#hes still the fucking red hood though so he at least tries to hide his identity from his family

[batpham-kills]

The terrifying Red Hood has been temporarily captured by the Justice League

Unable to remove his helmet, he poses a danger to everyone on the Watchtower, and with his Gotham residence, they don't even have jurisdiction over him, despite him apparently knowing all the hero's identities.

J'onn J'onzz can't do much against someone with such strong mental fortitude, but he manages to fight his way to one thing: severing the connection between the heroes and their identities. They then swiftly boot him off the Watchtower and alert Batman of what they've done.

Suddenly, Jason doesn't remember why he was mad at his dad.

(AKA: Jason psychically forgets why he's mad at batman, aka Bruce Wayne, for not killing the Joker. How the hell would Brucie Wayne kill the Joker? So he does the only logical thing in this scenario: goes home.)

[visionofhope04]

Viper (Part 1)

Batfamily x Batsib!Reader

Part 1 (here) Part 2 (coming soon!)

Ages(probably not accurate, just go with it please): Alfred (Immortal), Bruce (45-ish), Barbara (30), Dick (29), Cass (26), Jason (26), Stephanie (21), Tim (20), Reader (18), Damian (16)

Warning(s): cursing, explosions (not detailed), speak of poison and poisoning, (very) minor violence

Part 2 of this headcannon

A/N: Sorry this took so long 😭. So in the preview I posted I said I'd try using third person and they/them pronouns. It hasn't been working out which is why I didn't post this sooner, I'm sooooo sorry :( I've switched it back to using you because I figured it's still inclusive. Hope you guys enjoy this tho! I’m ngl I had a heart attack bc I thought this draft got lost to the void and I was abt to post it.

—

Your boots pounded ferociously on the concrete as you ran and made a sharp right turn into another alleyway. He wasn't far behind you, it would only be a matter of time before you were caught. You had to lose him, fast. Your heart beat against your ribcage, your breaths came out in pants from your nose. You were sweating, and not just from the physical effort. Despite being a trained assassin, you were nervous. Getting caught would change everything, but you were confident in your abilities. However, that did little to stop the lingering feeling of dread you felt every time he got a little too close. You sped up and turned right again into a narrow alley. The Red Hood, who was chasing you, did not expect this and couldn’t slow down, and passed the alley. Frustrated, he backpedaled and ran down the alley he saw you go into.

He reached the end of the alley and slowed to a stop. The alleyway opened up to an empty street, and there was no sign of you anywhere. All he saw was the odd stains on the alley’s walls, a dumpster, and garbage bags strewn about. He lost you.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed, then kicked the dumpster for good measure.

You jolted in your hiding spot, hopeful he wouldn’t notice the extra weight when he kicked it. Your heart began pounding harder, as if it was trying to escape your body, if he found you, you honestly thought it might. Blood rushed in your ears as you waited with bated breaths. Would he open it? Find you? Compromise everything you’ve worked so hard for? You wouldn’t go down without a fight, but with the Lazarus pit in his blood and not much of it in yours, you doubted you’d be able to take him with strength alone. You’d have to be smart about it, as always. Though you didn’t know how your poisons would affect someone the Lazarus pit had such a strong hold on, you’d stupidly never tried it before. You doubt your mother or grandfather would’ve approved of it, as they would’ve been the ones you tested it on (never Damian, you’d never do that to your precious little sibling), but the knowledge would’ve been helpful at the moment. You desperately hoped that he wouldn’t find you, so you wouldn’t have to find out on him. You didn’t want to kill him after all, he’s a part of Damian’s new family. You couldn't ruin your little sibling's chance at a family, at least one of you could find happiness.

After agonizing moments that seemed like years with your overactive brain, you heard him mutter a few more profanities and his footsteps receded. You held your breath as you waited and observed the sounds you heard. Water dripped from somewhere, most likely a roof, and then rustling. Your heart began to pound harder, assuming he was searching, only for you to hear a quiet ‘meow’ and instantly relax. Once you were sure no one was there, you carefully lifted the dumpster lid and peeked. No one. Perfect. You slinked out of the dumpster and grimaced at the smell. Gross, yes, but it worked. It wasn't by far the worst place you've hidden in, but you'd definitely need to shower as soon as you got back to your hideout. The things you do for this job. You trudged in the direction of your current main base of operations, taking great care to stay out of everyone's sight, especially Oracle's.

—

That was your first run-in with Red Hood. It took him longer than expected to figure out what was going on. Took him even longer to find you. You didn't mind though, it gave you more time to work with. It wouldn't be long before Red Hood kept failing to catch you and decided to involve the Big Bad Bat, though. With Batman would come Robin, then Red Robin, and then Nightwing. If Robin found out, it would ruin the whole plan.

The plan was simple, really. Take over Gotham's underground unnoticed, gather members and create a gang, find a perfect time to cause a gang war to distract the Batfamily, and then Talia would initiate her plans to take over Gotham while the bats are busy. Well, that's what the agreed plan was. You'd always been a loose cannon. Since Red Hood had been so close to catching you, the "unnoticed" part had been foiled, albeit a bit later than anticipated. 

"Hey boss, what brings you in today?" Your loyal henchman, Hopper asked you.

"We've got a job to do. Grab some explosives. We're sending a message."

—

��These places feel haunted.” Willow, another one of your most trusted henchmen, said as she placed one of the four explosives into place. 

“It’s probably the Joker’s victims’ souls, he loves warehouses, like typical villains. Maybe they’re here to warn us, ‘Don’t go into the basement, that’s where we’re buried!’. Or maybe they’ll kill us, who knows.”

“This isn’t a joke, you’re scaring me Tina!”

“You guys done?” You ask impatiently, but reluctantly slightly amused.

“Yup.”

— 

"Seven simultaneous explosions have just been spotted around the perimeter of the city."

"Head to the site closest to your current location. If you're paired with someone, split up. Oracle, call in Nightwing and Red Hood if possible. Do not engage with anyone, survey the damage only. "

"Yes sir!" Chirped Spoiler.

— 

After two hours, at 3 am, everyone returned to the cave.

“I take everything I said about explosions back, I hate explosives.”

“Welcome to the club, Timmy! I’ve hated explosives ever since-”

A chorus of groans resonated throughout the batcave, “We know, Jason!”

“You’re not special Todd, most of us here have died in one way or another.”

“Yeah but have you-”

As Damian and Jason began bickering and the whole group headed to the lockers, Dick pulled Bruce aside. 

“B, I didn’t want to say this in front of the others, but I think something bigger is going on. I found these objects around the warehouse I investigated.”

Batman took the bag Nightwing offered and observed the strange objects. Metal letters. Two A’s, one I, one L, and one T.

“It spells Talia.” He observes.

“She would never do something like that if she was behind it, and she wouldn’t leave a calling card, especially not in that form.”

"I know. Hmm. The damage seemed deliberate. It only destroyed the warehouses on the edge of the city. It caused minimal to no damage to surrounding properties."

"You're saying whoever did this is sending a message, about Talia." Nightwing inquired.

"Precisely."

“But who would do this? And why would they warn us? And what exactly are they warning us about? They must be close to her to have an idea of what she’s planning.”

“We’re going to find out.” He says, then turns to Tim, who had just exited the lockers. "Red Robin, check all security footage at all explosion sites and around them, report back all your findings."

Red Robin nods and heads to the Batcomputer to get to work.

—

Dun dun dunnnnn! So how'd you like it? It's been a while since I've wrote anything and it's because I hit a MAJOR writing block. Hope you enjoyed! I was fighting with these tags fr

Tags: @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @rosemary1225 @azazel-nyx @chevelledahuman

@snowcatlove

@danonered @cantbecreative

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Unfocused

Roy Harper x Reader

wc: 1.1 k summary: Jason is fed up with how unfocused Roy is getting. warnings: no y/n used, fluff mostly, kinda crackfic?, lots of cussing, hints of previous night activities a/n: this is a drabble but it contains the backstory from Brother's Bestfriend ! hope you enjoy!! divider: @xurengu0

The rain of bullets hit the other side of the car as Jason and Roy hide behind it. It‘s not the best coverage, so they‘ll need to flee soon. Once the goons are reloading their guns, and the assault of bullets is briefly paused, they use their opportunity to run away from the open field. In the midst of it all, Roy doesn‘t see the flash grenade that‘s being thrown at them and almost steps right over it. Jason has to jump at him and tackle him down to create distance together from it. A heavy grunt leaves the red head and he‘s ready to be mad at Jason‘s unreasonable attack, until Jason yells at him first.

»Are you fucking stupid?! Couldn‘t see that fucking flash being thrown at us?«

They don‘t have enough time to argue over it as the goons are starting to catch up with them, clearly satisfied that their distraction worked.

The pair scrambles to their feet and manage to get onto a rooftop without any further complaint. »Focus, dammit!« Jason exclaims back at his partner one last time before they get going with the current plan.

With a silent grunt, Roy squeezes his upper arm and checks his injury. His head thumps back against the container, still trying to catch his breath from the chase. Jason paces small circles until he finally stops and towers over Roy, his frown not evident due to his mask, but Roy can feel it anyway.

»I swear, I will shove my gun so far up your ass, it will get stuck and you can never shit normally again, if you do that one more time,« finally, he exhales after holding his anger in during the run, »What was that anyway? Did you fall asleep earlier?«

Jason cocks his head to the side, resting his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent would. Roy doesn‘t feel too scared, though, simply rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand.

»Was thinking of something. Sorry.« He tries to dismiss it without any further argument, not in the mood to cause any more unecessary anger.

It‘s quiet for a moment until Jason speaks up first, his voice more judgemental than before.

»What‘s tha‘ on your neck?« He regrets asking that in the first place, he doesn‘t even want to know now. The way his best friend tilts his head away from Jason says enough. His cap blocks the sight of his eyes and cheeks, but he is sure that Roy is currently blushing.

A heavy sigh, »Oh, c‘mon… are ya‘ll that freaky?« followed by a, »I should‘ve guessed...«

It‘s clear that Jason is at least a little disappointed at his best friend and his sister, you. The fact that Roy got distracted in the first place, made Jason rather concerned than mad. But to know the real reason of the distraction… it made him want to rip his ass apart and try to lecture you on your actions. Jason knows that couples do… things. But he wasn‘t prepared to see the evidence on his best friend. Especially during a mission that failed. However, he doesn‘t want to prod on it any longer and nods towards the exit of the alleyway.

»I will definitely shove my gun up your ass...«

↣

At first, Jason didn‘t want to let Roy tag along into his apartment, but he couldn‘t deny him after some more arguing. You are already comfortably seated in the couch with a warm cup of tea and watch the newest trash TV in your shared apartment. It‘s nice and warm, being wrapped inside a fuzzy blanket as you get lost in the show. The click of the window snaps you back, looking over to the bigger window in the same room. Red Hood greets you first, although he doesn‘t say anything, just lowly grunting as he climbs inside. Arsenal follows up, bringing a smile to your face. You don‘t see it, but Jason rolls his eyes under his mask, taking a straight route to his bedroom; probably to cool off.

Your smile softens as Roy steps in front of you by the couch, arms spread open as if expecting a hug from you. However, he doesn‘t get it as you stay seated in your blanket with the cup of tea.

»Too warm to stand up.«

He shakes his head and instead flops down beside you, head planted in your lap after taking his cap off. You watch as he closes his eyes and relaxes into the cushion and your lap, a low sigh leaving him. Jason seems to be taking a shower in the meantime, giving you two some more time to be alone.

»How was the mission?« You ask out of curiousity as you tangle a hand into his hair, watching his relaxed expression.

»Bad. Got distracted, we didn‘t get anything from these guys...« He sighs out before opening his eyes to look up at you from your lap. »Why were you distracted?« But before he could answer you, Jason steps out of the shower and reenters the living room.

»Yeah, Roy, why were you distracted?«

You think that Jason is simply mocking Roy because he‘s still mad, but in reality, Jason just wants to verbally abuse his best friend, since he can never look into his eyes the same again.

Jason moves to sit between you and Roy, arms crossed and eyes trained onto the TV, even though he doesn‘t seem focused on it. This makes you scoff lightly and scoot away from your brother, sipping onto your tea.

»Give him a break, I‘m sure it was just a small slip-up.« You shrug and don‘t expect much from the both of them, simply hoping that Jason will stop being so annoying. However, he only gets a bit more aggravated from it.

»Small slip-up… if you two just— okay. I won‘t say it, but you guys need to get it together.«

It‘s almost funny how allergic Jason is to saying some specific words and it almost makes you let out a soft chuckle. Before you realise what he means. You clear your throat in light embarrassment and pull your blanket higher up to your chin, not wanting to let him find out more. A rather awkward silence settles between you three, eventually turning the volume up from the TV.

Jason stays seated between you two, until he finally releases a more softer huff. »I get grey hair because of you, I‘m not even joking.« He shakes his head lightly until he leans back further into the couch, resting his head on Roy‘s shoulder. You notice and quirk an eyebrow at him, scoffing lightly.

»Hey, that‘s my boyfriend!«

»Shut up, he‘s not allowed to be near you until he behaves.«

Roy shrugs with a light huff, unsure if he should laugh or cry with how stupidly protective Jason is being.

»I didn‘t even do anything!«

»Remember what I said about my gun?«

a/n: made this under an hour, it's wobbly and strange, but i had to get this out of my mind

←MASTERLIST

[agent-sushi-fbi]

NEW POST ON AO3!!

This was a prompt by @kittyfrisk9 from last year that we traded back and forth. I finally got around to finishing editing it and posting! I hope you enjoy!!

Something that Danny never thought he would be agreeing with in his afterlife? Jazz’s trashy romance books that she thought she could hide behind psychology textbooks in high school. They all seemed to have the same message that he didn’t realize was more than trying to reel in single moms at the checkout counter.

Love is complicated.

How did he know? Because Danny had inevitably fallen for his handsome and cool neighbor: Jason Todd. The problem though? His neighbor was dating the equally handsome (rumored at least, since he never takes the helmet off) and badass vigilante: Red Hood.

His heart had broken instantly upon hearing the news. Dramatic response, he knew, but he was dead so he figured he could get away with it. So, to get over his now dramatically broken heart, Danny decides to drink his sorrows away with the millennium-year-old wine that Princess Dorathea had sent him recently.

Unfortunately, he drank too much of it (he was so used to the light buzz of human stuff that he wasn’t prepared) and apparently ghostly alcohol is capable of what human made alcohol isn’t. Actually getting him drunk off his ass.

That’s how a drunken Danny somehow found himself on top of the apartment complex’s roof late at night, finding Red Hood most likely at the end of his patrol. The man himself, Danny’s love rival. His eyes narrowed as the vigilante noticed Danny, freezing like a kid with their hand caught in the proverbial cookie jar. He watched Red Hood stand up straight, arms crossed as he put on an air of intimidation. Observing him up close, it was even worse than he feared, Danny couldn’t even object to Jason’s decision to date the infamous anti-hero. Comparing the two of them, Red Hood is Red Hood and bigger than life–whereas Danny was just…Danny, the scrawny weirdo down the hall.

Oh…

Danny felt the tears building as a pressure flooded his chest. Upset, all he could do was try to hold back the waterworks in front of the other man. Was he doing it? Numbly, Danny reached up a hand to his face and felt his wet cheeks. Oh, Ancients damnit, now he’s crying in front of the crime lord.

The vigilante seemed to panic at his tears, the man's cool intimidation all but forgotten. He tried to calm Danny down by saying whatever nice and nonsensical things tumbled out of his mouth, but it just ended up making Danny cry harder without meaning to.

Jason, on the other hand, officially hated himself for being unable to do anything at the sight of tears before him. How did he manage to make his pretty and tender-hearted neighbor cry?

Suddenly, a drunk Danny screams out, “It’s all your fault!” His tears were finally slowing down, but he was sniffling so loudly it broke Jason’s heart to hear. But once Red Hood processed what Danny said, he froze. What exactly was his fault in this situation?

Danny continues, not paying any mind to the statue of Red Hood standing before him. “Y-you…he loves you! Silly, silly…why did he have to like you ? I love him more!” Danny continues to sniffle, readily ugly crying and not caring how pathetic he looked in front of the Red Hood.

Oh, that’s the problem. Jason feels his body go very still, his mind racing as the other man cries helplessly. His Danny is in love with some fucking bastard that isn’t him, and said fucking bastard is apparently in love with ‘Red Hood’. Which left Jason feeling like a truck ran him over and spun his heart under the wheels.

He absolutely, one-hundred-percent, does not and would not share feelings for anyone else, especially if Danny was crying for said “in love with a crime lord” bastard. He isn't even worth Danny’s tears . Jason briefly lets the thought linger on if it would be right to punch the guy Danny likes in the face. He needs a new punching bag anyway, this douche could be a nice replacement.

Danny’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, focusing on the man’s ruddy face again, a prominent pout at being ignored making Jason’s heart flutter. God, what was it about this guy that tugged at his heart so much?

Danny stomped his foot, annoyed and drunkenly thinking the vigilante had silently dismissed the conversation. “Jason loves you ,” he felt his lower lip wobble. “You should say those words to him because I can’t! He deserves to know he’s loved!” Danny shook his head at Hood, swaying slightly. Excuse me, what did you just say? “Silly Hood, you’re so lucky, did you know…?”

Jason gaped in shock as Danny’s voice trailed off, the latter obviously losing some of his fire from before as the alcohol started making him tired. But hold on a second, by “Jason” did Danny mean him ? Jason Todd?

“Yes!” Oh, he seemed to have asked the name out loud, because his pretty neighbor responded with a broken voice.

Ha. Fuck.

Jason feels his brain short circuit. He just cannot process this. So, the reason why his neighbor never paid any attention to his flirting wasn’t because he was disinterested in him? It was because Danny thought that he already had a partner and probably thought he was just being friendly? That he (Jason) was dating himself (Red Hood). Oh god, Danny was such a lovable idiot.

Jason knew he should have stopped those rumors from spreading right from the start, that way this misunderstanding wouldn’t have wreaked havoc on his love life. On the other hand, seeing his adorable neighbor looking like a disheveled drunk, declaring his feelings for him made Jason’s heart melt a little bit.

“Do you think that I am dating…Jason Todd?” His voice is serious, but still shocked from this revelation, though it’s probably not noticeable through his mask’s voice modulator.

Danny nods solemnly from a few feet away, lips still twisted in a pout. Jason smirks even though Danny can’t see it and tells him, “It’s just a rumor.”

He’s amused by the way Danny’s head snaps up and surprise fills his bright blue eyes. He’s so adorable while drunk that Jason isn’t sure how he would be coping without a mask covering his expressions. “Just like you, I already have someone I like. But I can promise, it’s not Jason Todd.”

He swore he could see sparkles in the man’s eyes. “So you’re absolutely not dating Jason?” Oh boy. “I can go out with him? I can tell him how much I like him?”

Jason laughs internally, “You should do it, see how it goes.” While he returns to his safe house quickly, after all, it seems he will soon be receiving a very important declaration of love.

This was the best day of his life, goddamn.

Unfortunately, his confession won’t be coming tonight because immediately after he received his ‘go ahead’, Danny trips over his feet and falls to the ground. Harder than expected apparently, since when Jason hurried over to check on him he was delirious and close to passing out. Though, that might have been more the alcohol than anything else.

Jason sighs, resigned to the fact that he’ll have to wait until Danny is sobered up tomorrow. Granted, that's even if he remembers any of this conversation after all. Oh fuck, Jason hoped he remembers otherwise they’ll be back to square one.

Picking up his (now) cute boyfriend, he carefully places the man on his back so his long arms drape over Jason’s shoulders and he had to hold onto Danny’s butt to keep him in place (not that he’s complaining). They were almost to the access to the stairwell when he heard Danny murmuring, so he slowed his steps to keep his heavy boots from drowning out what Danny was saying.

“Jason…marry me please…”

Jason choked. He cleared his throat a couple of times and shifted Danny around a little. He felt the other man’s hot breath and lips on his neck, but focused on safely getting them down the stairs instead.

Projecting a little confidence into his voice, Jason responded, “Haha, how about you ask me on a date first?” He knew there would be no answer, his boyfriend was already in the world of his dreams but he had to get the last word in.

He absolutely will never let Danny ever forget this moment.

[sagaduwyrm]

Here I am With All My Flaws (Seeking Form and Shelter)

Dick Grayson had half an hour left on his patrol before he could go home and go to sleep. Then Dante Nightingale and his siblings happened. And oh fuck, why is he so pretty. OR Dante Phantom has two deaged siblings to hide and Gotham is somehow the best option. The cute vigilante was a surprise though. The accidental murder is pretty par for the course.

Side Note: Does anyone know what the ship name for Dick/Dan is?

In his long years as a vigilante, Nightwing had learned one thing very well: Gotham did not know the meaning of the phrase “A quiet night.” In Gotham, a quiet easy night was the calm before the storm, the eerie stillness that preceded death and destruction.

Which was why he was pleasantly surprised to find his shift almost over and nothing worse than a few muggings and one stick-up to show for it.

Then again, this was the plan. Red Robin and Spoiler had the cult case, Robin was with Black Bat tracking down Dr. Freeze, Batman was out of town, and the Birds of Prey were working their way through a new crime family. Red Hood rarely discussed his plans with the other bats, but as far as Nightwing knew, Crime Alley was all normal operations at the moment, with only a minor intrusion by the Falcones for Hood’s men to deal with.

That left Nightwing with the simplest job of them all: petty crime. All he had to do was patrol the streets and make sure that the more minor criminals knew that even with all the wackos and bigshots running around, the bats still had more than enough hands to keep an eye on them too. A quiet, easy job, at least by bat standards. Just another half an hour, then Signal would take over for him and he could head back to the manor, get a quick shower in, snag some of Alfred’s cooking, and crash for the next eight hours.

A harsh crash echoed through the alleys beneath him, like flesh striking brick. Nightwing winced in sympathy and quickly tracked the sound to a nearby crevice.

A man was climbing his way back up to his feet, apparently the one to meet the wall with his backside. He looked skinny as a rake with ragged clothes and the symbol for one of the local gangs sewn onto his shoulder. He was laughing, short asthmatic huffs that were the hallmark of any Gothamite who’d had a too-close encounter with the Joker’s laughing gas and hadn't gotten proper treatment.

“A meta, huh? That won’t save you. We own these streets boy. We’ll own you too.”

Nightwing froze where he was crouching. He had already planned to wait until he understood what was going on, always a good practice when organized crime was involved, but with a meta in the mix, this could get bad. Even numbers on whether it’d be the meta or his opponents in trouble.

Dick turned sharp eyes on the other man in the alley. He was caught half in shadow, with broad shoulders and a sharp, strong jawline, messy hair tied back but swaying gently, flickering like fire. In any other circumstances, Nightwing might have tried to flirt with him. He’d always been a sucker for the sort that looked like they could break him in half.

"Stay. The Fuck. Away. From. Them," the taller man snarled.

Fuck, even his voice was sexy. It was deep and rich, with an eerie undertone like a roaring fire, marking another box in the meta-or-inhuman checklist.

The goon was still giggling. “Ooh, big scary man with a big scary voice. Not going to save you. Hand over the brats or watch them die, fuckhead. We’ll even—” he cut himself off with a sharp cackle. “We’ll even give you a cut of the profits, how about that?”

