit up at the mere thought, and figured why the hell not. But now, he's staring down at the crop of this particular top and thinking this whole thing might've been an oversight on his part. The light grey tank is loose around his ribcage, the graphic on the front some generic athletic slogan.

I don't want you to realize you wasted your money on an outfit that's a little lackluster now that I'm wearing it, he thinks. Which is silly, and he knows that you like anything he has on simply because he's the one wearing it. But the thought still creeps in. He startles when you knock on the master bathroom door.

"You okay in there?" you coo, tapping your fingers gently across the wood.

"Yeah," he sighs, "yeah, I'm okay. Just..." Worried he'll disappoint you. Maybe he could try and squeeze through the bathroom window before it's too late.

"Can I come in?"

He gulps, tugging on the droopy waist of the jeans one more time before turning the lock on the door. You gasp.

"Baby, you look..."

Silly?

"Delicious!" you squeal, pawing at his waist and latching your lips onto his neck almost immediately. Your thumbs sink into his sides when you pull away, pupils blown and mouth just barely ajar. "You're a total stud!"

"You think so?" His ego's a little out of wack when you nod wildly.

"Keys, you're so yummy," you tease, "Just like Marky Mark." You grab his hand and tug him into the bedroom, stopping short of the bed, much to his dismay. It gets him all hot and bothered the way you cling to his hips and kiss his cupid's bow. You're the prettiest thing he's ever seen, and you're treating him like he's made of molten gold.

He can barely get a word out without a stutter. God, the way you make him blush should be illegal. He's complete mush in your adoring palms, wishing you'd never take your hands off of him lest he combust. Then, you slip your fingertips just under the waistband of the jeans and he hums.

"Sorry," you snicker, knowing exactly what you're doing to him.

"Shut up," he grumbles.

You draw your hands up the curve of his back, tracing the valley of his spine until he shivers. His cheeks are glowing hot as he pecks wet kisses across your jaw and cheek and forehead. You giggle and drag your nails down to the small of his back with a contented sigh.

"Thank you for trying," you admit. Your head bows low, suddenly shy under all the glory of his honeyed scrutiny.

"What d'you mean? Of course I tried, sweetheart. I'd try anything for you," he says. You pout.

"Mean it?"

"Hell yeah. As long as you ask nice enough," he says, holding your jaw and pressing his soft lips to yours in a chaste kiss. You curl your hand around his wrist like a darling threadsnake kissing his fingertips.

"So much access to your mid section," you say, voice frenzied and eyes wide staring hungrily at his faint happy trail.

"What happened to our anti-objectification economy? What about our morals? Our ethics?" he says. Clearly, he's joking but his doe eyes twinkle dastardly behind his glasses. You wind your arm around his waist and smack his ass.

"What morals?"

"Touché, sweetheart."

masterlist

[rakhalofthestars]

The Last of His Tribe

Synopsis: Boothill and the importance of his hair

Tags: boothill x gn. reader, fluff, angst, ambiguous relationship (can be interpreted as both platonic and romantic), bittersweet tbh, boothill's backstory, soft boothill, boothill is native american

Warning: One self-deprecating/suicidal thought (out of survivor's guilt

wc: 1 326

Hair holds memories.

That’s what Boothill had been taught ever since he first learned to understand the words of those around him. It’s what the people of Aeragan-Espharshel believed in. That the hair was an extension of one’s spirit, one’s connection to the land. 

As a young boy, Boothill wasn’t quite sure if he believed in those teachings or not. He found it bothersome to have long, white hair that cascaded down past his shoulders, especially in the sweltering heat when he’d be out lending a hand on the ranch, taming the horses and farming sheep. Boothill could easily remember the times where he’d try to cut his hair off but Nick would always catch him before he could do so.

“I was only gonna cut a few inches off! Scout’s honor, I was!” He’d protest to his adoptive father who’d simply turn a deaf ear at his words and give him a lecture instead. If Nick was in a bad mood, he’d call over Gray and then Boothill would have to stand there and receive double the lecture. 

Looking back on those days now, Boothill can’t help but find it all silly. Of course hair holds memories. Why wouldn’t it? His hair holds the memories of how his adoptive parents would stroke their hands over his head, even when he was well past the age of receiving such manners of affection. His hair holds the memories of how his adoptive sisters would always play with his hair, styling it in everything from a simple ponytail to the most outlandish hairdos that would put even the fanciest southern belle to shame. His hair will remember how his brothers would sometimes give him noogies for pulling a prank on them, it will remember how his gunslinging friends would ruffle and muss it all up for another job well done. 