Every piece of electronics within ten yards shrieked and began throwing up sparks. Nightwing swore and jumped to dodge a falling air conditioning unit, thankful for the layers of magical and non-magical protection on his own electronic gear. He swiftly kicked the now-on-fire unit onto cement, pulling out the pellets of fire extinguisher foam from his utility belt.

When he looked back down into the alley, the meta had the fool by the throat, dangling him a foot above the ground where he thrashed frantically. The meta's eyes were glowing the color of congealed blood.

“You think you can sell my siblings? In this city? ” The man had a very sharp set of fangs, Dick noted, ones that didn’t seem to exist entirely in the physical plane. Mainly, there were too many of them and they were too long to fit in his mouth. Nightwing was sure they hadn’t been there twenty seconds ago. “Try it,” the meta snarled. “If the bats don’t get you, the Red Hood will. If he doesn’t get you, I will.”

The goon had frozen sometime during his speech but was now struggling fiercely, with an almost insane desperation in his eyes. He thrashed and yanked, while the man watched with disgusted derision, apparently unimpressed with the previously willful man’s terror. Nightwing snorted a little under his breath and went to make his way down and break things up before they could go too far. He needed to arrest the perp and interrogate him about his gang’s business. Just because this man could clearly protect himself and his family didn’t mean everyone in Gotham could.

The scrawny man got his foot up and kicked at the other’s torso. The man didn’t flinch, but his fingers did clench around the criminal’s neck in surprise. The meta had claws , Nightwing suddenly realized. Sharp ones.

They went straight through the goon's neck, severing arteries that started spraying blood like a fire hydrant. The idiot was dead before he hit the ground.

The two of them, the vigilante and the murderer, stared at the body in mute shock for a long moment.

Finally, Nightwing dug some words out of the hole in his chest. “Did you just kill him on accident ?” His words held more than a tinge of disbelief. Even in Gotham, or especially in Gotham, murder tended to hold a bit more intentionality behind it. 

The man looked up at him, no surprise visible at the vigilante’s presence, but plenty of other emotions crowding his face. Annoyance and exasperation, startlement, bad-tempered fury, and intense stress competed for room in his body language.

“If I meant to kill him,” he spoke slowly, in the same way that the build-up before a volcanic eruption was slow. “He’d be a bloody smear on the wall. I don’t do overkill. Why the fuck—”

he cut himself off with a growl, seeming to struggle for words. “That amount of pressure wouldn’t put a scratch on my siblings. I didn’t expect—” he gestured towards the body, flicking the blood off his claws with a sharp movement— “ that .”

Nightwing gave a hum, carefully cleaning up his body language so the other man wouldn’t be able to read the shock and wariness in it. If the meta’s siblings were similarly endowed and he wasn’t used to interacting with normal humans, that would make accidentally tearing a man’s throat out plausible. It didn’t make it okay though, and the way the man used the phrase ‘bloody smear on the wall’ had Nightwing's hackles up. His hand inched towards the button on his belt that would call for backup.

The meta’s head jerked to the side and his eyes, still steadily glowing red, widened, causing Nightwing to jump. A door set into the apartment building across the alley opened with a rusty creak where the man was looking. Two children levered their heads out the door, peering down the alley with sharp, clever eyes that looked just like the meta’s. They couldn’t have been older than five or six.

Their eyes widened with delight when they caught sight of what must have been their older brother. 

“Tay!” they shrieked. They hurtled down the alleyway, leaping at their brother from a distance that made Nightwings breath catch. The man spun in place to catch them, kicking the corpse behind a nearby pile of trash in the same movement.

“Tay! The food started boiling over and I know you said not to touch it but I did because it looked really bad and Danny said I should’ve just turned the stove off but I know you stir it whenever—”

The boy shoved his sister’s face to the side, cutting her off. “I told her she should have just turned it off but she tried to stir it and it splashed on her and she iced it! The whole thing! And I couldn’t get it to melt!”

The meta’s harsh expression melted into exasperated fondness, and he slipped his grasp down to the kids’ ankles, throwing them over his shoulder’s to their delighted shrieks. His claws didn’t pierce their skin.

It was a little easier to understand why he was so ready to murder with the kids right there. They were tiny .

Dick took a deep breath, fighting to get his body to relax into something less battle-ready. He felt his shoulders tense back up though as all three meta’s swung glowing gazes up to his perch.

Blood red, lazarus green, and cyan blue. All mildly alarming colors to see in glowing eyes. Dick was unsure whether it helped or not that, now that he could see the man’s full face, his sharp glare was uncomfortably attractive.

“Tay,” the girl leaned in to whisper in her brother’s ear. Of course, it was a five-year-old’s idea of a whisper, so Nightwing could still hear it. “We aren’t supposed to let the bats know. They’ll make us leave .” She looked very solemnly at his brother after disclosing this information.

Nightwing cleared his throat, determinedly not thinking about the goon who just lost his throat or about the beautifully soft expression the meta graced his sister with. “You really should leave. Gotham isn’t a safe place for any kid, but especially not metas.”

“We aren’t—” the girl’s face scrunched up and her brother slapped her hand over his mouth, before burying his face in their eldest brother’s back.

The man looked back at Nightwing, a hint of a snarl on his face. “You think we’d be here if we had any other options? This city is the only one that will hide us.”

Nightwing’s gaze sharpened. “Hide you from what?”

The man scoffed. “None of your business, Knight of Gotham.”

Nightwing examined him carefully. He was inclined to believe that anyone who so clearly cared about his little sibling couldn’t be all bad. Not to mention, Gotham had all sorts of weird energy fields going on and a strong hostility toward outsiders. The city truly might have been their best chance at hiding from whoever it was whose memory had the younger siblings curling up into themselves and the elder brother broadening his stance as if in preparation for a fight.

Still, Nightwing didn’t like the idea of someone with the man’s power sticking around in Gotham with no one keeping an eye on him, both for his sake and others. Luckily, he had an idea.

“Look. There is a reason we keep metas out of this city. But,” he painted a winning smile on his face and raised a hand to forestall any protests. “We aren’t going to kick you out if Gotham is really your best option.” Well, he said we, but really he was making the decisions here. Batman would just have to deal.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “What are you suggesting?”

“Red Hood’s territory is barely five minutes from here.” Nightwing paused, thinking of his younger brother with pride. “And he would fistfight God to protect his people.”

The siblings winced and the younger boy, now on the ground, peaked around his brother to talk with Nightwing. “We don’t want to intru—” he paused, struggling to pronounce a word for a moment, “ intrude in his ter-ri-tor-y.” The boy beamed after getting the full, clearly practiced, phrase out.

Nightwing cocked his head. That wasn’t a no, just a concern. “It’ll be fine,” he said cheerfully. “Look, I’ll call him right now, and we can get you moved over to somewhere I won’t have to constantly check to see if you’ve been kidnapped from by tonight.” Tonight being in twelve hours or so, because somehow it was nearly dawn, and Dick really wanted to be in bed right now but he wasn’t just going to leave this obnoxiously gorgeous man and his siblings. Who knows what trouble they would find? It took a special kind of bad luck to accidentally kill a gang member .

He pulled his phone out of his belt and pulled up Jason’s contact. Hood would be happy to shelter the family, even if he would probably be a bit twitchy about having metas with unknown capabilities in Gotham. Still, better to have them where they could keep an eye on them and hopefully get the chance to earn their trust.

“Hey, Hood?”

“What do you want, Dickhead?” Jason grumbled back at him. He sounded grumpier than normal, and Dick made a mental note to try to figure out if he’d been injured recently.

“I have a family of metas here that need to stay in Gotham, but they’ve already gotten in fights with one gang. Mind if they move into your territory?” Dick purposely used the same word the boy had earlier so they knew he was checking on their concerns.

“How many?”

“Three!” Dick turned to the kids. “Can you tell Hood how old you are so he knows who to expect?” “I’m Danny and that’s Ellie. We’re five.” The child tilted his head as if in confusion. “I think.”

Dick blinked in mild alarm at that. Lots of kids didn’t know how old they were, but something about how Danny phrased that made his inner detective concerned. He looked at their older brother.

The man grunted. “Dante. I’m twenty-three. Probably.” Something amused sparked in Dante’s eyes at the bewildered look Nightwing gave him, and he drawled out, “Murphy’s Law.”

This did not assuage Dick’s concern or really explain anything.

Jason stayed silent for a moment, before sighing. “Fine. I’ve got an apartment they can stay at. I’ll text you the address and we can talk rent later.”

“Thanks, Hood!” Nightwing bounced cheerily on his toes, mindful of the kid’s wide eyes on him. He was probably not setting the best example standing on a rusty railing, but the theatrics tended to help keep civilians, especially kids, calm.

Hood spoke again, “You’re responsible for getting them moved in and checking on them until they get used to my men, Dick.”

“Sure.” Dick smiled at the thought. It would give him an excuse to do something he was going to do anyway. He didn’t plan to let go of the many concerning things the family had mentioned. It had absolutely nothing to do with his teeny tiny crush on the beautiful meta who moved like a predatory jungle cat and loved his siblings so much he practically glowed with it.

“Talk to you later Hood!”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off asshole.” As he hung up Dick thought that that had gone better than many of his previous conversations with his little brother.

Crimson eyes were still straight on him, and something about the set of Dante’s shoulders screamed caution. “This is freely given?”

Dick blinked. “What?”

“Your aid,” Dante clarified. “It’s freely given. No strings attached?”

That was the sort of language magic-users tended to use. Dick considered his words carefully. “You are in Gotham. Everything in Gotham is mine and my family’s to protect. If the best way to protect you is for you to stay in Gotham,” an honestly insane idea, but they knew their situation best. “I will help you stay in Gotham safely. So yes. My aid is freely given.”

The meta(?) hummed. “Danny, Ellie, go grab our go bags.” The kids nodded and ran back into the building.

Dick’s heartstrings tugged at the idea that everything they needed could be grabbed so quickly, but his gaze was dragged back to the eldest meta.

Something was different about him. Something in the air, the weight and mass of it pressing on Nightwing's shoulders. Something in his shadow, too dark and too deep. Something in the glow of his eyes…

Nightwing had never seen that shade of red before, he realized suddenly. He was almost certain it wasn’t supposed to exist.

“If you cause my siblings any harm,” Dante looked him straight in the eyes and Dick felt oddly frozen despite all his experience that said he should be able to handle this. “I will peel the flesh from your bones and use your entrails to hang your body from the rafters of your family home.” Dick blinked, finally unfrozen, and smiled brilliantly, the way that made seasoned Gotham rogues take a step back. “Understood.” Dante looked at him with something like respect. “I’ll go make sure they haven’t caused any explosions. We’ll be ready in ten."

He swept out, and Dick let himself collapse against a wall.

He really needed to get himself under control. Being attracted to people who could (and would) kill you wasn’t a good thing for a vigilante, even if Batman made it seem normal.

[ladytauria]

Hear me out: 92 and jaycest for the smut prompts

i heard you loud and clear nonny 😌

this... ended up being a monster of a fic (almost 6k) so i'm not posting the entirety of it here, lmao.

my original plan for this was to be a coda to cloves, smoke, and honey, but every time i sat down to write nothing came to me. so finally i started listing jay pairings while looking up selfcest prompts and—then something clicked and i ended up with this <3

in which hood!jay ends up in a universe where his alternate never died <3

i had a really good time with this one! i hope you enjoy <3

(note: i was picturing jay at about ~17 in this, and jason at least 22. however, no ages are stated; just that jay is going to college soon <3)

>> AO3 <<

Hood plants his hands on the desk, leaning against it, looking up at the monitors. Batman and Nightwing are still out. Spoiler and Robin’s curfews got called an hour ago. (Tim’s probably still sulking about it, but whatever. School’s important, no matter what the brat thinks.) Alfred retired when they did.

That leaves just Hood and Jay.

Hood… He showed up just shy of a month ago. Some asshole’s running around, opening portals to other dimensions, and Hood got caught in the crossfire. Stranded, until they can catch the guy.

He won’t show them his face. Won’t even walk around in just a domino! Instead, he’s always wearing that obnoxious red helmet.

It’s driving B crazy.

Even Tim, stalker extraordinaire, hasn’t been able to figure out Hood’s identity.

Or. If he has, the little gremlin isn’t sharing. Jason highly doubts he’d hide it, though. B and Dick are too wound up about it.

Jay… He can’t blame them. Hood’s scarily well-trained. Bruce tried putting him on lock down once and he just breezed right past the defenses as soon as they left. That’s when Dick had suggested they work together—mostly to keep an eye on Hood, which they all know Hood is aware of.

Jay’s pretty sure Dick meant to take the job. Hood and B… well, the way his hackles raise if Batman so much as glances in his direction… That’s a powder keg waiting to blow. Thing is, while Hood will tolerate Nightwing—mostly—the one he trusts the most is…

Jay.

It’s flattering.

And it’s kind of nice to be the one in charge of keeping an eye on Hood.

Jay is still a recent graduate of his Robin role, and it’s a struggle to be taken seriously as his own hero. He’s… looking forward to college, honestly. To either put vigilantism on the back burner or just set up somewhere new—he hasn’t decided yet. It’ll be nice, to leave and come back changed.

Anyway, but actually being trusted to run with Hood at night makes him feel… More like a part of the team. He knows Bruce will never trust him as much as he does Dick—and he’d like to say he’s made his peace with that, but he hasn’t—but at least he trusts him with something.

Jay just wishes he wasn’t so distracted. Even now, Jay’s not paying as much attention to what’s on the monitors so much as he is the way Hood’s tac pants pull taut over his ass and thighs. Which—fuck, those thighs. Firm and muscular and thick.

He choked a guy out with them earlier tonight. Jay’s blood had rushed south so fast he’d thought he was gonna pass out. It’d taken every trick he knew to will his erection down so he could keep working.

The arousal still sings in his blood—a quiet tune, but present all the same. Jay wets his lips, and then walks over to him. “That was some nice fightin’ tonight, Hood,” he says casually, drawing closer to Hood. “Bet you’re tired.  I wouldn’t mind givin’ ya a hand.” He trails his fingers over Hood’s forearm—doubts he feels it much, with his armor and jacket still in the way. “You could take a nice, hot shower, and then… I could give ya a massage. Work out some of that tension you’ve been carryin’.”

Hood is still. Jay’s not sure he’s breathing. “Kid,” he says—and then stops, hands flexing on the table. Jay waits for him to gather himself, or shake his head and tell him to get lost.

It’s not the first time he’s flirted with Hood. It was a joke at first. Hood was attractive, Jay recognized that from the start, but… Well. Jay had discovered a few years ago that flirting was a good way to throw people off of their game. (It also invited trouble, of course. The silent ‘I-told-you-so’ from Bruce after Mask started showing actual interest in him had been deafening. But mostly, it served Jason well, so he kept going it.) He hadn’t meant anything by it at first.

He does now.

Has since Hood shoved him up against a wall, bracketing him in with his body, one gloved hand pressed against his mouth. He’d hardly noticed the people passing them; senses too full of leather and steel and gunpowder. His cock had strained in his cup, a thousand times more uncomfortable than the brick at his back.

His attempts since have been utterly sincere.

Hood has never told him off. A few times, he’s even flirted back… before obviously stopping himself.

Jay persists.

“You don’t want this,” Hood says finally, turning his head to meet Jay’s eyes. The whites of his helmet are blank. They give nothing away. Neither does his voice, not with the modulator in the way. Even his body language is inscrutable.

“You don’t get to tell me that,” Jay tells him, his voice breathier than he means it to be. Anticipation thrums in his veins.

Hood lets go of the desk, standing up to his full height. Jay— Jay will be lucky to hit 5’7. More than likely, he’s going to be stuck at 5’5 for the rest of his life. Hood… Hood is taller than Bruce, beating him out by a single inch. Jay has to tip his head back to keep holding Hood’s gaze.

“You have… no idea who you’re talking to,” Hood says, and the modulator adds to the harshness of his tone.

Rather than turn Jay off, it makes him shiver before defiantly lifting his chin.

“Oh, fuck off. You wanna tell me you’re not interested? Fine, that’s fair. I’ll back off. You wanna tell me to stop? Fine. That’s fair. I stop. But you don’t get to tell me that I don’t want this. That I don’t want you.”

Jay steps closer. He already stripped out of his armor, leaving him in nothing but a form-fitting t-shirt and tight leggings. He ditched his cup, too, which means when he grinds his hips forward, there’s nothing to prevent Hood from feeling his erection as he plasters himself against Hood’s side, stretching onto his tip-toes. His lips brush where Hood’s ear would be, if not for the helmet.

“Let me show you how much I mean what I say,” he whispers.

Hood goes still again—but it’s the same kind of stillness that falls just before a storm. Jay holds his breath.

It’s knocked from him when Hood grabs him, broad hands gripping his waist and lifting him onto the desk—his ass just barely missing the keyboard.

Then, he reaches up; a low, mechanical hiss sending Jay’s heart into his throat. Hood tosses the helmet aside—Jay hears it hit the ground, roll, but he doesn’t bother to look where it lands. Instead, he watches Hood rip his domino off next, tossing that aside too, and then, finally—

Jay sees him.

He drinks him in ravenously. The scar, starring at his mouth and trailing up, up, to his temple, where it disappears into his hairline. His hair is dark, curly, wild and askew the same way Jay’s is after a patrol. There’s a shock of white in the front, where his bangs curl on his forehead, forming a heart shape.

Huh.

Jason’s do that too.

Their noses are similar, too; a little crooked, with a raised bump in the middle. They’ve both got full mouths, settled into a natural pout. A small scattering of freckles over their noses, including a darker one under the left eye.

A scar, mostly faded, over a brow.

Jay’s eyes go wide. “You’re—” Me, he doesn’t finish, the word sticking in his throat.

How many times had he tried to guess which of them Hood could be, if any of them at all? Himself had never crossed his mind, not once.

Hood… He wielded guns with brutal efficiency. None of Bruce’s security measures could contain him. When Nightwing challenged him to a spar, they’d been so close to evenly matched. He had the height, the bulk to match Bruce, and—

He was just…

Hood was dangerous, and lethal, and confident, and skilled, and big, and—

So very unlike Jay at all.

Yet… There he is. He has a few more scars, and his jaw is more defined, but— They have the same full cheeks, the ones that give him perpetual babyface. Especially with his long, dark lashes and full, pink lips.

Jay… is starting to see why people call him pretty.

“I told you,” Hood—Jason says harshly. It’s Jay’s first time hearing it without the modulator. His voice is low, gravelly. It makes his skin pebble.

Hood being Jason doesn’t make him want him less at all. He’s still the same ultra-competent badass that he was before, and—

Jay would like to get his hands on him right now, pretty please.

Jason doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo. Insecurity still runs deep, Jay guesses.

“Go on. It’s past time little birdies went back to their nests.”

Jay fists both hands in the collar of his jacket before Jason can take more than a single step. “Shut up,” he snaps—and then yanks him down into a fierce, hungry kiss.

Jason gasps into his mouth.

For one heart-stopping second, Jay thinks he’s going to be shoved away. Thinks Jason will look at him with disgust, humiliate him for even considering that Jason might want anything to do with him.

Jason doesn’t.

Instead, he steps forward, forcing Jay to tip his head back. There’s the rustle of fabric, and then—a hand, no longer gloved, tangles in his hair, pulling just-so in a way that makes Jay gasp, shiver, hips rocking forward, grinding his dick against the molded abs of Jason’s armor.

His moan is embarrassing, high enough that the bats rustle restlessly above them.

Jason presses the advantage, plunging his tongue in Jay’s mouth. It tastes of peppermint and cigarettes as Jason licks into him slow and deep, delving into every nook and crevice of Jay’s mouth.

Jay shudders; legs locking around Jason’s waist.

When Jason pulls away… Jay whines, trying to chase him. It’s the hand in his hair that stills him; fingers tightening, holding him in place.

“Please,” he begs.

Jason’s nostrils flare. Then… his gaze flickers around them, evaluating their surroundings.

“Not here,” he says finally.

Jay whimpers, embarrassingly high, when Jason lifts him; hands braced under his thighs, the curve of his ass.

And Jay— he may not be very tall, but he’s solid; all muscle and pockets of fat, a body honed through years of training.

Jason holds him like he weighs nothing at all.

Even when they climb the stairs, Jason taking them two-by-two, he doesn’t falter. Barely breathes any heavier, even when Jay gives into the urge to start sucking marks onto his neck.

He knows he’s affected. He can feel his pulse, hear the soft hitches in his breathing, but—

His steps never waver.

>> continue on ao3 <<

[immoralimmortals]

A Song With Ten Names

Chapter 37: Yes, to Err is Human, So Don't Be One (5)

Chapter 1 ☆ Next chapter ☆ AO3 ☆ Featured song playlist

Summary of chapter: Love. Some people love to love. Some people love to hate.

Author's Note:

The song for this chapter is Yes, to Err is Human, So Don't Be One by Will Wood.

Small content warning for mentions of suicide attempts, although they are brief and without description.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yes, to err is human

So

Don't

Be

One

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Are you serious?”

A response like that and it's obvious why the woman squirms in embarrassment, looking away and locking her knees as she holds a prized possession tightly to her chest, though it hasn't been with her as long as the phone she shared with Deidara. Book to her chest, she nearly looks like a schoolgirl; that is, if she was a schoolgirl from Hell. Kakuzu narrows his scrutinizing stare. He’s wearing his face covering and hood, but only the eyes are needed for Jashin’s worst disciple to feel his harsh judgment.

“It’s never...felt like the right time!” Yeah, sure. The lady has time to tell Kakuzu she’s a suicide victim from another dimension but not any to tell her supposed "first friend" she can’t fucking read. Silence alone is capable of speaking this aloud, whether it is from the immortal or if it is her own making. Regardless, the truth of her hypocrisy is enough to make her hum with agitation, skin upon her face bright red. “I know, I know...I’m sorry.”

Kakuzu can’t help but lower his head and pinch his temple at that nonsense. “Takara...it isn’t me you need to apologize to.”

“I know—” The defense is quick...but then hits the reality, and her shoulders drop. “...I know,” she repeats, softer and wiser, hooded gaze locked on the lefthand wall, though it isn’t far enough to keep Kakuzu out of her peripheral, and that alone is enough to make her realize she’s hiding, even if metaphorically. Lids shut and she exhales hard, slumping her shoulders. “I just...don’t know where to begin.”

It is so, so tempting to be a smartass right now, but the tone she carries tells him that’s the last thing she needs. An exhale of his own, lighter behind his mask, and the stitched man reaches forward and gestures with an exasperated “give it” gesture. And though she hesitates, it is only because she wishes she did not have to. All the same, Hidan’s wretched, literally bloody bible is put into trusted hands.

“I’ll do it just this once,” the old man grumbles, though he has no idea what is going to stop her from asking again and him from giving in so readily to those big star-reading eyes. He feels the woman sit by his side as he observes the book itself. “I still can hardly believe he managed the damn thing.” The front cover, barely attached now with how hard Hidan tried to carve his own sigil onto it, is folded open. Hands so practiced with flipping pages feel the age of the ones upcoming, a finger tracing over the folds. “The blood certainly didn’t help the damage this one already must have had…” he laments. Not his kind of book, whatever sort of fairy tale this used to hold, but still seems like a waste... Though perhaps, since it was abandoned, becoming something else at the hands of a crazed prophet was the next best thing.

...The woman is so close, her cheek resting on his bare arm, usual cloak draping on the back of the couch instead of over his shoulders. A palm moves to rest on his thigh, and the way it feels makes him look over to her. To his own surprise, he speaks not with admonishment but with concern. “You’re tense,” Kakuzu observes. She nods.

“Kakuzu…” the performer mutters, looking lost in letters on a page that could mean absolutely anything. “...He made this so long ago...what if there’s something he’s meant for me to know this whole time? Working on the assumption that I just...get it and agree?” She’s already hardly on board with the whole ‘kill people’ thing, if even that. Hidan’s...a lot, to say the least, but what if...what if…?

...There’s a lot of what ifs, all of a sudden. That’s why she hasn’t told him yet she hasn’t read it.

“Like what?” Hidan’s partner prods, trying to decide if he’s savoring the sensation of her touching him so tenderly or merely noticing it, based on how much it’s sticking out to his attention. But she’s just quiet, the words she wants to say either nonsensical or merely impossible to describe. The resulting action is that she sinks ever closer, like she can disappear under his skin.

“Can I tell you something?”

That’s her way of saying she’s asking for emotional labor, which is honestly appreciated to consent to in advance. “...I suppose,” he allows.

Ah shit, where does she begin? There’s a thousand layers with a thousand more strings threading them together, stitching her heart into a whole human being. It’s just something so fundamental that it’s overwhelming to consider, to try to help someone see how you see without getting lost on the way there. Perhaps the only thing that can be done is start at the beginning…

“The...the day we first met,” the woman ties to explain, and she wonders if he can tell how her pulse is racing. “Hidan took me out to eat...and when I told him I was kidnapped...he said I wasn’t pretty.”

Kakuzu’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at first, though they soon narrow to nearly slits. “...What.” She squirms yet again, burrowing a little lower into his side.

“It...made sense in the context,” she tries to defend once more, “Talking about...why I might have been kidnapped.”

That doesn’t solve that much for Kakuzu, however. “So what?”

…

So everything, really. Her lungs empty again. What comes next may come across like a non sequitur, though it’s far from it for the traveler.

“Kakuzu...you— you were my first kiss...you know?” And finally, finally, she shifts to look up at him. All of a sudden, it makes sense; face so innocent, hands so scared, heart so gentle. Far, far from how Hidan and Kakuzu have lived their lives. And she picks them...? “And…” a smile flickers, genuine despite her anxiety. “...It was...wonderful.”

It’s his turn to heat up now, though it’s hidden behind fabric. He tilts his head to glance down. This is the first they’ve talked about it since it happened... A quick glance to the exit he faces, a quick sensing of chakra— at least as well as he can— and he decides this is safe, so long as their voices stay low.

“...I’m flattered you think so,” he replies sincerely, though so, so tempted to joke that it isn’t much of a compliment if she has only kissed once. The squiggly, shy smile she gives is more than enough reward for holding his tongue so obediently.

“I love you…!” But then...her expression so slowly drops. “I...need to tell you something." It's so, so worried. "And it’s okay if you don’t like it. You just have to know.”

He blinks with a short grunt. What could that mean? “Whatever you say won’t be as bad as you think it is,” Kakuzu assures. But she shakes her head in disagreement.

“You might not like me anymore,” she says, despite every alarm in her brain telling her to stop here. “And that just has to be okay.” Just as she turns to look away, lest she lose her nerve to talk at all, a leathery hand, as delicately as a brute like him can, takes two fingers underneath her chin and pulls her back. The only part of his face visible, still, are his eyes, but that’s all that’s needed.

“Tell me,” he says. And he means it. No anger, no harm, will befall her today. “It’ll be just fine.”

And maybe, just maybe, it will. The woman’s smallest smile comes forth, a teardrop welling in one eye that she shoves away with the back of her hand; Kakuzu’s own pulls back, allowing space. “Okay…” she promises, steeling herself.

With only the books on the shelf to hear, she tells him a secret. The woman had no idea until...well...the exact day is unknown. It more so...crept up on her. Little by little, it became apparent that a piece of her was becoming more prominent...something she never thought would have opportunity to be heard...and not everyone may understand.

“There’s...something from my world,” she starts, though backtracks already. “Though I suppose it may have a name here, too.” Surely it exists, but is it known? Is it accepted? “It’s...it’s like..." she struggles. "You know how people say they give their heart to you and only you?”

He does, though perhaps he's experienced it in a more literal manner. ...Damn, he’s on fire today. Shame it’s not the right place or time to be stand up comedian. As such, Kakuzu allows the woman to continue.

“I...never really understood it,” she admits, making herself so small, and though something deep inside tells her to feel guilty, her heart and mind both know better. It took a long time to get so far as to recognize this is how she is, let alone speak it. “I always thought of love as...bottomless. You know? Like how it can be unconditional. Energy is real and finite, yeah, but…”

You’re halfway there. Just spit it out.

...

...

“I don’t...feel...love...the same way others do. At least...how most others seem to. I can feel love...for more than one person at once.” And you need to elaborate: “Without feeling the need...to...choose.”

He doesn’t move. Not an inch. That could mean anything.

“Y-y-you don’t have to spend time with me,” she apologizes in so many words, tumbling fast as they can before Kakuzu can interrupt. It’s already unbelievable she’s been kissed at all; what if he doesn’t feel that way anymore? What if she just threw it all out the window?! “If that makes you uncomfortable.”

…

…

A shake.

Her eyes pop wide. She feels him tremble. Bit by bit, the stirring inside him grows. And it scares the shit out of her, so much so she sits straight up and stops pressing skin against skin. It scares her...until…

…

He squeezes his eyes shut...and...

The man chuckles.

To her amazement, from deep in his chest and five hearts, he feels joy. She watches in both confusion and awe, gaze flicking up at down over him as he raises a hand to cover a mouth already unseen. Almost like hiccups, a few more laughs come before the man takes in a steadying breath and opens his eyes once again to look at her. There's mirth in them that perhaps no one else has gotten to see.

“Is that all?” And it’s so silly how she perks up in surprise at that. “Listen..." he elaborates, "I’ve been alive longer than most. Certainly longer than you...unless you’re immortal too.” ...Did he tell her that yet? Well, damn. Explanations can come in due time if necessary. “I’ve seen a lot of unbelievable shit. And duckling?”

Duckling, she hears the word ring in her ear like a sweet, sweet bell.

“That’s far from it.”

...It takes a second before her mouth knows how to talk again. “You...you don’t mind?”

“Again. Far from it,” he snorts, tilting his head and hooding his eyelids so coyly, putting an arm over the top of the couch so as to exaggerate his relaxed state. “I knew from the start. You...just love everyone.” And a raise of the brow with enough pause to make sure she sees it. “...Didn’t I tell you so? That’s why I warned you.” Warned her to be strategic about her affections, that is.

And now her mouth is merely open because she is dumbfounded. “You...knew?!”

And he nods.

Blink blink. “I...oh…” And though her cheeks never stopped flushing, somehow the blush takes on a whole new meaning. Kakuzu...understands. He...understands!

“I’m guessing you’re worried Hidan might not get it, too.”

There it is. The heart of the matter. He regrets hopping right to it, as it makes her shrink up just as much as before, but it needs to be done; she didn't bring this up for nothing. And indeed, she did have purpose: “Well, yeah...but...that’s not really the issue, per say. He just...doesn’t...like me that way. And that’s fine! It’s just…”

…

“You want him to.”

She nods, guiltily. “But the one thing I’ve learned is you can’t force people to change how they feel. You can only change what you do about it.”

“Wise words from a silly little duckling.” And though she smiles again, it is still more nervous than happy, so he has to explain. “Takara...I can’t pretend to know that. What he really thinks.” Of course not. “But. I can tell you what I’ve seen. Even he doesn’t ‘love you’, whatever the hell that really means...the damn man is changed. Trust me. I spend every waking moment with the bastard.”

She spurts a giggle, indignant.

“You laugh, but really,” he returns with the slightest dismissive raise of his wrist. And then he turns forward again in his seat, grasp to return to Hidan’s writings meant only for his disciple. Kakuzu lifts it up in demonstration. “No matter what is in this damn book...he’s not the same man he was when he made it, I figure. You of all people should know that affection is so fucking tumultuous… Who gives a shit if he thinks you’re pretty? He’s your friend.” Then the clincher, asking her to think for herself: "Right?"

That's the hardest part. The bottom lip, already scarred from similar, prior action, is bit. Unable to take it, Kakuzu exhales once more and cups her chin again, leaning close so she can focus on nothing else. If she admires him...he's going to make use of it. The next words are whispered.

“That’s something I never thought he had in him.”

The gentle fingers linger away, the woman’s eyes fluttering as she drinks it all in. “He’s...my friend.”

Kakuzu dips his head affirmatively. “Yeah." But enough of that; too many emotions already. "Now let’s get this over with and read this goddamn book.” Then...a sharpness in his stare, a mischievous gleam. “...Unless you want to tell me more about how the likes of me was your first kiss.”

Though it isn’t the sort of easy choice Kakuzu meant it to be for her, the intended answer is still obvious. Still in disbelief, like it’s all a dream, she nods again herself and slides back next to the large rag doll, so warm and kind despite how hard she makes it to be. Whatever is in that book, it has to be okay.

“Let’s see…” he murmurs, soon as she's nice and cozy. No backing down now...

And the minutes pass like nothing, smooth as melting butter. Hidan’s written word begins with mostly what is expected— the best way to draw your ritual circle, the preferred sources of blood both for individuals and for the spots on their body, the nuances of modern dririmancy— but then, page by page, it drifts into something more...metaphysical.

Kakuzu never really gave due credit before how eloquent his partner can be, how well thought. Of course, he has a whole mindset— a whole religion to justify his actions— but the elaboration of it...the depth of introspection Hidan took...Kakuzu becomes wrapped up in it.

And there comes a point that he begins to read out loud less for the performer and more for himself, his own enraptured curiosity.

There comes a point where a man, immortal or not, has to admit his shortcomings. I’m not a genius. I’m not dumb, but I only know what I know. The thing I pray for most, each time you see me put the pendent up to my face, is an answer. I don’t know what it means for there to be a neighbor I don’t want to lose. That’s Jashin’s core tenant, after all: slaughter your neighbor. But what does it mean if despite all that...I got all this fervor and dedication and hot blood for the slaying...I can’t shake it. There are few people in this life I care about, so maybe that’s it. Maybe all my neighbors have just been dirt under my shoe. Takara, my angel—

Kakuzu, at the time this was written before they traveled to the desert, had never heard him call the woman “Takara” nor “angel.” The remainder of the writing rolls of his tongue less like he’s saying it and more he’s being possessed.

What’s a man to do when someone’s more than just a neighbor?

The man takes a gasp as a sound comes from the person pressed to Kakuzu’s side. He looks to her and instead of a similar expression of shock, she is as relaxed as can be. She exhales, low and soft...and he sighs.

Goddammit...when did she fall asleep?

His deep, gravely voice has put adrift a weary woman, so emotionally exhausted from the events of today, to her dreams at the ocean. He turns back to the book, the words meant just for her from a reaper so desperate for a listening ear, and he wonders how much of their conversations on bounty hunts and religious killings were just talking and ignoring instead of really comprehending. Kakuzu’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t dare read the last page of this book out loud.

I want you to tell me if you love me, too. Maybe then I’ll know what to do about it.

Hidan either knew all along she never read his book, or he’s been waiting all this time, wondering if she’s just sparing him his feelings. Kakuzu, realizing this, throws the back of his skull onto the back of the cushion, hearts so heavy and light all at once he's left to stare at the ceiling. The zombies really, really need to have a talk...especially before whatever these two idiots feel come to a head with all that's been left unsaid.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was a mistake, I'll take my leave

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Kakuzu’s not a sensor type, after all. Of course he heard everything.

Zetsu watches the woman as she sits on the swing all alone once again, kicking her legs despite the length and weight of a billowing eggshell skirt. The black cape around her shoulders flies like the black wings Itachi has used to keep tabs on her in his absence. That dumb smile...the way she plays like there’s nothing better to do...it’s nearly disgusting.

...Zetsu walks up until he can finally be noticed.

Feet in brown boots skid in dirt and dead grass to a stop, though the performer's pleasant demeanor is still in place. “Oh! Hi, sir.”

Sir... She only calls people that if she doesn’t actually respect them; everyone else has made it past “sir...” Yes...yes indeed... As he has suspected, this woman knows what she’s doing. Those eyes aren't bright with friendliness but with challenge. She thinks she is in charge. How very dangerously naive.

And though the dialog between two sides doesn’t escape their own mind, the observer upon the swing can still begin tell something is starkly wrong. She gasps in a staggering, confused way as the creature just continues to loom over her. The quiver in her eyes...yes... She finally gets it... She is reacting!

“...It’s time we exchanged that favor,” the dark voice says, though light could just as easily have agreed. A twitch in her expression, the childish delight merging to horror...it is delicious.

“I’ll tell them,” White Zetsu threatens. “I’ll tell them everything.” He smiles so, so saccharine, just as well as the haunting ghost can. How dare she… How DARE she! She’s had this coming, and so it is so easily, easily savored. “You little ghost...you’re dead and gone. And what to show for it...?”

His shadow casts over her, a woman trembling and helpless to his whims, the shape of those giant teeth framing to close in around her, much like it did the hoshi-nin he killed for her selfish sake. She has no control over him, never did. She can hardly even stutter his name. "Z-z-ze-..."

“You’ll be seen as what you are: a liar! A pathetic little lying ghost with nothing to give except her own life...that is, if you even still own it.” Calm, yellow irises stare much too still-like. The predator has pinned the prey, after such long and tantalizing wait. Her chest rises and falls with panicked breath, much like the running, running rabbit she is cornered by the wolves.

...But he hasn’t even bitten in yet:

“What will you do then?” he says, like it’s nothing. For the second time today, tears well in her eyes and her mouth doesn’t know how to speak, though this is a different manner entirely and he knows it so well. “Where will you run to? Who will accept you? There will be no escaping what you’ve done, Takara.” A tilt up of his chin, a hawk pinning down a worm.

“They’ll even know that’s not your real name.”

And now she has no choice but to talk, lest the woman collapse on herself:

“...What?”

And the complete eye of the plant’s blinks. “What?” he repeats with a coo, so very mockingly. But that doesn't solve it, this problem he's brought forth upon them both.

“What do I…?” she can hardly stutter past the racing blood pounding her ears. “...What...what is it? What? What do I—?!”

…

The lines that make up the white half of his face begin to shift. The curve that makes his grin...begins...to...drop. The worst thing of all, more than anything he has said or ever could say...is refusing her this. And so the stranger so lost begs for her new life again, louder and more desperately now that she has something to lose:

“What do you want…?!” Again, again! Speak! Fucking tell her what this MEANS! “What do you WANT!!!”

Loud enough the trees shake off what few leaves remain on their branches. Loud enough the birds caw in reply. Loud enough...that...—

The man named after tongues no longer knows how to use his own.

—...That he feels her pain in whatever semblance of a heart Zetsu claims to own.

He just stares. There she is, just as he wanted. Scared, desperate, underneath his thumb, remorseful of her actions...and yet.

And yet.

...He is not satiated.

She. Asks. Again. The agony in her voice is tangible:

“...What the hell do you want from me, you fucking MONSTER?!"

...Zetsu does not know. With his continued silence, the woman throws herself off the swing and runs, runs away.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

But before I go, let me know if you see

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“TAKARA-CHAN!”

She nearly jumps out of her skin as in the middle of sprinting into her supposed safe home, arms with gloved hands close around her, gripping her tight enough to suffocate. Panic comes first— She’s being trapped—!

“Takara-chan, I have news!”

...No. She takes in a deep breath. Pretend you’re fine. He’s not a part of this, whatever Zetsu is doing. Surely not. He promised to protect her, after all. But can he protect from—

“GREAT news!” the cheery fellow sings.

...And though she can’t see his face, the stranger knows by tone that she is supposed to grin. Bit by bit, muscles at the corners of her lips are instructed to upturn. “Y...yeah?”

He lets go just enough to be able to step back, take in the coming delight he's about to bring forth. “You’re going to get more friends!”

…

And something inside her begins to crack.

“What?”

Oh, he needs to elaborate, doesn’t he? “I just got word! Leader-sama and his best friend are on the way!” Yes, yes!!! More people for his beloved to play with! The woman stands there with her mouth open, eyes wide, so she must be still taking the idea in. “They’re coming to meet you! To LIVE here, with us!”

And now, without her telling them to, the muscles of her face twitch her smile wider and wider, uncaring if it begins to look like the grimace it really is

“That’s. That’s...great.”

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Fucking SHIT!!!

With a small “oof!” from him as she accidentally bumps, the stranger slides past Tobi and runs away, leaving him wondering if it is necessary for the fool to soften another introduction to their growing family.

Little does he know, a new world is falling apart at the seams. She needs to hold it all in before this sharp crack begins to spread and shatter.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A little black bag with the toe tag, please

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[wickedsrest-rp]

Name: Conor Kiernan Species: Faun Occupation: Florist at Inflorescence Age: 70 Years Old (Looks about 32) Played By: Amélie Face Claim: Jeremy Allen White

"Get the fuck out with your sense of community. We are not the fucking same."

TW: Parental death (mentions)

Born in 1953, Conor grew up in South Boston, Massachusetts, or Southie, as he would most likely call it. His whole family was anchored deeply in their Irish heritage and as a result so was he, despite having never once set foot there. “His whole family” might not have been the right way to put it. This would be, however, again, how Conor would call it. By doing so, he chose to completely forget about his paternal roots, but the odds were that you would never hear Conor talk or even mention his father. He was the one responsible for all that went wrong in his life. He was the one responsible for his condition, he was the one who knocked up his mom, the one who disappeared and the one who was appreciated by everyone despite being a piece of shit, a coward and a fucking prick. That fucking son of a bitch.

An absent father was never fun, but the joke was not hi-fucking-larious with a cherry on top just fucking yet, was it?

Conor saw his friends grow hair and grow tall. He too grew a bit taller, and he sure grew hair, all over his legs, his goat-like, hooves included, legs, with a ridiculous tail, stupid ears and a pair of horns to complete the freakshow look.

For some reason, Conor found that he could hide it, or at least, that people didn't seem to see all of that. Yet, things changed for him. People who usually ignored him (he wasn't mad about it) started to think of him as someone charming, and it all started to look a bit too much like the sort of attitude people adopted regarding his dad.

At around that time, in the middle of teenage-hood, Conor's father made his return.

Conor knew that he could not expect much, but he still felt compelled to listen to his father, if only to get an explanation, a cure, anything.

August 1968 was the first and last time he saw the bloody bastard. It appeared they were alike (hu-fucking-rray !) : a subspecies of fae called fauns who enjoyed dancing ( hell no) and a good amount of over-indulgence from others. To put it simply: his life would be an exciting one, full of parties and cheerful folks, or it would simply not be.

Stubborn as he was, he tried to beat nature more than once, first with a dull job, which made him feel completely miserable, then, with an hermit life that while it wasn't the worst, resulted in Conor nearly starving himself to death. It was around then he first overfed on a human, but that would not be the last time. Of course, none of that made him feel like a person, like himself.

Although he wanted nothing to do with his father, and he is still closed off to fae, Conor wants to put his shit together and well, the place where all these stories seem to come from is as good as any other place to start, right?

Character Facts:

Personality: Imaginative, reserved, insecure, unfocused, thoughtful, compassionate, exacting, rude

Over the years, Conor has collected more names than he could possibly count, all because of a bad habit of asking Can I have your name anytime someone wants to order flowers. He doesn’t know about promises either.

He has no idea of how his abilities work, and fails at being a faun, down to being jovial. His father explained the broadlines, and a few folks may have died thanks to his inability to properly understand his feeding process.

A red cat has made the shop their home and Conor is quite happy with the company. He started growing a patch of grass for his fluffy friend, and the cat follows him upstairs to his flat when the flower shop closes.

He started playing the violin when he was 5 years old and has kept on learning ever since. You can hear him play in his bedroom from the sidewalk and feel an urge to start dancing.

Though he prefers to focus on flowers and plants, Conor’s skills with nature extend to his garden, at the back of the shop, which stands out for the clear absence of a mowed lawn. You’ll find a large amount of insects here, thriving in his attempt at reproducing some biodiversity.

[cmrosens]

#MonstrousMay Day 3: Hypnotised

An extract from Chapter 9 of THE DAY WE ATE GRANDAD

“You look nervous,” Jem Foreman observed, and Theo tried not to blush. Nerves were natural, he told himself, and not at all a sign of doubt. It was the thrill of it, being so close to ultimate power, the source of their family’s glory.

Of course, Jem was never nervous. He was as stoic as usual, defying the warmth of the late spring evening with a plain grey golf jacket to hide the ooze seeping through his shirt. They were in the car park of an abandoned warehouse, where Japanese knotweed and nettle patches had fought the concrete and won. The warehouse was one of David Wend’s, but Theo wasn’t sure if he knew his relations had commandeered it.

Uncle David hadn’t used it for a while, probably not since the people trafficking thing. Theo had heard rumours that had ended badly. He wondered why Uncle David was still alive.

Theo shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You better be.”

“I told you I wouldn’t let you down,” Theo said, trying to keep his voice level, “And I won’t.”

Jem eyed him. “I hope that’s the collective ‘you’, not me personally, because this isn’t about me. And it’s not about us, either. You know that, right?”

Theo wanted to know what the fuck ‘us’ meant if it didn’t mean dinner and a bottle of red wine in front of the television and screwing whenever Jem felt like it. If that wasn’t enough, he’d hoped being part of this greater cause would at least make Jem see he was boyfriend material.

“Of course I do.” Theo licked his lips. “Am I in trouble? For running away yesterday?”

Jem shook his head, giving him a soft smile of reassurance. “No. You’re not in trouble. Her glory has come in handy, though. We’re making use of that in the ritual today.”

He turned and beckoned Theo to follow him.

“Her glory?” Theo picked his way carefully around the potholes and headed to the heavy metal side door.

“Such as it is. Wend-McVeys aren’t exactly prime specimens. But the shrine wants what it wants, and it wants someone’s glory for this ritual. Why cut one of ours off when hers was lying there?”

Theo tried to act nonchalant. “Granny Shaw used to say—”

“With the greatest respect,” Jem said, cutting him off, “If it wasn’t for Olive Shaw, we’d have already Ascended. Neither Beverley Wend nor Olive Shaw had the sense to see Granny Foreman was right. It’s our time. That’s why we’re here. Right, Theo?”

Theo stopped, cheeks burning. He made himself nod.

“Right, Theo?” Jem repeated.

“Yes, Jem,” Theo said.

“Are you ready?”

Beyond Jem was the darkness of the warehouse. It was all very straightforward, nothing to worry about. Theo licked his lips.

“Sure.”

Jem handed him a robe and a mask from just inside the door. Theo slipped them on, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom.