Boothill’s hair remembers how his daughter used to babble and tangle her tiny fingers in the long locks, tugging at them while he’d wince and hiss softly, trying to pry her fingers away before she ended up ripping out any strands. 

When his tribe was annihilated by the indiscriminate bombs from the IPC, Boothill came close to cutting his hair off. His grief knew no bounds during those dark and wretched days. It could’ve moved the tallest mountains. If it could’ve taken a physical form, it would’ve crushed the IPC with no difficulty. 

For better or for worse, Boothill decided to keep his hair as it was. Even after he had changed his body and turned it into a killing machine, even after he had his eyes and teeth augmented, his red blood switched out for blue fuel. Even then, he kept his hair. 

He just wasn’t ready to say goodbye to that chapter of his history that those snow white locks of hair had witnessed. 

For a long while, Boothill didn’t take care of his hair. He couldn’t bring himself to, almost as if he was afraid that washing it would also wash away the memories and the touch of his loved ones. For a long time, the ash from that fateful day continued to cling onto his hair, along with all sorts of dirt from the various missions the now Galaxy Ranger would go on. 

When Boothill finally found the strength to try and take care of himself again, to try and take care of this extension of his spirit, he found that he couldn’t. This time, there were no psychological barriers that stopped him. It all came down to this body that he’d given himself. 

It was tough to wash his hair while trying to keep the water and soap from seeping into the grooves and crevices in his cybernetic body. It was hard when the long strands would get all tangled in the cracks of his hands that were no longer warm flesh but instead cold metal. 

Thank the aeons that you were there for him. 

Galaxy Rangers don’t normally travel together, least of all working together. But you and him did. 

Boothill couldn’t figure out why he was so drawn to you, why he so easily allowed you past the metal plates that his body consisted of and into the lonely heart that was beating deep inside, hidden and well guarded from the cruel world. He just did. 

Despite your closeness, it took the ranger a while before he gave you the permission to touch his hair. In the end, he was glad that he did. 

And when you suggested helping him wash and braid his hair? He didn’t even need to think twice before answering with a silent nod. 

It took you and Boothill a few trials with no shortage of errors to figure out a safe way to wash his hair without risking electrocution on your part and malfunctioning on his part. But any obstacle can be overcome when given enough time.

As Galaxy Rangers, the two of you were almost constantly on the move and never stayed in one place for too long. So you had to make do with crashing in hotels and inns.

Boothill would always sit on the bathroom floor, his head tilted at the edge of the bathtub and allowing his hair to cascade into the tub. You’d be kneeling right beside him and would wash away the dirt and grime that built up after countless missions combined with days of neglect. Your fingers gently comb through the long locks, untangling the knots and sometimes, to both yours and his amusement, picking out little twigs and the like that had gotten tangled up. 

These little sessions would often start out with Boothill chattering away about how he quote unquote “taught them muddle-fudgers a lesson” on your latest mission or some recent bounty that he had successfully completed. But it never took long before he’d fall silent. If he was feeling up for it, he might hum a little tune that Nick had taught him. But usually, it was just silence except for the sounds of water. 

Neither you nor Boothill ever minded it. It was comforting, to indulge in this little bubble of tranquility. To try and hold on to it because Lan knows how Boothill misses the days which were filled with crude songs and gentle words. 

As the suds of shampoo run down the drain, so too does Boothill's fears, worries and thoughts of how it should've been him.

Once his hair is all clean and has regained its normal shine, all that's left is to dry it with a towel before combing through it. It used to take him a long time for his hair to regain its usual luster, but thanks to you and your insistence as well as diligence on taking care of him, it is easily achievable with just an hour or so of haircare. 

Boothill likes to braid his hair. He didn't tend to do it often, usually due to the hair getting stuck in the crevices of his iron fingers. So you'd offer to do it for him instead. 

With deft fingers, you section the beautiful locks into two before sectioning those two parts into three separate strands. 

One for the body. One for the mind. One for the spirit.

You braid his hair into twin braids and in all his days since a part of him died along with his family, he has never looked happier. 

Of course, he'll eventually take out the braids and wear his hair down to let his targets know that he's a warrior ready for battle. 

But for now, Boothill will indulge in this small moment of peace with you. His eyes will flutter and close while his head rests on your lap as he's lulled to sleep by hands that he knows will always be there to take care of him. His braids will stay, preserving the memories of the planet where he's from, his culture, his heritage and his tribe.