The light was steadily fading over the tarmac and concrete beyond the car park fence, the sky bleeding reds and oranges in sickly bands that made him feel empty inside. Sunsets always made him feel weirdly anxious, balanced on the edge of the definite velvet energy of nightfall on one hand and the clear rush of day on the other.

He didn’t like the weak amber of the dying sunlight, refusing to give up for far longer than it should. It was a nothing time, a nowhere time, and Theo hated it.

The warehouse swallowed them in shadow, and it was a relief when the door closed and left him safe in the dark.

The Remnant were gathered, robed and Changed, and Theo allowed his proboscis to slide out of his throat to demonstrate his own glory, such as it was. It unfurled hesitantly, hard slim casing pressing on his tongue, a reedy thing next to all the crustaceous limbs and anemone fronds like udon noodles cased in aspic, the thick octopodid arms and needle-mouthed suckers, the tight, thick coils, strong as snakes, tough as tree roots.

Theo rubbed the back of his neck beneath his hood and nearly knocked it down again, jostled by the press of relatives.

He had managed to hunker down in his pew when the family fled the church, but bruises were starting to form on his sensitive skin, marks of sensible heels and just-in-case umbrellas as his aunts clambered over him to flee their Death God. Theo had fled too, once he’d stopped being trampled.

The jostling reminded him of where the bruises were, and he whimpered, scuttling through the crowd to find somewhere he wouldn’t be elbowed in his tender ribs.

He didn’t know what had happened to Layla, but he prayed to Grandad that she was all right. He’d always liked her.

The shrine was in the middle of the derelict space, containing pieces from the Wend shrine salvaged from Wundorwick and articles from the Foreman shrine used by the last head of the family. With the devouring of Uncle Marcus and Aunty Ida, the family were rudderless, and there had been no time to call another election. The other shrines lay silent and abandoned.

Theo slipped to the front, letting the conversations wash over him.

The body of this shrine was an antique apothecary cabinet that had belonged to Olive Shaw. There was an engorged heart pierced with a large hatpin on the flat top. The drawers were open in a pattern forming a rough spiral, and in each one a strange stone phosphoresced. A ring of candles encircled it, more for the aesthetic, Theo supposed, but also because there was no electricity in the warehouse, and it was getting dark.

His proboscis throbbed with his quickened pulse and flicked involuntarily around before he could retract it.

Jem oozed over to his brothers Gavin and Brandon, laconic Gavin fresh from his latest hike across the Andes with his close-cropped beard and chestnut man-bun perched high on his head, bully-boy Brandon standing to attention like a militarised slab of beef.

The three of them entered the circle of candles, and a hush descended on the gathering.

“Are you ready to see yourselves for what you are?” Gavin asked, taking the lead.

“We are,” Theo said with the others, sucking in his proboscis to speak clearly.

“Are you ready to see what awaits us?”

Theo was less sure of this, but he answered appropriately, and in unison. “We are.”

“Tonight, we open the portal,” Gavin said, and a thrill chased up Theo’s back. There was a hiss of anticipation, and Theo stopped listening.

Gavin was giving it the hard sell, the way Theo tried to sell waistcoats to the guy who came into his shop every Wednesday to buy another tie, but it was the shine in his eyes that held Theo’s attention.

Gavin had never looked twice at Theo, but the few words they’d exchanged over the cold buffet last Yule had been pretty great.

Theo huddled in the safety of his hood and robe, burning with guilt over Jem’s brother, desperate for Gavin to look his way, while wondering if Jem even cared where he was. The more impassioned Gavin got, hood down, candle flames throwing sharp shadows across his strong cheekbones and chiselled jaw, the more Theo throbbed with shame and longing.

It was when he missed a crucial part of the speech that prompted liturgical responses, too tongue-tied to get a word out, that he realised his heart wasn’t in the future of the family the way it ought to be.

He wasn’t ready.

The three Foreman brothers began to chant. Layla’s severed glory was unwrapped by Brandon and placed alongside the heart. The mouth at its tip fastened onto the oversized organ like a leech, the severed end jerking into life.

Theo flinched as Jem cut his arm and oozed over it.

It was always about sacrifice, about pain, about blood.

Doubts prickled in the back of his mind. Would it ever be anything else? When Grandad rose, when his priests swarmed and covered the earth, what would they get at the end? What would be left?

Until then he had imagined a new world order, the kind of hedonistic utopia of legend and myth.

Gavin was waxing lyrical about conservation and eco-spirituality and how they were really saving the planet, how nature would find a balance and the Remnant would be transcendent, Ascended, the true gods ruling over lesser species. That didn’t sit well with Theo.

Jem had always emphasised the physical changes, the attaining of godhood, the power they would wield as their birthright and reward. Now, he wasn’t sure what sort of reward that would be, but he was starting to think the image he had in his head – an image Jem had encouraged – wasn’t quite what would happen.

The ritual began.

Theo hadn’t been part of one like this since his own Changes, drawn into Great-Aunt Beverley’s cellar with his siblings and parents, trying not to cry.

He quivered, wishing he hadn’t pushed his way so close to the shrine, and realising the press of family at his back meant he was stuck there.

The stones glowed; the heart began to pulse.

Reality tore in front of him, a white-hot flash ripped through the air in an arc within the circle of candles. Theo couldn’t catch his breath, air rushing by him in a rollercoaster of spinning fractals while he knew he was standing still.

The light was bright as lightning, and then it was daylight. A blinding sun lighting a wasteland of obsidian and jet, reflecting into the warehouse. Theo stared into the desolation of Grandad’s domain, eyes aching and dry, and saw things that might once have been trees, stunted and fossilised on a headland of rotting fish thrown up in low tide. This was no utopia.

The chanting of the Remnant reminded him he should be chanting too.

Jem was shifting shape in front of his eyes, twisting into something elastic and indescribable, something fluid and solid at the same time, something alien and erotic and wonderful. Theo felt a tug in his own throat and let his proboscis free.

His throat expanded around it as it uncoiled, not the reedy little thing of a few moments ago, but something that the rest of his body burgeoned from like a fruit, his whole sentience and senses bound up in the length of star-grey, rippling power arcing from his mouth. His lips stretched wide, then wider, his teeth sank into his own flesh and his skull cracked and split.

Everything that was Theo was falling away, limbs nothing but stumps, extremities discarded. He was only his glory, his glory was him. He arced through the air, hungry for assimilation.

LET ME THROUGH!

The Voice filled Theo with ecstatic terror. It brought him down from his flight of glory and flung him back to his eighteenth birthday, the day he’d Changed. He remembered the pain, the needle in his neck that pushed through and strangled his vocal chords, the blindfold that itched, the way the cellar floor had become hot black sand…

He shrank back into nothing at the irresistible demand and realised how small he was compared to the Voice, the power in it reverberating through every fibre of his body.

His proboscis withdrew, all its glory illusory.

Theo would have fallen if it weren’t for the family pressing around him, keeping him on his feet.

His doubts crystallised in cold certainty.

He didn’t want to meet the Voice at all.

There was no way to close the portal now that it had opened; or if there was, Theo couldn’t think of one. He couldn’t move, the candles now an impassable ring of brilliant fire that was somehow a solid wall of glittering air. Nothing made any sense. The warehouse was twisting out of shape, and Theo was sure he was upside down.

Then he heard it.

Not the Voice.

Worse.

The rustling of insects, wings beating in sync, a swarm of something terrible, massing over the volcanic crags and filling the alien air. The swarm grew louder, and Theo saw them masking a shape, something that moved in impossible angles, something vast and horrible, coming for them with frightening speed.

Panic seized him. His chest turned to ice.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Someone pushed him, desperate to get closer, and Theo fell into the candles. He bounced back, singed, and knew even if he ran away it wouldn’t help.

Joining an apocalyptic death cult solely for someone he was screwing to finally admit they were together was the worst choice he’d ever made, and it was also going to be his last.

Theo braced himself, a sob of horror escaping his dry mouth, waiting for the swarm.

Something twinkled in the wasteland between the rocks. It grew and glittered, a second portal of light drawing energy from this one.

Theo felt a tug in his head, a strange itch behind his eyes.

He saw a face.

It burst into his head with sudden clarity and it was not a face he had ever seen before, but it had a strange air of familiarity as if it had always been lodged in his brain somewhere.

It was not a human face, but it wore one like a mask.

It had too many dimensions, too many layers, too many sides. It had human features, but even they weren’t right, as if the Face had heard about human eyes and noses and mouths when making its copy, but had never seen them before. The Face defied description, eating away at his attempts to make sense of it, feeding from his confusion.

The Face was the only True Face he would ever see.

Theo prayed to the Face to save him from the swarm, offering his strength and soul to the Face if it would close the portal.

The True Face stared through him, now all that he could see, all that he was aware of. Its not-human eyes glittered darkly, a myriad of others trapped behind them, making up the fractured colours of the irises.

It saw him, saw straight through him, saw him naked and exposed and raw, a grub of slime and quivering terror, and its lips peeled back from too many molars into a wide, stretched smile.

Theo’s strength leached out of him.

Something cracked. He heard it, a sonic boom somewhere in the Outside. The shrine exploded in shards of stone and painted wood. The portal closed.

Theo fell back as the candles were extinguished.

He lifted his head from the blood-splashed concrete.

Jem, Brandon and Gavin Foreman were dead.

He was coated with them.

The warehouse echoed with the Remnant’s moans, mutterings and wails of dismay.

“Did you see that?” Theo hissed, grabbing a cousin’s arm. “The Face! Did you see it?”

But the cousin shook her head. “I don’t – what happened?”

“The Face,” Theo whispered, too stunned to process the fact that bits of his lover were all over the fucking walls. Weirdly, he didn’t care. The Face stuck in his mind, sharp as a cravat stud. “Did anyone see it? Anyone else?”

Only a few looked at him as if they knew what he meant. The others had glazed expressions, as if waking from bad dreams.

“The Face,” Theo whispered, his head buzzing.

He stayed on the floor, coated in blood and scraps of Foreman flesh, as the screaming finally started.

[dollwritesarchive]

random thot if you want to write something:

riding Jason so slowly that he gets mad and starts to pound u from below so hard all u can do is hold on and cry~~~

hehehe you know the way to my heart, lovebug 🥰

warnings: this is a dark fic. noncon, gun kink, black mask’s daughter!reader, name calling ( both ), manhandling, threats against reader, videotaping, post facial, dacryphilia, degradation, Jason’s overall very mean

from the moment the camera had been angled towards you, the Red Fucking Hood had made your life hell.

you’d known he was after your father— you’d eavesdropped on plenty of meetings. Black Mask was more and more frustrated by the destruction of the criminal empire he’d built. The Red Hood was tearing it down.

still, you thought the new security detail, the extra beefy and armed men in black masks and suits would be enough to protect you. surely Red Hood wouldn’t bother taking on a small legion, would he?

much to your dismay, he would. he did. and you were the spoils for the victor.

“We’re going to make a movie for your daddy. Show him what a good time his little princess is having with The Red Hood while he’s hiding like a pussy.” you thought he’d beat you. torture you. it’s what you’d come to expect from the cutthroat criminals in Gotham, but he’d taunted you instead. bent you over the table and made you talk to the camera, to your father, tell him that you belonged to Red Hood now while he held your hips, grinding his into yours from behind.

he’d mocked you for whining when he tore your clothes; the tattered dress still hangs off your figure in strips of thousand dollar bandage, but your panties had been nearly completely shredded and stuffed in your mouth to shut you up, he’d said. “You’re so much cuter when you’re not running that cocksucker.” he hissed in your ear when he grabbed you by the throat. the mask he wore rubbed against your tear-streaked cheek and muffled his voice, but the snarl in it sent shivers up your spine. “When I want it open, I’ll stuff my dick in it.” and he had.

“We’re gonna have to train that throat of yours.” he’d said when his gloved palm came down firm on the back of your head, pushing your forehead into his belt buckle. you gagged, and he’d actually laughed at you for it. “That too much for you, Princess?” you nodded, hoping he would ease up, but he only bucked his hips more forcefully, until you were seeing double, strangled cries of panic dying deep in your throat as he fucked it. “That’s too bad. You’re going to take it.”

you were facefucked dumb and gasping for breath, drool and tears mixing into a salty cocktail when he painted your face. he even had you force a smile for the camera with his cum dribbling from your chin. “Fuck you.” it was the only two words your empty brain could manage, and even then, you choked on it, lips stretched wide over your teeth.

still, it had thoroughly pissed off Jason, who grasped your throat with his gloved hand and pulled you close, his snarl muffled behind the mask. “Listen very carefully,” he’d started, squeezing your windpipe until you were gagging silently, “I’m going to fuck that rotten attitude right out of you. You hear me? You’re gonna be my little breeding bitch by the time we’re done, and daddy dearest is going to watch the whole thing.” he’d then turned to the camera, looking at it, and even though his expression was hidden, you had a feeling he was smirking behind that damn mask.

you tried to remember that you were thankful he’d scooped you into his lap, because at least then you didn’t have to stare into the blinking, red light recording every second of your decimation any longer. braided cord binding your wrists, your panties shoved back into your mouth, but you were trying to catch your breath, drooling cum and spit down your chin and on to your breasts when he perched you right on his hard cock. you whimpered, back arching. your body wants to reject the entry, pull yourself up and collapse on the floor instead, but with one hand tight on your hip and the other holding on to the grip of the pistol in your face, you’ve no choice but to accept his offering, sliding down with a pathetic mewl.

“So fucking wet,” he growled with lusty delight, “you enjoying this, too, whore?” you try your best to shake your head, eyebrows furrowed, but when he pushes you body down, forcing you to take him all, your vulgar squeal tells a different story. “That’s it, just enjoy it. You might as well, right? Nobody’s coming to save you.” you stall against his belt, filled to the brim with outlaw cock, and you glare at him with wet eyes, lashes sticking together. “Why would they? Look at you,” he continues, wickedly using the barrel of the handgun to tilt your chin upwards, “messy little thing, sitting on a stranger’s cock. Hell, I even roughed you up and you’re still fucking soaked. Go ahead and ride, show your daddy. I know you know how.”

you’re furious. you hate him, but you brace your palms against his chest, rolling your hips slow as you raise and lower yourself. his size wasn’t the easiest to take, and he was right — you were roughed up. tired. if he would just let you ride your own pace…

Red Hood groans from behind his mask, a bored groan, and drags his gun along the shape of your breasts, “That all you got?” he demands with an incredulous scoff, “‘S fucking pathetic.” your fingers twitch, splayed out against the expanse of his chest, but you want to dig your nails in, to draw blood to the surface.

fuck him.

you try to ignore him, rocking your hips slow, falling into a pleasurable rhythm for you, and your eyes close as you release a muffled, sultry moan.

but that clearly wasn’t enough for the Red Hood, that drops his gun on the desk, bracing his boots on the floor. “I gotta do every little fucking thing for you, don’t I?” both, strong fists curl around your hips and lock you to him, hilt deep again, so your back arches in protest of being so full.

“Yrr…. Frcking…Rshool…” you groan, words barely comprehensible through your gag, but he seems to understand perfectly, because his grip tightens, and without warning, his hips piston, ramming up into your poor body with all the strength he could muster. “FRCK!” your voice, broken and hoarse, dies in the lingerie stuffed in your mouth in hapless screams as he pounds away, fucking you like he wanted to break you in half, and you suspected he did.

“There. We. Go.” he grunts, in time to punctuate each time his tip slams against your cervix, “Those are the sounds I want to hear, sing for me, whore!”

you push against his chest, tears streaming down your cheeks to mix with the cum and spit already smeared over your countenance; but you weren’t entirely sure you wanted him to stop. you could feel, with each brutal thrust, that he was hitting a need, deep in your belly. the need to be used like this. fucked like a breathing fleshlight, abused. your screams began to morph into moaning, needy, and instead of pushing him away, you were trying to hold on to his chest, keep him close, walls spasming as they milked him.

“Look at you,” he breathes, hips slamming into yours as hard as you thought physically possible, “squirming and moaning, about to cum on my cock. You were a filthy whore long before I came along, weren’t you?” you shake your head, indignant, but you really just wanted to contradict anything to come out of his mouth out of spite, your eyes are rolling around in their sockets, head empty, you weren’t even sure you’d really heard a word he’d said, his cock dumbing you into a state of brainless bliss. “Don’t lie to yourself anymore, only true whores go completely airheaded on a dick like you. You’re so close to cumming, aren’t you? I bet that tummy’s churning, and you want me to blow your back out so fucking bad—“

you’d started to nod. even though you didn’t want to, even though you wanted to pretend you hated the way he plowed into you until you were aching, you couldn’t help but actually nod. you were so close, hanging on by a thread, your legs starting to tense and shake. the same velocity and power for just a moment more would’ve thrown you into a whirlwind of bliss.

Jason knows that, and that’s why he shoves you off of his lap.

with an embarrassing squeak of disapproval, followed by several, muffled “no”s and “please”s, you collapse like a jiggling, bowl of jelly on the floor on your side, unfulfilled. your orgasm was soiled, leaving you frustrated and shivering, sensitive. Red Hood places the sole of his boot against your ass and gives it a shove when you try to get to your feet, where your arms and legs give out and you end up back on your face and knees in the floor.

“I didn’t say we were done, bitch.” he hissed, and you heard the mechanic whirring as he takes the hood from his head. looking up from your place on the ground, you see his face for the first time; you’re amazed at just how gorgeous he is. “I’m gonna fuck you over and over, until that pussy is so sensitive you scream when I even touch it,” he’s grinning, clear eyes sparkling with carnal delight, and he pushes himself to his feet, giving your ass a swat while he talks. you whimper, cowering as close to the floor as you can, “I’m going to force you right to the edge, but you’re not going to cum a single fucking time. You thought you were giving me alligator tears before,” Jason grabs hold of a fistful of your hair and lifts your head up, angling to the camera again so he can kiss your cheek, his tongue swirling over the mess, “I’m going to fuck you into madness, and then drop your ass off on Arkham’s doorstep, babbling and broken.” he takes a moment to wink at the camera, before turning you to face him for the first time, using his free hand to pry the gag from your mouth.

“N—no, please,” you whine, batting wet lashes up at him. “Please… I’ll be good. Don’t take me to Arkham.”

Jason laughs, “You’re lucky I’m letting you live at all. Don’t you know who the fuck I am?” he was right; you knew all about the Red Hood, and how many criminals he’s killed. “Don’t worry, slut, I’ve got a couple of connections up there. The only person with a key to your room will be me. I’ll come check in regularly enough to fuck your head back empty again, keep you a silly, little fuck sleeve so you don’t even notice you’re locked up.”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 3)

Summary: Reader earns her nickname, and Spencer sinks to a new level of sin. A/N: Here, take your first dose of smut 💊 ✨ Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Drinking, alcohol, masturbation (male) Word Count: 5.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

——————————————————

If I had to pick my favorite thing about working for Spencer Reid, it would probably be something that most people wouldn’t expect. Sure, it was nice to be able to work with a human encyclopedia, and he was definitely very nice to look at, but neither of those things contributed to my love for my job.

It was the sense of belonging. An overwhelming feeling of serenity that existed, flowing freely beneath the surface like a network of roots twined together. I never felt out of place when I was with Spencer — which couldn’t be said for basically any other time. Especially not now.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it’s just absurd. You harass your neighbors while dressed in a costume and they reward you with something sweet (or, in some cases, change). As I’ve grown older, not much has changed aside from the creativity and length of the costumes.

... and the sweet treats being replaced by the bitter sting of alcohol.

“You do realize that guy was hitting on you in there, right?” my friend shouted from less than a foot to my right.

“He was just being nice.”

“Yeah... in a bar,” another girl chimed in, “On Halloween.”

I tried to remember the face of the man they were talking about, but my memory of his eyes blended into the flashing lights of the club. Even if I wasn’t drunk, I knew it would have been hard to remember him. Because the truth was that he wasn’t the person I wanted to see when I closed my eyes.  

“Leave her alone. She’s trying to stay pure for her professor,” my friend snickered.

Despite the treachery, I still caught her before she almost pushed us both straight off the curb in her drunken state. But it wasn’t her opinion I was worried about, because at that point, I was certain she would remember none of it by the time class rolled around come Monday. It was our other acquaintance that I responded to, with a very squeaky and unreliable, “I am not doing that!”

“Yeah, what she wants isn’t pure at all,” the mess on my shoulder droned. That was enough of a reason for me to drop her, although it really resulted in both of us barely staying on our feet on the somewhat crowded sidewalk.

“Stop! It’s not like that!”

“Sure it’s not.”

Then, something else caught her attention. Knowing her, I figured that it was either a man in a scandalous costume, or it was a two for one drink deal plastered in front of a bar. I assumed it was the latter, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed hold of our hands and yanked us against the brick wall of the next bar.

“So you wouldn’t mind if, theoretically, Professor Reid saw you in your costume?” she asked.

I like to think that I am a relatively smart girl. After all, I had made my way to graduate school, and Spencer seemed to think that I wasn’t a complete hopeless idiot. But in that moment, I couldn’t understand why on earth she would ever think to ask me that.

Running my hands over the fuzzy pink bodysuit I was wearing, I tried to picture his reaction. As soon as I tried to look down, however, the two floppy bunny ears affixed to the hood dropped over my eyes.

“I-I mean, I guess not…?” I mumbled, my face growing hot from something other than the alcohol, “I’m wearing it in public, so...”

But then she said it — the most terrifying two words I’d ever heard in my life.

“Okay ­– good.”

My eyes shot up immediately, trying to follow her eyes through the crowd of drunk, costumed people. By the time that I spotted him, somewhat thankfully dressed in normal clothes, I was powerless to stop it.

“Dr. Reid!” My friend’s voice rang out into the night, “Dr. Reid, come over here!”

The moment our eyes met, I knew I was fucked. Totally, completely, and utterly fucked. A clever little grin filled his cheeks as he quickly spotted me trying to hide under my hood.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I shrieked, but he was already on his way over.

“You said you didn’t mind!”

In a panicked whisper, I bit back, “I didn’t say call him over here!”

When he grew closer, though, I corrected myself. Because it was not just Spencer who was walking over. There was someone else with him. Another man, just as tall and just as beautiful as Spencer, but with a dark complexion and an even more wicked smile.

As for my company, they had already scattered into the bar behind me, leaving me with a wordless, dumbstruck look on my face that was very poorly hidden behind bunny ears.

“H-hey Prof— Dr. Reid,” I managed to get out.  

“Hey,” he answered in a tone I’d never heard before. A slightly guarded, very entertained but mostly awkward stretch of the vowel.

The man beside him, however, was quick to question.

“Who’s this?”

As I said before, I like to consider myself a relatively bright person. But the alcohol that night had been both free and strong. So, when I was asked by a handsome man who I was on the Devil’s night, I answered honestly.

“I’m a bunny!” I cried, bringing my hands together over my chest and turning to present the small pink pompom affixed to my lower back.

“I can see that,” the stranger replied through a genuine chuckle. But while the action was amusing to at least two of us in the conversation, Spencer looked mortified. It wasn’t necessarily negative, though.

I couldn’t be sure, of course, considering that I had already consumed more liquor that night than I had in the past month, but something told me that Spencer was less humiliated by me, and more worried about how blatant his response to my answer was. Because when he spoke, he did so through a smile.

“She’s uh... my teaching assistant.”

“Teaching assistant, huh?” his friend repeated, clearly amused.

There was almost a challenge to the title. Something about the way he said it setting my heart into overdrive. Unable to control my own treacherous tongue, I continued to dig myself a wonderfully sized hole to jump in to.

“I’m also very good at hopping,” I said.  

Once again, the better company of the two laughed. Spencer, however, covered his smile with a hand that brought attention to just how red his face had grown over the course of a few seconds. I was so distracted by it, lost in the way I could still see upturned lips just from his eye shape alone, that I failed to acknowledge the other man for a suspicious length of time.

“Well hey, don’t let me get in the way of you two catching up. Reid, I’ll go tell the hostess we’re here, so the others know where to go.”

With a firm pat on the shoulder, the man almost turned to walk away. But before he could, I drew him back again.

“Ooh, is there a party?”

Spencer, finally able to speak again, rushed his reply.

“No, it’s nothing.”

It was obviously not nothing, though. Judging by the toothy grin that his friend flashed, it was a very big not-nothing.

“Did he not tell you?” he asked with an incredulous, mischievous tone, “It’s his birthday.”

And it was, by far, the most insulting, scandalous news I’d heard that night. Enough to elicit a sharp gasp and hand reaching out to grab his wrist in a way I knew I shouldn’t have.

“You didn’t tell me it’s your birthday!”

My mind was racing, kicking myself for having not figured it out sooner. I was trying to recall the monthly staff newsletter, but then quickly remembered that I usually relied on Spencer to summarize them for me.

“It’s not my birthday,” he explained with a sigh, “It was a few days ago.”

His friend seemed pleased by my response, although he clearly saw it dwindling. My heels had already dropped back down with my hands that fell away, signaling a very different emotion than the excitement from seconds prior.

“We’re meeting up with some people for drinks and dinner. You want to come?” he asked, trying to convince me before it was too late.

But the moment had passed, replaced by loud, insecure ranting that insisted that Spencer wouldn’t have avoided telling me his birthday unless he didn’t want me to know. That meant he either didn’t enjoy making a fuss out of his birthday, or he didn’t want me to, specifically.

“Uhh...”

“Don’t answer that,” Spencer cut in, swiftly raising a hand to dismiss the other man whose name I finally learned. “Thanks Derek, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Suit yourself,” he mumbled back. But Derek, in all of his disappointment, didn’t fail to draw out one more flustered laugh from the two of us who remained as he gave a tiny half-wave and sang, “Goodbye, Bunny.”

Spencer’s neck craned back, never once leaving his friend until he had safely entered the restaurant. Once he was sure that he was safe from ridicule, or at least observation, his entire demeanor changed.

“I’m sorry about that,” he offered, but I couldn’t accept. If anyone had been a bother here, it was me (and my friends).

“No, I’m sorry I bothered you!” I rushed.

The silence stretched between us, an unsettling reminder that we rarely interacted outside of work. That he’d never known me to party, and I’d never thought of him doing something as routine and normal as celebrating a birthday. It shouldn’t have been strange, but it was.

Perhaps that feeling was what drove me to continue, proudly stating, “I promise that I will have all your work ready first thing in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed and his mouth opened in a strange, lopsided grin that I’d realized I made a mistake.

“Um...” he spoke through laughter, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I’m very motivated?”

Thankfully, he saw the humiliation and was happy to offer me a graceful escape from my humiliation. “How about I give you until Tuesday, instead?”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best, huh?”

I gladly took it, staring down at my heels as I tried to find anything else to focus on. Anything that wasn’t his eyes that seemed even more powerful after dark. But true to the magnetism I always experienced in his vicinity, I was drawn back into golden irises full of an emotion that made my heart beat twice as hard.

“Where did your friends go?” he asked. I didn’t trust myself to answer, so I just threw my thumb over my shoulder and towards the bar behind me. I didn’t turn away from him then, too scared to acknowledge that I would be leaving him soon. That we would go our separate ways again and I would have to wait until Tuesday to drown in the honey of his eyes again.  

Sure enough, Spencer gave a solemn nod and cleared his throat before mumbling, “Right. You should probably go find them, so they don’t get worried.”

But I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him, the rest of the world be damned. I wanted to feel his eyes on me longer, especially when they started to wander my figure that I’d secretly hoped he would see.

I could pretend to hate my friend for calling him over all I wanted, but when I slipped into the costume hours earlier, I’d wondered what he would do if he saw me like this. And now that the answer was in front of me, torn between the exposed skin of my thighs and chest, I wanted to experience it for as long as possible.

With my fingers on the zipper to try and calm my heart, the inebriation manifested in soft giggles as I replied, “I think I’m pretty safe with you, Professor.”  

Spencer didn’t need to vocalize his disagreement. I saw his contention in the form of wayward eyes falling to my hands that fiddled with the tiny piece of plastic keeping me covered. When they trailed back up the zipper teeth to meet my eyes again, they were filled with a hunger that took my breath away.

Unfortunately for us, though, our smitten haze wasn’t shared by anyone else in the vicinity. Especially not the drunk pack of men who passed, completely unaware of the amount of space they took up on the sidewalk. I don’t even remember one of them running into me, but I definitely remembered what followed in extreme, vivid detail.

Spencer caught me, quickly and more gracefully than I thought him capable of moving. His arms were locked around me, not only preventing me from face planting on the concrete but causing me to press my face directly against him.

Before he had a chance to say or do much of anything else, I placed my hands on his chest and tore myself away from the warmth of his embrace. Because I was already drunk enough on the alcohol — I didn’t need to be any more inebriated from him.

“S-See? You caught me!” I squeaked.

I didn’t miss the fact his hands stayed on my waist even with the added distance, his fingers subtly digging into and stroking the plush fabric. I didn’t try to stop them, either.

“Are you going to be okay? Should I take you home?”

I knew it wasn’t how he’d meant it, but my inner voice still pleaded, Yes, God, please, yes! My outer voice, however, clung to reason and respectability.

“No! Don’t miss your birthday dinner!” I insisted, but he didn’t look convinced. “I’m fine, seriously. I just suck at walking in heels.”

Any part of me that would have normally been offended by his insistence that I couldn’t handle myself while drinking was quelled by my desire to keep his hands on me as long as possible. Although there was enough space for my arms between our chests, I swore I felt his fluttering heartbeat against my fingers. I thought of hummingbirds.

Resigned to my stubbornness, Spencer took a moment longer to stroke patterns through the pink fabric wrapped around my waist before he sighed, “If you say so.”

“I do!” I giggled, leaning closer like I might convince him not to leave at all, “So you better listen up, mister Professor man.”

The look he gave me was sweet, honeyed bliss. But even that seemed minuscule in comparison to the way his hands slid over my sides, making their way over my shoulders and gently brushing the errant bunny ears back out of my face. He left them there, too, with a barely-there caress of my face.

“You look cute,” he said, like it wouldn’t break my heart.  

Shier than he’d ever seen me before, I somehow managed to still look him in the eye as I answered, “So do you.”

It was a good thing I’d been paying attention, too. If I hadn’t been staring into his eyes, I would have missed the flash of chaotic playfulness that appeared just as he glanced down at the space between our chests.

I wouldn’t have been prepared at all when he dropped one of his hands from my face to the zipper of my costume. Not to say that anything could have prepared me for the way it felt to have his knuckle brush against the skin just below the lace bralette that had been meant to protect my modesty.

Before I could even comprehend the delicious friction of our skin, it was gone. Spencer pulled the zipper up to my chin, releasing the plastic in favor of grabbing hold of my chin once more.

“Be careful with that zipper,” he instructed, “I don’t need you getting hypothermia this early in the semester.”

Unsure of how else to respond, my body responded on instinct as it stammered, “I-I promise.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, and my autopilot continued.

“Double promise. Promise squared.”

“Okay. You have my number so... call me if you need anything.”

I absently nodded, but Spencer accurately concluded that I hadn’t actually processed what he’d said. When he let go of me, he took the time to smooth out the bunched up fabric over my shoulders. I tried to convince myself that he was just interested in the soft fluff, but it was hard to ignore the hunger that’d only grown stronger. The darkness that rivaled the moonless hallow’s eve.

“I don’t mind giving you a ride home if it means you get back safe,” he said with a deathly seriousness strongly contrasted by the flippancy that followed. “Otherwise I’ll have more work for Tuesday.”

I was grateful for the shift, because it made the loss of his hands hurt less. My chest filled with laughter that quickly burst from me with frantic, messy words.

“Of course! The work. For Tuesday. Okay! Thank you!”

“For what?” he also said through laughter.

“I— don’t know.”

Spencer turned away from me, looking behind him at the obligations that would tear us apart. I wondered if he, too, was busy contemplating how well it suited just how different we were. How two establishments side by side could house such different things. How we were frequenting opposite ends of the spectrum.

Whatever he was thinking about, however, it didn’t break his spirits too badly. Because before he sent me on my merry way, he flashed me the goofiest little bouncing peace sign before he sang, “Hop along, little bunny.”

So I did, turning back to my life and letting him return to his. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes following me until the darkness of the bar swallowed the space between us.

Still, I didn’t need him to be there to remember how it felt for his hands to roam my body like familiar territory. I saw that look in his eyes every time that I closed my own and remembered how it made my legs shake like weak stems bending to the wind.

I decided then that it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that he’d seen me in my costume. In fact, I think he quite liked it.

 ——————————————————

 There are few things more relentless than Derek Morgan. Death and taxes, perhaps. When it came to mocking me, there wasn’t a single missed opportunity. Even at the darkest hour, I trusted him to be consistent and predictable.

That was precisely why it made no sense that I had made it through an entire dinner and drinks outing with the team without him mentioning what had happened. Not even once. I almost let myself be relieved. Perhaps time spent with a child that can talk back did him some good, I thought. But when the time finally came for us to take our leave, I realized my mistake. He wasn’t holding back out of the kindness of his heart.

No, Derek wanted to wait until there was no escape route. He wanted to have me trapped in a car hurtling down a highway before he spoke the words that he’d been waiting to say all night.

“So... Bunny.”

“Her name is (y/n),” I quickly corrected. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t in a merciful mood. Although there was a notable smirk on his face, his next words were uttered with a hefty dose of skepticism. A warning that it was a subject that ought to be approached with a critical sincerity.

“Her name is Trouble. That’s what her name is,” he said, shaking his head.  

“She’s just my teaching assistant,” I said like I might actually convince myself, though we both knew that I wasn’t going to convince him. “It’s fine.”

“Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

But that time, it was me who issued the warning.

“Stop,” I ordered, meeting his eyes to find him hiding his genuine concern under jokes that weren’t really jokes at all. “I respect her. She’s very bright and she earned her position.”

“I never said she didn’t. I know she’s probably smart, but I also saw the way you looked at her.”

The words felt like a blow to the stomach — yet another reminder that my affections for her were so thinly veiled they might as well be scrawled across my skin. He didn’t need to be a profiler to notice that I was fond of the girl, but it certainly made it worse.

Because he knew that I was lying when I muttered, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

He knew that I was lying, but he still asked, “Why’s that?”

“She’s...” I started, pausing while the word tried to form on my tongue. The word that had haunted me ever since those damned girls mentioned it. That short, simple little noun that had taken a cursory affection and turned it into full blown lust.

“She’s a virgin.”

Derek’s brows jumped up his face, his jaw dropping the same way mine had when I first heard the news. Then, just as I had, he put the pieces together and realized that it should have been a foregone conclusion.

“Trouble with a capital everything,” he half laughed.

But this wasn’t a joking matter, and I really wished that I could make him believe that. That definitely wouldn’t happen, though. Not when he looked up to see me hiding behind my hands, sinking into my seat like it would get me out of the conversation.

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s obviously waiting.”

It was the wrong thing to say. I should have seen his response coming from a mile away. But I didn’t, and so I was forced to listen to his childish giggles that were followed with an even more lighthearted crooning.

“Yeah, waiting for the right professor to come teach her the lesson on the birds and the bees.”

“Cut it out.”

Without even looking, he astutely observed, “Kid, you’re blushing.”  

“Yeah, because you’re talking about me fuc–”

The word never made it out, getting caught between my teeth as I bit down on my tongue damn near hard enough to make it bleed. I wished it would. I wanted the iron to drown me and rid me of the sinful things it sought to do, instead. Opting for a more… distinguished explanation, I eventually stammered the rest of the thought.

“You’re talking about me... deflowering my significantly younger employee!”

“You can say fuck, Reid,” he deadpanned, “I think you’re old enough now.”

“I don’t want to. It sounds too... crude.”

I didn’t expect him to understand. How could he? He’d only seen her when she was at her most provocative… by far. Part of me envied him, to be able to sequester her innocence and view her as just another girl.

But she wasn’t like anyone else. She was an untouched bloom, a magnolia of unearthly shades. A beautiful blossom that had broken through the concrete walls I’d maintained for so many years. A tantalizing taste of the life outside that I refused to let in.

A fucking tease.

“Too crude for little miss innocent bunny?” Derek cooed, and it was so uncomfortably close to my thoughts that I couldn’t help the way I snapped back.

“Are you done?”

As we pulled into my parking lot, Derek just waved off my hostility, recognizing it as nothing but misfired shame and anguish at the thing I wanted being out of my reach.

“Yeah, I’m done. I hope you had fun, even with the teasing.”

I chose not to dignify the second half of the statement, climbing out of the car like I couldn’t step away from the conversation fast enough. But of course, I knew that only made my guilt more apparent. My culpability was clear and conclusive. There was no argument to be made.

“You know I’m right!” he shouted just before the door shut. A final reminder, one last cautionary call for the beast inside of me to keep itself hidden lest I allow myself to sink my teeth into something pure.

“Goodnight!”

Few things changed when I reached the confines of my apartment walls. Fantasies had only devolved into a vividness that was borderline frightening. How easily I could get lost in visions of her, only promising my return in exchange for my imagination agreeing to become a reality that I would get a chance to experience.

But that wasn’t fair to her. She was just a girl doing her job with an astounding amount of patience and understanding for her hopeless romantic of a boss. For a moment, the guilt became so overwhelming that I let it win. I managed to swallow my newly acquired memories well enough to navigate my nightly routine without wishing she was there every step of the way.

Wishing that she would call me. That she would grant me the excuse to return to her, to touch her as freely as I had earlier. I imagined a world where, upon arriving to her destination, she invited me in.

As I collapsed on my bed, I wondered if she would have preferred the privacy of my home. A place far enough away from other students and academics to finally see me as something more than a superior. Something attainable in a way she never seemed to be.

Just as I closed my eyes to give in to the dreams, my phone buzzed. The sound set off every nerve in my body, all of them very poorly coordinating to allow me to grab the device and turn it on to reveal her name.

“Hey Professor! I just wanted to let you know that I got home…”

I’d never opened a notification so quickly, but I should have waited. I should have paused and taken the time to notice that what I was opening wasn’t just a collection of letters and symbols.

It was a set of pictures.

Pictures of her.

“Safe and sound and zippered up. No hypothermia for this bunny tonight,” she tagged onto the end, “Sweet dreams!”

How could I ever dream of anything but her? How was I meant to turn off my phone now, knowing that she was there; her drunken, lustful stare on display? I only tore my eyes away from her face long enough to notice her surroundings. I took extensive, painstaking notes on the color of the sheets on her bed and the way the zipper I’d tugged at to control myself from taking her had fallen away again.

I could feel the softness of her skin against my knuckle again. I heard the way her breath nearly broke at the force with which she sucked in air at the feeling of me touching her. How hard she pressed herself against me, how her back arched when I held her and how she never even tried to stop my hands from finding new places to rest.

They worked diligently now, too, trying to keep her awake and with me for as long as I could, but also wanting to free myself of obligations so that she wouldn’t notice how long I’d stared at the pictures she’d sent.

“Goodnight, little bunny,” I sent before adding, “I’ll be counting rabbits instead of sheep tonight.”

As if to reward my efforts, another picture flooded my screen. Her face was scrunched up in an adorable innocence, half covered with her hand but still effortlessly beautiful.

I stopped myself from responding again. I forced myself to stop, to prevent treacherous hands from calling her and begging her to let me come to her. It wasn’t fair — it was manipulative, downright evil, even — to take advantage of her inebriated state to hoard any insight she might provide.

But she’d already sent these… So, would it be so wrong to indulge in her? By touching my own body to the thought of her, would I taint her? Did I care even if it did? Maybe it was for the best to plant the seed of impurity now, to strip her of her power over me.

But deep down, I knew that I would still want her. I would still wish that the hand that sneaked beneath the sheets belonged to her. I could almost feel it as my hand traversed familiar territory. It would be new for her, and it would be new for me to feel the delicate, unmarred skin of her palm slowly sliding down my stomach. Her fingers bashfully brushing through soft curls at the base of me, still too nervous to hold me the way I needed her to.

Her face would be buried in my shoulder, with dew from her breath wetting my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I would take her hand in mine and guide her to wrap her trembling hand around my cock.

Just like I was doing to myself now, with my other hand still holding the phone displaying the image of innocence. My hand wasn’t as soft or inexperienced as hers would be, but as long as my eyes stayed on her half-lidded gaze staring back at me, I could pretend.

I could hear her panting my name— my real name, Spencer— in my ear, praising the feel of silky skin beneath her fingertips. She would whisper about how she wanted to feel it elsewhere, too. She would beg for me to replace a hand for her most precious place.

That damned angelic girl showing her hand on the zipper would beg me to steal away her innocence. She would unveil herself slowly, knowing that I needed the time to memorize every inch of her skin as it was seen by another for the first time. Seen by me, and only me. The vision would be for my consumption and indulgence.

I wanted it. I wanted her.

My stomach tensed as I pictured the girl staring back at me straddling my hips. I stroked myself harder, faster, letting my thumb trace down her body on my screen.

If I stole it from her, would it be mine?

Would she be trapped as I was, only able to feel anything when I was with her? Would she dream of me? Would she cherish each and every memory of my touch and play it back in her mind? When she felt the urge to break and burn, would she picture my hands lighting the match?

If I ruined her, would she be mine?

I pictured the girl on the screen with tears in her eyes, her mouth stuck open in a silent scream and her hands clutching desperately to mine. I imagined how tightly her body would grip me as I fucked her. How hard it would fight the intrusion of my sinful touch. How I would hold her down despite the resistance until she gave in to me. Until I broke her, thoroughly and irreparably.

She would be mine.

That was the thought that took me over the edge, all energy that was not delegated to my hand feverishly stroking my cock remained with my other hand to hold her picture in front of me. It never even wavered, never once shaking and risking losing any clarity. Even my eyes refused to close all the way.

She would be mine.

The warm, sticky mess of my desire coated my hand and stomach, but all I could think was how it would feel to mark her as mine. To feel the excess drip back down my cock as she collapsed against my body. To know that she would never be the same, never be wholly herself again. That she’d let me inside of her soul and that when I left, I hadn’t left empty handed.

She was already mine.

 ——————————————————

| Part Four |

[distracteddegenerate]

Carnation

Yuta x Fem!reader

Warnings: period sex, lots of blood mentions, yandere undertones for Yuuta, TW.Dubcon if you squint I just want to be safe lol, unprotected sex, smut

Got super carried away with this one which is why it’s so long lol. I decided to combine the asks since I have got a lot for Yuta. Second anon if you’re uncomfortable with this fic which is understandable lol just shoot me another ask and I can do something else for you.

You lay curled in your bed, the sheets and pillows a mess around you, a fluffy hot water bottle cradled tightly to your front. The side of your body you laid on was beginning to ache from pressure, and you felt flush from heat, but you dared not move. You dreaded the intensifying of the stabbing pains your own body was wretchedly subjecting you to. Of course today would be the heaviest of your period, the day you had scheduled for a study session with Yuta. He was due to come over in about half an hour, and your pains were yet to ease up at all, despite the painkillers you had recently downed. You could cancel, yet, this was the first ever study session you had set up with your handsome friend, and you were loath to cancel it over something that would clear itself up eventually.

You closed your eyes, and pulled the hot water bottle you gripped like a lifeline closer to the source of your suffering.

~~~

*knock knock*

Fuuuuck. Was it that time already? You groggily sat up, releasing your water bottle and in replacement lightly pressing your hand against the throbbing pain that was starting to surge more strongly in the pit of your belly. You gently placed your feet on the ground off the side of your bed, and rose onto the balls of them just as delicately. You began your gloomy shuffle towards the entrance of your room, fixing your ruffled hair into place.

You pulled the door open on yourself slowly, croaking as Yuta’s tired but docile face materialised into view. 

“Good evening, (Name)-chan.” Yuta had his hands in his pockets and wore a kindly smile, the only thing betraying his pleasant demeanour being those familiar dark circles dusking the underside of his eyes. Dreary though they appeared, you could swear you saw a specular shimmer dance across his irises when he registered your form.

“Ah good evening to you too, Yuta! Come in and make yourself at home, I have some stuff set up on the coffee table.” You tried your best to look as perfectly in humour as you could, to not draw any attention to your current pain stricken condition. Must have been good enough, as Yuta had nodded in response and was now making his way over to nestle himself onto one of the pillows you had placed next to your make-shift study station. 

You yourself was headed to the kitchenette, about to ask what Yuta wanted to drink when a sharp stab erupted from your core. You threw your hand onto a countertop and visibly winced, when you noticed Yuta’s widened eyes had been following you. 

“(Name)! Are you okay?!” Yuta’s expression was alarmed, prepared to pounce up from his seating.

“Uh- I er uh- tripped over! Nothing to worry about!” You were blushing slightly, but righted yourself regardless and tried to stand as straight as you could. Yuta seemed slightly confused, and whilst he opened his mouth to speak you interrupted him with a casual “So what would you like to drink?” 

“Er.. I’m fine actually, I had something before I left home... actually I think you should come sit down, er, carefully.” He still looked a little concerned. You nodded your head and made your way over to his side. Settling yourself down, you could feel more pain pulsating within you, a low rumble threatening another great stab like you had experienced just. You drew your legs to your chest in an attempt to alleviate it slightly, and picked up your copy of “a comprehensive guide to the relation of curses and the law”; holding it open in front of you.

You could feel Yuta’s gaze still trained on you.

~~~

“So, although the police would have to intervene if someone was hurt or killed in the incident, sorcerers still have the right to- er - (Name)?”

Crap. You were too focused on the waves of torture oscillating in your guts to keep your attention on Yuta explaining the info that went over your head in class to you again. And he noticed. You looked up at him softly, and offered a subdued “sorry.” You didn’t really have energy to maintain your act of being fine anymore. His eyes looked concerned. You turned your head to the floor and fiddled with your hands.

“Hey, (Name).” You heard him shift and alter the positioning of his legs. “Is it that time of the month?”

What?! Who asks that like this?! 

You threw your head back up to look at him, your face red and mouth agape. He threw his hands up defensively.

“Sorry, sorry!” He hurriedly turned his gaze into the distance and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just.. I have a little sister, so I’m used to this sort of thing, or at least I know a bit more about it than other guys.” He looked back to you. “It seems like the pains at least are distracting you from your studies, if you need painkillers or something.. I can go get them for you.”

“I er...I already tried that… doesn’t work out that well for me.” Was your meek, barely audible reply. You played with the tassel of the pillow you were sat on. Yuta looked pained on your behalf.

“Y’know… I read online somewhere that there’s always something you can try out failing all else.” He caught your gaze, and held it intently. 

It must be too good to be true, how would Yuta know some hidden method that you (as someone who experienced periods) didn’t know about for dealing with the pains?! Your eager look betrayed itself when a switch flicked in your head and your expression turned into one of astonishment. There’s no way he’s gonna suggest…

“Org*sms.”

You’d known Yuta for awhile now, but you had no idea just how… artless he was. Where was his tact?! Your cheeks burned from embarrassment. You felt like your face was about to explode.

Looking at him though, he was practically unfazed! As if you were going about some matter-of-a-fact order of business. What was this situation!

“I-is.. that a joke Yuta?” Your hands were curling into tight balls. 

“Of course not, (Name). You look like you’re in so much pain. I just want to help alleviate it.”

What the hell did he mean by that? Like you will just hop up right now and go jerk yourself in the bathroom as casually as using the toilet.. Or.. could he have meant..

You felt Yuta’s hand settle on your thigh, as he leant down further towards you. “I can help you out (Name)-chan.”

You couldn’t deny, you’d always found Yuta handsome, but for things to move along this quickly… and of all times! Surely his level of straight-forwardness defied all social conventions, and yet, it was working. The feel of his hand resting on you, his hungry stare, the way he loomed over you, chest rising and falling intently. You could feel a different kind of ache emanating from your lower parts. 

His hand drifted further up your body, coming to stop just below your belly button. “I want to help you… (Name)-chan.” You looked into his dark eyes. They were intense, hungry. You could swear he was salivating. 

“B-but Yuta.. I-I’m.. You know! Isn’t that.. Gross? For you?” He shot you a sheepish grin, hiding his eyes in an evasive fashion. His hand travelled downwards once more, snaking up the inside of your loose-fitting shorts and looping his fingers over the sides of your panties. He toyed with them, rolling the cloth over your skin and lightly pulling at them. “I don’t think any part of you is gross, (Name)-chan.” His eyes flicked open again, drawing you back into his intensity. “I think every part of you is beautiful, even.” You could sense his earnestness, and it made your cheeks burn. You went to throw your hands up to them, but he quickly caught them in his. “So, what’s your answer?” He planted a kiss in your palm. “Do you want my help? (Name)-chan.” 

Fuck.. the way he looked at you. Those ferocious, hooded eyes. Those calloused hands, usually wrapped around a katana, wrapped around yours right now. The burning you felt between your legs. God yes. God, you wanted it.

The alleviation of pain (and studying) was an afterthought.

~~~

Yuta had returned back to your living space with a towel from the bathroom. What? you didn’t want to get the floor messy. You could see an erection straining tightly against his black pants. 

Fuck, you were really gonna do this. He set it down flat on the floor, and invited you to come situate yourself on it.

~~~

After removing his shirt (It was white, after all), Yuta knelt himself down in front of you. He had a certain glint in his eyes, almost conflicting the harmless smile that he also wore, as if he wasn’t about to blissfully pound your bloody c*nt into oblivion. He undid the front buckle of his pants, a bulge emerging, the explicitness of his bare dick concealed by gray underwear. He began palming at the protuberance. You eyed the display curiously, when you had a sudden realisation.

“Y-Yuta, w-what about… protection?” you asked, uneasily. 

“Hm? (Name)-chan, you’re on your period, remember? You won’t get pregnant.”

“B-but..”

He cut you off. “I don’t have anything. Trust me.”

You nodded and grunted in acknowledgement. Yuta was always a trustworthy figure for you. Your strong, reliable friend who you could always depend on. He always took care of you, even during skirmishes with curses, arriving at your side before things even had the chance to get particularly hairy.

You watch Yuta as he tilts his keeling body forward, his hands landing on your ankles before travelling upwards, spreading your legs open in the process. You feel yourself blushing once again, tossing your head to the side. You can feel the front of your damp p*nties being touched, jumping in slight surprise at the abrupt action before Yuta starts rubbing at your cl*t through the fabric. He notices your breathing falter.

“Do you like it, (Name)-chan? Do you like how it feels when I rub you there?”

You mumble a small “yes.”

He’s applying more pressure to his administrations now. “Do you want me to take your p*nties off? So I can touch you properly?”

You answer yes again, this time more hastily. 

With that, he curls his fingers over the sides of your p*nties, dragging your legs into the air as he twists his body appropriately in order to shimmy the restrictive fabric off of you. He casts them to the side, before pulling your trembling limbs back into their previous position. Once he settled them back down, he kept his hands on your thighs as he drank in the glory of your exposed c*nt quivering before him, the string of your tampon peaking out in a taunting manner.

You heard him cooing at you quietly. “Beautiful.”

You cringed, wondering if he’d still be thinking that when he’s stained with blood. Even so, you couldn’t help but melt under the feeling of his fingertips tracing circles into your inner thighs. The way you felt a thumb flick over your n*ked sex.

“Is your stomach still hurting you?” The sudden question snapped you out of your stupor.

Truth be told, you’d almost completely forgotten about your pains you were so caught up in the moment, but something held you back from saying so. As if Yuta would stop touching you if you let him know the “reason” for the two of you doing this was almost completely resolved. And, you were relishing in the tenderness of his comforting too much for it to stop.

“Y-Yes..”

Yuta bent further over you, his head looming over your core. He sunk down, his face leaning into the space of your skin where your tummy and pelvis met. He planted a light kiss there.

“Well, I’m gonna make you feel better.”

His grip on your thighs tightened as his head lifted, his presence shadowing over you once again as he held himself higher. Your heart pounded. He leaned further on your left thigh and removed his hand from the other, as you felt fingers poking at your aching heat again.

Could you feel… pulling?

You felt a horrible, obscene slick escape you suddenly when Yuta yanked out your tampon. He pinched it limply in fingers, observing it slightly before placing it on the towel you shared.

“Yuta?!” You whelped. It was ironic. The two of you were sharing an intimate moment with each other, almost completely exposed. But this? It felt somewhat... invasive.

You could sense Yuta shrugging. “It needed to come out.” Before you even had a chance to respond, you could feel him caressing your folds. He was circling his thumb over them, the peak of the eclipse swiping over your cl*t. “Don’t worry, (Name)-chan you look beautiful.”

You looked to him, but he didn’t return the gaze. His stare was boring into your most private parts, hungrily eating up the view. The calloused hand still wrapped around your leg was gripping on tightly, as you felt Yuta dip a finger into your sopping c*nt.

“Fuck.. it’s so.. wet.”

Well, that was a given you supposed. But you knew a lot of what was down there was also probably your usual feminine slick, with the way he was making you ache. He continued pumping his finger in and out, the motion becoming deeper and rougher, him gaining confidence in what you were willing to take in. You could feel your muscles strain around it.

“That’s three.”

“Wait, w-what?!”

“Three fingers, (Name)-chan. You’re drenched down here.” You felt him remove his digits, Spreading them out across your lips. You then felt him draw a line across your inner thighs that intersected your p*ssy in the middle. Was he… playing in it? You decided not to question, you were too caught up in a wanton haze, hips bucking upwards, begging for his touch to return to your most sensitive parts.

“Y-yuta..”

He looked at you and smiled sincerely. “-just need to make sure you’re nice and loose for me, (Name)-chan.” Before you could react, plunging fingers speared your weeping c*nt, pumping with violent pace. You yelped and crumpled in on yourself when you felt his fingers curl against your velvety walls, yielding against the pressure. You squirmed underneath him even more when he began spreading them, parting your insides. You hummed, laying your hand over the top of his head, entwining yourself in the strands of his hair.

He shifted into your touch. “God, love this. So fucking beautiful.”

He peered at you from beneath those dark lashes. “You think you’re ready?”

“Hm?”

“For my cock.”

At that, you nodded, releasing your grasp on his hair and trailing your hand down his chest as he straightened himself, looping his fingers over the sides of his boxers, staining it with blood. He tugged them down, his painfully erect dick springing out into open air. You found yourself surprised at the length. Yet, He was focused on you. Pointing at your top half he asked you, “Can you take all of this off?”

You nodded and complied hurriedly.

When you were done Yuta was quick, grabbing your knees to hold you in place, leaning over to plant yet another doting kiss on your body, This time in the space between your bare breasts. You felt him begin to push into you. He managed the entirety of his length, before pulling himself almost all the way out again. You noticed how he looked down, admiring the sheen of your blood now coating his member. He quickly snapped his hips back into you again, and began assuming a steady pace of rutting. Your legs found themselves wrapping around him, your ankles cross sectioning across his taught upper back. You wanted to tell him it felt good, but the most you could manage was a weak moan.

That seemed to set something off within him. He lunged over you, enveloping your entire body with his own. He planted one hand on the towel beneath you, firmly beside your head. The other found itself groping a t*t, clawing over it to pinch your hard nipple, surrounding the ar*ola with petals of red. His pace was raw and piercing, but the slight discomfort you felt was laced with a more intense pleasure.

You heard him groan. “-god.. You feel so good. Fucking you like this.. It’s just so.. primal.” He was lightly scraping his nails against you, tracing trails of scarlet down your body. You understood what he meant by that perfectly. The way he was looking down at you, almost slavering at the lips at your vulnerable form, like some wild animal lost in it’s lust.

The feeling of it, the sounds of it. It was also so expl*cit. Yet so gratifying. 

You lost yourself, allowing Yuta to abuse your lower half as he pleased, even matching your hips to his punishing motions. The l*wd squelching noises as he fucked into your excessive wetness, the way he played with your sensitive nipple at the same time, your entire being yearning into his ministrations. 

“I-I’ve always dreamt of this, (Name)-chan” You were too lost in a fucked out haze to really respond, humming lightly as you stroked the arm gripping your breast. His pace got even quicker then, rougher. His form that was already entirely draped over yours weighed down on you with even more pressure, the slap of his bucking hips against your buttox resounding loudly. It’s all too much, your legs weak when you cream his c*ck, a wave of release gushing out of you as your heat throbs wildly.

Your limbs go weak as you reel from the org*sm, your walls spasming around Yuta as he continued his bucking.

Yuta’s gaze rests on your dazed expression, his dark eyes settling over you. “You needed my c*ck didn't you?” He moves the hand that was on your bre*st to caress over your face.  “Desperately. I know you did.” 

You felt Yuta’s pace get rougher, losing it’s steady tempo as he chases closer to his climax. He thrusts into you heartily a final time before his release spills into you, closing his eyes as he rides out his orgasm out slowly and tenderly. He remains inside for sometime after, rubbing your hips with his thumb as he admires the mixture of c*m and blood streaming out of your hole and cascading down his dick. 

“Beautiful.”

He looks to your face now, smiling gently. 

“So, do you feel better now, (Name)?”

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Secret’s Out

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Bruce was looking at his emails when Y/N arrived at the table.

She was breathing heavily and her hair was a bit messy, just further proving she had rushed to get there.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she huffed embarrassingly. “My shoot ran over and every one was moving so slowly.”

Bruce smiled. “Y/N. Relax.”

Then he stood up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

The two of them hadn’t seen each other in over a month. Y/N had been traveling for work constantly. And between the vigilante life and Wayne Enterprises, Bruce was running on 2 hours of sleep on the daily.

“I need a drink,” Y/N finally sighed after she got situated.

As if on cue, their waitress dropped Y/N’s favorite drink in front of her.

Y/N eyed Bruce with surprise.

He just shrugged.

Sometimes Y/N forgot how much her father noticed literally everything.

“Thank you,” she told the waitress.

“You’re overworking yourself,” Bruce said with a disapproving look.

She rolled her eyes. “Really? You’re not one to talk, Bruce.”

“You deserve a vacation. I’ll pay for it. Pick wherever you want. Bring Jason. Or some friends.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Bruce…”

It was a warning.

From the very start of their unconventional father-daughter relationship, Y/N had made it clear that she could not be bought. And Bruce spoiling her made her extremely uncomfortable. Even now, she still tried to at least split restaurant checks with him. Bruce always won those battles though.

“I’ll take a vacation when you do,” she finally countered.

That sure shut him up.

“Hey, I actually brought you something,” Y/N changed the subject as she reached for her bag.

A moment later, she lightly placed a manila folder onto the table.

Bruce’s brow furrowed as he reached for it.

As soon as he opened it, he froze.

“I had to clean out some stuff and put things into storage,” Y/N explained. “I found all my mom’s photos. I figured I could make copies of some childhood photos for you.”

Bruce’s silence made Y/N nervous.

“If you don’t want them, that’s totally fine.” She started to reach for the folder out of Bruce’s grip with awkward embarrassment. “It was stupid–”

But Bruce quickly pulled the folder closer to him and stopped her from taking the photos from him.

“Thank you,” he announced.

It made Y/N quickly sit back in her chair, caught off guard by his sincere reaction and how he’d immediately become protective of the photos.

Bruce awkwardly cleared his throat. “Thank you, Y/N.”

He repeated to make sure she understood how thankful he truly was. And Y/N suspected the throat clearing was to hide his emotions.

Now she watched as Bruce slowly went through every picture. He took in every detail with a soft smile.

These weren’t just photos. These were all of Y/N’s memories that Bruce missed, that he could never get back. And he was savoring all of them.

Then Bruce paused and was fully smiling now.

“What?” Y/N asked.

She didn’t know why all of this made her so nervous.

Bruce didn’t say anything as he lifted a photo and flipped it to show her.

It wasn’t from her childhood.

It was a black and white photo of Jason. A candid from when he had escorted her around the slums of Gotham for her most recent gallery show.

After months of thinking about it, Y/N finally had decided she wanted to frame it and hang it somewhere in her apartment. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped with embarrassment and she ripped it from his hands.

“I was developing some photos at the same time as I was making the copies. Must’ve gotten mixed up in those,” Y/N explained too quickly, unable to meet Bruce’s gaze.

It made Bruce happy to know that Y/N didn’t have the same inability to love someone and let people in like he did. It was a relief that she didn’t isolate herself from it like he had. If her mother was still alive, Bruce would thank her for it. But if Y/N’s mother were alive, he would’ve never known about Y/N in the first place.

Their entire dinner was spent with Bruce looking at the old photos. He had at least two questions for each one. Some of them Y/N didn’t remember being taken. But most of them came with stories or a loving memory.

Y/N talked for most of the meal. But that’s exactly what Bruce wanted.

Furthermore, Bruce had nothing of value to update her on. Batman business had consumed his life as of lately, and he had made a promise to never involve Y/N in any of it. And Jason seemed to be on the same page when it came to his other life as Red Hood. 

Both men seemed determined to keep her safe and away from it all. 

Two hours later, Bruce was paying the check and helping Y/N into her coat.

“I’ll give you a ride home,” he muttered as they started walking out.

Y/N had learned by now to give up on those small battles. Jason was the same way when it came to making sure she got home safely.

As they made their way to the exit, Y/N caught a few stares from other patrons who were still eating.

“Do you ever get used to it?” She asked her father in a low voice.

“Get used to what?” He asked, genuinely unaware of what she was getting at.

“People gawking at you.”

Bruce glanced around and unintentionally glared at anyone who was staring at Y/N.

“It’s good that I’m seen in public…for obvious reason,” he hinted in a quiet voice, obviously talking about needing the cover to continue his life as a masked vigilante.

Once they were outside, Alfred was already waiting at the curb with the Rolls-Royce. He greeted Y/N with a hug and a kiss to her cheek before opening the door for her and Bruce.

When they got to Y/N’s apartment building, she said her goodbyes to Alfred. And Bruce walked Y/N all the way up to her door.

Even though Y/N insisted it was overkill and she could get up the stairs on her own just fine, Bruce had seen too many terrible things in this forsaken city. He could think of thousands of things that could happen to Y/N between the car and her front door.

Once Y/N realized that Bruce’s paranoia came from experience, she stopped trying to stop his chivalry and overprotective ways. She finally understood that Bruce had seen things that would prevent her from ever sleeping again. So if walking Y/N to her door gave him a little peace of mind, she wasn’t going to take that away from him.

Y/N turned to Bruce when they reached her door. “Thanks again for dinner.”

“Of course. I’m glad we could spend some time together. Thank you again for the photos.”

Y/N didn’t realize that Bruce was about to hang every single one around Wayne Manor. 

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug. “Get home safe.”

——————

Y/N woke up wrapped strong arms, her body overheating slightly.

When she had come home from dinner last night, Jason had already left for patrol.

He hadn’t woken her up when he got back home, just proving how exhausted Y/N had been these past few weeks.

But it was the continuous buzzing vibrations of her phone that woke her up. When she brightened the screen, she saw that she had dozens of text messages and three missed called from Bruce.

“What the fuck,” Y/N whispered as she started opening them.

But they were all about the same thing.

Everyone had sent her similar articles from various gossip websites or news outlets.

BRUCE WAYNE’S NEW GIRLFRIEND IS FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHER Y/F/N Y/L/N

BRUCE WAYNE’S FLAVOR OF THE WEEK

IS Y/F/N Y/L/N USING THE PRINCE OF GOTHAM TO FURTHER HER CAREER?

All of the headlines were joined with photos of Bruce and Y/N having dinner last night. Apparently other customers at the restaurant had snuck photos of Bruce greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Y/N could see how it would be misinterpreted as romantic and not familial or platonic. But it still made her sick to see the photos twisted in such a way.

Then there were paparazzi photos of them getting in a car together. Of course there were none of Bruce dropping her off and them going their separate ways. That would be just too convenient for the two of them. 

Y/N’s stomach dropped with panic.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she gasped without realizing it.

Jason immediately woke up. “What is it?”

Y/N ignored him and called Bruce.

“I’m handling it,” was how Bruce answered her call.

“Handling it? How exactly?” She challenged. “We can deny the rumors all we want. But everyone is going to keep tabs on us now, and they’re going to see us together again.”

Jason grabbed his own phone.

One of his brothers must’ve sent him a similar article because he rubbed his face in annoyance, finally understanding the situation. 

Nothing like your girlfriend being rumored to have a relationship with her father, who was also your mentor and adoptive father. 

“Y/N, it will blow over. It always does,” Bruce tried to calm her down.

“So what happens when I get photographed with Jason? Huh? They’re going to just say I’m cheating on both of you with each other or some fucked up shit like that.”

Bruce was silent, because they both knew she was right.

Y/N glanced at Jason, who was already waiting for her gaze.

She took in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe we should…Maybe we should just tell the truth.”

“You’ve never wanted that, Y/N.” Bruce tried to argue.

And he was right.

Y/N was terrified of being associated with the Wayne family. People would start believing she secretly built her career off of nepotism that no one was aware of. She also didn’t want that type of attention from the media and the upperclass of Gotham.

“I don’t think we have any other choice,” Y/N finally answered.

Jason reached for thigh and gripped it, trying to offer her some sort of comfort.

“Y/N, are you sure about this?” Bruce asked slowly.

“No. Not at all. But I’d rather not have the public think I’m dating my biological father.”

“OK,” Bruce sighed. “I’ll talk to my publicist today.”

“OK.” She bit her lip before adding. “Just…tell them the whole story.”

“Y/N, if you’re worried how it will make me look, don’t.”

“But I am worried about it, Bruce. They’re going to drag you for being an absent father. And none of that is true. They’re not gonna understand.”

“I’ll call you later with an update,” he told her softly before hanging up.

Y/N tossed her phone to the foot of the bed in frustration.

Jason watched as she buried her face in her hands.

“You OK?” He asked as he rubbed her back.

“No,” she answered honestly.

“Come here.” Jason pulled her into his chest.

There was no fight from her as he cuddled her tightly.

“This is a fucking nightmare,” she groaned into his shoulder.

“I know. But maybe it’s for the best,” he tried to reason with her.

“And what happens when they catch wind that I’m dating my father’s adoptive son? Huh?”

“We’re not actually related, Y/N.”

She pulled her face back so she could glare at him. “Yeah! We know that! But you do understand that people are going to see it that way, right? Like we’re gonna look like some fucked up incestual couple to them.”

“I don’t really care,” Jason finally told her.

“You don’t care?” She scoffed.

“No,” his answer and confidence didn’t waver. “I don’t give a fuck what people say about us, Y/N. If exposing the truth means we don’t have to think twice about going to events or even just going out to dinner, then I’m all for it. I’m sick of hiding our relationship.”

Y/N blinked. She never considered that their subtle relationship bothered him in any way. She was always a strangely private person, so it felt normal to her. But clearly Jason had been wanting to be a bit more public with their relationship.

“What if this changes everything?” Y/N whispered, not meeting his eyes.

Jason smirked at that and gripped her chin, lifting it up so she would look at him. “Some paparazzi and trash tabloids aren’t going to change how I feel about you, Y/N.”

Y/N laughed lightly at that.

“Maybe we should leave Gotham for a bit,” she offered. “Bruce won’t shut up about paying for a vacation for us.”

Jason nodded. “I think that sounds like a good idea. You’ve needed a break for awhile now.”

“Well…where do you wanna go?” Y/N asked.

“Doesn’t matter to me. As long as you’re there.”

She rolled her eyes and hit Jason in the face with a pillow. “God, you really are a sap.”

Y/N appreciated Jason always being able to make her feel better and feel supported. 

But even he couldn’t stop her from wondering...

What would life be like as a Wayne?

------------------------------

Father of Mine – Bonus Content

[hotjellycow]

𝙸𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚊 𝚈𝚊𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒 𝚡 𝚂𝙼𝚁

𝙼𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚘 𝙰𝚌𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚊

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝

𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚜: 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): 𝙼𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚌𝚘𝚠 𝙸𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚊, 𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚔, feminization, 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚜, 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗?, 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒v𝚎 𝙸𝚗𝚊𝚜𝚊

(Y/n) waited outside his boyfriends agency building after he had gotten a strange hastily written message from Inasa asking him to pick him up quickly.

It was certainly strange, his lover had never left worked this early even when he was ill he still went to work despite (Y/n)'s warnings so it was strange when he suddenly asked (Y/n) to pick him up.

Inasa hadn't been feeling sick before work so it couldn't have been that, though it did make him worry thinking maybe Inasa had gotten hurt during work but then again wouldn't he have gone to the hospital or at least call you?

You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard your car door open and saw Inasa quickly get into the passenger seat but what was strange was that he was wearing a hood over his head and a blanket over his body.

You noticed his hands were crossed over his chest area tightly making you slightly confused. "Inasa are you ok?" You asked noticing his also red face and sweat dripping down his face along with his deep heavy breaths, "I'm fine can we go home please," he asked his voice uncharacteristically low almost a whisper.

"Are you sure?" You asked again getting worried, "Ill tell you later can we please go home," he asked louder, you decided to stop prodding and just started the car and drove home.

~~~

When you opened the house door Inasa immediately ran past you and into your bedroom where he locked himself inside the bathroom. You locked the front door again and folwed him quickly, you stood in front of the restroom door putting your habd on the knob and trying to open it but alas it was locked. You knocked on the door jiggling the knob again, "Baby are you ok? Whats going on?" You asked ready to kick the door down if you needed to, "Just give me a minute!"

Inasa yelled from inside the bathroom though he sounded out of breath.

You decided to just wait on the bed for him to get out but that didn't stop your worries.

Was he hurt? Did something happen during a villain attack? All these thoughts hurt your head. You heard the door creaking slowly open making you snap your head up seeing Inasa standing in front of the doorway with a blanket over his body and a hood over his head.

You stand up quickly walking in front of his larger form, "Darling what happened?

Is everything alright?" You asked putting your hand on his shoulder. He nodded letting out a shaky, "I'm ok but i um got hit by a q-quirk today," he mumbled, "What, well what is it?!"

You asked, your boyfriend slowly pulled his hood down revealing to you two white and black spotted cow ears along with small black cow horns on the top of his head.

Your jaw literally dropped when you sat it, "What the fuck," you said shocked, "What happened?!" You asked. "I got into a fight and one of them hit me with their quirk turning me into... this" Inasa said pointing to his head. "Well shouldn't we go back to the agency to fix this or go to the hospital," you asked frantically about to get your keys and drive to the hospital to figure out what the heck was going on.

But before you could go Inasa grabbed your arm, "Wait!"

He suddenly shouted one of his hands still over his chest as his other gripped your arm tightly, "There's um something else..." he said looking away from your gaze shyly, "Well what is it?" you asked wondering what else could have possibly happened.

He kept looking away as he spoke, "Just don't be weirded out please," he whispered struggling to find the right words to say.

You just nodded hesitantly not sure what he was doing, Inasa took a deep heavy breath as he slowly removed his hands from his chest and removed the blanket over his body revealing his black shirt with two wet spot right around where his nipples were. You were certainly confused not sure what and how he got those wet spots.

"Whats that?" you asked not too sure what was going on there, Inasa hesitantly lifted the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head which revealed his two large pectorals leaking some sort of white creamy substance from his very red looking nipples.

"W-what?" you asked not knowing what to say in this situation.

It was so strange to you, you could see how embarrassed Inasa was showing you, his face was red as small tears was apparent in the corner of his eyes.

His breath was getting heavier as sweat dripped form his face, his eyes squeezed shut not wanting to look at your face right now. "(Y/n) it hurts, I don't know what to do," he breathed out some tears from humiliation and pain, it wasn't regular pain though.

He felt so sensitive, every touch to his chest made him whimper, he was too embarrassed to tell anyone and he was definitely too embarrassed to consult a doctor about this. What was he supposed to say? He was hit my a horny quirk that made him moan with every touch? Fuck that.

He thought since you were his lover that maybe you could help him.

You reached your hand out to touch it, just curious as to how this was happening, when you pushed your hand onto his soft chest the liquid immediately squirted out of his nipple getting on your shirt.

A loud strangled moan coming out of Inasas mouth as he grabbed your hand giving it good squeeze, he pushed your hand away from him embarrassed at the noise he made.

"I'm sorry," he said hiding his face away from you, "Baby is that why you don't want to go to the doctor," you asked sympathetically, you knew how red faced and embarrassed he was right now and you didn't want to make it worse.

He just nodded his head tears pouring down his face from all the shame he was feeling in that moment.

You reached your hand out taking his in yours pulling his face to look at you, "Its ok baby maybe I can help, only if you want me to," you offered wiping away the tears on his face with your thumb, smiling softly at Inasas sniffling, he looked into your eyes and nodded, "please," he whispered. You nodded pulling him to the bed, you sat him down on the bed and left to the restroom bringing back some towels knowing things would most likely get messy.

You laid them around the bed before sitting yourself down on the bed taking off your pants, you patted your lap beckoning Inasa to sit on it.

He removed his pants leaving his boxers on only and hesitantly making himself comfortable on your lap placing his hands on your shoulders, you removed your shirt knowing it would get dirty.

"I'll try my best to help you" you reassured him bringing him in for a gentle kiss, he closed his eyes deciding to put his trust in you.

You pulled away slowly rubbing his hips as you moved your hand to his chest, you tried not to press too much knowing he was very sensitive.

You put your hand over his chest and massaged it slowly, "(Y/n) hah~" he moaned putting his palm over your hand pushing you hand harder on his chest, you pressed his nipple in between your finger squeezing it harder this time causing a loud moan to erupt from his mouth.

Inasa bit down on his lip trying to keep his volume down as much as he could, you gave his tit a god squeeze making his nipples to spurt out out the liquid.

You leaned your face close to his nipple, sticking out your tongue you swirled it around his red bud before taking it int your mouth, "A-Aah shit~" he moaned loudly gripping onto your hair tightly. You sucked harder on his tits causing the liquid to fill into your mouth, surprised you pulled away breathless.

You smacked your lips drinking some of the liquid, surprisingly it tasted like milk but sweeter, almost addicting.

You latched onto his nipple again sucking on it more, the milk entering your mouth as you tried t drink as much as you could, some spilled from the sides of mouth letting it drip on your chest.

"Yes yes! Ngh~" Inasa moaned pushing himself against your warm mouth, relief filling his body as his sensitivity heightened his body trembling as he suddenly came in his boxers leaving a wet spot on his boxers. You continued your actions removing your hand from his tit and moving it to his boxer where you pulled them down, taking a hold of his dick you jacked him off rubbing his cum and pre-cum covered tip with your thumb making it leak more pre-cum.

Inasa moved his hand over his mouth trying his best to keep his noises down but with everything you were doing he couldn't.

Looking up and seeing your lovers pleasured red face along with hearing his loud moans made you groan and cum in your boxers as well, fastening your movements you detached from his nipple and moved to his other sucking the milk filled pectoral.

You tried your best to keep your breathing study as you sucked in as much as you could.

You lifted your boyfriend up and pushed him down on the bed getting in between his legs, you pulled down his boxers along with yours as Inasa covered his face from you panting hard.

You leaned down to his dick licking around his tip before taking him in your mouth fully.

"Agh!~" he moaned feeling your hot mouth around him, you moved your hand up his body giving his boob a good squeeze feeling the milk squirt out and onto your hand. You pinched his nipple trying to get all that stored up milk out of him, Inasa thrusted into your mouth gently gripping your hair as his thick thighs wrapped around your head squeezing you. Tears continued to run down his face but this time from all the pleasure you were giving him, he sobbed into his mouth as he tugged on your hair.

You moved your free hand to wrap around his thigh massaging it gently, Inasa removed his hand from his mouth gripping onto the hand that was on his boob his other hand forcing your head down as his body spasmed, "Oh (y/n)! yes fuck fuck~fuckkk~!" he moaned cumming into your mouth.

His eyes crossed as his tongue hung out of his mouth, milk pouring from his tits as he orgasmed, hearing his moans and looking up to seeing his pleasured face made you cum.

Your cum landing on the bed as you drank the cum in your mouth.

"Ngh~" Inasa let out one last moan as he came down from his high nearly passing out but struggling to stay awake, you licked the tip of his dick before pulling away his thighs falling onto the bed his body weak.

You took a deep breath observing the big mess and the half awake Inasa laying there smiling at you, you smiled back leaning up and kissing his forehead. "I love you baby," you mumbled pecking his lips, Inasa smiled sweetly mumbling a small I love you too, "Come on let me clean you up baby," you mumbled lifting him up and bringing him to the bath.

You cleaned the bed up as you waited for the bath to fill up, you sat down in the large bathtub pulling Inasa to sit on your lap as you washed his cum and milk filled body.

He weakly kissed your cheek as you washed him, "Thank you," he whispered smiling.

You nodded kissing him again, looking up you noticed, "Hey the horns and ears are gone," you mentioned noticing they disappeared.

Inasa nodded closing his eyes, "You can sleep baby I'll get you cleaned up," you said making him nod and fall asleep on against your chest.

[attackonmango]

|Party of Five|Jean x Reiner x Reader x Marco x Bertholdt|Smut|

|This is a pretty long, disgusting and sexual one shot, that I wrote to The Take. It will be upward of a few thousand words, so I hope you like long, smutty chapters. Party of 5, right this way ;)|

"Go clean the showers, brat; you used them last," Levi ordered as he stopped by your room to assign your latest late-night chore. You tried your hardest not to groan out loud. It would help if you had listened to your roommate Ymir who told you to wait until morning.

"Aye, Aye, captain," you muttered, cursing him in your head as he left your shared quarters.

Heading to the supply closet, you grab two dozen handmade rags, a few buckets and a bunch of cleaning products.

The walk to the shower building wasn't far, thankfully. Though the sun has been down for a few hours, the summer air was still suffocating.

"I guess I'd rather be cleaning the showers than shovelling horse shit," you mutter as you pass by the smelly barn. You were laughing to yourself as you listen to Sasha and Connie argue, irritated due to the vile fumes that their masks couldn't protect them from.

As you make it to the showers, you hear laughter inside, and as you open the doors, it only gets louder.

You see Reiner, Jean, Bertholdt and Marco, chasing each other with towels. You watch as they pop each other with them, screaming when it came in contact with their skin.

As Jean and Bertholdt ran past you, Bertholdt popped you with a towel though he aimed for Jean. You cried out in pain, laughing due to shock. "Damn! That shit hurt." you scoffed, partially playing.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Bertholdt apologized profusely as he squinted his eyes, scratching his neck. His face flushed red as he looked at you with embarrassment.

Nodding, you raise your hands to put space between the two of you, "Just don't hit me anymore, accidental or on purpose." you laugh, and he joins in shyly.

"I'm guessing Levi set you to clean the girl's showers?" he asked, creating small talk to avoid awkward silence. He was thankful you had forgiven him so quickly.

"Yea, I'm gonna be here for a while. Not as long as you guys tho, I hear it's pretty bad in there." you laugh to yourself. That rumour has been floating around for a while since training began.

"It is; we've been here since six” Bertholdt exasperated. You both part ways, Bertholdt back on the hunt for Jean.

For the next two hours, you wipe up the wet floors, clean off the mirrors and toilets. You moped and began to clean individual showers. You made sure to make everything pristine as white, exactly how Levi likes it. You didn't want to be back down here tomorrow.

Something tells you that the boys would though, their laughter and the sounds of them running echoed of the walls. They definitely weren’t cleaning. Sometimes you'd see Jean, looking for the rag he lost hours ago. Reiner and Bertholdt rough housing like usually and Marco trying to get everyone to remain on task.

Suddenly in ran Marco, wailing as he raced from Reiner who carried a sloshing bucket of clear water. “I’m just trying to get out of here early? Whats so wrong with that?” Along with “I’m sorry, is that what you want to hear?”

You watch as Marco rans in your direction as Reiner braced himself to throw the clean water. “Hey chill out! I just wiped the floor.” You scold in protest.

Reiner shook his head, adamant that he do what he planned. “A little bit of water never hurt no body.” After that, everything went in slow motion. Marco slipped behind Y/N as the water splashed down on her.

"Yah!" You cried out as Reiner attempted to splash Marco with an entire bucket of water, but he moved out of the way as cold water pierced your skin; the boy's eyes widened as they drifted towards you. Their laughing came to a halt as they started. "Oh shit, " Reiner and Marco exclaim as they still their feet.

Plenty of the water splashed into your mouth and nose, causing you to cough it up. Hacking in front of Marco and Reiner, as your eyes pricked with tears. “Assholes.” You muttered before groaning loudly.

Reiner and Marco swallow thickly as they notice your tears of distress. Too bad they lacked sympathy, as you looked too good for them to care.

"I told you guys to fucking cool it, now I'm wet," you scold them as the shirt clung to your skin. You ran your hands through your hair as you sighed, frustration coursing through you. If looks could kill, they’d be dead because you were pissed.

You pay no attention to Jean and Bertholdt as they walk over to the girl showers, not noticing the way their eyes bulged in their sockets.

You watched as a blush crept up Marco's cheeks as he looked the other direction, refusing to make eye contact, Jean's mouth ajar, both surprise and pure happiness etched on his features.

"Hello, excuse me?" you glared as your hands landed on your hips, as one side jutted out. You turned to glare at Reiner, who grinned, staring intensely at your chest as Bertholdt turned around to avoid your gaze altogether.

Suddenly you shivered, glancing down; you notice you had a white shirt on. A wet white shirt on. "Oh shit!" You cried out, hands flying to cover your breast that we're on full display.

You couldn’t turn away because they stood around you on all sides, and someone would get a eyeful of tits. The best you could do was hiding them behind your arms and hands.

You laughed nervously, absolutely flustered, "Advert your eyes." Your face flushed as you shifted on your feet. Your heart raised as the situation set in. Reiner had exposed you while targeting Marco in front of the 4 of them while they gaped at you. Glancing around, you couldn't help but notices the pitches in their shorts.

"They look great, " Jean chuckled, raising a brow at you. He felt no shame as he drank in your figure. Jean always thought you were sexy. The way your breast filled your shirt, he noticed the way they bounced as you ran.

Reiner visibly cringed, tossing his head back with laughter. "You sound creepy, horse face." Reiner stalked towards you, his eyes flickering from your chest to your bottom lip that you had sucked between your teeth, chewing it until it had gotten red. The look in his eyes weakening your taut knees.

"And you're not?" Jean shot back at Reiner, who ignored him.

"My apologies, Y/N, that bucket was for Marco, " Reiner muttered huskily as he hooked a finger under the hem of your shirt as water dripped down your thighs, tugging harshly. The way he towered over you had you reeling.

Marco loved how plush your thighs were; though he was a gentleman, he isn't innocent. He could see himself dying happily with his head in between them. He couldn't curb the pang of jealousy that washed over him as Reiner toyed with your shirt. You were petrified and enticed as he did so.

You have always found Reiner attractive, as well as the other boys in the room. You had watched thrm grow from boys to men over tge last few years. So his proximity and gaze caused heat to pool in your pants, as you drank in his Earthy scent. His cool breath wafted across your face and the cold water he dumped on you. It didn’t help as the other peered down at you like predator ready to jump on prey. But that’s what this was, wasnt it.

Reiner's next question caused your jaw to drop, "Would you let us take you right here?" You hadn't noticed how close the boys had gotten, Jean and Reiner more so than the others. Reiner lifted his hand to cup your face, his callous hand tracing stars on your cheek.

Your eyes widened as you stared in shock, stepping back until someone pulled you into them, "I-" a hand groping your hip stole your will to speak.

"I bet she would, " Jean purred in your ear, as he pressed himself against you from behind. His clothed length rutting against your full bottom, he massaged your hips, causing your mind to race. "Don't say you haven't thought about it, love, having your brains fucked out while we use you." Jean wasn't wrong; you constantly thought of having to be under them while they ravaged your body, using up whatever they pleased. You thought of all the possibilities of dirty things they could do to you. But you never thought you’d do anything with one of them, in front of the rest of them. And you definitely didn’t think you’d be with all of them at the same time.

You find yourself absent-mindedly backing into Jean, loving the way his length prodded your butt. His fingers dig into your waist as he sensually moved his hips. "See, she's eager." Jean chuckled darkly as he reaches to grab a full fist of hair. He anchors your head, causing you to stare up at Reiner through hooded eyes. "Tell him, slut." You couldn't fight it as you were filled with desire. Usually, that word would hurt your feelings, but given the situation and opportunity at hand, it made you want more than a bit of friction.

Reiner looked down at you, his eyes soft as he waits for your answer. "It is the least you could do," your lashes flutter as you pull away from Jean enough to slip your sodden shirt off. Catering to your nerves, you covered yourself the best you could until Jean pulled your hands away.

"Definitely," Reiner muttered as his hands wander your upper body. Dropping to his knees, he guided your exposed breast into his mouth. His tongue swirled around your sensitive nipple as he tugged, nibbling slightly. You feel him grin as your breathy moans escape you, as you shuddered under their touch. Jean's palms were kneading your ass in his hands. He smirked as you crumple in him and Reiner's grasp as he mutters what he plans on doing to you.

You don't protest as Jean pulled your pants down, lifting your legs out of them. They were quickly discarded since they were no longer needed, along with your panties. His long fingers playing at your entrance.

Your hands danced around in Reiner's hair as he suckled on your bust. As you moaned softly, you tried your hardest not to push his head, but to no avail.

"Slow down, baby, " Reiner muttered as he pulled away, spit trailing from his lips to your sensitive bud, his eyes dilated as he palmed himself through his shorts. "You'll get what you want." The authority in his voice caused your core to dampen; you rub your moist thighs together to ease your desire. You nodded at him, signaling you understand.

“Atta girl,” he muttered, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away water. A pout falls upon your lips as he pulled away too fast for your liking.

"Take these off, " Reiner ordered, referring to his clothes as he pinched your erect nipples, moistening them both.

"Yessir," you exasperate, shamelessly; you rush to get his shirt off, drooling as the shower lights glistened on his toned chest. As you worked on his belt, your hands shake causing Jean to laugh, you groan in agitation as you couldn’t even open his belt.

. "Help her out, man, she's struggling." his hand worked faster as he slipped in another digit inside, curling them as he hit your g spot.

Heat fills your stomach as you sigh into Reiner's chest, he pats your head, telling you it okay. “Guess I’ll do it myself.”

You sigh as his hands slip in between you, the familiar jingle of his belt causing you to clench around Jean’s finger. You feel as his hands work on his belt as you took time to revel in pleasure. Jean moved his other hand from your hip to work your clit, using your slick as a lubricant. You sank deeper into his arms while Reiner worked his belt off along with his pants.

It fell to the ground, the metal on it clinking as it hit the floor. You grin sexily as Reiner stood in all his glory. "There. Now finish," he spoke curtly. Slipping your hand into his boxers, you pull them down. Jumping as his cock sprang out, hitting your face because you were sandwiched between the two. Reiner’s dick was long and thick, his tip swollen with anticipation and his tip pink with want. You trail your fingers down his veins that were prominent on all sides, smiling as he sighed sensually, dick throbbing in your hands. Your eyes cut to Marco, who stood watching, panting slightly as his hand with hand in his pants. Bertholdt stood watching; his breathing laboured as he watched with a red face, his dick hard as well."What about those two, " you mutter as you stare into their eyes.

"Don't worry about them, " Jean spoke harshly as he pulled his clothes off his skin. "We're busy for now."

"Look at you, so interested in someone else's needs." Reiner praised once more, peppering your lips with soft kisses. "They'll get a turn. Right now, we're playing."

Jean pulls your legs, spreading them out. His hand trailed down your back as he kissed your neck, leaving love bites when he can. Jean pressed on the small of your back, asking you to arch. He leaned you down, your face in front of Reiner’s dick, who cupped your chin again, his fingers brushing against your lip as you sat on your hands and knees.

"Say ah," as he patted your face, his voice tantalizing and husky with seduction, asking you to open your mouth, you almost instantly complying. He guided his dick to and past your lips, brushing his pre-cum on your plush, full and moistened lips. Licking them, you hum with delight. Wrapping your tongue around his tip, you pull Reiner by his thighs as close as you could without choking.

You shudder as Jean aligned himself at your entrance, his tip drawing circles on your clit as you buck your hips involuntarily. Your moaning sent vibration down Reiner's length.

You grew irritated as Jean teased your hole with the swole tip of himself, you push away from Reiner, enough so you could be. “Don’t leave me hanging, Jean.” You muttered back at the brunette who glared darkly. You shiver as sly laughter fell from his lips.

A scream shot in you as Jean plunged into, slamming into your sweet spot. You couldn’t help the way Jean pushed you into Reiner, causing you to gagged around him. Your nose scrunches up as more precum slides down your throat as he throbbed on your wet muscle.

Making quick use of your throat, Reiner hips began to rock in a slow, tight motion as he fucked your face slowly, one hand on the back of your head, knotted loosely in your hair. The other is under your armpit and wrapped around your shoulder, tugging you farther from Jean.

Warm drool pools in your mouth and down your chin. It dribbled down his waist, slicking his balls, the squelching of your throat and the feel of your tongue lapping him up as you hummed on his dick as Jean teased your womanhood drove him insane, as he pulled you you closer, watching your mouth swallow him up, again and again.

"F-fuck, so good." Reiner sputtered out praise, massaging the back of your head gently with one hand. It was a miracle you could breathe because the two of them weren't giving you a chance.

Marco's hand was in his pants, pumping away slowly, chasing a nut as he watched Reiner and Jean play tug of war with you and manhandled you. Listening to you cry out and moan was enough to cause him to erupt all over his hand. You groan at the empty feeling you feel as Jean pulls out. It didn’t last long though, as you squelch and pucker around him.

Suddenly you cried out as Jean pushed into your pulsating core, stuffing you even though he hadn't bottomed out. You're hogging Y/N, Reiner," Jean growled, his hands digging into your hips, pulling your ass apart. He watched part of his long and girthy shaft reappear and disappear from inside of you. "Let up, bro."

"Fuck no," Reiner breathed out, his eyes fluttering as he sighed, followed by more praise. Jean tugged you closer to him, against Reiner's needy and robust grip, pressing on your back, fixing your arch. To him, it wasn't deep enough; your ass needs to be higher. "Keep that arch, dammit."

You body lunges back and forth as they fuck into you simultaneously. You knees weaken as the realization sets in. To them, you were a rag doll, something they could use because you’d never stop them. You enjoyed it too much.

You cried out as Jean's large and heavy hand landed on your ass with a loud smack. His hands moved from your hips to your stomach; he slammed into the rest of the way and withdrew, leaving you feeling empty. Delicious pain shot through you as he pushed up back inside you.

The wetness of your mouth and your screams sending vibration down his dick, Reiner's hips to stall as he began to shake. To know that you even had this power over him caused you to clench around Jean.

Reiner moved his hands back to your head, tightening his grip in your now tangled hair. His dick hit the back of your throat as he forcefully pushed you closer to Jean, who thrust relentlessly, his head tossed make in pleasure. Reiner emptied himself down your throat, holding you in place as he forced you to take his load. "Swallow it all, beautiful." which you had no choice but to oblige; thankfully, he tasted pretty good. Sweeter than salty.

He moved a hand to your jaw, rubbing it softly as you breathed out heavily as he pulled out of your mouth with an audible pop. "Open up," he omitted quietly, tapping your chin. He wiped the wetness of tears from your eyes as you looked up at him through wet lashes, fighting moans as Jean also got sloppy with his thrusts.

Opening your mouth, Reiner looked inside and smiled constantly. "Good job, you did so well." though he was on his knees, he leaned down to kiss you right as your much-awaited orgasm shot through you as Jean's dick rubbed against you g spot, his thumb playing with your sensitive clit, the warm pit in your stomach boiling over as you spilled out onto Jean's pulsating length.

You pulled away from Reiner and cried out as Jean pulled you close to him, pinning your hands behind your back as he fucked you through your orgasm, laying you against the cold tiles that cut through your warmth. He laid on top of your shaking figure; he laid perfectly on your arch, putting all his weight on you to hold you down. Pulling out of you, Jean came on your ass, using a hand to smear it all over you. You noticed that Bertholdt finally turned around, a concerned look on his face as he held a rag, sitting in a chair.

Finally letting you go, Jean stood up smiling as he watched you lay on the ground. Walking around you, he stands at your hand. Watching your chest heave up and down made satisfaction shoot through him. "Told you that you'd like it." Jean laughed at your dazed expression, glazed over eyes and a tired and euphoric smile on your face.

Before Jean could get into aftercare, Bertholdt swooped you up as you cried out. You were sensitive, and they were pretty rough. "Aftercare is essential. Let's clean you up, baby." Bertholdt held you close, smiling softly as you looked at him through teary eyes.

He sat back in the chair, using the damp rag to wipe away the spit that covered your face, along with the nut on your ass, and also your folds, while he told you how perfect you had been, how sexy it was to watch his friends use you while your face was in his shirt. "Can you do me a favour?"

Looking up, you nodded your head, listening to whatever Bertholdt is about to say. You would speak, but you were still coming down from your high.

"Let me taste you." Passion burns in his eyes as Bertholdt licks his lips. You couldn't say no, not to that face. You hear the other boys laugh and tease the both of you.

You hide your face in his shirt as he wraps his around you, "you don't have to, but I'd like it." he muttered so only you could hear. He was giving you an out; if today had been too much, then Bertholdt hoped to do it someday along the line.

" I want to," you say hoarsely, your throat still ached from Reiner. "Let's lay by the shower," Bertholdt instructed as he covered your named body to one of the showerheads. He positioned you so that the water would hit your upper stomach. Turning it on to the lowest setting, water gently spurts out of the faucet, spraying a warm mist over your body that ached from being slutted out by Jean and Reiner. Who knew the pairing made for a devilish dicking down.

Bertholdt brought you back to his attention as he lifted your legs over his shoulders. He scooted close enough to smell your desire. He teased your clit with a light brush of his fingers. You cry out, the feeling of want to build deeply inside you.

"Such a tease," you muttered, bucking your hand against his skimming hand. Laughing lightly at you, Bertholdt teases your clit a few times before he sucked on it. Your thigh squeeze, involuntarily but Bertholdt opened your legs up. His tongue danced around your clit, rolling it between his lips as you began to moan out, your hands resting on his head, tingling as water lightly drizzles upon your arm. Bertholt put his arms around you, massaging your tummy in his hand while his tongue rubbed your clit. He sucked on every part of your pussy, that he could.

As he began to fuck you with his tongue, he dropped a hand down to run a tight circle with his thumb on your clit. Convulsing, you bucked your hips to match the flow of his tongue, working for your orgasm. Your breath began laboured as you met eyes with the other guys.

“Such a good girl, look at the way your grinding into Bert’s face,” Marco praised as you began to hump their friend’s face while he worshiped you with his tongue.

"You look adorable when you are about to cum," Reiner teased as he chuckled at your expression. You couldn't help but chew your lip with anticipation for your release.

"I can't believe you are this slutty," Jean laughed as he fucked you with his eyes.

You began to babble, at a loss for words due to their words and Bertholdt devouring you like he hadn’t ate earlier today in the mess hall

They loved to see you so vulnerable like this; it was a side not many seen since you were a seasoned soldier. But to see you mewling around through touch was enough to drive them nuts. They often all fantasized about you, they knew that they had a mutual crush on you, which they playfully argued about but it was nothing detrimental. And now, here they are, fucking you together, and jacking off to the way your face contorted and the way your body twisted, begging for more.

“Damn, if i knew, ah, that your mouth was this good, I would’ve hopped on a lot sooner.” You breathed out, hard carding through his soft brown hair.

“You taste so damn sweet,” Bertholdt muttered, his nose nudging your pulsating clit as he dipped his tongue into your core. He groaned at the way you tasted as he spread you open, licking a bold strip down your folds.

You watch the others as they pump away with their cocks in hand. Black dots cover your vision as you feel another orgasm shoot through to, Soaking Bertholdt's chin and lips as he lapped up your orgasm, his hands massaging away at your tummy.

Curses leave your lips as you rock your hip into his mouth that attempted to swallow your soul. "Ah~ Fuck!" you cried out, tears pricking in your eyes.

"It's okay, Y/N." Marco's voice echoes through you as you shook with pleasure. Reaching for him, Marco took his hand in yours, and he used the other one to brush your tears away. "You've been doing so good, now of your turn to be pleasured." he purred in your ear as he guided you through your second orgasm.

You latch onto his lips with yours, your tongue fighting to devour each other. Marco grinned at your breathy moans that he swallowed.

As your moans came to a stop, you couldn't help but lightly push Bertholdt away from your center. You were way too sensitive, and if he could have it his way then, you'd be there in that spot, all damn night.

He laughed as he laid eyes on you, you looked fucked beyond your comprehension, and your mind was still catching up. "You tasted amazing, thank you." Bertholdt pressed his lips to yours one last time to let you taste yourself.

Humming in his mouth, you hug him. You felt thankful and were in utter bliss. You've never been fucked so good before. This was your first 5-some, and you knew this was heavily frowned upon, but these four made you feel the best you have ever felt.

Reiner handed you your shorts and his undershirt so that you could get dressed. "So," he began, both of your faces glowing red and hot. "I think I speak for the guys when I say, this was fun. If you weren't satisfied, or this isn't your thing, we don't have to do it again, but we could." Reiner trailed off as the guys mutually agreed out loud. “Shit we would be more than welcome to doing this frequently.”

"It was enjoyable, a bit too enjoyable. It seems like now we are a party of 5, causing regular sex isn't going to cut it if I can be fucked with that," you laugh as you slip your clothes on. Pressing your lip to Reiner's lips and then each boy after that.

"Reiner and Jean," you call as you break away from your kiss with Bertholdt. "Next time, maybe don't fight with each other." you giggle as they awkwardly grin with knowing smiles.

"You liked it," Jean muttered as he pulled you into him, tucking you into his side as he kisses the top of your head.

"I did, now let's finish." you admitting, grabbing your things to finish cleaning before Levi makes an appearances. You ignored the shaking of your legs until you had finished. The five of you are finally at the dorms when you collapse into Marco, who carried you back.

Like you had said, it was like a guilty pleasure. You enjoyed being around beautiful men who wanted on you hand and foot. They were amazing and the sex was great too.

[mochegato]

Heroic Deeds

Thanks to @boldlyanxious and @ive-fallen-down-the-rabbithole for the idea

 Marinette was going to kill her roommate.  Because that’s why she was in this situation in the first place, her roommate was too busy to pick up his own damn paperwork.  And she was just too “nice” to say no.  And puppy dog eyes should be illegal.  In fact, that was the next house rule.  No puppy dog eyes.  She has never in her life been able to say no to puppy dog eyes and mean it.  Manon, Etta, Ella, Adrien… no more!  Hence forth they were banned.  It was already a rule with the kwami.  It would just have to be instituted as a rule with humans as well.

But until then, she had to deal with this ridiculousness.  This thief that sounded like he was bored out of his mind, like she was inconveniencing him by being held hostage.  Is it too much to ask for him to be more invested in this than she is?  I mean, she may be the one with the gun pointed at her, but he’s the one that’s pointing it and he’s the one that broke into the office to steal whatever documents he was halfheartedly looking for during the day instead of at night when NOBODY WOULD BE THERE.  

But noooo, this jackass had to do it during the day and at the exact moment when she would be there. Really, what was her luck?  Was this punishment for not wearing Tikki constantly anymore?  She was only supposed to be in this office for a total of a whole ninety seconds. Walk in, grab the documents that were supposed to be ready and waiting for her, and walk out.  But instead she was stuck here critiquing this idiot’s ransacking skills, because that ninety seconds is exactly when this blasé thief decided to strike.  

At least Kate was safe, she huffed to herself.  Kate had been lucky enough to have gone to the backroom for the documents just a few seconds before Idiot Man came in.  Hopefully, she had escaped through the backdoor and had contacted the police already.  Because apparently Kate hadn’t pissed off the kwami of luck like Marinette somehow had.  She and Tikki were going to have a very long, very hissy discussion when she got back home.

And this guy wasn’t. Even.  Paying.  Attention. To.  Her.  The gun was pointed in her general direction, but it was like she was the furthest thing from his mind, like she held the same threat level as a kitten.  But that was his mistake, underestimating her, because this kitten had claws.  God, she’s been hanging out with Adrien too much.  She’s beginning to think like him.  She let out a breath and banged her head against the back of the chair she was sitting in out of frustration and disappointment in herself.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he was ignoring her to focus on his search, but he wasn’t really paying attention to that either.  She would think he was high on something if there were any other signs of it.  No, this just was just bored, like he was wasting time, waiting for the police to show up.  Maybe it’s the ski mask he was wearing that was annoying him.  Who wears a ski mask in the summer?  And… did he just check his phone!  Oh, Hell no!  That was the final straw.

She moved before she could overthink it, sliding over the desk she had moved behind when he came in. She plowed into his chest with both feet, catching him completely off guard and knocking him back into the filing cabinet.  

“Hey, get off me!” he yelled, sounding more affronted than worried.  

She twisted around and kicked the gun out of his hand with one leg, following it up with a punch that would have broken his nose if he hadn’t blocked it with his forearm, redirecting her hit.  She stopped her momentum before breaking her hand on the filing cabinet.  She pulled her arm back instead striking her elbow directly into his cheek.

“What the fuck!” he yelled, holding his cheek and looking up at her like she was crazy.

He reached for his gun, but she kicked his arm and raced for it herself, kicking it under a nearby cabinet. “That was my gun!” he gritted out, rounding on her.  At least he finally looked invested in this.

“I noticed,” she smirked at him, delivering a roundhouse kick to the face.  He dodged at the last second and shoved her leg, changing her momentum and sending her flying toward the edge of the table.  She squeezed her eyes shut as she braced herself for the impact. If she timed this right, she could use the table as a springboard to go back at him.  The table was solidly built from thick, heavy wood and metal.  It had to weigh several hundred pounds.  It would be able to take her weight without moving even a centimeter.  She took a breath to prepare, but the impact was significantly softer than she had anticipated and didn’t give her the bounce back she expected, causing her to end up sprawled on the floor instead of springing back at the thief.  

Before she had even registered what happened, she heard a grunt in front of her and the sound of the table scraping against the floor as it moved.  She looked up to a red helmet looking back at her.  Her eyes flicked down quickly to his chest as if she needed the confirmation the bright red bat there gave her.  He stood up quickly, rubbing his shoulder as he approached her. He knelt down in front of her. “You okay?”  His voice was considerably softer than she would have anticipated from the vigilante considered to be the most dangerous of the bats.

She stared at him for a few seconds, shocked by the tone and to see him there in the first place.  She had been expecting the police not a bat. It was daytime, everyone knew they didn’t come out during the day.  The bat signal didn’t work during the day.  “Miss,” he tried again, his voice taking on a concerned edge.

“Oh!  Yes.  Yeah. I’m fine.”  She nodded rapidly and reached down to rub her leg where the thief had pushed her, more to relieve anxiety than because it actually hurt.  

“You’re hurt.”  It was a comment, not a question.

“It’s okay, really,” she tried to assure him, but he was already up and stalking toward the thief who had started edging toward the door.  Marinette mentally scoffed at his stupidity.  She understood underestimating her, she was an unknown and looked tiny.  But Red Hood was a known entity.  His threat level was well established.  Why on Earth wouldn’t the thief have run as soon as he appeared?

“Hood…” he started nervously, holding up his hands as though trying to placate him.

Whatever other argument he was going to try to make died on his lips as Hood picked him up and threw him through the large, plate glass, front window.  He stood at the window for a few seconds, watching the thief run away. Satisfied with what he saw, he turned back to her.  “How badly are you hurt?”  He approached her slowly.  He rolled his shoulder a few times, almost imperceptibly.  If she hadn’t been familiar with trying to hide an injury, she might have missed it.

Marinette smiled at him.  “I’m not. Are you?  Did I hurt your shoulder when I slammed into you?”

“Are you sure?”  He stopped a respectable distance from her.  He seemed to eye her leg suspiciously, but backed off questioning it. “I mean emotionally too.  An incident like that can be stressful for some people.”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “Please, that wasn’t stressful.  That was annoying.  And you didn’t answer my question.  How is your shoulder?”

Red Hood paused for a few seconds watching her.  “It’s fine.  You weren’t afraid?”

Marinette scoffed.  “No. The most stressful part of this is I’m supposed to be picking up some important documents for my roommate and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get them now.”

“If you didn’t feel afraid of what he would do, why did you attack him?  You could have provoked him into doing something he wasn’t going to do before,” he gently chided her.

Marinette let out an annoyed sigh.  “You sound like my roommate.”

“Sounds like a wise man. Why didn't you listen?” He cocked his head to the side.

She mumbled something into her feet, not making eye contact with him.

He arched his head closer to her.  “What was that?”  She mumbled something again, slightly louder this time, but still not loud enough for him to understand what she said.  “What?”

“Because he pissed me off.  Okay?” she finally yelled in exasperation.

“What did he do to piss you off?” he asked carefully, because if the guy did anything to hurt her, he was going to hunt the asshole down and kill him.

“He was bored,” she growled.  “He was holding me at gunpoint and acting like I was the one that forced him into the situation and it pissed me off, okay.  I mean the audacity!” Red Hood fought laughing at the adorable scrunched up face she made as she talked.  She waved her arms around agitatedly as she spoke.  “You don't want to be here?  Newsflash, asshole!  Neither do I! I mean, if you’re going to threaten me, put some effort into it, you know?  Am I not worth the effort?”

“You are.” Red Hood answered instantly.  “I mean, you seem like you are… from what I can tell.”

“It’s just disrespectful,” she groused, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting as she leaned against the table.

“Extremely,” he agreed absently, staring at her pouting lips.  “Lucky for you though.  Seems like he underestimated you.  I don’t even think you needed this knight in shining leather to rescue you.”

She huffed out a laugh.  “I already have a knight in shining leather.  Two, actually, if you count my roommate, which I do.  I don’t really need another.”

He motioned like he wanted to take his helmet off but stopped himself.  He positioned his arm on the table she was leaning on, supporting his weight as he leaned closer to her.  “But are they heroes?”  

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.  “I mean… to me,” she added quickly.  She didn’t need anyone making any kind of a connection between her and Chat.

He seemed to contemplate her for a moment before responding.  “You must be quite something to have so many knights willing to fight for you.  But, maybe you can use another, after all they’re not here right now and I am.  I can be your knight in shining Kevlar instead.”

She chuckled, looking down shyly.  When she looked back up, it was through her eyelashes.  “Yes, you are here and during the day too,” she smirked at him.  “I didn’t think you guys could come out during the day.  I thought sun repelled you.”

“You’re thinking of vampires.”

She pretended to study him carefully.  “So you’re stating for the official record that you are not, in fact, vampires then?  Just regular bats.  Interesting.” She looked away nodding as if in thought.  “I’ll have to let my friend know you’re refuting that theory.  She runs a superhero blog.  The vampire Bats theory is one of the more popular posts.”

He chuckled and she could hear the smile through his words. “We aren’t.  Well, I’m not.  Can’t vouch for Robin though.  He’s definitely some kind of cryptid.”

Her face was starting to hurt from trying to contain her smile. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him.  “Although… you could be lying.  After all, you are entirely covered right now… in the middle of the day… in the summer. That’s a lot of leather for a hot day. It kind of looks like you’re hiding from the sun.”  She shrugged her shoulders innocently.

Red Hood stared at her a few more seconds and she was cursing the helmet for an entirely different reason than she usually did.  Right now she was dying to know what kind of face he was making.  Was he smirking?  Was he frowning?  Was he blushing?  Did she make Red Hood blush!  Was he enjoying the interaction or was she annoying him?  He moved over to the window he had thrown the thief through earlier and stopped a few feet from it.  He pulled up his sleeve to reveal his forearm and exposed it to the sun.  “Happy?”

Marinette looked at his forearm for a few seconds, struck by the muscles that were so defined even in his forearms.  The things that man could probably do with his hands… She walked closer and started to reach out to touch his forearm only to snap her hand back at the last second.  Her cheeks blazed brightly.  She cleared her throat lightly.  “For now,” she nodded as casually as she could manage, looking everywhere but his eyes.

“Don’t feel shy, P… rincess,” he smirked at her. “Feel free to feel freely.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, as much to stop herself from reaching out to touch him as embarrassment. “Probably not a good idea to go around groping people you don’t know so….”

“So,” he started quietly, moving closer to her, “you’re saying you want to get to know me better and then you’ll grope me.” He quirked his head to the side as he took another step closer.  “How well do we have to know each other for that?  ‘Cuz, I’d let you do it now, so it’s all up to you.”

Marinette’s cheeks blazed a deep red.  She looked away to collect herself.  While this was fun and Red Hood’s body should be as illegal as his actions, she wasn’t looking to be another notch for him and considering the speed he was moving with someone he just met a few seconds ago, that’s all she would be.  She took a breath and looked back up at him.  “I’m saying… I should find the papers I was sent here for and get them back to my roommate.”

“Let me walk you home.  Make sure the guy doesn’t come back.  I can check the security of your place too to make sure you’re safe,” he offered in a tone that sounded sincere.

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Okay?”  He sounded surprised at her answer.  Most women must not say yes to him, which frankly she had a really hard time believing.

“To the walk, not the apartment check,” she corrected him firmly.  “My apartment is safe.”

“Are you sure?  I can…”

“My roommate made sure it’s safe and I trust my roommate more than I trust you,” she cut him off.  “No offense.”

Red Hood was silent for a few seconds before nodding.  “Okay.”

<><><><><> 

Marinette laid down on the couch for a while after getting home replaying the events in her head. No matter how many times she ran through them, they still didn’t make any sense.  The thief didn’t make sense.  Red Hood being there during the day didn���t make sense.  And Red Hood hitting on her… didn’t not make sense, but it definitely dampened the crush she had on him.  

After a little while, her stomach reminded her she had planned to pick up something to eat after picking up the paperwork, which means she hadn’t eaten since the croissant she had at breakfast and it was now dinnertime.  She let out a groan and forced herself up off the couch.  Maybe chopping some vegetables would make her feel better anyway.

She had already started sautéing the onions when the puppy dog eyed man himself finally made it home.  “That smells great, Mari.  Were you able to get the paperwork?”

Marinette blinked at him a few times before narrowing her eyes and pointing the knife she was holding at him.  “You’re not allowed to do puppy dog eyes anymore!”

“What?  Why?  I mean… I don’t… do that,” he trailed off quietly at the glare she was sending him.

“Yes, you do,” she glowered and went back to cutting vegetables for dinner a little more forcefully than she had originally.

“So what happened that was so bad?” he asked carefully.  He moved to sit on the counter, but made sure to keep a fair distance between him and Marinette, or more specifically, her knife.

“The office got robbed!” she exclaimed loudly, waving the knife wildly.  “While I was in it!”

He jumped down off the counter and ran to her.  He grabbed her shoulders and looked her over carefully for any signs of injury.  “Mari!  Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Marinette scoffed.  “No.  I just started trying to take him down when Red Hood interrupted.”

“Red Hood, huh?”  He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Yes, Red Hood,” she rolled her eyes.  “Shut up.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly and took the knife from her hand first.  Once he was fairly safe from getting stabbed, accidentally or on purpose, he continued.  “Did you flirt with him?”

“What?” Her cheeks flared brightly.  What the hell!  Why was he asking her that?  That was not a conversation she wanted to have.  It was hard enough to have normal conversations with him and his tight shirts and charming smile and piercing eyes, but him encouraging her to flirt with other people was really not a conversation she wanted to have.

“Well you… you like him, right?  You said he was your favorite and he was a dilf, even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any kids,” he said nonchalantly as he swirled the onions in the pan.

“Yeah, because he could be my daddy,” Marinette muttered to herself, but apparently not as quietly as she thought she did, judging by the choking sounds next to her.

“What!”

“What?”  The smug smirk making its way across his face told her that her denial didn’t come across as innocently as she had hoped.  “Shut up, Jason.”

“So he made a good impression then?” He asked somewhat awkwardly, which was bizarre for him. “You might even want to see him again?”

She smacked him in the shoulder pausing when he flinched heavily.  She stared at him, studying him closely.  That was where Red Hood had been nursing earlier.  Red Hood, who has the same dimensions as Jason.  Red Hood, who had a still healing cut on his forearm in the exact same spot as the one Jason mysteriously showed up with a few days ago.  Red Hood, who knew her roommate was a he.  Red Hood, who reminded her so much of Jason, which is why she liked him so much in the first place.  Red Hood, who was definitely flirting with her as he rescued her while she was the only one… in Jason’s aunt’s office… after saving her from someone who, thinking back, had the same dimensions and eye color as Roy…

“Oh he made an impression,” she said absentmindedly, still staring at his shoulder.

“A… um, a good one?  He did save you, right?  Heroic deeds and all?  Women love a hero,” Jason added casually.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, letting the pieces settle into place.  Finally, her eyes widened in realization.  “You set it up…”

Jason’s face went blank. “I… What?”

“You set it up,” Marinette repeated with more confidence.  “You… Why?”

“What are you talking about?” Jason tried desperately.

She punched him hard in the shoulder.  “Jesus! Fuck, Pixie.  That hurt.” Jason cried out as he rubbed his aching shoulder.

“Good!  What the fuck?  Why would you do that?  Were you trying to scare me?”

“No!  I was… Because… because you liked Red Hood.  I wanted you to meet him,” he said defensively.  He looked away and took a breath.  When he looked back, his voice was quieter, shakier. “You wanted Red Hood and… and I wanted you so…”

“You know, you could have just, I don’t know, popped up on the roof when I was there or showed up when I was walking home.  You didn’t have to stage a robbery!  Think about all that damage Kate has to deal with now!”

“She was remodeling anyway. She needed to demo the entire office so… two birds, you know?”  He shrugged a little too casually to be casual and flipped the onions again.

“And one bat.” He rolled his eyes at her.  “Or you could have just… said something”

“You weren’t interested in me.  You were interested in Red Hood.”

Marinette let out a long sigh.  “I was interested in Red Hood because he reminded me of you.”

His eyes widened in realization.  “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.  And liking him seemed less emotionally damaging than destroying my relationship with you by flirting.”

“You thought I wasn’t interested?”  He looked at her incredulously.  She looked down at her feet, shuffling them awkwardly, refusing to make eye contact, almost like she was afraid of what he was going to say.  He couldn’t allow that to continue.  He turned off the stove and walked up to her slowly, careful not to scare her, just like Red Hood had earlier that day.  He gently cupped her face, softly enough that she could pull away if she wanted to.  He stroked her cheeks tenderly.  

When he finally spoke up again, his voice was loving and reverent.  “Pix, I’m head over heels.  I don’t think you even… no, I know you don’t know how much or you wouldn’t question why I tried talking to you as Red Hood instead.  I love you, Pix.  I love your heart and your humor and your sass and your passion… and your face.  I love that too.  

“And God, your smiles. I love your smile when you’re happy, which is different than your smile when you beat me at UMS, which is different than your smile when you see a little kitten, which is different than your smile when you’re thinking about home, which is different than your smile after you’ve completed a commission, which is different than your smile when I make an amazing joke that you hate.  I love them all and I just want to see any of them, all of them, every day.”

He didn’t realize how close he had gotten to Marinette’s face until he realized the gasp she let out sounded like it was right next to him.  She laid her hands over his wrists.  “Jason…”

“And I really hope I didn’t…”

“Jason!” she interrupted. He looked at her wide eyed.  She smiled reassuringly at him.  “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh God, Pixie, you can’t imagine how happy that would make me,” he smiled down at her, lowering himself so his lips were close enough for her to reach.

She grinned back up at him as she pushed herself up, her lips a few millimeters from his.  “Oh, I think I have an idea,” she whispered before closing the distance.

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver