#might make the scarred one on the right a oc...

[dizzy-hat]

doom 2016 brain rot coming for my head years later, now cyber mancubi are occupying my mental space 🗿

[yanderefarm]

yandere vampire's pet

cw;; dehumanization?, blood, vampires, humans as pets, yandere, angst, suggestive

this is the last named and drawn oc i have ready. i still have two more concepts in my drafts but they're not finished yet.

this might not show his yandere tendencies as well as characters like ares or emil but he's more of a self destructive type. he's more likely to hurt himself for doing something wrong than he is likely to hurt someone for touching you.

also i had to include the vampire guilt and angst im only human (human with a guilt kink)

you're a vampire lord in a world run by vampires with a yandere human pet who you found in a run down human farm after he basically threw himself at you. who clung to your leg and insisted he tasted so sweet you wouldn't regret taking in. who you took pity on seeing his scarred neck and decided to take him with you home.

you fed him and brought him to full health in a year. on the anniversary he begged on his knees for you to make him your pet. you complied. you didn't expect the preservation procedure that would allow him to stay with you forever to mess up his brain. or maybe this was always his personality.

he begged you every day to feed on him. he would sneak into your bed chamber and cut his neck to wake you up. he would sit himself in your lap around noon and undo his shirt buttons to give you easy access. if you dared to refuse him he would cry and beg so pathetically.

you made him this way why didn't you want him? he would often cry until you feel guilty for destroying his humanity. you always gave into him. he always got clingier. he tried not to get in your way during work but one day you let him lay his head on your lap and sit in your office quietly all day. so you had to let him again the next day.

if he really pushed too far you would lock him in an old attic room. oh how he sobbed. you would open the door the next day to be met with his bloodshot eyes that held no light. he would kiss your shoes and cling to your legs while he spoke hoarse apologies. you always forgave him and carried him in your arms to eat breakfast.

on the occasions that you two went to a party held by your fellow vampire lords he would always try to show off. you'd buy him new clothes and a new ribbon to hide his old scars. he liked being the most beautiful arm candy for you. it wasn't unusual for high quality pets to get passed around at these parties. at the end of the night he would often find himself in a strange bed, dizzy from being bled and pathetically crying for you.

your dear pet had spent the whole night being ravaged while you were doing business. his naked and used body laying in the unfamiliar bed, barely conscious. you sighed as you sunk onto the bed, your added weight causing him to shift slightly but he made no noise. usually by now he would be sobbing and reaching wildly for you, those degenerates must have really worked him hard.

you reached out and played with a piece of his hair. "I'm sorry, you poor pathetic creature."

your cold lifeless hands gently brush against his warm cheek. his body finally shifts a little, instinctively pulling away from the cold. you can't help the sad smile that falls on your lips seeing that. you forget how cold you are with how he clings to you at every opportunity. you can smell his blood right now and the tug of your instincts tells you to feed. you forget that you're a monster with how he treats you with such adoration and reverence.

"your life would have been better if you never met me." you push his hair away from his neck, revealing the old scars with fresh wounds scattered among them. your fingers brush against his pulse and he gasps.

you watch his olive eyes blink open slowly, they look almost too heavy to open. you want to gently close them like one would a corpse but the wide smile that spreads across his face stops you. if your heart could still beat you're sure it would have skipped.

"good morning." you said softly.

he used all his remaining strength to wrap around your waist. "y/n..."

his voice is so hoarse and he sounds so exhausted but there's the undeniable happiness. you guide his head to your lap, cold fingers twirling around his hair again.

"was i good...?" his eyes blinked slow again.

"yes. you were so amazing again tonight." you felt the weight of guilt pressing against your chest.

"reward m'...~" you knew he was asking you to indulge in him as so many others had tonight so you just ignored him.

you gently gathered him up in your arms, the top sheet draping over his body. you grabbed his discarded ribbon off the bed before you began carrying him out. the ribbon was sat on his stomach and his weak hands fiddled with it idly. he seemed to be too deep in thought to let sleep overtake him again.

"master... 'm glad you made me...." he nuzzled his head against your chest.

"your father made you." you corrected as you approached your carriage.

"no... y'... made m' y'r pathetic creature." his eyes finally started to close. "so glad m' life is master's.."

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Family x Fem!OC

You smacks their ass as they walk past

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne (aged up), Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Selina Kyle & Kate Kane

Jason Todd aka. Red Hood

- You never imagined how someone like Jason Todd could hold himself with such a dangerous blend of confidence and recklessness. He walks like he owns every inch of ground he treads, his leather jacket slung over his shoulders, the red of his helmet tucked under his arm. You don’t know what possesses you when you walk past him, catching a glimpse of his lean frame and the cocky smirk tugging at his lips. Maybe it’s the sheer magnetism he exudes, or maybe you just can’t help yourself. Your hand reaches out, and you deliver a sharp, playful smack to his rear as you stride by.

- Jason freezes mid-step, his body going rigid for a split second before he turns to face you, an incredulous look spreading across his face. “Did you just—” he begins, his voice caught somewhere between outrage and amusement. But then that signature smirk of his grows wider, sharper, and his blue eyes gleam with a dangerous, playful edge. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he teases, advancing toward you with a slow, deliberate menace that’s all bark and no real bite. You laugh, the sound light and carefree, because you know Jason’s ire is more for show than anything else.

- He catches you around the waist, pulling you into his arms with ease, the leather of his jacket brushing against your skin. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as his lips ghost over your ear. “But you’re not getting away with it.” There’s an edge of fondness in his tone, a warmth that softens his usual bravado. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, may wear his scars like armor, but when he’s with you, he’s softer, more human. You bring out a side of him that no one else gets to see, and he revels in the feeling of being seen by you, flaws and all.

- Later, as you sit curled up on the couch together, his hand resting casually on your thigh, he leans over and murmurs, “Next time, warn me before you do something like that. I might just enjoy it a little too much.” He grins at your surprised expression, his laughter rich and unrestrained. Jason Todd is a man of contradictions—gritty and rough around the edges, yet tender and fiercely loyal to those he loves. And in that moment, as he looks at you like you hung the moon, you know you’ll always be the exception to his every rule.

Dick Grayson aka. Nightwing

- It’s hard not to admire Dick Grayson as he moves with a fluid grace that’s almost otherworldly, every step a testament to his years as an acrobat. He’s the kind of man who lights up a room without even trying, his smile warm enough to melt the iciest of hearts. As he passes by you, his toned physique impossible to ignore, you act on a mischievous whim. Your hand darts out, delivering a quick slap to his behind, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet space.

- Dick stops in his tracks, his back straightening as he turns to face you, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “Did you really just do that?” he asks, his tone playful as he raises an eyebrow at you. But the corners of his lips are already twitching upward, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter. “You know I have a reputation to maintain, right? What if someone saw?” His words are teasing, but there’s no mistaking the delight in his voice.

- He crosses the room in a few quick strides, pulling you into his arms with that effortless charm of his. “You’re lucky you’re adorable,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His hands settle on your hips, his touch warm and grounding as he looks at you with a fondness that makes your heart skip a beat. Dick Grayson has always been a people person, someone who gives his all to everyone he meets, but with you, it’s different. With you, he lets his guard down completely, his love unfiltered and true.

- Later, as the two of you sit on the rooftop, the city sprawled out before you, he leans back on his hands and chuckles. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?” he says, glancing over at you with a grin that’s equal parts exasperated and enamored. “But I love it. I love you.” In that moment, with the stars above and his hand brushing against yours, you realize that Dick’s love is the kind that makes you feel like you’re flying, weightless and free.

Tim Drake aka. Red Robin

- Tim Drake has always been the picture of focus and determination, his mind a labyrinth of strategies and contingencies. He’s the kind of man who gets lost in his work, his attention consumed by the mysteries he seeks to unravel. But as he walks past you, his nose buried in a tablet, you decide to do something to pull him out of his reverie. With a playful grin, you reach out and smack his rear, the sound sharp and unmistakable.

- Tim freezes, his eyes widening as he processes what just happened. Slowly, he turns to face you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “Did you just…?” he begins, his voice faltering as he searches for the right words. He’s flustered, his usual composure slipping as he stares at you, half-amused and half-embarrassed. “I didn’t see that coming,” he admits, a small, awkward laugh escaping him. For someone so perceptive, you’ve managed to catch him completely off-guard.

- He sets his tablet down, his curiosity piqued as he steps closer to you. “Care to explain yourself?” he asks, his tone light and teasing as he folds his arms across his chest. But there’s a softness in his eyes, a quiet affection that belies his playful demeanor. Tim isn’t one to let his guard down easily, but with you, he doesn’t have to try. You bring a sense of ease to his life, a warmth that balances out the weight of his responsibilities.

- Later, as he sits beside you on the couch, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, he glances at you and smiles. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his voice filled with admiration. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tim Drake may be the genius detective, always one step ahead of everyone else, but with you, he’s just Tim—a man who’s hopelessly in love with the person who keeps him on his toes.

Damian Wayne aka. Robin (Aged up)

- Damian Wayne walks with the confidence of someone who’s spent his entire life being told he’s destined for greatness. There’s a regal air about him, a sharpness in his gaze that makes people think twice before crossing him. But as he passes by you, his posture impeccable and his expression carefully composed, you decide to test the waters of his stoic exterior. Your hand darts out, delivering a swift smack to his rear.

- He stops abruptly, his head snapping around to look at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Did you just…” he starts, his voice laced with both outrage and confusion. For a moment, he seems utterly at a loss, his usual composure shattered by your unexpected audacity. But then his lips press into a thin line, and he narrows his eyes at you. “You’re insufferable,” he declares, though the faint pink tinting his cheeks betrays his embarrassment.

- Damian steps closer to you, his arms crossed over his chest as he fixes you with a glare that’s more bluster than anything else. “Do you think this is some kind of joke?” he demands, his tone sharp. But there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes, a warmth that he can’t quite hide. Damian may be the heir to the League of Assassins, but with you, he’s just a young man learning how to navigate the complexities of love and vulnerability.

- Later, as the two of you spar in the training room, he catches your wrist mid-strike, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re infuriating,” he says, his voice low and almost fond. “But I suppose I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Damian Wayne may be a warrior at heart, but when he’s with you, he allows himself to be just Damian—a boy who’s discovering that love is the greatest strength of all.

Barbara Gordon aka. Oracle / Batgirl

- Barbara Gordon is a force to be reckoned with, her mind as sharp as her combat skills. She moves with a quiet confidence, her every action deliberate and precise. As she walks past you, her auburn hair catching the light, you feel a sudden surge of mischief. Before you can think twice, your hand reaches out, delivering a playful smack to her rear.

- She stops mid-stride, her head tilting to the side as she turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised. “Really?” she says, her tone dripping with amusement. There’s a playful glint in her green eyes, and you can tell she’s already plotting her revenge. Barbara is nothing if not quick on her feet, and you know she won’t let you off the hook easily. “You realize you’ve just declared war, right?” she teases, a sly smile spreading across her face.

- Barbara steps closer, her hands resting on her hips as she looks you up and down, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to play innocent. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she says, her voice warm and affectionate despite her mock-annoyance. With you, she allows herself to be vulnerable, to let go of the weight of being both Oracle and Batgirl. You remind her that it’s okay to laugh, to let her guard down, and to simply be herself.

- Later, as the two of you sit in front of her computer, the glow of the screens casting a soft light over her features, she leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re impossible,” she murmurs, her voice filled with affection. “But you keep things interesting.” Barbara Gordon may be a genius, a fighter, and a hero, but with you, she’s just Barbara—a woman who’s found someone who makes her feel alive in a way she never thought possible.

Stephanie Brown aka. Spoiler

- Stephanie Brown has always been a whirlwind of energy and determination, her spirit unrelenting even in the face of impossible odds. She walks past you with that carefree confidence she wears like armor, her blonde hair bouncing with every step. You can’t help but admire the way she carries herself, equal parts stubborn and radiant. Acting on impulse, you reach out and give her a playful smack on the rear as she strides by.

- She stops dead in her tracks, her head whipping around to face you. “Excuse me?” she exclaims, her voice full of mock indignation, though the corners of her lips are already curling into a mischievous smile. “Did you just Spank the Spoiler?” she asks, emphasizing her vigilante codename with a dramatic flair. Stephanie has never been one to take herself too seriously, and you can see the spark of amusement in her bright eyes as she folds her arms, pretending to be offended.

- In a flash, she’s back at your side, poking you in the ribs as she laughs. “Oh, you’re so in trouble now,” she teases, her voice light and full of affection. There’s something infectious about her laughter, a sound that seems to chase away the shadows in your life. Stephanie Brown is a fighter, yes, but she’s also someone who finds joy even in the smallest, silliest moments. She loves fiercely, and her heart is as big as her grin.

- Later, as you both sit on the couch sharing popcorn and bad movies, she nudges your shoulder and gives you a cheeky grin. “Next time, maybe warn me,” she says, her tone teasing. “Or don’t. I kind of like being caught off guard.” Stephanie leans against you, her warmth enveloping you like a cozy blanket. With her, life is always an adventure—messy, unpredictable, and full of laughter.

Cassandra Cain aka. Orphan

- Cassandra Cain moves like a shadow, her every step silent and purposeful. She walks past you with a grace that’s almost hypnotic, her petite frame radiating a quiet strength. You’ve always admired her discipline, her ability to say so much without uttering a single word. But today, you decide to shake up her composure. As she walks by, you reach out and deliver a playful smack to her rear, the sound breaking the otherwise tranquil air.

- Cassandra stops, her body going still as a statue. Slowly, she turns her head to look at you, her dark eyes wide with surprise. She blinks, clearly unsure of how to process what just happened. Then, to your delight, the faintest smile tugs at the corners of her lips—a rare and precious expression that feels like a reward in itself. “Why?” she asks simply, her voice soft but curious. It’s not anger or embarrassment, just genuine intrigue.

- You shrug, offering her a cheeky grin. “Because I couldn’t resist,” you reply, watching as her smile grows just a little wider. Cassandra doesn’t say much, but the way she steps closer, her hand brushing yours, says everything. She’s always been more comfortable expressing herself through action, and with you, she doesn’t need words to show her affection. Her trust in you is absolute, her love quiet but deeply felt.

- Later, as you sit together on the floor, her head resting on your shoulder while you read, she lifts her gaze to meet yours. “You surprise me,” she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. “It’s good.” Cassandra Cain may be the most skilled fighter you’ve ever met, but in your arms, she’s just Cass—a woman who’s learning to embrace the lighter, softer side of life.

Duke Thomas aka. Signal

- Duke Thomas strides through life with an easy confidence, his optimism shining as brightly as the sunlight he manipulates. He walks past you with a casual swagger, his golden-brown eyes warm and inviting. As he passes by, you can’t help but admire the way he carries himself—steady, resilient, and undeniably charming. Acting on a whim, you reach out and smack his rear, the playful gesture a stark contrast to his calm demeanor.

- Duke pauses, his head turning as a look of amused disbelief spreads across his face. “Really?” he says, raising an eyebrow as a slow grin tugs at his lips. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.” There’s no annoyance in his tone, just pure, unfiltered amusement. Duke has always been good at rolling with life’s surprises, and this one is no exception. He steps closer to you, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

- You laugh, and the sound makes his grin widen. Duke’s hand rests lightly on your hip as he leans in, his voice dropping to a low, playful murmur. “You know, you’re going to pay for that, right?” he teases, his tone laced with affection. With you, Duke’s natural warmth grows even brighter, his easygoing nature making every moment with him feel effortless and fun. He’s the kind of man who makes you feel like the center of his world without even trying.

- Later, as the two of you watch the sunset from the rooftop, he nudges you gently with his shoulder. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his tone soft and sincere. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.” Duke Thomas is a beacon of light in a world full of shadows, and with you by his side, his glow only grows stronger.

Selina Kyle aka. Catwoman

- Selina Kyle is the embodiment of elegance and mischief, her every move a calculated blend of grace and seduction. She walks past you with the confidence of a queen, her hips swaying in a way that’s almost hypnotic. You can’t resist the temptation she so effortlessly exudes, and before you can think better of it, your hand darts out to smack her rear as she passes by.

- She stops, one perfectly manicured hand resting on her hip as she turns to face you, a single eyebrow arched. “Oh, darling,” she purrs, her voice smooth as silk, “you’re playing a dangerous game.” There’s no anger in her tone, only amusement, her green eyes gleaming with a predatory kind of delight. Selina loves a good challenge, and you’ve just given her the perfect excuse to turn the tables.

- She closes the distance between you in a few fluid steps, her fingers trailing lightly along your jaw as she tilts your face up to meet her gaze. “Careful,” she whispers, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I might just decide to return the favor.” Selina Kyle is a master of control, but with you, she’s willing to let go of the reins—just a little. She loves the way you keep her on her toes, the way you’re unafraid to meet her at her level.

- Later, as the two of you lounge on the balcony, the city lights twinkling below, she leans against you, her head resting on your shoulder. “You’re lucky I like you,” she says with a soft laugh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. Selina Kyle may be the infamous Catwoman, a thief who’s always one step ahead, but with you, she’s just Selina—a woman who’s found someone who can keep up with her.

Kate Kane aka. Batwoman

- Kate Kane walks with the authority of someone who’s seen it all and refuses to back down. Her stride is purposeful, her crimson hair a striking contrast against the stark black of her attire. As she passes by, her no-nonsense demeanor is enough to make most people think twice about approaching her. But not you. With a playful grin, you reach out and smack her rear, the sound sharp and deliberate.

- She stops in her tracks, her head turning slowly as she fixes you with a piercing gaze. “Really?” she asks, her tone dry but laced with amusement. “That’s how you want to play this?” There’s no real annoyance in her voice, just a hint of disbelief mixed with a begrudging smile. Kate Kane doesn’t do surprises often, but you’ve managed to catch her off guard in the best way possible.

- She steps closer, her arms crossed as she looks you up and down, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to play innocent. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she says, her voice low and teasing. But there’s a warmth in her eyes, a softness she reserves only for you. Kate may be tough as nails, but with you, she allows herself to be vulnerable, to let down the walls she’s spent years building.

- Later, as the two of you sit by the fire with glasses of whiskey in hand, she leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re impossible,” she mutters, though there’s no mistaking the affection in her voice. Kate Kane may be Batwoman, a hero who stands alone in the darkest of nights, but with you, she’s just Kate—a woman who’s found a love worth fighting for.

[peggyao3]

Night Crawler - Pt. 1

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Reader / can be read as OC

SUMMARY: Feyd-Rautha welcomes a nocturnal visitor in his chambers, who is plagued by the symptoms of her artificially induced condition.

WORD COUNT: 3,558

TAGS: 18+, smut, lactation kink 🍼‼️, pseudo pregnancy, breastfeeding (no baby involved only a big sexy egg man), she/her reader, AFAB reader, ambiguous relationship status, non-consenting drug use, dark undertones, implied violence, stockholm syndrome-ish, dubious consent, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Part 1 ↓, Part 2, Part 3

The nights on Giedi Prime are inky black, not midnight blue like on her home world. Inky black are also the sharp-edged pillars that frame the hallway. Jagged polymer giants that intersect the row of windows like alien artifacts. The view outside is not much better. Where one might expect palace gardens are only industrial plants that stretch past the horizon. They are the only source of light.

This corridor is solely occupied by the na-Baron. She has been here many times. But never alone. The corridor where she resides is not far away, yet the path seems to stretch on forever, the Harkonnen palace a hostile monster that pierces her marrow and bone with every barefooted step on cold, black tiles.

She hates this so much. Tonight will be her personal disgrace. That she goes to him willingly, and in the middle of the night no less, is a first.

Though willingly is a farfetched word. No servant has reacted to her request for some pain relief remedy, mumbled then shouted into the transmitter panel in the wall of her chamber. It could be because she had uttered a wrong word in the afternoon or he didn’t like the way she held her fork and knife at dinner. It is hard to tell with Feyd-Rautha.

What is also not under her influence is the chemical cocktail in her veins that tricks her body into believing something has taken root in her womb. The symptoms are manifold, but what torments her most is how her breasts have grown bigger and heavier with milk that no one drinks.

At first glance one might think the fine lines that frame her enlarged breasts are stretch marks, but many of them are scars, placed by an enraptured Feyd-Rautha who loves to lap up the crimson beads, from base to peak. Sometimes his mouth and teeth ghost over her pert nipples.

The na-Baron seems to find sick enjoyment in her condition, fantasizing about the idea without the commitment. It is still better than being forced to carry the his real spawn.

The corridor ends in a dead end and she raises her hand, knocks on the door with cold knuckles. “My Lord?” Her warm breath is a ghost swallowed by the hallway.

There is no sound to be heard, nothing moves aside from the rise and fall of her ribcage. She swallows her pride and knocks again.

A mechanism whirrs and the door slides open. Out comes Feyd with a knife. That much was to be expected, but she still gasps when the icy edge of the blade finds her throat. The na-Baron’s frown dissolves into surprise when he recognizes her. Her throat is one of the few he wouldn’t slit right away for disturbing him.

“Feyd-!” She gasps and flinches away from the blade. Its tip tickles her jaws.

He was asleep, she realizes and is somehow surprised. The slight touch of puffiness around sharp eyes gives him away. She has never seen him sleep and she believes no one has, except for his own mother perhaps, who is now dead by matricide. This pinch of vulnerability on Feyd-Rautha’s face makes her heart stutter, as she hadn’t expected to wrest a triumph from this wretched night.

“What do you want, night crawler?" He sheathes the knife and drags the tip of a finger down her throat instead, to her collarbones, making a shiver roll down her spine. She prefers the knife.

“I am hurting, my Lord.” She stares straight ahead at Feyd's throat while gesturing at her breasts, avoiding his face. Tonight she can't stand to see the sickly joy that lights up his eyes whenever she's in pain. “They are… Too full, or so it feels.” Her bosom sits heavily in the snug night gown, warm and aching.

“Oh. Do they hurt badly?” Feyd wants to hear a yes. Fatigue and ire about being woken are gone now and he stares at her cleavage. The scars he made stare back at him.

“Would I come to you if they weren’t?” She spits. Feyd-Rautha smiles eerily and in the black of the night, his maws look like they possess no teeth.

“Come inside then.” He steps aside, clearing the passage into his chambers. The hairs in the nape of her neck prickle.

“Actually… “ She takes a step back. Even the alien pillars at her back emit more warmth than Feyd's den. “I only need you to call a servant for me. My panel seems to be broken. I’m sorry to have woken you, but I can get no rest like this. And I would…” She cringes. “I would like to be well-rested for whatever my Lord has in store for me tomorrow.” There is always something.

“Is that so?” Something about his voice reminds her of stepping on wet gravel. “You already woke me. No need to wake a servant now.” A hint of a smile creeps over his visage, a threat in one eye, glee in the other as he holds out his hand.

She chooses not to take it, so she can retain some dignity while entering his bed chambers. The door whirrs shut at her back and she knows she won’t be able to exit until he places his hand on a hidden panel. Slowly she walks into the center of the bleak room, walls made of polished stone, steps in the back leading down to a basin that is sunken into the floor. A double bed is at the right hand side and the ruffled sheets are the only sign that something lives in this room.

Feyd-Rautha moves like a beast of the night. She feels his breath on her neck before she hears his footsteps. Wiry arms circle her from behind and pull her against his chest. He is the warmest thing in the room, but as long as she isn’t freezing to death she prefers not to throw herself into an embrace that can warm her one second and scorch her the next. He kisses her neck and softly slides the straps of her nightgown down her shoulders.

Assuming Feyd’s intentions are as they most often are, she shuffles away and pulls the straps back up, trying to sound stern. “F-Feyd-Rautha, I don't know what you think you can do about my predicament, but I-” 

“Sit on the bed with me.” His voice cuts the air like a Fremen crysknife. He is going to cut her breasts open to drain the milk, she thinks when she sits on Feyd's bed. The sheets are still warm.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him approaching and notices the wrinkles in his sleep shirt. Such everyday imperfections look bizarre on a man so atrocious. His bare feet pat on the tiles now and fabric rustles when he climbs on the bed. He sits and leans against the sleek headboard, a single pillow in his back and waits.

“Come.” Reluctantly she turns, gathers her nightgown skirt and scoots closer towards him. Too slow for his liking. His pale fingers brush against her throat. “Why aren’t you wearing your collar?”

“I don’t wear it to sleep!” She spits. “You’d know that if you ever-” Slept with me. Cold sweat breaks out under her armpits.

Feyd’s head tilts to the side, disgusting curiosity in his eyes. He pulls her in his lap, thighs on either side of his hips and then pulls down her night gown with one harsh tug so her right breast pops free. Even the soft scrape of fabric over her nipple makes her whimper and she hisses at him to be gentle.

Seated in his lap, her chest is roughly at Feyd’s face level. At first, she thinks he is only going to ogle the plump shape of her, taking sick pleasure in her visible pain as a reimbursement for disturbing him at night. But then his mouth starts ghosting over her and a trail of nips and feathery kisses leads him to the apex of her breast. One hand curls under the taut flesh and lifts it carefully.

Oh. Now she understands.

How grotesque. How humiliating. She should have expected nothing less.

With horror she watches his plush lips close around the nub. Dark eyes lift to scrutinize her face and when she utters no complaints (although God knows they’re clawing at her throat, they just can’t make it past the lump inside), Feyd closes his eyes.

Her face is scrunched, nails digging into Feyd's shoulders when he creates suction, hesitant at first but greedier as soon as the first drop of white milk decorates his black tongue. She cringes, thighs flexing around his which encourages him to cling to her hip with his free hand.

The sensation repels her at first, alien and encroaching, as if a parasite was latched onto her teat. She has never nursed anyone before. It takes her fear-conditioned mind several moments to realize no harm comes from Feyd’s mouth this time. He only suckles on her breast and his cock twitches against her core, which she ignores. In the chamber’s nocturnal silence, she hears him quietly gulp and with each moment, the torturous pressure in her breast abates. A tear almost slips down her cheek, that’s how thankful she is, even if Feyd-Rautha only helps her for his own pleasure.

Minutes pass and she almost grows used to the sensation, the pressure of his tongue against the underside of her nipple and the occasional scrape of teeth. The tender flesh however is starting to ache, not used to such a long assault of his mouth.

“That's e-enough, it h-hurts now.” 

Feyd growls and his hairless brows twitch over closed eyes. He squeezes her breast, mouth latched over her nipple. Greedily, he suckles, ignoring her wincing. Shivering, she realizes that trying to take away his toy from him will always spark ire, so she gently scrapes her nails over his scalp instead until his ravenous mouth relaxes and strangely, she relaxes too.

“You can have the other one instead, okay?”

That works. His mouth slides over to her left breast, tongue swirling around the nipple before his lips close around it. He suckles more gently now and the relief makes her moan this time, spine arching against his face as milk flows into his mouth.

“Thank you, this is… So good. “

Feyd's hand still cups her right breast, as if scared she or anyone would steal it from him if left unattended. A bead of milk still clings to the nipple. With a spark of hope she wonders if Feyd-Rautha would ever be willing to share her breasts with an heir. 

No, she sees him throttling his own spawn, just so he can have everything for himself.

In the dead of night, a sly little smile tugs on her mouth and she encouragingly wraps her arms around Feyd's neck, hugging him close. Willingly, he sinks into her chest, drinking with abandon. “Keep drinking,” she hums.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the na-Baron, the gladiator, is temporarily docile at her bosom.

The silent victory makes heat grow in her belly as pressure is released from her breasts. She shuffles against his lap and the hardness that rests against his belly. Feyd's hand squeezes her hip, nudging her closer. While he drinks, the other pale hand lightly fondles her right breast, catching the drop of milk with an unusually gentle index finger.

Her spine arches and her hips curl against his pelvis, head and hair falling backwards. The cool of the chamber is now pleasant on her heated skin.

“Feyd, please…” A quiet sigh, nearly swallowed by the midnight hour. Her core curiously grinds against his length.

He seems to know better what she pleads for than she does. The hand on her hip sifts through the layers of silky gown to get to where he needs, finding her flesh unobscured by undergarments. Slick essence coats her gown where she had sat and Feyd’s hand stutters when his knuckles brush through the wetness on the silk.

Instantly, her cunt bucks against his fingers and Feyd's eyes snap wide open. His digits glide through her folds, stunned to find them so wet and hot. Her entrance weeps and yields so easily when he prods lightly with two fingers. 

“Don't say anything, just-” She shakes her head, realizing Feyd hasn’t said anything at all since he discovered the milk from her breasts for himself. Fascinated, he gazes up at her from coal-black eyes, pouty lips puckered around her nipple still when two calloused fingers sink into her cunt. Languidly, he thrusts, finding her walls willing and soft to the touch. She meets each thrust, sighing as she brings her hips up and down.

Looking down at Feyd’s pale skull latched to her breast, she also looks at the scars that paint them. They taunt her now.

‘Does he make you wet now?’ They seem to ask. ‘Has he finally cut you into submission, into the shape he wants?’ 

She doesn't feel overly submissive right now, however. The pace of her hips quickens, as does that of his fingers. Her nails dig into his scalp when a third finger eases into her cunt without her request. The stretch makes her moan and her hips needily rut against Feyd’s hand.

Even if she is not truly in power, she can at least pretend she is.

“Take yourself out of your pants!” 

Determinedly, she sits up straight and leans back, breasts feeling almost light now, compared to before. Her nipple slips out of Feyd’s mouth and he gives it a parting gift, sharp teeth nipping at the tender bud. Probably the punishment for her bold tone. Still, she grows nearly euphoric when he does as she says, sliding his trousers down to his mid thighs, so his daunting cock comes to rest against his navel. It doesn’t daunt her today.

She shuffles and pulls the silky layers of her nightgown away, so her pelvis can rest on the smooth, milky expanse of Feyd’s hairless thighs. His balls rest hotly against her weeping cunt until she raises her hips and kneels, grabbing Feyd’s cock to line him up with her entrance. The size of him makes the angle awkward and she has to lean forward to try and shuffle the thick head between her folds, one hand wrapped around the shaft.

“You can ask for help, you know.” Feyd chuckles, fingers gliding over her thighs under the gown. She hisses and resists the urge to tell him to shut his mouth, lest he ruins the night. It had been so nice without the talk of his foul tongue. Finally, she has him angled like she needs him and her entrance yields for his head.

Feyd knows she struggles to take him, despite the preparation. Her soft cunt stretches around his obscene length and she tries to be strong, play it tough, so her whines can’t give away the challenge it still is for her to be a fitting sheathe for his cock. Amused, he watches her toil away in his lap, slowly sinking down, then hissing and jerking back up. He gives her the time she needs, curiously watching her face shift into triumph when their pelvises come flush.

Up and down she goes, sighing and moaning and her grimace slowly relaxes as she grows accustomed to his cock. Feyd-Rautha sinks into his pillow, sliding down the headboard as his figure becomes more and more horizontal. Her breasts are out of reach now, but he still marvels at the marks and puffiness left by his mouth. His jaws flex. He already misses the taste of her milk. Tomorrow he will instruct the authorized doctors to tweak the formula of her injections, so she will produce more.

Unbeknownst of his thoughts but well aware of his wolfish gaze on her tits, she rides him as she pleases, hands pushing up his sleepshirt so she can grope his pale torso, leaving angry red marks on his belly and on the small dent between his pectorals.

Her shoulders roll forward and her thighs hurt a little from lifting herself so repeatedly, but she tirelessly grinds against his pelvis, chasing the pleasure sparked by power that kindles in her belly before it’ll inevitably go out by something he says or does. If he had pubic hair, perhaps it would be easier to get some friction against her clit. She is missing that extra stimulation to quite push herself over the edge.

Feyd’s hands on her hips have been docile, but the moment she falters, he strikes. Her weak knees buckle when his thumb finds her clit and her wrists are gathered in his other hand.

“I… No!” She stubbornly pleads, the figment of control wrenched out of her grasp. Not even by his hands that overtake her body, but by the mean midnight-smile that decorates his face.

“That’s alright,” he coos sweetly. No one likes gravel mixed with honey.

Hot tears gather in her eyes when she fights weakly against his grasp but still moans from the pressure of his cock. She wants to tell him that nothing is alright. It’s not alright that she can’t even fuck herself to completion without his help. It’s not alright that her legs give out because of the medication he’s put her on to induce false pregnancy. It’s not alright that her tits hurt and she gets sick in the mornings and It’s definitely not alright that he’s taking her little victory away from her.

She is close to tears but doesn’t start crying. Feyd’s hips dictate the rhythm, driving up into her cunt so she no longer rides him, she only helplessly sits as he fucks her. And to her dismay, it feels better. He just does it better.

The pressure of his thumb on her clit is just right, as are the short, hard thrusts against her cervix.

This whole night still counts as a victory, she reminds herself as her head falls back and a climax rolls through her body, walls fluttering around her tormentor’s cock while he pours sweet, gravelly honey in her ears. It’s the softest he’s ever been with her. 

Feyd prolongs her climax, drawing tight little circles on her clit so her walls keep milking him until he has spilled his seed harmlessly against the entrance to her womb. A throaty groan rumbles in his chest and then the chamber falls silent. 

His cock twitches and relaxes against her walls while his thumb still lazily plays with her clit. Uneasily, she shifts in his lap and her squirming draws wet noises from their conjoined pelvises.

“Stop smiling,” she demands.

“I can't.” If only his smile was prettier. Feyd releases her wrists and his thumb abandons her overstimulated clit and ghosts over her abdomen, the bunched gown, her plump breasts. A flutter of warmth follows his trace as he presses into the dip between her clavicles and then brushes over her throat, perhaps still mourning the absence of her collar. 

“I… I need to go to the bathroom.”

Abruptly, Feyd sits up and swings his legs over the edge, catching her before she can fall backwards off his lap. He turns his head and nips at the hand that had instinctively latched onto his shoulder. “Don't be long.”

She denies him the satisfaction of seeing her sway and buckle when she slips off his cock. It smacks against his abdomen and black seed sullies his pale stomach and shirt. Feyd doesn't mind, but if she insists on getting cleaned up, she shall.

For a moment she fears he will follow her, just to make sure she doesn't flush herself down the drain to escape him, but he remains docilely on the bed. 

She just barely makes it to the bathroom before the thick rivulet of cum that rolls down her leg reaches the ankle and stains the floor. Awkwardly, she cleans herself with cold water from the sink and paper towels, then hovers over the toilet and waits until most of Feyd's release has exited her body. Some of it still stubbornly clings to her womb, she's certain. 

For a moment, she regards her reflection in the mirror, little more than a shadow in the dark of night, but even now she sees the shape of her hard nipples under the silk. She feels obliged to clean the cum stain on the floor, even though that's a task for the maids.

Once she comes back out, she almost expects a knife against her throat - foreplay for what Feyd-Rautha might consider the real fun, but the na-Baron's breath chimes calmly and steadily  from the  bed. Could it be? 

Almost as silent as a beast of the night, she slinks to the door, knowing it probably won't budge for her but it's worth a try.

“Where are you going, night crawler? Come here.” 

He lifts the covers and wordlessly she resigns and climbs underneath, like a bird into an alligator’s open maws, hoping she will be useful long enough and her wings not broken when the maws snap shut.

Feyd-Rautha sleeps on her bosom that night and she cries for a good minute while caressing his scalp. Why does every triumph, no matter if big or small, always come at the cost of feeling dirty?

[If you enjoyed this fanfiction, a comment would mean the world to me! <33]

[sarahsmi13s]

Rocks Are Allowed to Crack, Stars Are Allowed to Dim

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x fem!pilot!reader

characters: jake seresin, y/n nivans, the daggers, pete mitchell, penny benjamin, diego and benny harding (oc father and son)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, language, ptsd, description of accident, panic attack, injuries, descriptions of scars, flashbacks, fear of death, familial death (mentioned), crying, bottling up feelings, please please let me know if i missed any

word count: ~8.0k

a/n: this has been sitting in my docs and on my wheel for at least a year (please forgive the awkward moments). so i figured i'd take a sliver of the wheel and make him a little lighter! i've also been in a funk lately, so i thought getting something out there might help!

quick summary: everyone deserves someone to comfort them in their time of need, even the ones that always lend their shoulder

Ah, yes, dogfight football. Maverick’s way of creating a team. You play offense and defense at the same time. Tackling each other into the sand, sometimes into the water. It may be chaotic, but it’s fun and a great team building exercise.

Which is why you hated that you were running a little behind.

You sighed as you got out of your car and walked over to where Penny was sitting at the table. 

You placed your aviators on your head, “I’m not late am I?” Penny chuckled and shook her head, “Just in time. Want a beer before you go?” You shook your head, “Nah, I’m okay right now. Care to watch my stuff?” 

The brunette gestured to the items in front of her, chuckling, “I’m watchin’ everyone else's. I don’t see why not.” You chuckled and sat your wallet, phone, and keys down, as well as your sunglasses. You slipped off your shorts, folding them and laying them down.

“Nivans!” 

You turned at the call of your last name, brows raised in curiosity. 

 It was Maverick. 

“Hurry up and get down here!”

You turned to Penny, “This is gonna be fun.” You both laughed before you jogged across the sand to meet everyone by the water. 

“Sorry I’m late, Mav.” 

Maverick shook his head, “You’re not late, Rockstar. Can’t be late for fun.” 

“Not gonna take your t-shirt off?” Phoenix asked when you stood beside her. You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good.” 

Hangman sighed, “That’s a shame.” 

You chuckled at him and bent down to throw a handful of sand at him. 

“Watch it, Rockstar,” Hangman said, his voice light as he glared at you playfully.

“Or what, Hangman?” You challenged, eyes narrowed but a smile pulled at your lips.

Now, you and Hangman joked like this all the time. You considered each other best friends, which confused everyone else on base. 

Jake Seresin was an asshole. He was cocky and arrogant. You, Y/N Nivans, were not an asshole. Quite the opposite, actually. 

You were humble while still knowing your worth, but also showing anybody up if they proposed a challenge, and not being sour when you lost. 

Jake went out looking for competition, you let it come to you. 

You were also probably the sweetest thing to walk the planet. Most certainly the sweetest to walk the airstrip. 

You were nice to everyone, always giving someone the benefit of the doubt until they truly proved they were an asshole. 

You also took care of your team, they were your family. You always had the door open if someone needed to talk. Your arms were wide open when they showed up in the middle of the night because they had a nightmare and couldn’t shake it. You were their rock.

So, when you walked into the Hard Deck that first day of the Uranium Mission and hugged Hangman, everyone was confused — except Coyote who knew you from a year prior. But they didn’t verbally question you, choosing instead to ponder in private.

Hangman sighed, “Come on, Rocky. You're giving your enemy the advantage.” He tugged at your shirt and pulled you into his arms. 

You laughed and pushed him away by his chest, “You’re gonna have to catch me first.” Hangman cocked his head to the side, “Oooh, that’s how it is?” You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips, “That’s how it is.” 

You panted as you used your shirt to wipe the sweat from your face. 

When you let go of your shirt you raised your arms, calling for the ball. They threw it to you and you took off for your endzone. 

You felt the sand shift and you knew Hangman was behind you. You had to get rid of the ball, so you called out to your teammate, “Phoenix!” She ran ahead of you and you threw her the ball.

As soon as the ball was out of your hand, Hangman tackled you to the ground. 

You laughed as you laid on your stomach, arms out in front of you. 

“What was that about ‘catching you’?” Jake grunted from above you.

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking. “Haha, very funny Hangman. Now get off, you’re heavy.” 

“First, ouch. Second, nah, you’re comfy.” You laughed and shook your head, attempting to push off the ground and basically buck him off. 

But, Hangman wouldn’t let you, laughing as he moved and made you fall back down.

In this new position, Hangman was putting pressure on a certain part of your back and panic shot through you. 

“Seriously, dude, get up,” you tried to say with a laugh, not wanting to sound rude or like you were mad at him. He just smiled and rested his chin on his hands. 

You closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing, but the waves hitting you pushed you over the edge. 

“Jake, get the fuck off me.” You didn’t mean to sound harsh but you were panicking.

Jake was surprised by your tone, along with the use of his first name. He immediately got up and held out a hand for you to take but you just got up and ran to the table. 

“Rockstar, where you going?” Maverick asked. You called out while still running, “I need a break for a minute.” 

You got to the table, “Is it unlocked?” Penny nodded, “Yeah, why?” “Bathroom break.” Penny just nodded again and watched you take your sunglasses with you as you jogged inside.

Rooster ran over and hit Jake’s arm, “What did you do, Hangman?” Jake shook his head, “I’m not sure.” He put his hands on his hips and watched you disappear into the bar. 

He felt bad, he wanted to chase after you and apologize but he didn’t know what he did. 

“Well, you seemed to piss her off,” Phoenix said, shoving the ball into his chest. 

Maverick looked at Penny but she just shrugged, meaning you didn’t say much.

You ran into the bathroom, throwing yourself into a stall.  

You leaned over the toilet and waited to throw up. Tears had started running down your face the minute you stepped in the bar. You coughed and sobbed lightly as you tried to control your breathing. 

After a few minutes of that, the nausea subsided and you slowly stood to go to the sink. 

You turned the cold water on and splashed your face. 

“Shit…” 

You closed your eyes as the tight feeling in your chest loosened. You let out a shaky breath and looked in the mirror, cringing at the puffiness around your eyes. You grabbed your sunglasses and slipped them on before leaving the bathroom.

When you stepped outside you saw Maverick and Penny talking, and when you sat down they stopped talking and looked at you concerned. 

“You alright? Gave Hangman quite the scare for a second,” Mav asked, squaring his shoulders to you. You nodded, resting your forearms on the table. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You rubbed your forehead, “Hey Pen-” 

Before you could finish your sentence, a beer was sat in front of you, causing you to giggle, “Read my mind.”

As he continued to play, Jake still couldn’t get over the fact that you called him ‘Jake’ during a day out. 

It wasn’t that you never did, but it was rare that you called anyone by their first name. 

But it wasn’t just that, it was the way you said that really made him worry. He had never heard your voice sound like that before.

He looked at you from his spot on the beach, noticing you didn’t come back to join in the fun. 

Hangman walked up to Phoenix, worried that he had really upset you and wanted help from the girl you were closest to. “You don’t really think I pissed her off, do you?” 

She sighed, “I don’t know, Hangman. Even if you did, I doubt she could stay mad at you for long. She can't be mad at anyone for very long.”

Jake nodded and watched you stand up from your spot at the table.

You finished your beer and stood up, “I’m gonna head out.” 

Maverick frowned, “You sure you’re okay, Y/N?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I just really need to shower. I’ve got sand in places sand shouldn’t be,” you said with a light laugh. 

“Okay, drive safe. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Yes, sir.” You collected your stuff and headed to your car.

Jake noticed you leaving and tilted his head, “Hey…” He patted Coyote on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” 

He jogged up to the table to ask Maverick if he knew anything.

“Is she okay?” Hangman asked as soon as he came to a stop. Maverick shrugged, not looking up at the pilot, “She seemed okay. Said she needed to shower.” 

Jake let out a breath, “So she isn’t mad at me?” 

“I didn’t say that. But as far as I can tell, she’s just tired.” 

Jake licked the sweat off his upper lip, putting his hands on his hips as he looked down. 

“Hangman, honey, just go talk to her. If she’s upset with you, she’ll be honest about it,” Penny encouraged, giving Jake a small smile. He nodded and jogged to go find you before you left. 

You were standing by your car, the door opened as you moved to get in when he approached. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Jake called as he walked over to you. You smiled, “Hey, Hangman.” 

Jake swallowed, “Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I was just messing around. I did-” 

You held your hand up, cutting him off, “Jake, I’m not mad at you. I know you were just playing. But your tackle jump started my bladder and I wasn’t kidding when I said you were heavy.” You giggled a bit to show him you were teasing.

Hangman visibly relaxed at the sound, “Okay, good. I know I like to get under everyone’s skin. Sometimes I don’t know when to knock it off. I–” 

You held up your hand, cutting him off. “Jake, I can handle your teasing. Yeah, you can get a little mean. But I know it’s all a big show. Come here,” you opened your arms and made grabby hands at Jake. 

He just shook his head and chuckled, pulling you in by your outstretched hands and letting them find their place around his built torso. 

He rubbed his hand on your back, nearly missing the slight tensing right beneath your shoulder blades before they relaxed. His brow furrowed but he didn’t mention it, thinking that maybe it was you tightening your arms around him. 

He kissed the top of your head before you pulled away. 

“Geez, Jake, you’re sweaty.” 

“You’re not too dry yourself, Rockstar.” You laughed and playfully shoved him away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.” You smiled and slid into your car, “I’ll kick your ass tomorrow Hangman.” 

He scoffed leaning on the roof of your car and the open door. “Since when did you get so cocky?” 

You smirked and placed your glasses on your head, forgetting that your eyes could still be red and puffy from earlier. “It’s not cocky if it’s the truth.” 

Jake shook his head and looked back to the shore. “Uh-huh. We’ll see.” He leaned back and patted the top of your car. “Drive safe.” You nodded, and he closed your door. 

He watched you start it up before driving away.

Jake shook his head and made his way back to the group.

Speaking of the group, they had all noticed the change in Jake when you showed up at the Hard Deck a few months ago. 

While he was still his cocky self, having no shame in bragging and trash talking, he seemed to tone it down when you were around.

They also noticed how he always made sure to find you in the crowd, keeping an eye on you. Coyote joked that you had Hangman wrapped around your finger, that he would be at your side with a simple look. 

Jake was painfully aware of the effect you had on him. 

When he met you a year ago, he was starstruck by your dazzling smile. 

So, naturally, in true Hangman fashion, he flirted with you. 

With a toothpick between his perfect white teeth and his bright green eyes shining under the yellow lights of the bar, he walked up to you. 

“I sure hope no one left you alone.” 

When you turned, eyeing him up and down to take in the uniform, beer bottle popping as it left your mouth, his breath was ripped from his lungs. 

“Well, you’re here now. I’m not alone.” 

Seeing your smile up close caused Hangman to blush, and leaving him thankful that his tan could somewhat hide it. 

“Well, ain’t I special.” 

You nodded, giggling while looking down at the bar, “That you are. But, before this can go any further, I’m gonna be honest, I’m more dedicated to my work than anything else at the moment. And I have to be up by 5, so I’d hate to lead you on.” 

Jake shook his head, but you continued, gesturing around the bar, “I’m sure there are plenty of girls here that would love to get attention from you and give you attention.” 

Jake smiled –not smirked, smiled– while leaning on the bar, “Well, the only one I want attention from is you. Plus, I can’t stay out too late either. Gotta be at work early too, so I guess we’re both clocking in early.” 

None of the feelings that day had been one sided. You also had been starstruck by Hangman. 

He was broad shoulder, tall, tan, and had a voice that could make a girl swoon in a second. But you knew he was a pilot, his uniform gave it away, and you knew how they acted. Except, you liked Jake’s company and decided to talk all night with him. 

Ironically, what you both did for work never came up.

So, imagine the look on Jake’s face when he saw you the next day in your flight suit. 

“You didn’t tell me you were a pilot.” 

You smirked, “You didn’t ask.” 

He shook his head, biting his lower lip to hide his smile but failed. 

You nodded to him, “What do they call you?” 

“Hangman. What about you?” You smiled, “Rockstar.” 

You were able to peg why he earned his callsign very early on but he couldn’t seem to figure yours out. 

Until he had a close call and couldn’t shake it.

The last day of training had just ended, tomorrow you might not come home, and to say you were nervous was a major understatement. 

As you changed to get ready to go out with the squad, you couldn’t stop shaking. You knew you needed a drink… okay a couple drinks.

While you changed, Hangman was walking around, looking for you. 

When he walked past the locker room, he caught a glimpse of you reaching to pick something up.

He turned to walk in, but stopped when he saw that you only had your pants on. But, before he could stop himself, his eyes trailed up your back; starting from above your waistline on your pants and going up. 

Then he stopped, his eyes widening when he saw the large scar that looked fairly new – maybe a year or so old. It spanned from the middle of your left shoulder blade to nearly below your ribcage and was positioned diagonally across your back. 

Jake quickly looked away, realizing that you must have not wanted anyone to see it if you hadn’t told him. 

His brow furrowed as questions ran through his mind. Was that why you freaked out during dogfight football, the other day? Why you always tense up when you get an unexpected touch there? 

Shit… He thought, feeling like a horrible friend for never noticing and never asking. 

Jake took a deep breath and walked away, choosing to approach the locker room differently and pretend he never saw you. 

He put on a smile and walked back towards the locker room, “Hey, Rockstar! You almost ready?” He stopped just short of the door, leaning his back against the wall. 

Your head jerked up as you pulled your t-shirt down. “Uh, yeah, Hangman. I’ll be ready in a second.” 

You finished getting ready and walked out, jumping slightly when he pushed off the wall. 

“Geez Hang, don’t do that!” You punched his arm. 

“Gosh, I forgot how hard you punch.” He chuckled and rubbed the spot on his arm as you both walked to the parking lot.

You all sat in the Hard Deck, drinking and playing pool.

“Dude, she’s kicking your ass!” Payback laughed as he clapped Hangman on the shoulder. 

You were, in fact, kicking Jake’s ass in pool. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as the blond narrowed his eyes at Payback. 

“Yeah, you feelin’ okay? You’ve been off your game tonight Bagman,” Rooster commented, smirking as he drank his alcohol. 

Instead of clapping back at the jab, Jake just rolled his eyes and lined up his shot. 

That made you frown, Hangman always had a comeback. Always had sarcastic quips to embarrass the other person. But he was silent. 

You made eye contact when he stood, silently asking if he was okay. He just nodded and moved to sink another pool ball. 

You didn’t want to drop it, but you did for the sake of having fun before facing the chance of death tomorrow.

Sometime later, after a few rounds of pool and drinks, you all stood around and just talked.

“Hey, did you guys hear about that one pilot that saved her WSO’s life when they got shot down?” Bob asked, looking around the group. 

You clenched your jaw slightly, but not enough for anyone to notice. 

“Bob, that happens all the time. It’s kinda what we do,” Phoenix said, squeezing his shoulder. 

Rooster stood up and sat his beer down. “No, not the way this pilot did. Bob, I know who you’re talking about. I read the mission file, the only thing that was classified was the pilot and WSO’s names.” 

You swirled the beer in your glass, not looking up from the amber liquid. “Did the pilot survive?” 

When you finished asking, you looked up, trying to ignore the watchful eyes of Hangman as you met Rooster’s eyes. 

The latter nodded, “Uh, yeah. Yeah, she did. But she had a pretty serious injury. I’m not sure if she was ever clear to fly again.” 

You nodded and looked back down at your glass. 

“And the WSO?” Jake asked, eyeing you as you downed the rest of your drink before looking at Rooster and Bob. 

“He survived. But I don’t know if he still flies,” Bob answered. 

“Well, that’s good that they both survived,” you said, your smile returning to your face. 

Rooster shook his head a bit, “Yeah, but that pilot pulled a risky move. Saving some like that…” 

Your smile dropped a bit, “People have their reasons.” You raised your glass, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Hangman watched you leave as the conversation changed into something more light hearted. 

Jake took a step to go after you but Coyote caught his arm. “Hey, come on. Play me in a round of pool. Let’s see if you still got your game.” Jake looked from his friend back to you and saw you laughing with Penny and Maverick at the bar. That allowed him to relax a little bit. 

“Oh, I still got my game. Let’s see if you found yours,” he smirked. “There he is!” Coyote laughed and clapped Jake on the back.

As Jake played pool with Coyote, you talked with Penny and Maverick. 

“Are you serious?” 

You nodded, laughing at Penny’s reaction to you telling her how you and Jake met. 

“Pen, why are you surprised? Hangman flirts with every girl,” Maverick said, using his hand to point the direction of the mentioned pilot. You and Penny both nodded your agreement. 

“Sounds familiar,” Penny says, a playful grin on her face making Maverick roll his eyes.

You had become so invested in your conversation with Penny and Mav, that you missed Rooster coming up behind you.

He placed his hand on your back, right on your scar, making you tense and jump in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya’ Rocky,” he took his hand off and leaned on the bar. 

“You doin’ okay? You seemed a bit…” He glanced back at the group, thinking of the right word. “...tense a minute ago.” 

You bit the inside of your lip, had you really been that obvious? 

Still, you nodded and gave him your best smile. 

But to him, he could see that it didn’t reach your eyes. He may not have been your best friend, but he had seen plenty of your genuine smiles and this one did not make your eyes shine like the others. 

Bradley decided not to press, “Okay…” He turned to Penny, “Penny, could we get another round?” The bartender nodded, “Of course, but you’re reaching your cut off.” 

Penny had set a cut off for drinks for the pilots not wanting them to go into this mission hungover. You chuckled and glanced back at the group, all of them messing around and having fun. “Yes ma’am.” 

You turned to Rooster and then back down to your empty glass. Penny hadn’t refilled it yet, having started a conversation with you as soon as you came over. 

You glanced at your watch, seeing that you had been there for a couple hours. 

Penny sat a tray down, placing the full glasses on top. “There you are, Rooster. Who’s tab?”

Rooster opened his mouth to tell her to put it on his, but you beat him to it, “Put it on mine Pen.” 

“You got the last round, Rockstar,” Rooster argued. You shrugged, “I don’t mind. Plus, I’m closing my tab for tonight.” 

“What? You’re heading out already?” You nodded, sliding Penny your card, “I’m hitting my limit, Roos.” 

Bradley searched your eyes for a moment, looking for any indication that something was wrong.

You were usually the one that made sure everyone was okay to go home and if they needed rides; so leaving early rung bells in Rooster’s head. 

Penny gave you your card and receipt, “Thank you.” “Thanks Pen,” you gave her a smile before turning back to Rooster. 

“Tell ‘em I’m heading out. I know if I do it I won’t be able to leave.” You gave him a one armed hug and turned to Maverick, “See you in the morning, Captain.” 

“See you in the morning, Rockstar.” 

Penny gently squeezed your hand, giving you a small smile as you slid off the bar stool and walked out. 

Rooster, Maverick, and Penny watched you leave the building before turning to each other, concern written all over their faces. 

“Is she okay? She’s been acting a little off ever since dogfight football the other day,” Penny asked the two pilots. 

They both shrugged, Bradley looking up at her. “I was about to ask you the same thing.” 

“I’ve noticed, but I thought it was just because Harvard and Yale had to eject the other day,” Mav admitted. “We were all a little shaken up by that…” 

It was silent for a minute. 

“You know… if one person knows anything, it’d probably be Seresin,” Penny said, pointing over to the pilot, who was very invested in the game he was winning, and basically suggesting that they talk to him. 

Bradley sighed, knowing that Penny was right and if anyone knew you the best, it would be him. He grabbed the tray, thanking Penny and walking over to the group.

They all cheered when he sat the tray down, taking a glass for themselves. 

Jake noticed that there was an extra and he frowned in confusion before he realized it was for you. 

He looked up, eyes searching for you in the crowd, panicking a little when he couldn’t see you, “Where’s Rockstar?” 

Rooster sighed, “She closed her tab and left. Said she reached her limit.” 

Fanboy frowned a little bit, “Why didn’t she just tell us herself?” 

Rooster shrugged, “Said if she did it would take longer for her to leave.” 

“Does she seem different to you guys?” Coyote asked, finally voicing his concern that had buit up over the last few days. 

The group shared a look before making small noises of agreement. 

“I mean, she’s still the same Y/N. Still lighting up a room and being there for us like she always has been… I just… I don’t know.” 

Rooster looked at Jake, “Hangman, you’re like her best friend, do you know anything?” 

Jake shrugged and shook his head, “All I know is she’s nervous for tomorrow and the accident the other day shook her up a bit, but she hasn’t said anything else.” 

He took a large gulp from his beer, hoping to swallow the confession of seeing your scar that he wanted to bring to light.  You trusted Jake and he wasn’t about to ruin that by telling the squad what he saw when he wasn’t even supposed to know it was there.

Meanwhile, you walked the beach, taking in the fresh and salty air. You just needed the quiet time before you went home.

You sighed and pulled out your phone, seeing a text from Hangman and laughing slightly at the message.

Hangboy: Hey, I get that I kicked your ass those last few rounds of pool, but you could have told me you were leaving. I would have walked you out. Text me when you get home. 

Also, there was an extra beer. I assume it was meant for you, but you left so I drank it. Don’t worry though, I can handle it.

You shook your head and opened your phone, but not to text Jake.

You went to your contacts and pressed the caller ID, putting the phone to your ear as it rang. 

“Hey, Rockstar, what's up? It’s been awhile.” 

You smiled, sighing, “Sure has been, Tundra. How are you? How’s the little one?” “I’m good. Ben is great, he wants to know when you’ll be by again to visit.” 

You giggled at the fact the 6 year old wanted to see you. “Soon… hopefully.” “Y/N, I know that voice. Is it happening again?” You shook your head, despite the fact that Tundra couldn’t see you. 

“No, no. Well, sorta, but this is different Diego.” You heard him shift, presumably crossing his arms. “What do you mean?” 

You sighed, remembering that you couldn’t share all that much about the mission, even if he was former Navy. 

“I don’t know how much I can tell you. But I got called back to TopGun, and I could be flying out on a mission tomorrow. A dangerous one.” 

“Y/N, do they know?” 

You shook your head again, this time to fight tears. “No, but I’m scared that mid air, I’m gonna freeze. I don’t wanna freeze, Diego. I haven’t frozen since our incident. But I don’t know what’s been wrong these past couple of weeks. I can’t seem to shake off this dread… this-this fear. I do-don’t-” 

He cut you off, “Have you talked to anyone recently?” 

You were silent and he took that as a no. “Y/N, you have to talk about it if you ever want to move past it.”  “I did though. I had mandated therapy for my entire time in recovery.” “And have you been since you recovered?”

You threw a hand up, frustrated, “I thought I was past it! I hadn’t had an attack in a year, not until we were playing football. I-I thought it was just a one time thing, and then something happened during training and I just-” 

You were cut off by a small, tired voice. 

“Is that Aunt Y/N?” 

“It is. Do you want to talk to her? I think she needs to talk to you.” “Yes, please!” You smiled as you heard the phone go to speaker and then be passed to the little boy. 

“Hey, Aunt Y/N!” 

You smiled, tears finally falling, “Benarino, hey buddy.” “I miss you. When are you coming to visit?” You wiped at your eyes with a shaking hand. “Soon, buddy. Really soon,” you sniffled. 

“Aunt Y/N, why are you crying?” 

You laughed, coughing a little at the end, “I just really miss you Benny. I can’t wait to see you.” 

You looked back at the Hard Deck, seeing your fellow pilots laugh and sing. 

“I’m gonna bring a friend too. If that’s okay with your mom and dad?” “That’s alright with me, Rockstar. I’m sure Lila won’t mind.” 

“Who is it?” 

You brought playfulness into your voice, “You remember the pilot I told you about? The one that thought he could fly better than your Aunt Rocky?” 

The little boy giggled, “Yeah!” “Well, I think it’s about time you brought home the boy that stole your heart.” 

“Diego,” you hissed. “We are just friends.” “Mhmm, sure.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “You should probably get Ben to bed before Lila wakes up.” 

You heard Diego grunt as he picked up his son, “Goodnight Benny Boy.” “G’night Aunt Y/N.” 

“Call me when you make it back.” You nodded, hand sliding into your back pocket, “Yeah, of course. Night Tundra.” “Night Rockstar.” 

The call ended and you slid your phone into your unoccupied back pocket.

You took in a deep breath, trying to relax again. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In, out. 

On an inhale, the scent of smoke filled your nostrils and it made you hold your breath.

Quickly looking around, you spotted a bonfire a couple yards away. Realizing it was harmless, you let out the breath and tried to relax your shoulders.

But, despite knowing it was completely harmless, your body went into a state of panic. Your chest tightened, limbs went numb, pain spread through your back, and tears filled your eyes. 

You held a hand to your chest, the air stopping just before it made it to your lungs, and stumbled to your car as fast as you could, hoping you weren’t seen by your friends inside the bar.

Jake looked at his phone as he left the bar. You hadn’t texted him, and by now you definitely should have been back to your on base bungalow. 

Hangman wasn’t going to panic, he knew you well enough that you would have texted or called him if something bad happened. Of course he felt anxious, who wouldn’t, but he was going to remain calm. 

The reason you hadn’t texted him when you got home was because the moment you fumbled yourself into your place, you booked it for the bathroom. 

Your knees smacked into the tile and you threw up whatever alcohol you had consumed before the strangled sob ripped itself from your throat. You crumbled to the tile as your chest refused to let air in. 

Your skin felt hot and sticky, sweat coating it as you laid on your bathroom floor. It wasn’t helping you, your damp, hot skin sending you back to one of the worst days of your life.

So, in a frenzy, you ripped off your shirt and kicked off your shoes and socks before yanking your pants off, not even loosening your belt. 

You crawled over the tub wall, too dizzy to properly stand, before fumbling with the knob to turn the water on. 

Once you got it turned on, you jostled the faucet switch, a desperate sob escaping as it kept falling down before it finally stuck, turning the shower on and drenching you in water.

And that was how Jake found you.

Jake decided to stop by your place and check on you, that being his only option to get his anxiety to go away. 

When he pulled up to your place and saw your car there, he let out a breath of relief. 

He parked his truck behind your car and ran to your door, his chest lighter than before.

But his chest became heavy again when he made it to your door only to find it unlocked. You rarely left your door unlocked, if ever.

He cautiously pushed it open, looking around to see if anything was out of place. 

Your keys were on the floor, your phone and wallet not too far from them. 

Jake walked further in, making sure to close and lock the door behind him. 

He held his breath as he looked for you. But his search was cut short when he heard the shower running. 

He exhaled and had to take a minute to calm the drumming in his chest. 

He cautiously walked to the bathroom, making sure to knock before walking in. He kept his head down so he didn’t see anything he wasn’t supposed to… again. 

“Hey I was-” 

The door stopped, hitting something on the floor. 

Hangman squinted his eyes in confusion. It was your shoe. He kicked it out of the way and pushed the door open enough for him to just step in and close it. 

He stopped with his hand on the door, realizing that the room didn’t feel like a sauna. There was no fog covering the mirrors and steam wasn’t filling the small space. You always showered hot, and right now the bathroom was freezing. 

Jake finally looked up and saw you curled in the shower, the water cascading from the faucet and hitting your back. It was obvious you had been there for a while because you were shivering. 

Jake sat on the edge of the tub cautiously, not wanting to startle you.

His heart broke at the sound of your quiet crying and the puffy redness of your eyes was a sight Jake never wanted to see again.

The eyes that usually held the brightness of the stars and a kindness that was unmatched, were now red, distant, and constantly filled with tears that fell over and mixed with the water drenching you. 

He hated it.

Jake held his hand under the water and recoiled at how cold it was. 

“Shit,” he cursed as he quickly turned it off. 

When you didn’t react, he knew you truly weren’t in this reality. 

“Y/N,” he spoke gently and touched your arm. He sharply inhaled when he discovered how cold you were. “Y/N, darlin’, we need to dry you off and get you in some warm clothes. You’ll get sick.” 

Jake wasn’t sure if you heard him because you just stared ahead, biting on your nail. He sighed and pulled your hand away from your mouth. 

He moved to pull his hand back but you grabbed it, your freezing cold hand latching onto his warm one. “Please don’t… Jake, please don’t leave.” 

Your voice was quiet and broken, raw with fear. And he was sure that sent a shiver up his back.

Jake quickly shifted to kneel beside the tub, his thumb rubbing back and forth on your hand. “I’d never leave you hangin’.” 

He looked you over, “Can I pick you up?” You nodded, letting his hand slip from your grip and feel it wrap under your legs.

He awkwardly shifted to lean over and pick you up, grunting a little as stood up. He was too pressed about his clothes getting wet, he’s sure he’s got pants somewhere around here.

Jake managed to open the bathroom door and walked to your bedroom. 

He sat you on the bed and quickly grabbed the towel on the back of your desk chair. 

Wrapping it around you, Jake kissed the top of your head. “You’re okay. You’re safe,” he spoke gently against your hair.

He pulled back and watched you bite your lip to keep your tears hidden.

You avoided his eyes, looking at your shaking hands. 

“I’m gonna get you some clothes, okay?” You slowly nodded, lip trembling before you bit down on it again.

Your eyes didn’t follow him as he walked around your room, but your ears were very aware of Jake’s noises; everything from his footsteps to his mumbling. 

In under five minutes, neatly folded clothes were placed beside you and Jake kneeled in front of you, his large hands resting on your biceps gently. 

“Do you want me to stay while you change?” 

It took you a second to register what he had asked, but he was patient and rubbed reassuring circles on your arms with his thumbs. 

You inhaled, the familiar scent of his cologne calming you down a bit. 

You were tempted to say yes, you didn’t want to be alone but you also didn’t want Jake to see you any more vulnerable than he already has. 

You shook your head, unconsciously pulling the towel tighter around you. 

Jake noticed it and nodded, “Okay, I’ll go tidy up your bathroom and throw some blankets in the dryer to fluff them up and get ‘em warm.” He gave you a small smile and stood, leaving the room and the door open just a crack.

You managed to peel off the wet bra and underwear, drying off before changing. 

That simple task was exhausting. It felt like your bones had turned to rocks and your muscles no longer existed. But eventually, you did it.

You haphazardly dried your hair, basically just dry enough to where it wasn’t dripping, and walked into the small living room. 

You sat on the couch, deciding to occupy your hands with your oversized shirt while you waited for Jake. 

Minutes later he was on the couch beside you, wrapping you in the fresh-out-of-the-dryer blanket. 

“Thank you…” Your voice had a rawness to it that made Jake shiver, something was really wrong and he didn’t know how to help.

He nodded and rubbed your upper back, “Of course.”

He sat there for a moment, just listening to your sniffles and weeping exhales, before finally turning to face you. 

“What’s going on? ‘Cause this-” He gestured to you and your current state. “-is way more than just nerves for tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be-” 

“If you say ‘fine’, I swear,” he sighed to control his volume. “Y/N, you are not fine.” 

“Jake…”

The blond pilot took a deep breath, looking at the sliver of couch cushion between you. “I saw it…” 

If you weren’t going to be honest, then he needed to be. Maybe what he saw is connected to what was shaking you to your core all of a sudden.

He finally looked up at you and watched your breathing halt as fear filled your eyes. 

Jake continued, making sure to keep his tone even, “I didn’t mean to. I was just looking for you in the locker room today and I-” He stopped talking when you choked out a small cry. 

He immediately pulled you into his lap, one hand going to the back of your head and the other arm wrapped around your lower back. “I got you… I got you.”

Jake closed his eyes and rocked you a little as his mind went back to the day these roles were reversed.

Jake had sat in the locker room, flight suit half off and tied around his waist. His knee bouncing as his eyes went in and out of focus. 

“Hangman!” You called as you ran down the hall. But he couldn’t hear you with the blood still rushing in his ears. 

“Hangman! Hang- There you are!” You jogged to him and saw that his emerald eyes were blank, not the playful or confident eyes you normally saw. “Hey, Hang- Jake what’s wrong?” You knelt in front of him, putting a hand on his bouncing knee to stop it.

Jake looked at you, the concern swimming in your eyes breaking whatever resolve he had left. 

The tears he tried so hard to hold in finally spilled down his cheeks. 

You instantly cupped his face in your hands, wiping them away, “What’s got you so shaken up? I’ve never seen you like this.” 

He shook his head, pushing your hands away as he sat up and leaned against the locker. “You’re not supposed to.” 

You sighed and leaned back on your heels, “What happened up there?” 

Jake wiped the still flowing tears, shaking his head, “I don’t know. I guess- Fuck I don’t know, Rockstar.” 

You stood, “Talk to me, Jake. Please, I’m your friend and I want to help.” 

Your tone was desperate and worried. This was a new version of Jake that you would have never seen if you hadn’t followed him off the tarmac.

Hangman finally got the guts to grab your hand and squeeze it. He took a deep breath as he tried to collect himself. 

“I almost lost you up there. You’re one of my closest friends, we’ve only known each other for a few months and I feel like we’ve known each other forever. I never let myself be that close to anyone, but you made it so easy.” 

His voice was raw and shaky. He was scared, but you couldn’t blame him. What just happened to you both was really intense and it was scary. But you were both okay.

You squeezed his hand back, giving him a soft but encouraging smile. 

“Can we just- Shit this is gonna sound so weird…” 

You knew where he was going, so you straddled his legs and wrapped him in a hug. “I got you Jake, I got you.”

That was when Jake realized the backstory to your call sign. You were everyone’s rock. You kept everyone sane, even at the expense of yourself.

Which is why you were currently shaking and sobbing in his arms. You never sought out comfort for your problems, a bad habit you picked up in high school. You always put everyone first, and you had it in your head that you couldn’t be vulnerable. 

You pulled away from him, not meeting his eyes, “I’m sorry…” 

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?” 

“Because I-” 

“Because you’re being vulnerable in front of someone?” You nodded, unconsciously playing with your fingers. “Look at me, please.” You did, biting your lip to hold your tears in. 

“You are allowed to be vulnerable. You are allowed to cry. You are allowed to be scared. You shouldn’t have to hide your feelings from your friends. I’m sorry if we ever made you feel like you couldn’t talk to us.” 

You nodded, staying silent, focusing on how Jake had moved his hand from the back of your head to your cheek to rub his thumb back and forth on your cheekbone. 

Your silence broke his heart a little bit, making him think you didn’t trust him. But he knew he had to be patient with you. 

He goes to move his hand away but you hold it there. “I thought I was over it…” 

“Over what, Sweetheart?” 

“The accident…” 

Jake pushed some hair behind your ear, “What accident?” 

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. He wiped them away as he spoke softly, “Take your time…” You nodded, swallowing as you tried to catch your bearings. 

“A year before I was stationed with you, I was flying a mission. It was dangerous, but still fairly routine. On my way out, I got hit. It completely destroyed my weapons system. Before I could get back up, I was hit again. This time it took out my engine.” You took another deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. 

“We were dropping altitude fast and my WSO and I had to eject. We landed on a beach, we unbuckled so fast,” you chuckled, remembering the relief you and Diego felt before the shit hit the fan.

Jake smiled a little bit at the sound, but dropped it when you started talking again.

“However the jet had also crashed onto the beach too. The fuel had leaked and caused an explosion. I covered my WSO, and a piece of scrap metal lodged itself into my back.” 

Jake’s eyes widened, more dots connecting in his mind, “You’re the pilot the squad was talking about at the bar…” 

You nodded, wiping your eyes, “Jake, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s just… when I was in recovery, if I wanted to fly again, I had to go through therapy. And I haven’t had an attack in a year…” You got choked up again, hot tears rolling down your face, “Hang, I’m so sorry.” 

He shook his head, using both of his hands to wipe your face, “Hey, don’t be sorry. Do I wish you would have told me sooner? Hell yeah, but I understand why you didn’t.” You just nodded and relaxed into his hands.

“What happens when you have an attack?” 

You took a sharp inhale through your nose before sighing it out, “It depends. I sometimes get flashbacks of the beach, everytime I close my eyes I just see fire and it’s fucking terrifying. Other times, when it gets really bad, I can feel pain in my back, but that’s rare.” 

You bit your lip a little as you looked away, and Jake knew, “That happened tonight didn’t it?” You nodded, coughing a little bit, “Yeah, uh, yeah it did.” 

“Was it because we talked about-” 

“No," you said quickly. "W-well, I mean kinda… yeah. But there was a bonfire happening on the beach, and just the two things… my brain went into panic mode. Before you ask, I don’t really know what triggers it. But during dogfight football-” 

Jake’s eyes widened and he dropped his hands, “Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” 

“Exactly, Jake, you had no idea. It’s not your fault. It was just the pressure on my scar made me panic, and I was back on that damned beach. But I’m not mad or upset with you because you had no idea. So don’t beat yourself up, please.” 

Jake nodded, bringing you into a hug again, being mindful of the scar. “Jake, you can touch it. I know I’m safe.” He said nothing and brought a hand to run over the covered scar before tightening his hug. 

“Can you tell me about him? Your WSO?” 

You nodded, “Diego Harding, call sign Tundra. He has a wife and a son.”

“That’s why you-” 

“Yeah, that’s why I covered him. He had a family to go back to.” 

“What about you?” 

You sighed again, using Jake’s shoulders to sit up, “Most of my family served. My dad was killed in action when I was young. My mom died when I was a teenager, leaving Piers to raise me for a little bit. Then Piers goes and sacrifices himself… so I didn’t have anyone to come home too.” 

You shrugged and got off his lap, but snuggled into his side.

He rubbed lazy circles on your bicep. “Well now you do.” You looked up at him confused, “What?” 

“You’ve got me to come home to, and I’ve got you.” He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Don’t get sappy on me, Seresin.” He just chuckled.

It was silent for a moment. 

“Promise me that you’ll do your best to fly back to me,” he asked in a hushed whisper as if he were telling you a secret.

“Only if you do,” you whispered back.

He held out his pinky, “I promise.” You nodded, interlocking your pinky with his, “I promise too.” 

“Can’t break that now, you know,” he chuckled, squeezing your pinky a little. You giggled a little before yawning, “I know, cowboy.”

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[itsabouttimex2]

Hi there did they ever just consider putting a backpack leash on y/n in the Demon Child AU JTTW gang? Also did y/n ever kid kidnapped and held for ransom by many demons to try to get the monk by saying we'll let her go in Exchange for him( I also know he had alot of demon um demon suiters that instead of wanting to eat him apparently wanted marriage dam the monk got accidentally rizz)

Taken Aboard: Restraints

It’s not impossible that the gang would decide to to utilize some form of restraint after enough troublemaking by Y/N- in place of a leash, though, I imagine that Tang Sanzang would actually use a length of fabric to swaddle Y/N.

The event that caused him to decide you needed such extreme supervision?

(He was not happy.)

“Little demon,” he calls, looking down at you expectantly. “Hurry along now- you know what is expected of you before we enter a town.”

“…Master, this is embarrassing.”

“Please hurry, little one. We’ve so much to do, and I would like to get on with it right away.”

And after a little bit of huffing and puffing, you do as requested- and use the 72 Transformation to assume the form of a helpless babe, your mass-displaced form falling snug into his arms.

The Great Monk wraps you in a length of silk that he affixes around his torso and shoulders, leaving your now squishy body squashed against his soft chest.

Not only does this (frankly humiliating) transformation allow Sanzang to sneak you about without scaring any villagers, it also prevents you from running off to cause trouble.

Jokes on him, though- every last bachelorette from the village has one response to a very pretty man bundling around a cute baby:

As for getting kidnapped… yeah, the Journeyfam isn’t putting up with that shit. Not when their master gets snatched up every other day and nearly sautéed and stewed. I mean, operating on the thought that Y/N is very explicitly a demon- horns, fangs, tail, etc- the child has at least some means of self-defense.

If they do get snatched, I can’t imagine there’s a situation where Y/N doesn’t at least leave their assailant battered and scarred, which doesn’t help the demon when three angry demons and a furious dragon break down the door. And Tang Sanzang; to his credit, makes a fair effort to soothe his disciples and quell their fury… but it’s going to be much too late for anyone who decided to lay their hands on the honorary little sibling of all these furious souls.

Outside of kidnapping? I’d like to imagine that Y/N, as a child (potentially female, depending on you or your OC’s gender) in Medieval China, might be eyed up by more… unsavory individuals.

“How much?”

Sanzang turns to find the source of a casual voice, looking at a sweat-stained farmer leaning over a fresh chicken corpse. The laborer takes a moment to wipe his bloody hands, then folds his thick arms.

“How much for the kid? Seems strong, and has some muscle. I could use another pair of hands on the farm.”

And Sanzang is so genuinely appalled at the simple manner in which genuine slavery is being spoken of here, as though you are a commodity and not a thinking, breathing thing all your own. He offers no retort or reprimand, instead choosing to take you by the hand and hurry off into the crowd- not that Wukong won’t have a few “words” to share with the would-be purchaser.

But that’s not even the worst possible scenario for the gang to face-

No, the worst is proposed child marriage.

All it takes is one rich man/woman to decide that they want an “exotic” spouse, and that the little demon child with a pair of magical restraints is their “safest” way to get it.

I don’t even think Sanzang would have time to comprehend what his disciples were doing before it was over- he’s too busy reeling over being offered literal bricks of gold in return for an actual child.

And obviously his answer is a hundred firm “nos” and a dozen chants of “go to your nearest monastery and pray!”, each one delivered with increasing fervor…

Or, it would be- if his disciples hadn’t solved the matter themselves before he had regained the use of his tongue.

[lipglossanon]

Crossing the Frame

Infected!Leon S. Kennedy and fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, one shot, horror, body horror, unwanted insemination, OC, mentions of blood/death/bodily harm, vomiting, reader called chief

not proofread; inspired by the Alien series; something before October—might add more later idk

title from Crossing the Frame by Coheed and Cambria

It’s sudden. One moment you’re empty, a void unto yourself. The next, your eyes are open, unseeing as your brain begins to think again, thoughts filling the crevices of your mind. 

You cough violently, curling onto your side, an homage to your fetal beginnings. Pressing a hand to your abdomen, a skittering fear runs down your spine like spider legs. 

Something isn’t right. 

Closing your eyes, you struggle to remember why you’re here. You were to help an agent… one who had been infected by the Plagas strain. Kennedy, you think. The president’s lapdog. 

Pain radiates through your pelvis and you gasp wetly. It needs out, you think. Followed immediately by, what needs out? What’s inside you? Bile rises in your throat. 

Weak as a newborn kitten, you raise up onto your knees. Turning your face away, you gag and cough, a mix of stringy bile and saliva spilling from your mouth. 

A headache throbs behind your right eye; slipping your glasses off, you cup the socket and gently rub your eyelid. It doesn’t ease the pain—but it doesn’t make it worse—so you give up and put your glasses back on. 

Finally looking around, you take in the mess of what was once the lab. Beakers and burners are overturned, unknown liquid spilling off the surface and onto the floor; papers are scattered about like someone just tossed them before leaving. Another searing cramp makes you double over even further, breasts pressing against the tops of your thighs, hands hugging your stomach as you cry out painfully. 

Once you can breathe without wanting to die, you ease back up, slowly climbing to your feet so you can find help. There’s no one left in the lab and the door’s opened halfway, showcasing an empty hallway as far as you can see. 

Shuffling steps outside halt your own progress—hip digging into a counter as you freeze in place. 

“Hello?” Your voice cracks and you have to clear your throat—the dry heaving from earlier making it sting. “Hello?!”

A rattling breath makes you duck behind the counter—unable to see—only able to hear the door being pressed fully open while those same footsteps shuffle inside. 

“Hello,” a voice whispers, “are you in here, Chief?”

You slowly arch your neck up to peek over the counter. An intern, Andy you recall, looks around the room, hand cupping his side where blood has stained through his lab coat. Pushing yourself up, you use the counter as a crutch in order to stand in place. 

“Thank god! You’re alive!” He smiles, hazel eyes tired and strained. 

“What happened?” You rasp, swallowing to smooth your vocal cords. “I think I have a concussion.”

“The subject escaped. Leon Kennedy,” the intern steps closer, wincing with the movement. “He was infected with—“

“Plagas, I remember that,” you gesture to his side. “What about this? Or why’s the room trashed? I think I’m—“

Infected. The word curdles on your tongue like spoiled milk. 

“I woke up already bleeding,” he moves his coat and shirt aside, showing off the padded gauze and tape keeping it bandaged. “I think I got cut from the window overlooking the observation room. It shattered when he broke out.”

You nod, short flashes of memories coming back to you.  It was early morning when they brought Kennedy in for observation. Dressed in only a hospital gown, his skin looked sallow and washed out. The bags under his eyes made the blue that much darker. His hair seemed to be the only thing that defied his poor health, looking sleek and shiny under the fluorescent lights. 

The examiner had the agent remove the upper half of his gown, letting everyone see the raw and irritated scar from the machine that supposedly destroyed the embryo in his chest. X-rays proved there were remnants clinging to his chest wall—the reason why he had been called in to your lab. 

Being the chief medical officer in charge, you had sat quietly in the audience chamber above the room—watching as the scientists and doctors argued and questioned Kennedy, who only had the scattered notes from his mission to really backup any of his claims. 

They injected him, you remember suddenly. He had reacted negatively, body jerking and twitching before he began to scream incoherently, voice raising in pitch until your vision wavered. The glass splintered and rained down on the room, slicing anything in its path.

The alarm began to blare and you locked eyes with what used to be Agent Kennedy, black washing out his sclera and dark veins overtaking his skin like twisting vines. 

“Are you okay?”

Shoulders jerking upward, you shake your head before looking back up into Andy’s drawn face. 

“Yeah, just trying to make it all make sense.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, clenching his teeth suddenly. “Fuck, I fixed myself up as well as I could, but I definitely need to get help.”

“Of course. Are we still under lockdown?”

“Uh huh,” he sucks in his top lip. “It’s why I came this way. I was hoping to find your keycard.”

In case you were dead rings as loud in the room as if he had spoken it. Reaching down, you hold up your lanyard. 

“Lucky for you, I didn’t lose it.”

You both smile even if it’s an empty consolation. 

“Do you need help walking?” You point to his side. 

“I’ll be alright as long as we don’t have to run.”

Both of you know if it comes to that, neither of you would be making it out alive. 

Slowly making your way out of the specimen room—why were you even in this room?!—the intern follows behind you, quiet and careful. The two offices you pass by are empty, not a pencil out of place. The hallway itself doesn’t look like anything is off. A blaring light by the exit’s the only thing to signify anything is awry. 

Leaving the safety of the hallway, you hold the door open for Andy, letting it fall shut once he’s past the threshold. 

“Do you know why I was in this section?” You turn to him, keeping pace instead of walking out in front. 

He shrugs, “Everyone kinda went their own way once he got out. I think someone said you needed to grab the data on the latest test batch?”

You pat your pockets and find a small thumb drive in your overcoat. 

“Okay…” 

You frown down at it, mind still entirely blank. 

“He—“ Andy cut himself off. 

“He what?”

“The subject followed after you. I don’t know if they stopped him or anything like that. I kinda passed out,” he gave you a bitter smile. “I guess at least I wasn’t outright killed.”

“So he killed people?”

Andy nodded, “We’ll pass a few colleagues. Rose and Dr. Kline. Others are too bad to guess.”

You feel a pang of sadness, “That’s awful.”

The intern doesn’t say anything, eyes cast down to the floor. You let the conversation go, splitting your attention between your surroundings and the young man walking next to you. Surprisingly, it’s an uneventful walk out of the research and development area. But once you meet the intersection between it and medical, everything changes. 

The door slides open with a low hiss and you freeze, the salty tang of copper wafting out. The stench of blood and god knows what dogs your footsteps as you guide Andy through the carnage littering the floor. 

“It’s so much worse than before,” he whispers. “It’s like he came back.”

Fear makes your legs weak but you press on, eyes darting around for any movement, ears straining for any odd sounds. The alarm system wails in the distance, amber emergency lights pulsing in time with the sound. You eventually pass by Dr. Kline and his assistant Rose, mutilated in ways that turn your stomach. Andy touches your arm and you push past the bodies, eyes eagerly seeking out the red EXIT sign attached to the stairwell door. 

You touch the handle and a searing bolt of agony rips through your abdomen, like something with a mouthful of teeth is shredding your uterus. It hurts so much you can’t even make any noise, collapsing onto your knees, hands wrapped around your middle like it will stave off the pain. 

“Chief?!”

Andy tries to kneel but groans, legs shaking as he rights himself, hand grasping your shoulder. 

“I can’t,” his voice breaks, “I can’t lift you, Chief. Please, stand up. We’re almost out.”

You open your mouth to reply and puke, bile rushing up from your stomach to stain the floor. Eyes watering, you dry heave for far longer than last time until your body has nothing left to give. 

“Please,” the young man whimpers, “I don’t wanna be alone.”

A shaky hand reaches up to pat the one he has in your shoulder, “I-I’m okay. I think.. I think I’m sick. I don’t know if it’s safe to even be around me.”

Standing up, he doesn’t pull away. 

“We both probably are,” he mumbles, eyes drifting to the door. “But we gotta try.”

You press a hand to your abdomen, “No, Andy. I think I’m—“

“A host.”

A new voice cuts in—low, humorous. You both turn, the young man beside you grabbing your bicep with an iron grip. It takes a second to spot who spoke. Eyes partially concealed by blood soaked fringe peek from around the corner, an off shoot hallway in the opposite direction of the emergency exit.

One hand with abnormally long fingers, creeps over the edge like a deformed spider. The nails look like sharp little talons, and what skin you can see is dark, dry and scaly. 

“He’s, he’s not—oh god, what is he?” Andy whispers, and you shake your head. 

“I don’t know.”

Kennedy laughs and it floods your body with chills. 

“I’ve evolved,” he speaks, voice normal in complete opposition to his looks. “She will be, too.”

Andy subtly tugs your arm and you both take a step back, eyes never wavering from the eerie stare from the creature in front of you. A chittering noise comes from Kennedy and his other hand joins the first, splaying wide against the wall. 

“It was so easy to make you a host,” he laughs again, eyes glittering. “And you didn’t even lose any blood.”

The pair of you make another shuffling step back before those dark eyes narrow. You snap your CAC off of your lanyard clasp and press it against the hand Andy’s using to grip your arm. 

“Take it,” you hiss under your breath. “Go first, get to the containment ward. If everything’s gone to shit, activate the evacuation code and seal yourself off from here.”

“What about—“

Tears drip from your eyes, “I’m contaminated. Please, Andy, just get out of here. I’ll try my best to buy you time.”

“Okay,” he lets out a wet sounding breath. “Okay, Chief. I-I’ll do what I can. Thank you.”

You nod and he finally lets go of you, the heat at your side slipping away. Listening to his shuffling steps, you hear the security pad beep, followed by the stairwell door swinging open. It closes with a soft snick, but you don’t turn away from the pair of eyes in front of you.  

“You knooow you can’t stop me,” that chittering noise again making you realize that’s his laugh. “But it’s sweet of you to give him a head start.”

The cramping in your abdomen is beginning to flair up again but you grit your teeth and take a half step back. You continue walking backwards until your back bumps the door. Hating having to lose sight of him, you turn your sights on the security pad. You make quick work of it, you pull the lab ID card from your pocket, slide it into the slot, and snap off the bottom. The pad blares red—ERROR repeating itself across the small screen. 

“Do you think that’ll stop me?”

He murmurs directly behind you, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. 

You’re too scared to turn around. 

“Probably not, but it invokes a building wide security warning and shutdown,” voice trembling, you reply. “It also alerts the Agency that there’s been a breach.”

He hums, “Clever. Not that it matters.”

Those hands of his, basically scaly claws at this point, wrap their disjointed fingers across your waist and interlock—trapping you in place. The parasite in your body trashes wildly, cramps perforating your abdomen until you become only pain; your legs tremble, weight now held up by the monster’s hands—fear overriding the incessant will to live. 

“It needs out,” he croons, a strange clicking echoing behind you—like mandibles, you think almost deliriously. “Doesn’t it?”

Glancing down, you catch a segmented tail slipping away, tipped with a hardened exoskeleton that looks sharp enough to pierce. Gray begins to creep into your vision as your legs fully give out, Kennedy’s odd hands catching you underneath your breasts, pressing on your ribs so hard you feel the muscles shift.

You’re able to catch sight of his mutated face before passing out; too horrified to scream, you welcome the reprieve of inky darkness. 

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

(to the tune of Avril Lavigne's sk8terboi)

He was a human battering ram.

She was a recon sniper.

Can I make it any more obvious?

Headcannons - Fit for a King - König x fem!OC fanfic

Instead of making a y/n fic, I decided to create an original female character because I ususally write all of my stuff in POVs. Due to posting the chapters often right after I've written them some of the context and the characterization might not be explicit in every single piece, some of the information is only gonna get revealed down the road.

(TW: alcoholism, death, violence)

Karina Müller is almost 30 years old, she served in the Norwegian military from right after school until the death of her brother who was KIA on a mission together. She fell off the wagon after that, feeling responsible for his death and effectively being shunned by her family after that. Her pick of poison was alcohol and it got so bad that she more than once was drunk on the job which led to her getting kicked out.

The years after that she spent getting help, trying to get clean and going back to a civilian life, but the military was what she knew, so the civilian jobs didn't stick and she started to work as a mercenary, now a dry alcoholic. Which might be an issue for some contractors, but KorTac doesn't really bat an eye.

She's a compassionate person who loves to laugh, she's seen enough shit not to take any from her teammates and can stand her ground when faced with any challenge thrown her way. She's still working through some stuff, coming to terms with her past, but she has an optimistic spirit and a strong will.

Even though the Colonel seems scary at first, she learns pretty quickly that he is to be respected in training and on the battlefield, but on a personal level he's really not that bad. The 6'10'' killing machine, Austrian war criminal (insert "what murdeeer?!"-meme here) is quite an anxious person when it comes to basic human interaction.

Shouting orders at his team, stomping his enemies into the ground is more comfortable to him than just talking about mundane stuff with other people, he mostly keeps to himself (except for Horangi because that little shit would never leave him alone). And for the first time in a long time, Müller makes him wish that he could just go up to people and strike up a normal conversation like a normal person (don't we all).

König is 38 years old (we don't know his full name) and has the biggest metalhead dad vibes without actually having any children himself (his favourite band is Death, although he listens to a bunch of different ones, it's also their merch shirt Müller steals in "Are you wearing my t-shirt?").

When he started out in the military, he shaved his long metalhead hair off because that was the way to go back then, but he let it grow back when he was older and already Colonel. He has gauged ears and a plethora of tattoos all over his body because the soft pain of body modifications and working out until he almost passes out are his ways of dealing with his anxiety and stress. His body is a testament to that.

He has a huge scar on the right side of his face from when he got beaten to a pulp by his bullies at school, something he never let happen again after that (five on one was really unfair). His nose has been broken two times and sometimes his tattoos get destroyed by battle injuries, but he doesn't really care about that - or his looks in general. He's a soldier and not a model.

So the reason why he's always wearing the selfmade hood is not the scar. He prefers not to show his feelings to others, staying hidden underneath the mask for his own comfort, even if it makes him scarier also in situations where he doesn't want to be.

(CW: some nsfw headcannons ahead, talk about not wanting to have children) They're both switches, though König is leaning more on the Dom-side while Müller is a sub who likes to brat a little too much, just to see her man falter (for example when she calls him a good boy in random scene #1).

Müller is bisexual, something she discovered when serving in an all-women-taskforce of the Norwegian military (we don't really know about König's sexuality though). She decided a long time ago that she doesn't want to have children (she doesn't see herself leaving service again anytime soon and given her past, she doesn't see herself fit to become a mother), so she got her tubes tied. Which also comes in handy when a certain Colonel's favourite pasttime (well, actually second favourite) is leaving creampies inside her (no 'unexpected pregnancy' trope in this household).

König definitely eats pussy for his own pleasure, begging Müller to let him eat her out in "Sit" or losing a little friendly competition for a sexual favour in "But no funny business" (oh and he definitely steals her panties at any chance he gets). She's totally not opposed to servicing him as well, but the size of his dick makes this a whole endeavour (like seen in "Open wide, Prinzessin").

They match each other's energy pretty well, just going at it like rabbits at every chance they get, which sometimes proves to be difficult as they're sneaking around in secret.

Their arrangement is kind of a fuckbuddy/fwb-situation, they fuck hard and rough, without ever really kissing (the mask stays on), but after a while feelings start to get in the way... After all they do belong together <3

Read more at the Fit for a King - Masterlist or keep an eye out for the AO3 link - coming soon.

[thefoxtherapist]

Thinkin thinkin thinkin....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mortefi literally doesn’t care.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sundrop-writes]

One Moment Per Episode With Dick Grayson

Season One, Episode One: "Titans"

Summary:

You and Dick haven't spoken since the Titans parted ways in San Francisco five years ago.

Even though you used to be as close as two people can be, both of you are doing just fine leading your own separate lives - until your psychic powers cause you to have a vision of the end of the world, and you have to turn to him for help. As much as Dick doesn't want to get involved, you know that him leading The Raven on the path she needs to travel is the only way to stop the terrible fate you saw.

He wants to deny it, and stay as far away from you as possible - but he can't avoid you or the truth that you have told him when he runs into that very Raven you speak of in an interrogation room later that night. He has to face a simple truth he has always known: you're always right.

Dick Grayson x Fem!Powered!Reader. Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Bantering/Humor. Set during Season 1, Episode 1.

Word Count: 2,300

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: the reader uses she/her pronouns (some people might accuse the reader character in this story of being more of an OC and I am okay with that - I try to make all the reader characters in my other stories as blank and open as possible and every now and then I let myself have a little bit of a treat) - but as usual with my stories, the majority of pronouns used in the fic are you/yours; other than clothing style and a scar that informs her backstory, the reader's looks are not described and are left vague (as far as race, body type, hair colour, etc. - those things are not described); the reader character does have powers - I might make a separate post detailing the reader's entire backstory and power set (or I might just let it be spelled out slowly through the chapters) - but for now, I will tell you that the reader character is psychic and can see glimpses of the future in dream-like visions; the reader and Dick are 'exes' - their relationship was never official (they never explicitly called each other boyfriend/girlfriend), but they used to have sex often (and they both have feelings for each other that they never openly spoke about), and they are childhood friends, so there is a lot of emotional history there; mentions of canon-typical violence; this fic does use Y/N; mentions of the reader being shot during a past undescribed incident; there is references to sex and discussions of sex, but no explicit smut (but there might be some later in the story? idk yet); emotionally constipated Dick Grayson; idk what else ? - pining, emotional angst, using humor to deflect emotional tension, banter. I just really like the vibes of this. there is not a lot of big content warnings for this fic (yet).

A/N: Honestly, I am really excited about this one. I have a lot of ideas for future episodes (especially the episode where Dick loses it emotionally and just gets followed around by a hallucination of Bruce for the entire episode - but that's not until Season 2, oop). Titans is one of my favourite series ever - if you couldn't tell - so getting to examine each episode closer and appreciate each individual episode as a unique piece of art while writing this instead of binging a whole season gives me a whole new appreciation for the show. I hope you guys enjoy these as they come out - especially because I do have an idea of where this fic is going, but I don't know where I want these characters to go in Season 4. (I kind of want to do a secret surprise reveal of two of the characters being related and being siblings, but... idk. Sometimes people don't like that.) But this is definitely a good opportunity to send me ideas of where you want this story to go/how you want it to end up. Anyway - please enjoy!!!

....

Dick needed some fucking air. 

He could barely fucking handle today. He had to compose himself before he lost it and started breaking things. It was all such a shitshow - the department pushing a new partner on him, footage of Robin all over the news, every other half-cocked beat cop making comments about how Robin was just another masked psychopath who wasn’t that different from The Joker. 

Fuck them. 

If they only knew what Gotham was like - if only they had to deal with a department full of asshole’s on the Joker’s payroll. If only they had to watch criminals walk away because they made bail on the decision of a corrupt judge. If only they had to sit behind a desk and listen to a mother’s sobs as she begged for him to find her missing child - knowing how many people elbow to elbow with him would laugh at her tears rather than start looking. 

If they only spent one night tending to civilians while the smell of burning flesh permeated the air, with the Joker’s screaming laugh stuck in their ears because he thought that bombing a low-income housing complex was just that funny. 

Fuck all of them. 

Dick clenched his fist tight - his knuckles aching as he resisted the urge to drive his arm right through the glass at the front of the precinct. He just - he really needed some air. 

Dick walked out the front doors (rather than smashing the glass), and took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying his best to calm down. It was getting late, and things were relatively slow, even for it being a Tuesday. No influx of late-night chaos yet. He had some time to collect himself before- 

“So - Robin’s in Detroit now, huh?” 

That voice. 

Dick felt the sting of familiarity pluck at his spine, and he whipped his head around at lightning speed, looking in the direction of the voice. Surely enough - you were the one standing there. It hadn’t been some kind of auditory hallucination on his part. 

So much for time to calm himself down. 

He was immediately met with a confliction - lust and annoyance bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t want to see you again, he didn’t want you to be here, especially not without warning. But you looked so damn good - it was a distraction from that fact. 

That was always the thing about exes, wasn’t it? 

(If Dick could even call you his ‘ex’ - the two of you had slept together more times than he could count, both metaphorically and literally, but the two of you had never put an official label on the relationship like he had with Dawn or Barbara. He cared for you like a friend, and like a lover in a way that he was never willing to admit - but did that make you his ex? Especially if he never stopped caring about you?) 

That thing about exes being: they always look so fucking good when you see them after a long time of being apart. The universe dangling something in front of you that you’re not allowed to have and technically, should no longer want. 

But oh - Dick found himself wanting so very badly. (And he tried his hardest to hide that fact as he continued to carefully stare you down.) 

Because you looked so good. 

You were wearing something of your usual style - an outfit of many confusing layers that somehow showed off the natural curves of your body and hid you all at the same time. 

A long skirt with a ruffled hemline and bold, colorful pattern. A pair of boots that you had probably gotten from some vintage store that were likely older than both you and Dick, leathery and well worn in. Your jacket was much the same - a supple brown leather with a soft fur lining that made you look very warm and cozy. 

Topped off with a pair of the largest, gaudiest dangling earrings that Dick had ever seen - the kind that would have gotten snagged on one of his nice shirts and gotten the two of you tangled up during one of your hook-ups. A pair of earrings that he would have scolded you for wearing - but he would have delighted in finding them on his bedroom floor after you left because it meant having a piece of you still with him. And it would mean having an excuse to visit you later because he had something of yours to return. 

Those earrings glistened in the light of the street lamps, just as your eyes did while you stared him down with those inquisitive, knowing eyes. Looking at him with that same expression you always wore - the one that seemed to say you knew everything that he never would. It equally fascinated him and infuriated him. 

He hated the fact that you had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, causing his heart to race - had you snuck up on him on purpose? Did you find it funny? 

“Y/N,” Dick said your name curtly, still feeling a slight twinge of shock that you were standing in front of him at all. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

You let out a dry chuckle, and stepped closer to him, making his whole body stiff. His first instinct was to step backward - to gain more distance from you. But he didn’t want to seem like he was afraid of you - afraid of that closeness. So he forcefully locked his legs and stayed in place as you drifted closer, and you idly conversed back. 

“Oh, Dickie.” You sighed in return, using his childhood nickname. “A warm welcome as always.” 

Dick rolled his eyes at this. Did he really need to bother with manners and formalities? The two of you had known each other for so long, he guessed that you were both well over stuff like that. 

“Do I need a reason to be here? Can’t I just visit an old friend?” You posed, a humorous tone still running through your voice. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he took a more defensive stance. He quickly went from shock then to annoyance. 

The two of you were old friends - you had known each other since you were in diapers together. The two of you had grown up together, raised by a unique circus family. And that meant that Dick knew you well enough to know that if you were here, you had a good reason to be. 

(If you had wanted to chase him when he first left Gotham, you likely would have camped out in the trunk of his car, or you would have shown up at his new apartment the day after he moved in. You wouldn’t have waited this long to contact him.) 

“Do us both a favor and cut the bullshit, please.” Dick replied sternly. “Why are you here?” 

“Grumpy.” You sighed, sounding defeated. 

He waited for a moment, and surely enough - you folded, now willing to directly explain your reason for showing up in Detroit so suddenly. 

“I had a vision.” You explained. “A girl. The Raven. A lot of others consider her to be the eater of worlds, but she is the one who is going to save us all, Dick.” 

He let out a harsh puff of air, reaching up and running fingers roughly over his temple. Yup, there it was - the headache had fully set in now. He really didn’t need this. Not tonight. 

He had known about your visions for a long time. When he was younger, he had been shocked to find out that you had inherited your mother’s ‘gift’. He previously had no clue that her set-up as a sideshow fortune teller with Tarot cards and a large crystal ball wasn’t all psychology tricks and half-guesses she put on for tourists - but in fact, it was actually something informed by larger supernatural forces at play. And it was something you could do as well. 

So he was inclined to believe you when you told him about this vague vision, but he also didn’t want to be involved. He had a lot on his plate right now - he didn’t need this. 

“Look, I’m sure that whatever you saw was important, but-” He began. 

You sighed and shook your head harshly at this ‘but’. 

“Why don’t you just take it to New York instead? This kind of thing is way more Donna’s speed, anyway. I’m sure she can help you find this girl, and-” 

“That won’t help.” You told him. “The girl is already on her way here.” 

You spoke the words with such utter certainty, and it sent shivers up Dick’s spine. The calm, tranquil look on your face - the ominous wiseness you held: it reminded Dick so much of your mother. The other-worldly authority she held that had ultimately gotten her killed. It was strangely creepy. 

“Just so you know, I hate it when you say ominous shit like that.” Dick told you, gesturing to your person with stiff offense in his body. “Just because your mother played the creepy voodoo witch for tourists doesn’t mean you have to.” 

“I’m not playing.” You replied, exasperated. 

You knew that Dick could be frightened of your powers at times. He was someone very logic-based - he built his beliefs around facts. So having you follow your visions and your ‘gut feelings’ when they were never concrete, changing on a dime - he hated the uncertainty and chaos that came with it all. But you had learned to trust yourself and your feelings over time, even if he didn’t. 

“And you know, you’re involved in this whether you want to be or not.” You told him, trying to get the conversation back on track. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Robin made his first appearance in months last night.” 

Dick became stiff at this, and quickly glanced around - as though waiting for someone to appear out of nowhere and point an accusing finger at him, screaming out that he was Robin and he had been caught. 

“You can’t help it, Dick Grasyon.” You declared with intense certainty. “You need to save people, you need to feel like you’re making a difference, you-” 

“So what, now you expect me to save the whole fucking world?” Dick snapped back. 

“She does.” You corrected. 

“Who?” He replied - confused and once again annoyed at your mysticism and bold confidence in your visions. 

“The Raven.” You told him. “She needs you. And whether you like it or not, you need her.” 

You shifted your stance then, waiting for him to tell you that you were right - which was how most of your arguments ended. 

But then, as a sick reminder, the lapel of your jacket opened enough for Dick to get a glance at your chest. The neckline of your blouse was wide open, but his eyes weren’t drawn to your cleavage - instead, he became focused on a large scar that you had sitting over your heart. A place where a bullet had ripped through you, leaving you barely alive. 

He still remembered the feeling of your blood warm under his hands while you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, begging him to save you. He remembered sitting at your bedside, believing that you would never wake up again. 

He couldn’t help but to reach up and gently skim his thumb across the roughness of the scarred skin as he glared at it with a stiff jaw. The touch sent shivers through you - it was the first time he had touched you since that last night in Gotham, when you had woken up to an empty bed and absolutely no explanation as to where he had gone. 

Dick felt rage boil inside of him. 

How could you ask him to save the world when he had been responsible for this? 

This - this was why he was no fucking savior. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said, choking on the words slightly as he took his hand down, shoving it back into his pocket once again. He had to avoid the temptation of touching you any further. 

If you weren’t safe around him, why would some little girl from your visions be? 

“This isn’t about me.” You scoffed. “Or-” 

‘Or us.’ 

You held back, knowing how dangerous it was to mention the royal Us around flighty Dick Grayson. For a bird without wings, he was absolutely capable of taking off in a quick moment when he wanted to. 

“This is about something so much bigger.” You pressed. “She’ll be here soon.” 

Dick let out another strained sigh at you using such ominous words again. 

“Well, next time you’re gonna come here and be all ominous and creepy, you should at least bring some coffee.” He told you, sarcasm tight on his lips. 

You made a mocking face in return. 

“Well, you could be more polite.” You scoffed. 

Before Dick could recommend that the two of you go and get a coffee in order to truly catch up, someone called out his name, drawing his attention away from you for a moment. 

“Hey, Grayson!” Someone called, sticking their head out the front door. “Prentiss is looking for you!” 

When he turned back, you were gone. He tried not to linger on it too much - how creepy it was. You were silent and quick like a ghost - he thought that your ominous jewelry might jingle like a house cat’s bell. 

But - he would call you later. Hopefully you still had the same number. 

…

Dick walked into the interrogation room, trying to clear his mind of the interaction with you. When he saw a small, scared girl, he thought it best to lighten the mood with a joke. 

“Hi, I’m Detective Grayson.” He said, introducing himself. “I hear you like to play baseball with bricks and cop cars. You wanna tell me what happened?” 

“You’re him.” She said, whimpering and tearful. “You’re the boy from the Circus.” 

At first, Dick thought that everyone was simply being ominous and creepy today. But then he realized:

‘Oh fuck. You were right.’

...

A/N: Please do not ask me when this fic will be updated - this fic does not have a schedule.

While this is technically the first chapter in a 'series', each chapter is meant to be enjoyed on its own. The overarching plot of the series is still that of the original Titans show, and I won't be making any major changes to the canon of the show - I just intend to showcase smaller emotional moments between the reader character and the canon characters. This is something I want to work on casually in the background between working on other things. This fic is not my main focus, and I will not be rushing to update it or complete it.

Comments and reblogs are encouraged, and I am thankful for them - but please keep those comments focused on the actual content of the series (it's plot, the characters, their dynamics, etc.). Please do not spam me asking me to update this or asking me when I will update this - because I am not in a rush to do so. I have a lot of ideas for this series that I am excited about, but I want to work on it slowly and casually because I don't want to lose my enthusiasm for it and I know that rushing will take that enthusiasm away.

If you enjoyed this - great, thanks. But if you expect this to be updated weekly like a factory pumping out stuff on a clearly outlined schedule - then you are in the wrong place. If you are expecting constant updates of this fic and you will be disappointed if it doesn't get updated regularly - you should just block me now and pretend you didn't read it. But if you are a patient person - feel free to read and enjoy my other Titans works while I am working on updates for this (and working on other exciting things), and feel free to send me a message telling me what you thought of this fic or other fics in general.

Also - if you can't get Dick Grayson off your mind - my requests are open.

[short-honey-badger]

Doll 7

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Shanks and Doll have a bit of a heart to heart, and things get steamy and Shanks gets a lil possessive

Doll Masterlist

*note* I introduce some OC characters here that we might see later down the road. The wiki has shit about the Celestial Dragons, so I just made my own stuff up. Enjoy! I also just want to give a huge thank you to everyone who has come with me since I started this series! Lots of love to you guys! ❤️❤️❤️

As the days pass, you find yourself fitting right in with the rest of the Red-Haired Pirates. They are a rowdy bunch, and you wake up with a hangover more than one morning with how much they enjoy their drink, but you find yourself not minding it. Shanks had shown you where you could sleep, and you were relieved to find that the cabin was just down the hall from his own quarters. He’d offered to move you into his space, but you weren’t quite ready for that yet.

Shanks had only smiled and agreed with you, even though he felt a bit disappointed. He wanted you close, but the captain also understood that you needed your own space as well. That didn’t stop him from dragging you to his quarters every now and then for a quick lesson.

He found that you were a quick learner, and he would find himself with you planted in his lap each night before you went to bed. Your legs are on either side of his hips as you faniliarized yourself with his lips. Shanks let you go at your own pace, simply enjoying the weight of you on his lap. While he wanted more, the pirate didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable and had settled for occasionally sliding his hand under your shirt so that he could touch you.

But tonight, after having such a good day and with more than the usual alcohol in his system, Shanks wanted to see more of you. He had dragged you back to his room after the sun had set, plopping in his chair, and you had followed with a cute smile upon your lips. The two of you exchanged heated kisses, tongues sliding along the other in a sloppy embrace that made heat build in his gut. His hand gripped your waist, thumb digging into your flesh as he tugged you closer.

You break the kiss, lips pressing against his cheek as you grip his shoulders. You can feel the hardness between your legs, and it makes your cheeks flair. Your hands slide under his unbuttoned shirt and push the fabric down. Shanks groans when your lips find the side of his neck, and he tilts his head to the side to allow you more room.

Everything is fantastic until he slides his hand away, his fingers coming up to pluck at the buttons of your shirt. You freeze in his hold, body tensing like a live wire, and one of your hands abandons it’s place on his chest to snatch his hand. Shanks looks up at you with a tiny pout, and you feel bad for stopping him when you see the hurt in his eyes that are partially hidden behind his shaggy bangs.

“Baby,” he whines and gently tugs at his hand, flipping it so that he can thread his fingers through your own, “Let me see you.”

You gnaw on your bottom lip, nerves exploding in your stomach at the thought of Shanks seeing the brand. He’s seen it once on the day that the two of you met, but you’ve intentionally not shown it off again since. Not to mention that your scars could be seen on your sides. You didn’t want to disgust your lover.

Seeing that torn expression on your face makes Shanks’ heart ache for you. His darling has gone through so much pain and suffering at the hands of the Celestial Dragons. He can’t imagine what they’d said to you, much less done to you. Even thinking about it makes him want to sail to Sabaody, raze the entire place, and watch it sink into the sea. But he shoves down the rage once more and lifts his hand and yours to cup your face.

“I don’t know what they’ve done to you, and I hope you’ll share with me one day, but please believe me when I say that nothing you could show me will make me want you any less, _.”

Shanks would give you the world if that was what it took to get you to understand what you meant to him. He doesn’t care that it’s only been a few weeks, but he doesn’t recall anyone else in his life that made him burn like the way you do.

You stare at Shanks, eyes welling up, but you shove the want to cry down as far as you can. Your shoulders set, and he watches you take a deep breath. You haki flares up at your determination, and the pirate wishes you could see how beautiful you look in this moment.

“It’s not pretty,” you warn him, but Shanks shrugs, lips tugging into a gentle smile as he shrugs.

“They’re a part of you, doll, so they’ll be beautiful like the rest of you.”

You swallow down the lump in your throat and give Shanks a watery smile before untangling your hand from his. Before you can begin to unbutton your shirt, the redhead pushes your hand away and begins to do it himself, fingers flicking open the buttons with practiced ease. He feels that familiar flash of anger when he sees the brand on your left shoulder. It’s about the size of your fist, the top three triangles curling just over your collar bone and the bottom one ponting down toward your breast. He reaches out, tracing the mark with the tips of his fingers and your shudder above him, skin sensitive even after having it for so long.

“It’s ugly,” you hiss above him and look down at the way your skin has scared from the hot iron that had branded you. Your voice is full of wicked contempt, though it barely breaks above a whisper, “I hate it.”

Shanks can’t help but silently agree. The brand makes his own skin itch in discomfort. He can’t imagine how painful it had been when you received it. He licks his lips and feels a bit sick even before he voices his question, “How old were you?”

You watch his hand leave the mark, instead smoothing down your sides. You can’t help but tense when you see him feel the scars that wrap along your waist and ribs, but he doesn’t say a word, only patiently waits for you to answer him, “Seven, I think? My parents died in a shipwreak, and Disco found me, sold me to the first family that would take me. The La-Minnings.”

You shudder at the name. The head of the family was a harsh, no-nonsense man who demanded perfection from everyone that he owned. From his wife to the lowly slaves that carried them two and fro. It rankled you every time you would see one of the slaves that had known you the longest, a giant named Halbrand, bent in two, waiting for the family to sit upon his great back, carting them around like an animal.

Shanks commits that name to his memory for one day. Unfortunately, not anytime soon, he would ruin them. Would present you with their kneeled forms and let you choose what happens to them, let you rule over them like they once ruled you.

The image of you standing before your captures makes arousal flair hot in his chest, and Shanks grips you by the back of your neck, tugging you down for a harsh kiss that makes you whine and claw at his chest. He licks into your mouth, tongue, and teeth, claiming you as his own. Only he would ever be allowed to touch you again. Never would he let a hand be raised against you. Shanks will worship the very ground you walk upon.

You gasp under his assault, not having expected him to kiss you like this. It’s jarring to be kissed like this when he’s only been so soft and gentle with you so far, but you find yourself liking the rough treatment. Your nails dig into his tanned flesh, and Shanks hisses into your mouth when you scarpe across one of his nipples.

He trails hot kisses from your mouth to the corner of your jaw, nipping harshly only to ease the sting with the flat of his tongue. You taste devine under his attention, and Shanks can’t help it when his hips jump up, meeting that heat he can feel between your legs. He sneaks his hand up your back, fingertips feeling the raised edges of old lash marks, but refusing to focus on them for now. Instead, he finds the latch of your brah and flicks it open.

Your captain grins against your skin when you gasp, eyes going wide as he pulls away to look down at your exposed breasts. Shanks ventures forth, big hand cupping your left breast and smoothing the pad of his thumb over a hardened nipple and grinning ferally when you suck in a sharp breath. He hums when you whine his name, your tone breathless with want.

Feeling mischievous and wanting to hear what other sounds that he could pull from you, Shanks ducks his head and wraps his lips around the hardened nub. He suckles gently, tongue flicking out to stimulate the sensitive nerves. Your arms slide around his back, eyes clenched shut, one hand sliding into his hair to grip it for dear life.

After a moment, he shifts to your other nipple, breathing hot air against your prickled skin before he sucks it into his mouth to give it the same attention. His hand finds the one he left behind, and you squeal when he pinches it harshly.

“Shanks,” you whine again when you feel the tent in his pants rub against you. You can’t help but grind your hips down, huffing at the friction that drags across your core. You want more, but the world feels like it’s spinning, and you grip his hair, tugging the pirate back from your breast. He looks at you in confusion, and you force yourself to explain.

“I've never had sex,” you blurt and shiver at the way you watch his eyes darken at the information, but you make yourself get back on track. You've had more than a few drinks, and Shanks has as well, “I don't want my first time to be after talking about Marie Geoise and with us both more than a little tipsy.”

Your admission makes your captain soften, and a gentle smile tugs at his mouth. He lifts his head and plants a soft kiss to your lips.

“You're right, doll. I'm sorry I got a bit carried away,” Shanks murmurs, but you shake your head, matching his smile as you lean forward to rest your brow against his.

“Don't apologize. I liked it, but I don't want to have anything muddle how you make me feel,” you say and cut your eyes away, ‘I don't think I'm quite ready for that either.”

Shanks cups your face, kissing you again, for he just can't help himself, “No rush, sweetheart. We've got all the time in the world.”

You nod, and the two of you bask in each other's presence, allowing the arousal to fade into soft affection. You eventually yawn, eye crinkling as you cover your mouth with your hand. Shanks snickers at you and helps button your shirt back up. You don't really want to leave, though.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You ask, and your heart thuds in your chest at the way Shanks lights up. He nods, bangs flopping at the motion, then stands to pull back the sheets on his bed when you stand. He shimmies under the covers, and you follow after him, sighing in comfort when he hugs you close so you lay in his chest.

“Been wondering when you'd stay the night with me, doll. I have a big bed and got really lonely at night, ya know.”

You huff a laugh and kiss his chest, eyes already closed as sleep creeps up on you, “Guess I'll have to start staying in here then, huh?”

Shanks grins in the dark and clutches you that much closer before dropping a kiss to the top of your head, “Guess so.”

[pynkgothicka]

Inspired by one of your reblogged posts..

I really want to see dark! misogynistic Jason Todd with a somewhat innocent! girlfriend. He was so sweet to her until they started dating; Now he just can't be bothered with her. He consults his friends about it on COD, or some other incel hangout, and they advise him to put reader in her place.

He comes home one day to reader laying in bed on her phone and he just can't seem to control himself. He's spewing out degrading thoughts, about how he's just so sweet to her and all she can do is complain, and not even be grateful that Jason's using his precious time to breed and lay his claim her needy cunt. Using and absolutely destroying her like the plaything she is.

(also, can i be 🐢 anon? i feel like I'll be returning to you for a while.. i love ur work!)

Ｉｍａｇｉｎｉｎｇ ＪＳＴ

Pairing - Dark! Misogynistic! Incel! Jason Todd x Innocent! Girlfriend! AFAB! Reader

Featuring - Rest of the Batboys

Tags and Warnings - Incel behavior, noncon, name calling, misogyny, medication, gaslighting, degrading, abuse, violence against oc/reader

Authors Note - Back tew my roots!!!! And ofc I would love to finally have anons!! Also sorry this took eons-

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! These depictions don't pertain to reality. This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

Jason watched you in your shared small apartment. He couldn't figure out what went wrong between the two of you. It started whenever he moved in. Jason was never so used to having somewhere there 24/7.

You were just so needy and particular.

“Jason? Baby… what do you want for dinner tonight?” You ask coming to sit by him. Your hands ran over his arm and kissing at his visable scars. Jason pulled away from you, the feeling making his skin tingle.

He watched as your face fell and you sigh before getting up and grabbing your purse. “I'm going grab something to eat tonight. Please remember to take your medicine.” You say heading to the door and leaving.

“I don't need them.” Jason replied quickly looking at you as you straightened up the living room before leaving. “I told you about reminding me to do shit.”

Jason watched as you just sighed again. “I tell you because I want you to be better baby. I don't want to keep doing things alone, I just want us to be better.” You said doting once again, keeping your sweet nature with Jason. But he only saw that as pity and he hated it. He hissed before rolling his eyes and getting up, the couch going back by his sheer strength. “I don't care what's for dinner. Just get out.”

💭

“I don't know what to do with her. She's just so fucking annoying.” Jason rambles into his microphone. He was playing COD with some online friends. One of his friends, N1ghtVV1ng laughs into his own mic.

“Well what is she doing huh? My girl treats me just right, and even allows me to fuck whenever I want.” He taunts. Jason rolled his eyes at his friends comments. “And she's so tight, god I trained her right.”

“Dude that's so gross.” RedRobinYum, another one of his friends said.

“Well, she just keeps bothering me. Then whenever I try to ask for something she just reminds me to take my meds.” Jason sneered. “Its the same shit, all these dumb questions. I just want her to stay with me and not bug me.”

“Well have you tried putting her in her place? Show her what you want from her.” DamitheBest says. Jason hummed at that suggestion.

“She's just so fragile, I'm afraid she might bre-”

“Get that shit out of your mind now.” Dami says. “Show her who's the boss before she does. Women will kick you to the curb and leave you for someone who'll tolerate that shit they pull.”

“Literally don't listen to these freaks, sit down and talk to her.” RedRobin chimes in. “With any relationship just talk it out, trust me I do that with my partner and we just talk everything out.”

Jason could hear Dami make a buzzer noise that almost broke his mic. “Nope, don't listen to him. Red, he's gotta put his foot down. Cut out any disobedience from his girl.”

Jason looked down at that, the thought of hurting you almost sickeningly turned him on. Dami was right and had always been. Jason just needed to man up and confront you.

💭

“What are you doing?”

You turn around from your spot on the bed too see Jason, standing in the doorway. You smile before getting back on your phone, his voice making you feel better that he's still around.

Yet majority of the time, Jasons voice always brought you a sense of worry and hurt. Worrying so much for and about him made you into someone who barely cared for yourself. It was always Jason, and everything you did was for him.

“Nothing really, I'm just kind of bored.” You reply. Jason stares at you, face blank. His eyes leered at your body as you just so casually laid down. Almost as if just waiting for you to say something. Anything.

“Your not going to bug me to take my meds?” Jason practically spat out. You turned around moving to where you sat on the bed. “Not gonna ask me to take out the trash, help around the apartment?

You furrow your brows. “What? Why are you talking to me like that?” You asked looking at him. “I- What did I do?”

“You dont like it when someone stands against you?” He replied completely ignoring your question. Everything about Jason's words and demeanor frightened you. It was like he genuinely hated you.

You stood up walking towards him slowly. “Jay… it's okay. I think you're having a episode…” You say keeping your voice low. Jason's chest came up and down as he kept getting more and more enraged. You reached out a hand to touch his arm, but Jason pushed you away. Your lower back hit the vanity you both built when you moved in.

“You think I'm having a episode?! Of course you do, you don't just think I'm pissed?” He replied moving to tower over you. You put a hand on the vanity to stand back up. Your chest heaved as your lungs tried to keep up with your heart. You pushed past him leaving through the bedroom door.

Back burning, you looked for your keys. “I'm done with this, all I want is what's best for you. But you've treated me like shit, and I'm done with it.” You said seeing reaching for your keys.

But they were picked up and thrown across the room.

Jason pushed your head against your kitchen island. You groaned out and began to thrash around. Jason snarled at you, keeping you detained.

Hr laughed in your face and seemingly just waited for you to calm down. “I like it when your quiet.” He said leaning down to kiss the back of your head. Your breathing shuddered as you began to cry quietly. Jason reveled in your weakness a hand resting on the back of your neck, the other on your back.

“What did I do Jason … What did I do so wrong…?” You said, your words breaking with your own tears.

“Get on my nerves… I'm such a good boyfriend, yet all you do is complain. I'm sick of that, so I'm going to change it.” Then you feel Jason's arm brush against you as he reached for the kitchen scissors. “Stay still, unless you want to get hurt. I could care either less.” He said as he took the scissors to your shirt. Cutting down the fabric, leaving you exposed as you chose not to wear a bra.

Starting to kick at Jason again, flipping around to try and get away. That attempt was failed, as Jason took your throat in hand, slamming your head back onto the counter. Your vision blurred on impact as he took off your shirt completely. The impact made you dizzy and start to become unaware. Jason saw that, and quickly took advantage of it, kissing at your neck.

He was going to get himself off.

It was what you owed him.

His kisses trailed down to your stomach, tongue dipping into every dip in your skin. You let out dazed cries as tears poured down your cheek. “You've always been so gorgeous. Don't you see how good you could have it?” Jason commented quietly as he pulled down your sweatpants along with your panties. He blew on your cunt, watching just how wet you became at his actions. “Do I have to keep beating you for you to keep still.”

Biting at your bottom lip to hold back tears you shake your head. He smiled as you shivered from his breathing. Jason pushed his head into your cunt, lapping at your exposed pussy. You bit at your bottom lip, trying to stay quiet. You couldn't give him that satisfaction, just once you wanted to be stronger than what you actually were. But Jason knew you, his hand coming down on your ass, making you yelp out. “Stop that, I want to hear you.” He said into your cunt as he continued to eat you out.

But Jason is Jason.

And Jason is selfish.

He only eats you out close enough to make you cum. He pulls away with the bottom half of of his face coated in your juices. You grabbed at the counter top, full on sobbing. “Please… Jay. Stop we can ta-” Jason's hand came crashing down next to your head, the sound of tile making you cry out more.

“You had your chance. You had multiple chances to talk, but you didn't. So now I'm putting you in your place.” He said, ignoring any protests you had. You could hear him undo his pants, the taunting noise of his zipper making your cries only louder. A dribble of spit hits your cunt, Jason's palm coming down to rub at your cunt. “Now shhh, while you take this dick.”

You let out a yell as Jason pushes his length all the way into you. He sits there, breathing heavy and labored.

His eyes stayed fixated on your pussy, swallowing his cock. He pulled out then pushed back in, your walls clamping on his length. His groans were deep as he took no time for you to adjust, fucking into you. Your body shook and shuddered as he held you down, using you for his own pleasure.

“You're so pretty like this,” Jason said his body pounding into your own. You continued to whimper under him, feeling your body become weak. His hand tangled in the mess he had made of your hair, using his strength to pull you up. “You need to be like this all the time, then I wouldn't have to deal with a bitch for a girlfriend.” He snickered into your ear. He said it like it was a threat, or a suggestion you couldn't turn down.

So you nodded in agreeance, his smile turning wicked as he fucked into you. You could feel his hips stutter as he reached his peak. Jason's hand moved to your clit as he rubbed at your bud. “You better cum with me or I'll keep raping this cunt.” That quickly snapped you back to reaily. The realization of needing to end the abuse he put you through, you tried feeling pleasure from the trauma he was putting you through.

Then you feel it. The feeling of you cumming alongside your cunt getting filled. You let out a choked gasp, Jason groaning as he filled you to the brim. His hand grabbed at your ass as he hissed. He pulled out watching as a dribbles of his cum dropped from your abused cunt. He quickly pushed it back into you with two thick fingers. Jason snickered before pulling up his boxers, leaving his jeans on the ground.

“Clean up in here, I'm getting back on the game.”

Let me know through a dm or ask to be included in my official Taglist- @darkuni63 @fangirl-death-rose @captainengineer-trixie @chimmisbae @iloverubberduckiez-blog @mageprincess7 @looneybleus @whipwhoops

[starrrlights]

Based on something in my notes app (copy and pasted too but edited to make sense) maybe oc Jay? Idk

you and Jason had became friends when you were on the streets, helping each other when needed and also just being there for each other. When he became robin, with #BruceWayneBenifits, he was able to help you more. Often letting you have sleepovers at the manor and hanging out. You both grow to have feeling for each other, and you were planning on telling him on his birthday or sum, but he died. So you never find out if he felt the same way or not (he does)

Time skip (5? Possibly 6 even?) Years later when Jason comes back alive and is less vengeful of his death, Jason frequently goes to old book stores to find good books to read. He goes to one frequently and the vibe felt off that day.

He thinks there might be a threat and keeps a good eye on everything. While browsing; surprise, surprise, you are there. Standing somewhat next to him. You obviously don't recognize him right away or at all from how different he looks. You're trying to find a specific book that a friend had recommended and just so happen to get closer to Jason little by little. (You have social anxiety)

You don't want to get to close to this person because of personal space and well, he's huge. Handsome looking, but huge, and a lot of scars. Which was kinda a hot look on him. You steal a few glances at him, hoping he wouldn't notice.

Jason does notice, since the Pit heightened his senses. (I think? I read it from somewhere that it did 🤷‍♀️) He finally looks over at you, expecting you to just be a normal Gothamite who is just scared of his size; when he freezes for a second. Recognizing the your hair and style almost immediately. He thinks he's hallucinating. There no way it was you.

You notice that he was looking at you and you almost shy at his gaze. Mumbling a sorry and returning your gaze to the books in front of you, but knowing that the book you're looking for is probably right in front of the man.

Jason panics a lot in the inside. Do you recognize him? Do you hate him? Are you afraid of him? He's you jaybird, why you'd you be afraid?

You mentally punch yourself and raised your voice a bit, taking a breath.

U: "I think that book I'm looking for is by you. Can I look?"

Oh my god, he's going to say no-

J: "Sure, that's fine."

God, if you could faint, you would. Not only looks handsome, but sounds handsome.

Jason on the other hand let's put a mental and physical sigh of relief, now thinking that you probably don't even recognize him. It saddens him a little at that thought but it was better, way better than having you scared of him.

He scoots over and you scoot closer, looking over more books until your predictions were right and the book you were looking for was right by where he was standing. You mutter a thank you and move so he can continue looking in the spot he was in.

He doesn't even register that you were moving away because he was so enchanted by you. you had grown up and matured. And damn did you look good. A lot better than he did in his opinion.

J: "I-uh, have me met before?"

Jason asked. 'Great going, idiot. All the romance novels you've read and that's what you come up with?' He thinks to himself.

U: "..I don't think so? What's your name?"

He's sweating bullets now. What does he say? Does he sat jason or use a fake name?

"Jason"

You've met many Jason's so you don't think about it. But there seems to be a familiar aura to him. But you can't put a finger on it. It's going to eat you up later but you put the thought to the side for now. Out of habit you stuck your hand out in a polite way.

"(Name)"

Jason almost said "I know" but bite his tongue and nodded, reaching out to shake you hand. Jesus, you hand fit so well with his. So warm and welcoming.

you and Jason talk for a bit more, it was awkward but it worked. You ended up switching numbers for "book recommendations". But you both were giggling like school girl in the inside because of it.

Over several months, you got to know Jason. And he reminded you a lot of Jason, your dead friend and crush. It saddened you a bit but you decided to not dwell on the past so much. You'll just visit his grave soon, again.

It wasn't long before Dick encouraged Jason to ask you on a date. Well, going out for coffee/fav drink bev and talk about books. You agreed and you did the date.

You had a great time. It was slightly awkward but it was just like all the other hang outs, but more special.

Jason asks you what your life is like because he wants to know what your life has been like since he was gone. He had asked before during those mothes about resent stuff, but he wanted to know more, like high-school years and such.

Boring, you said. Mostly the same thing over and over again. You told some funny stories and it made Jason want to genuinely smile. He makes up a few things to not have to talk about the Pit or dying. Or being Red Hood.

You go on a few more dates and finally, he takes you on a fancy one. (Using Bruce's card ofc)

You initially declined going on a fancy date, not really having the money or outfits for it but jason insisted and said he'd had one of his friends to go with for shopping if you needed it. (Steph or Cass idk, some fem friend he has.)

You ended up going shopping with his friend and got a nice dress.

You go on the fancy date and had a great time as always, a bit panic on the bill but jason pays for it all. He's a true gentleman for you and only you.

At this point, your bf and gf

I think jason would wait for about a year, you make sure things are secured and there is a lot of trust in the friendship/relationship before dropping hints that he is your not-so-dead best friend. He just wants you to know that he is back :(

One night, trying to sleep, it clicks for you. You immediately go to his apartment and knock on the door. He thanks whoever runs his life for the great full night of not patrolling that night and answers the door. You have tears going down your face and look puffy. He panics and asks if you're alright. You look at him with a confused but surprised lookin your face

U: "Jason Todd? ... Jaybird?"

He also has a look of shock on his face, happy that you finally got it but also scared of your reaction.

J: "... ... yeah. It's me."

U: "Oh my god..."

You stare at each other for about a solid minute and you break down, crying, hands to your face. He panics more and freezes, not knowing if they were good or bad tears. You reached out and hugged him tight. Feeling his out grown and bigger frame in your arms. You finally have your best friend back. And your dating him. You love him. And you know he loves you. All of your dreams have finally come true. Obv not financial ones but wvr.

It ends up with you cuddling jason on his bed or sum. idk.

Kinda long ngl, I have a good grasp of what his character is like but I may have a few things wrong. Pls tell me if something is ooc, I'd probably fix it or sum 🫶🏻😭

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Contingent.

Commissioner by the very lovely @pale-horse-writing.

Pairing: Yandere!Warrior!OC x Reader.

Word Count: 3.5k.

TW: Dub/Con, AMAB!Reader, Mentions of Blood + Gore, Obsessive Behavior, Codependent Relationships, Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of Past Trauma, and Possessiveness.

He returned from the battlefield only minutes before sunset, bathed in golden light and backed by the crimson sky. From a distance, you could almost trick yourself into believing you didn’t recognize him, that you didn’t know why a masked man carrying enough weaponry to supply the better part of a legion would be approaching your ramshackle home, but you weary mind was not so yet exhausted as to slip so easily into such pleasant delusions. Maybe, one day, you’d be able to find that escape, to allow yourself a world without such gruesome rituals, but for now, you didn’t have the time to be so optimistic, so hopeful.

For now, you had to entertain Hidemasa – lest he find himself craving pastimes less wholesome than vying for your favor.

Today was a worse day than most to be so closely tethered to reality. Even from the stone steps of your cabin, you could see the fruits of his labor, make out the scarlet blood dripping from his blade and splattered across his bare chest. A jagged cut had been carved into his right cheek, visible above the grinning mouth of his wooden mask, but you saw no other injuries save for the bruises and scrapes he brought on himself with his relentless training. Even the cut, as ugly as it looked, had probably been his doing; either a blow taken deliberately or his own work, committed with the shattered sword of a fallen enemy when he realized the battle had left him unscathed. He was many things – brutal, manic, unyielding – but Hidemasa had never been exceedingly strategic. To him, injuries were tokens that could be traded in for your attention. The idea that there would be a wound you couldn’t bandage was as foreign as that of an opponent he could afford to leave alive – something that scared and worried you in equal measures.

With a sigh, you shut your eyes and stood, an age-old injury protesting from somewhere deep within the scar tissue of your side. As you fought to ignore the pulsing ache, a pair of well-toned arms found their way around your waist, lifting you off the ground entirely and hauling you against Hidemasa’s broad chest. Thankfully, he remembered himself before you had to correct him, placing you back onto your own feet as delicately as a man the size of a mountain with the strength to match could. Still, his hands remained on your hips, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck, then the dip of your shoulder as he slotted himself against you. You could only be grateful exposure had left you numb to his constant affection.

Carved wood grated roughly against your skin. With no small amount of hesitation, you brought a hand up and raked your fingers through his long, untamed hair – tangled and matted with gore after such a long fight. You tugged, and with only a slight groan by way of protest, he raised his head, blinking curiously. “I saw the size of their encampment. Were there any survivors?”

There was a delay before his answer, and you reminded yourself to be patient. Speaking was still relatively new to Hidemasa. A well-forged weapon had no need to respond to its commands. “There weren’t.”

“This is not a matter you can take lightly. Warriors traveling in such great numbers might be here on behalf of the shogun, and a single survivor could bring—”

“There were no survivors.” His voice was gruff, his tone clipped, and yet, he practically keened into your palm, more than happy to melt into your touch. “Have I done something to upset you, master?”

It was a question asked with complete sincerity, his earnestness alone enough to lodge a tight knot of guilt in the back of your throat. You pulled away from him quickly, taking a step back. “Never, ‘masa.”  You paused, nodded towards the two straw baskets sitting by the door to your cabin. Fruit and vegetation spilled over the sides of each in excess. Personal trinkets had been nestled among the bare necessities, and you saw Hidemasa‘s on a palm-sized plush rabbit before flickering back to you. There was no doubt in your mind that it‘d be added to his ever-growing collection before the night ended. “A group of women from the village wanted to show you their appreciation for staving off the newest wave of invaders. Can you take them inside?”

You watched as he stiffened, cocking his head to the side. “You…” Speech was still new to Hidemasa, you repeated to yourself. He did not have the necessary training to disguise negative emotions so easily. Even if he’d been a better liar, the way his eyes dipped to your exposed chest would’ve given him away. “You spoke to the villagers? Alone?”

“They came while I was fetching water. We only passed each other briefly.” You, on the other hand, were a skilled liar. It would’ve been hard not to be, when Hidemasa provided so many opportunities for practice. Before he could linger on the subject, you beckoned him inside. “If I must, I’ll recite the encounter to you in its entirety later on. Right now, you need to bathe - I won’t have you tracking filth through our home.”

At the mention of ‘our’ home, he immediately softened, any jealous outburst delayed in favor of following after you like an overgrown lapdog. The overflowing baskets were lifted without a trace of effort and carried to your meager kitchen while you found your way to the back porch, where a carpenter had been kind enough to build you an outdoor onsen after Hidemasa saved his family’s farm from a group of pillagers. Your routine was well-defined, and you played your part dutifully – filling the stone basin and igniting the small stack of coal and kindling that laid underneath. Hidemasa didn’t mind the cold, but he’d be unbearable if you caught so much as a chill.

He appeared as you finished, already undressed and, for the most part, unarmed. With a quick glance to you and a nod by way of permission, he collapsed into the basin. Water sloshed over the stone walls, and you took your place behind him, running a comb through his now-damp hair.  He let out a satisfied groan, shutting his eyes and settling into place. “Heard there was going to be a festival in town tomorrow,” he muttered as you worked, barely audible. “Wanna go with you, to celebrate.”

You frowned. Handling Hidemasa was a balancing act. He was tolerated so long as he protected the village from greedy warlords and roaming samari, and you were tolerated so long as you were able to keep him in-line; a task easier said than done, considering his own strength had surpassed your own long before you’d ever met him. The fact that he had such a gentle demeanor only complicated things. Trying to read his expression was useless when he could strike down a hundred men without ever letting his smile falter. He didn’t have a taste for civilian blood, but he didn’t have to. A single misstep around you, and every man, woman, and child in the village would be cut down within the hour.

With a hum, you set down the comb and began to braid his hair with a rushed sort of swiftness. “What are we celebrating, exactly?”  

“Our anniversary.” He glanced over his shoulder, a slight grin painted across his lips. “It’ll have been five years since the day we met, come sunrise.”

You tugged the final strand into place. “I’d hardly think that’s something worth remembering. It took three weeks before I could believe you wouldn’t die in your sleep.”

“It was the happiest day of my life,” he countered, his tone one of dream-like wonder. “It was the day I fell in love with you.”

Something large and sharp lodged itself in the pit of your stomach. Another sigh, another moment taken to gather your composure before you pushed yourself to your feet and found your way to the edge of the basin. You took a few seconds to reevaluate his injuries (or lack thereof), but again, found only the cut on his cheek. You didn’t think before raising your hand to it, dragging your thumb underneath the thin line of tattered skin. “You were barely alive. You would’ve fallen in love with whoever filled your stomach and gave you a place to sleep.”

“Which is why I’m so happy that it was you.” His grin widened as he melted into your palm. “You loved me too, right? I know you do now, but—” His smile took on a shy lilt. “—did you love me back then?”

It was a familiar question, one he asked as often as he could afford to, and you gave a familiar answer. “Of course.” You leaned toward him, letting your lips ghost over the top of his head and lingering there. “How could I not grow to love such a devoted student?”

He didn’t laugh, this time, but purr – the sound reverberating from somewhere deep in his chest. Before you could draw back, an arm caught you by the wrist and dragged you into the scalding water, into his lap. Out of instinct, you made a weak attempt to straighten yourself, to pull away from him, but your pride crumbled quickly under Hidemasa’s strength and, with only a thin scowl and a half-hearted glare by way of protest, you settled against him, his chest against yours and his face once again buried in the side of your neck. Without his mask to act as a barrier, he was free to latch onto you, his teeth gazing over the curve of your throat before he found the target of his harsh affection: the tender patch of flesh underneath your jugular vein. His canines pierced vulnerable skin without resistance, and he groaned as fresh blood washed over his tongue, as he lapped over the fresh puncture marks as if in apology. Again, you fought the temptation to push him away, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as his fell to your waist, then lower – his calloused fingertips digging into your ass through the now-soaked material of your yukata.

With his face buried in the dip of your shoulder, he rutted into the knee that’d fallen between his legs, his agonizingly stiff cock grinding against your thigh. You’d been fortunate enough not to notice his arousal before being pulled into his lap, but you could only imagine he’d been hard long before he’d gotten into the water. Since he got home, if not from the moment he departed from you that morning – his head full of thoughts of victory and his body already aching for the reward he’d come to expect from you. Distantly, you heard him whine, saw a dark flush begin to spread over his pale cheeks, and for a moment, you could almost believe that this was not the bruised, battered, half-staved boy you’d taken in, but someone else entirely. For a moment, you could almost believe that a monster had crept into the home in the dead of night and taken away your poor student, leaving only this unsatiable beast of a man in its wake. For a moment, you could almost believe that you didn’t truly hate Hidemasa, but only pitied the creature he’d become.

Then, one of his hands fell that much lower – gazing over your hip before curling around your limp cock, and once again, you were freed from such juvenile delusions.

“Need you,” he muttered against your shoulder, beginning to pump his fist over your shaft in stunted, hasty movements. You weren’t hard, let alone excited, but if Hidemasa could tell the difference between his eagerness and your suppressed dread, if he minded the pained look that came across your expression as your cock begin to pulse against his palm, then it would’ve been impossible to tell. As always, he was more than happy to do the work himself, to grind the heel of his palm into your base and swipe the pad of his thumb over your tip until you were leaking in his vice-grip. His technique was sloppy, his pace prone to waning whenever his attention drifted to nipping at your throat or nuzzling into your chest, but he knew your body well. It was almost endearing, his clumsy passion, how whole-heartedly he devoted himself to your pleasure. It might’ve been, had you been more willing to endure that pleasure.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day.” A hitched breath, his cock jutting against your thigh. “I never wanna be that far from you again. Thought I might—” He drew back, allowing just enough distance between your body and his to slip an arm between you. There was a moment of relief, then a renewed pressure as he took his cock up along with yours, pumping his fist over both in tandem. His gaze softened, and your skin began to crawl. “Feels like I can’t breathe when I don’t know where you are. Think my heart might stop beating if I ever have to be away from you for that long, again.”

His pace grew more erratic, this grip tightening to a nearly painful degree. You winced, moved to tell him to be more careful, but a ragged groan cut you off as his mouth crashed into yours. Kissing, too, was an art he’d never taken the time to perfect, despite all the time he’d put aside to practice it. His tongue forced its way past your teeth as his lips moved against yours, teeth clashing against teeth as he did his best to suffocate you, to leave you entirely pliable under his touch. He wouldn’t. As far as you could tell, his greatest desire was not unrestrained pleasure, but mutual pleasure – for you to be as obsessed with him as he was with you. If something were to happen to you, if you told him to stop and truly meant it, he would. You had to believe that he would.

Not that you would ever get a chance to try. Hidemasa had not been taught to endure rejection, and he sought your approval so relentlessly - you could only imagine what your refusal would do to him. You could only imagine what his anger would do to you, after that kind of—

His hand flexed around your cock and for a blissful moment, your thought blurred and distorted before blotting out completely. Moaning into Hidemasa’s mouth, you came into his hand and, although he’d only received half the stimulation, he did the same – the evidence of his satisfaction splattering messily against your stomach. You would’ve been content to sit in the lingering pleasure, to let the aftershocks fade with his body pressed against yours, but Hidemasa was less lethargic; winding an arm around your waist and hauling himself upward. The basin was forgotten entirely, and with a clumsy haste, he carried you into your home, into the bedroom you shared with him. You were laid unceremoniously onto your unfurled futon with another messy kiss, another hitched whimper that seemed to fall from Hidemasa’s lips in fractured pieces. Hands that you’d seen crush skulls and split open rib cages came to rest on either side of your head, and for a moment, he hovered above you, dark eyes boring into your skin, kiss-bruised lips ever so slightly parted. For a moment, all you could picture was the blood on his chest, the battlefield’s worth of bodies the villagers would be burning long into the night.

Your hand found its way back to his cheek. You shouldn’t have asked, but you couldn’t seem to stop yourself – the question slipping out before you could so much as attempt to swallow it back. “Does it ever bother you?” His head lulled to the side inquisitively. “What we ask you to do, I mean. I know it’s gruesome work.”

His answer was delayed, and you ran your thumb over his cheek by way of encouragement. “I don’t like anything that takes me away from you,” he admitted, eventually. “If I could, I’d like to fight by your side again, but that’s—” His gaze fell to the scarring stitched into your side, and he shook his head. “Sometimes, I think it’d be better just to get rid of everyone else – everyone but me or you. That way, there wouldn’t be anyone left to fight, and we could always be together.”

You weren’t surprised. You couldn’t be, not he’d always worn his twisted heart on his sleeve. “That’s a rather callous solution.”

“Oh.” For the first time since his return, his lips quirked downward. “I’m sorry, should I… should I have said something else?”

He remained steady, but his voice shook, his hands curling into fists on either side of you. Of course, you rushed to comfort him and of course, he embraced your sympathy with enthusiasm – allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck, to draw him that much closer to you. “No, ‘masa, of course not – I shouldn’t have asked at all.” It was your turn to kiss him, now, although your affection was much more delicate than his own. You stopped yourself from pulling away until you were breathless and he was distracted, his concentration once again centered on rutting his cock (still hard, still leaking, you noted with more than a drop of despair) against your thigh. You couldn’t help but laugh, the noise more weary than amused. Still, it didn’t seem to make a difference to Hidemasa. “Do you want to take care of me, tonight?”

This time, there was no hesitation, his immediate answer coming in the form of an eager nod, an abrupt desire to paw at your clothes. Your sash gave out with a single tug and the damp material of your yukata was shoved aside; disregarded in favor of leaving you completely and entirely exposed. You let your head roll back, your eyes fall shut, but Hidemasa was far more proactive – straddling your waist as he aligned your cock with his entrance. There was only a moment of solace, of anticipation, and then, you were fully sheathed inside of him.

You’d tried alternatives, before, when Hidemasa was younger and you had yet to fully grasp the weight of your responsibilities. You thought it might be a more passive role, that you might just be able to close your eyes and allow it to pass over, but Hidemasa’s size made that impossible; even after hours of preparation, a single thrust had been enough to leave tears welling in the corners of your eyes as you begged him to pull out. You’d been unable to walk the next day, but this – his body on top of yours, your cock buried inside of him, the walls of his tight canal clenching around your length – was hardly better, only slightly less overwhelming than the feeling of him tearing you open had been. His back arched as the head of your cock brushed against something soft and sensitive inside of him, knocking his braid loose and leaving you trapped within an impenetrable curtain of pitch-black hair that smothered the world around you, swallowed everything that wasn’t Hidemasa, Hidemasa, Hidemasa. “Been thinking, and—” His breath hitched, and he rolled his hips, immediately falling into a steady but unrelenting pattern of rising and falling, grinding and rutting. “—I wanna marry you, master.”

For the first time in months, you felt your blood run cold. You only barely managed to stop yourself from shaking your head, from letting your revulsion show. It was a useless precaution – in his fervor, you doubted he would’ve noticed if you’d screamed, doubted he was capable of acknowledging anything save for the feeling of your cock fucking into him, of your nails biting into his scalp as your hands shot to his hair. “…think it’d be nice just to be able to call you my husband.” he went on, voice airy and concentration clearly elsewhere. You felt him clamp down around you and drew back sharply, only for Hidemasa to catch your wrist, to press your limp hand against his cheek, against the proof of his devotion to you. “Think it’d be nice to hear you call me your wife.”

“No, ‘masa, that’s not—” You were cut off by a ragged whine from Hidemasa, his hands soon braced against your hips as he started to ride you properly. The pleasure was rough and invasive, that sudden spark of heat enough to turn your body unbearably hot, and whatever you might’ve said was lost to the pure heat that coursed through your form. He’d caught you off-guard, last time, but you could feel him dragging you toward your second climax, see it on the horizon despite your best efforts to hold out for that much longer, to spare yourself the guilt of coming undone so easily for your former student. He was relentless, though, determined to split himself open on your cock, never happy unless you were buried as deeply inside of him as was humanly possible. He was warm, and tight, and you couldn’t stop your hip from snapping against his ass; your eyes clamping shut and your body going stiff as you came undone inside of him. Hidemasa wasn’t far behind you, his hand wrapping around his cock and pumping once, twice before you felt something thick and searing crash onto your stomach, your chest. You didn’t let yourself look at the damage, you didn’t let yourself look at him – letting your head roll to the side and keeping your eyes shut, even as you felt him shift, even as he leaned over you, your cum leaking out of his ask and spilling onto your thighs.

His tone was so light, his voice so innocent, you could almost believe it was a question posed out of love rather than obsession.

Almost.

“We’ll always be together, right, master?”

You couldn’t think, but you didn’t have to.

There was only ever one answer you could give, when it came to Hidemasa.

“Of course.”

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Swimming | Sebastian Sallow x OC #59

Summary: ;)

Words: ~8,400

Tags: Confessions, Mutual Pining, Smut Adjacent

Timeline: Early September

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

Evangeline froze, her mind momentarily blank as Sebastian’s shirt hit the sand. She hadn’t expected him to take her seriously. The idea of swimming had been a passing remark, something to fill the silence between them and steer them away from the weight of their earlier argument. And yet here he was—barefoot, bare-chested, and completely unapologetic about it.

The fading light cast a soft glow that caught on the planes of his chest and shoulders, highlighting every defined muscle and faint scar. He’d grown broader in the past few months, and it was all on display—the hard edges and smooth planes of him, the breadth of his chest and the angular cut of his abdomen.

Her eyes couldn’t help but wander, tracing the faint smattering of freckles that dotted his shoulders, subtle and almost boyish against the otherwise sharp lines of him. Her gaze lingered, catching on the faint trail of hair below his navel that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers, and heat crept into her cheeks despite the coolness of the night air.

Evangeline swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away and forcing her thoughts back into order. She hadn’t meant for things to go like this—not after the way she’d stormed off, her emotions raw and exposed. She knew why Sebastian had followed her, why he’d come looking for her. He’d wanted answers. Closure. Something to mend the fracture between them. And yet, since the moment he’d arrived, he hadn’t pressed. He’d been patient, careful even, letting her dictate the pace of their conversation.

That patience was what had thrown her off the most.

Evangeline knew Sebastian. She knew his pride, his stubbornness, his instinct to charge headlong into everything, to fix things with grand apologies and passionate words. But tonight, he hadn’t done any of that. He’d stopped short of an apology, stopped short of pushing her to talk. Instead, he’d waited. For what, she wasn’t sure—her temper to cool, perhaps, or for her to make the first move. Maybe even for her to tell him to leave. And now, this strange in-between had settled over them, fragile but strangely comforting.

She’d been talking so calmly with him—not because she wasn’t still hurt, but because she wasn’t ready to face the inevitable. The confrontation they’d been skirting around all evening. The confrontation she knew she couldn’t avoid forever. It would come, and when it did, it would leave them either stronger or broken. And she was terrified of the latter, so she’d kept things light, conversational, even teasing. Anything to delay the moment when everything might come crashing down.

“Well?” Sebastian said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder at her, his dark eyes glinting in the fading light. “Don’t tell me you were bluffing.”

Evangeline’s mind raced as she tried to summon a coherent response. “I—uh…” She cleared her throat, dragging her gaze away from him and fixing it firmly on the lake. "Do you really expect me to... to just jump in?"

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. “What’s stopping you?” he asked. “You were the one lamenting the lack of swimming in our lives.”

“That was hypothetical,” she countered, crossing her arms defensively. “You’re the one who's turning it into a reality.”

“Exactly,” he replied, now reaching for the button of his trousers. “So come on."

Evangeline blinked, averting her eyes. "I can't just go into the water in my dress Sebastian," she managed to retort. “The, um. The boning in the corset will get ruined, and do you have any idea how expensive these things are?”

Sebastian blinked, clearly not expecting the sudden turn into practicality. “Expensive,” he echoed, looking vaguely bewildered. “Right. Of course. You dress has boning… and it's expensive.”

“Yes, and I’m not about to ruin it just because you’ve decided tonight’s the night for an impromptu swim,” she replied more steadily now, folding her arms and glaring at him.

He tilted his head, studying her for a moment before realization dawned on his face. A flicker of something she couldn’t quite place passed through his expression—nervousness? Determination?—but he quickly schooled it into his usual smirk. “Alright,” he said, voice a little quieter now. “Then we’ll fix that.”

She raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “Fix what, exactly?”

Sebastian stepped closer, his confidence faltering slightly as he cleared his throat. “The dress. I can, uh… help you take it off.”

Evangeline’s eyes widened, heat rushing to her cheeks. “What?”

He held up his hands, his face turning a faint shade of pink. “Look, I’m just saying—if the corset back is the only thing keeping you out of the water, then I’ll help. That’s all."

She stared at him, caught somewhere between mortification and disbelief. “Sebastian, are you seriously offering to—”

“Undo the laces? Yes,” he interrupted, though his tone was uncharacteristically careful. “I’m not about to let you sit this out because of a stubborn bit of boning.”

Evangeline bit her lip, torn between laughing at his audacity and retreating entirely. But the truth was, she didn’t want to leave. For all her inner turmoil, being here—just here—with him was better than the alternative. Better than walking away entirely, better than facing what the world outside this quiet moment demanded of them.

"Okay," she said slowly, her cheeks burning as she glanced down at the lake rather than meet his gaze. "But... you do realize that under this, I’m only wearing…" She hesitated. "You know… ."

Sebastian, who had taken a step closer, visibly stiffened. For a moment, and she could swear his ears turned a shade darker under the moonlight. But instead of retreating, he cleared his throat and nodded, doing his best to appear unbothered.

"Yeah, it's fine," he said, though his voice was just slightly too quick. He gestured to his trousers, his smirk returning but with an edge of bashfulness that made it feel less like a tease and more like a reassurance. "I won't be diving in fully dressed, will I? So, you’ll be in your underthings. And I’ll be in mine. Completely fair. No big deal, right?"

Evangeline blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. No big deal? He was saying it so casually, as if the thought of both of them standing there, practically undressed after they'd just had a shouting match, wasn’t completely mortifying. "Right," she said faintly, trying to sound more composed than she felt. "No big deal."

Sebastian stepped closer, his movements deliberate and unhurried, as if he were giving her every chance to stop him. Evangeline felt the shift in the air before she heard the faint crunch of sand beneath his feet, his presence settling behind her like a steadying force. The warmth of him, so close yet not quite touching, sent a ripple of awareness down her spine.

Her breath hitched as she sensed his hesitation, a momentary pause that felt like the calm before a storm. Then, with a touch so light it was almost imperceptible, his fingers brushed against the ties of her dress.

Evangeline had been in love with Sebastian for so long that she’d imagined him undressing her countless times in the privacy of her own thoughts—moments steeped in longing, tenderness, and stolen intimacy. But she’d never, never expected it to happen in a scenario like this: standing barefoot at the edge of a moonlit lake, her cheeks aflame and her corset undone by his hands under the guise of practicality after they'd just stumbled out of a heated argument that neither of them had truly resolved.

Her breath hitched as his fingers worked at the laces, each pull sending a jolt of something unfamiliar through her. She couldn’t deny the thrill of it, nor the longing it dredged up, raw and unrelenting. But with it came a rush of self-consciousness—her mind spinning with the thought of him seeing her, really seeing her, with nothing to hide behind but her own vulnerability.

The ties loosened one by one, and her pulse quickened. Of course, this wasn’t the first time they’d shared an intimate moment. The memory of the Prefects’ Bath flickered through her mind, that night when they’d both shed their clothes and submerged themselves in the steaming water. But there had been bubbles then, clouds of froth that had kept her modesty intact.

Now, there were no bubbles to shield her, no warm water to obscure the curves and imperfections she tried so hard not to dwell on. It was just him, her, and the moonlight, casting its soft glow over everything she wanted to hide.

“There,” Sebastian murmured, his voice low as he finished untying the last of the laces. He stepped back, giving her space, though his fingers lingered for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. “You’re free.”

She swallowed hard, clutching the loosened bodice to her chest as she turned her head slightly, just enough to catch his expression out of the corner of her eye. He wasn’t looking at her, not directly—his gaze was fixed somewhere over her shoulder, his jaw tight, as though he were making a conscious effort to give her privacy.

“Thanks,” she said softly, her voice barely audible.

Sebastian cleared his throat, stepping back further. "Sure."

Evangeline stood motionless for a moment, watching as Sebastian now worked at the button of his trousers.

Steeling herself, she glanced around for somewhere to place her dress. Her eyes landed on a flat, dry rock a few feet away, its surface smooth and clean. Perfect.

With trembling hands, she finally let the rest of her dress slip away. The cool night air kissed her exposed skin, and a wave of self-consciousness hit her like a crashing tide. She was bare now, save for the lace of her bra and underwear, and every one of insecurities clawed its way to the surface.

The stretch marks she bore from the rapid weight loss and gain after fifth year—the ones that etched themselves across her hips and stomach and thighs—seemed glaringly obvious under the moonlight. The soft curve of her belly, the rolls on her back, the dimpled skin of her thighs. The scars from Quidditch mishaps and childhood scrapes. She felt the weight of it all, the imperfections she had long tried to accept but never quite could. Here, under the stars, it felt as if the world could see them all, and most painfully, so could he.

Sebastian, having finished unbuttoning his trousers, let the fabric slide down his legs before stepping out of them, leaving him in nothing but his briefs. The moonlight caught on the lean strength of his frame—the broad shoulders, the taper of his waist, the long lines of his legs. His hair, dark and tousled, fell slightly into his eyes as he reached down to gather his trousers, balling them put before tossing them up the beach.

Swallowing hard, Evangeline started toward him, hoping to slip into the water before he could get a proper look at her bare form. The cool sand pressed against her feet as she stepped closer to the water’s edge, her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection in a subconscious attempt to shield herself.

But Sebastian turned at the sound of her approach, his gaze instinctively flickering toward her before quickly darting away, as if realizing too late the vulnerability of the moment. His jaw tightened, and he cleared his throat. "Uh, tell me how the water is?"

She let out a breathless laugh, part nervous and part exasperated as she waded into the lake. The coolness bit at her toes, and she focused on the sensation, letting it ground her as she moved deeper into the lake.

Sebastian, to his credit, kept his gaze firmly fixed on the water in front of him. His posture was stiff, his usual air of nonchalance tempered by a rare, palpable awkwardness.

“It’s cold,” she said finally, her voice cutting through the silence. “Refreshing, though.”

He nodded, still not looking directly at her. "Good. That’s… good."

Evangeline couldn’t help but smirk, despite her own nerves. “You can stop pretending you’re suddenly fascinated by the lake, you know. I’m already in the water.”

Sebastian glanced at her, his expression sheepish. “Just trying to be a gentleman,” he said, his smirk returning, though it was softer than usual.

“Well,” she said, now swimming toward the center of the small lake, “if that’s the case, you’d better get in before I change my mind about this whole thing.”

His laugh was low and warm as he followed her, the ripples of the water spreading outward with each step he took.

"You're right," he agreed. "It's refreshing."

They swam in companionable silence for a while, the cool water easing the sharp edges of their tension but not erasing it entirely. It still hung in the air between them, weighty and unspoken, like a storm waiting for the right moment to break.

Meanwhile, the quiet sounds of the lake surrounded them—the gentle ripple of water as they moved, the distant call of an owl, and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Evangeline tilted her head back, her eyes tracing the endless stretch of stars above them. The sky seemed alive with shimmering light, so vast and serene that, for a moment, it almost allowed her to forget the weight in her chest. Almost. But the knot of their unresolved argument still coiled tightly within her, tugging at the edges of her calm. It was in the way Sebastian’s movements in the water were just a touch too deliberate, in the way he kept glancing at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. He was waiting. And she knew why.

Sebastian, maintaining his patience, let out a contented sigh. “You don’t get skies like this in London,” he said, his voice low and reflective. “Too much smoke. Too much noise.”

Evangeline turned her head toward him, tracing his features as he gazed up at the sky.

“You miss it, don’t you?” she asked, her voice soft as her eyes traced the stars above. “Feldcroft, I mean.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, still gazing upward. “I do. The peace. It’s hard to find a place like this anywhere else. London’s too loud. Too busy.”

“It’s nice that Feldcroft will always be here for you to come back to,” she replied lightly, her tone tinged with a wistfulness she hadn’t intended. Their conversation slipped into a comfortable quiet again as they floated, the water cradling them in its cool embrace.

But the serenity didn’t last.

The splash caught her off guard, a sudden burst of cool water striking her arm and sending a shiver through her skin. She flinched, startled, her eyes snapping to Sebastian, who wore an expression of feigned innocence that only made her suspicion grow.

It wasn’t much—just a small, lazy flick of his hand through the water—but it shattered the fragile tranquility of the moment. For a second, she didn’t move, her mind racing to catch up with the unexpected interruption.

“Did you just...?” she began, her brow furrowing as she stared at him.

Sebastian shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as though he couldn’t quite hold back a grin. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

Evangeline narrowed her eyes at him, her confusion giving way to incredulity. “Oh, you didn’t, did you?”

“Not a thing,” he said, his voice light, almost teasing. But there was something beneath it, something she couldn’t quite name—a tension he was trying to hide behind the playful glint in his eyes.

For a moment, she just stared at him. The shock of the gesture had faded, replaced by a flicker of realization. Maybe he wasn’t just waiting for her to bring up the inevitable—maybe he was delaying it too.

The thought unsettled her, but it also... softened something inside her. The weight of their argument, the tension that had lingered all evening, hadn’t disappeared. But maybe neither of them wanted to face it just yet.

Narrowing her eyes, she cupped her hands and sent a splash of water straight back at him. He yelped, sputtering as it hit him square in the chest.

“You’re going to regret that,” he said, his grin widening as he retaliated with a much larger splash.

Evangeline shrieked, laughing as she tried to shield herself from the spray. “Stop!” she cried, though her words were punctuated with giggles.

“Not a chance,” he called back, dodging her next attempt and kicking up another wave.

The fight escalated quickly, their laughter ringing out into the quiet night. Evangeline managed to land a few solid splashes in retaliation, sending water cascading over Sebastian’s shoulders and face. He grinned, his eyes alight with mischief, and waded further out, using the deeper water to his advantage as he sent another wave her way.

Evangeline shrieked as the cold water hit her square in the face. “Sebastian Sallow!” she yelled, trying to sound indignant, though her laughter betrayed her. “You are so dead!”

“Catch me if you can, Sterling!” he shot back, already swimming toward the shallows.

Without thinking, she followed. Her legs churned through the water as she tried to close the gap, but Sebastian was faster, his strides growing longer as he reached the shore and took off running along the sandy bank.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” she called after him, determination sparking in her chest as she splashed onto the shore and gave chase, her earlier self-consciousness forgotten in the heat of the moment.

The cool sand shifted beneath her feet as she sprinted after him, the night air whipping around her damp skin. Sebastian glanced back over his shoulder, his grin wide and triumphant even as he saw her gaining on him.

But then her foot caught on an uneven patch of sand, and her balance wavered. She let out a startled yelp as she stumbled forward, her arms flailing in an attempt to steady herself.

Sebastian turned just in time to see her slip, his instincts kicking in. In a heartbeat, he was there, catching her around the waist before she could hit the ground. The force of her momentum sent them both stumbling.

In the aftermath, Evangeline froze, her breath catching as she registered what had just happened. She was sprawled against Sebastian, their bodies tangled together on the sand. His arms were wrapped firmly around her, his grip warm and steady as if to shield her from the fall. Her hands, instinctively braced against his chest, registered every inch of lean muscle beneath her palms, slick from the water.

Her chest was pressed to his, her damp bra and doing little to disguise the softness of her. His legs bracketed hers, their bodies aligned in a way that left no room for misunderstanding. She could feel the heat radiating off him despite the cool night air, the firmness of his hands pressing into the plushness of her waist, grounding her.

They had been close before—hundreds, perhaps thousands of times—but there had always been layers between them. Layers of fabric, propriety, and unspoken boundaries neither had dared to cross. Those layers had always been a buffer, a safety net that kept them tethered to a careful kind of intimacy, one that teetered just shy of something deeper.

Now, though, every one of those layers was gone. The cool water dripped down her skin, and the air between them felt impossibly thin. Her head swam as her gaze flickered, unbidden, to the damp hair clinging to his forehead, dark tendrils framing the sharp angles of his face. Her eyes trailed lower, to the curve of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble, and the way his lips parted slightly with each steady breath he took.

It was intoxicating, and for one fleeting moment, she allowed herself to linger in the feeling, to imagine what it might be like to let herself give in completely to the warmth of his touch and the intensity of his gaze.

But then, like a bucket of ice water, her insecurities surged to the forefront.

She was too much. Too vulnerable. Too exposed. And he could see everything. Feel everything. The softness of her body, usually hidden beneath structured corsets and flowing skirts, was now pressed against him with nothing to conceal it. Her curves, her imperfections, her vulnerability—it was all right there, melting into him. She could feel the press of her stomach against his abs, the way her thighs seemed to mold against his. Her stretch marks, her scars—everything she tried to ignore or downplay felt glaringly obvious.

Her thoughts spiraled in chaos, screaming at her to pull away, to create the distance that might save her from unraveling completely. But her body betrayed her, frozen in place, refusing to let go of the warmth and solidity of him beneath her.

Sebastian shifted slightly, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet, low and rough with something she couldn’t quite name. “Evie?”

“I—” she began, her voice faltering as she felt his thumbs brush against the curve of her waist, sending a jolt of warmth through her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It's fine,” he interrupted gently, his grip on her tightening just slightly, as if to steady her—or maybe himself. “I caught you, didn’t I?”

She let out a breathless laugh, but the sound felt hollow. “Yeah."

I should move. She knew she should. But she couldn’t. And she realized with a start, that he wasn't moving either.

Sebastian’s voice broke the silence again, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Was this part of your grand plan? Throwing yourself at me like this?”

Her cheeks flamed instantly, and the mortification snapped her out of her daze. “What? No!” she blurted, scrambling to push herself away from him, her hands bracing against his chest for leverage.

But as she moved, Sebastian’s grip reflexively reached for her hips to steady her—or at least that’s what she assumed he intended. The result, however, was nothing short of disastrous. Instead of breaking free, her movements shifted her forward, leaving her straddling his hips as her knees sank into the cool sand on either side of him.

Evangeline froze, her breath catching as the new position sent a shockwave of awareness through her — the warmth of his abdomen radiating through the damp fabric of her underwear, the firm grip of his hands still pressing into her sides. Her entire body felt exposed, laid bare in a way that made her chest tighten and her breath hitch. And the angle—Merlin, the angle—made it so much worse. He was beneath her, looking up with an unobstructed view of everything she tried so hard to hide.

Sebastian, meanwhile, let his head fall back into the sand, the cool grains pressing against his damp hair as he shut his eyes tightly, a soft, almost pained groan slipping past his lips.

He needed to ground himself. To stop his thoughts from spiraling into places he couldn’t afford to go right now. But it was impossible.

From the moment she’d landed on him, sprawled and warm and so real, he'd been done for. Sebastian was drowning in her, in the feel of her, the weight of her on top of him, the heat of her against him. His hands spanned her hips, plush beneath his fingers, the kind of softness he’d dreamed of countless times but never dared to hope he’d actually feel.

When he opened his eyes again, he was greeted with the sight of her above him, framed by the silvery glow of the moonlight. She looked ethereal, her damp hair clinging to her face and shoulders, a few dark strands curling against the curve of her neck. Her cheeks were flushed, whether from embarrassment or exertion he was unsure, and her hazel eyes were wide, darting between his own and his mouth as if she couldn’t decide where to look.

And then there was her body, her glorious body that left him breathless. Her thighs framed his hips, plush and firm in a way that sent heat pooling low in his stomach. The curve of her belly rested just above the waistband of her panties, soft and utterly mesmerizing. Instinctively, his thumbs brushed against the supple give of her hips. It was all he could do not to drag his fingers lower, to let himself explore the curves and dips that had haunted his thoughts for years.

And her chest—Merlin, her chest. The damp fabric of her bra clung to her like a second skin, the delicate lace barely containing her obnoxiously full breasts as they rose and fell with each shallow breath she took. Sebastian swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, his fingers tightening to anchor himself to reality.

It was too much. The feel of her, the sight of her—he felt like he’d been pulled into one of his dreams, one of the countless fantasies he’d entertained over the years when he let himself imagine what it might be like to have her like this. But this wasn’t a dream. Evangeline was here, her body soft and real beneath his hands.

"...Sebastian?" The way she said his name, so quiet and full of uncertainty, nearly undid him.

Sebastian swallowed hard, his voice caught somewhere between a hum and a sigh as he tried to focus on her words instead of the overwhelming reality of her warmth against him.

“Hm?” he managed.

Evangeline’s brows furrowed slightly. “Are you… alright?” she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

Was he alright? No. Absolutely not.

“I—” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head slightly as he forced himself to look at her. “Well, Evie, you’ve just tackled me into the sand. Do I look alright to you?”

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, she stared at him, her expression torn between indignation and something softer—something vulnerable. “I didn’t tackle you,” she retorted, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Oh, really?” he teased, his lips quirking into a faint smirk despite the tension coiling in his chest and low in his abdomen. “Because it feels a lot like you tackled me.”

Evangeline’s gaze darted away from his, her hazel eyes fixing somewhere over his shoulder as though the horizon suddenly demanded all of her attention.

Her lips parted, and for a moment, she looked as though she might say something sharp to counter his teasing. But instead, she ducked her head ever so slightly, her dark hair slipping forward to frame her face like a shield.

“Well, sorry. Just… um. Don’t look at me too closely, okay?”

Sebastian blinked, his brows furrowing as her words hit him. He felt the tension in her body, the way her shoulders seemed to curl inward as if she were trying to shrink away from him even while her weight remained firmly atop him. Despite the heat pooling low in his stomach, an ache bloomed in his chest at the quiet vulnerability in her voice.

She wasn’t just embarrassed. She was worried.

She was worried about him seeing her. She was worried about how he would see her—worried that what she thought about herself was what he might think too. And in that instant, something inside him irrevocably shifted.

In the past, Sebastian would’ve been horrified to admit the hold she had over him—the way she could unravel him with a single glance, a soft laugh, or the briefest brush of her hand against his. For years, he had fought to bury those feelings, to shove them deep into the corners of his heart where they couldn’t hurt either of them. He told himself it was for the best, that admitting how much he wanted her, how deeply she affected him, would only complicate things—ruin what they had, because he'd never be good enough for her.

So, he had kept it hidden. He turned his attraction into half-teasing quips and fleeting, stolen moments of closeness that he knew he could laugh off later. He flirted with other girls, chased fleeting distractions, anything to fill the void.

But now? Now, with her sitting atop him, her cheeks flushed and her body trembling with an uncertainty she couldn’t quite hide, every feeling he had fought so hard to suppress came crashing to the surface, relentless and impossible to ignore, demanding to be spoken.

Because this wasn’t just about his lust for her. It wasn’t just about wanting to touch her, to hold her, to watch her come undone by his hand. It was about how deeply it hurt him to see her doubt herself. To see her sit there, beautiful and radiant in the moonlight, and think for even a second that she wasn’t enough. That she wasn’t everything.

He knew admitting the truth was risky, he'd always known it. That's why he'd never done it. It could change everything between them, destroy the delicate balance they had maintained for so long, destroy this unspoken thing between them—the blurred line they had walked for months now, somewhere between friendship and something so much more.

But he couldn’t keep lying to himself, and he couldn’t keep lying to her. Not when he saw the way her insecurities gnawed at her, the way she tried to shrink away from him as if she could hide all the things she thought weren’t good enough—things he had long ago fallen irrevocably in love with.

He didn’t know what to say or how to say it. He had dreamed about this moment countless times, but now that it was here, every word he’d ever rehearsed in his head felt inadequate, clumsy. He knew he would stumble, that he probably wouldn’t say the right thing or make her feel the way she deserved. But fuck it. None of that mattered anymore.

Sebastian’s hands flexed against her hips as he let out a soft breath, trying to steady himself. “...Evangeline?”

She stiffened at the sound of her name, her hazel eyes reluctantly darting back to meet his. There was a mixture of hesitation and uncertainty in her gaze, and he could see her battling whatever thoughts were swirling in her head.

“...What?”

His own voice came out low and rough, strained with the effort of keeping himself in check. “If you back your ass up just a little,” he continued, the words deliberate, their weight unmistakable, “you’ll realize exactly what happens when I 'look closely'.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly as his words sank in. The air between them grew heavy, charged with a tension that neither of them could ignore. Sebastian held her gaze, his own unwavering. “I promise you,” he said softly, his tone laced with raw honesty, “my body isn’t exactly subtle about how it feels about you right now.”

For a long, breathless moment, she didn’t move. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath catching audibly in her throat. Sebastian waited, his heart pounding in his chest, unsure of what she was going to do. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d pushed too far, if he’d crossed a line they couldn’t come back from.

But then, slowly, her hand lifted from his shoulder. Her movements were hesitant, trembling, as her fingers brushed lightly against the waistband of his underwear. A spark of heat shot through him at the simple contact, but nothing could have prepared him for what came next.

Her hand moved lower, her palm pressing against him, and the world tilted on its axis.

Sebastian's breath left him in a sharp, ragged gasp, every nerve ending lighting up as her warmth seeped through the thin fabric separating them. His grip on her hips tightened instinctively, his fingers curling into the soft flesh.

Evangeline’s hand froze there, her palm resting against the hard, unmistakable length of him, and her eyes widened in surprise, her breath coming faster as though she hadn’t actually believed him—hadn’t truly expected his arousal.

“Oh,” she murmured, the single syllable escaping her lips like a startled exhale.

“Oh?” Sebastian repeated, his voice breathless, almost incredulous. “Oh?”

Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, the color spreading down her neck, and her lips parted again, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Her hand moved away, and Sebastian nearly groaned, the absence of her hand leaving him aching and desperate for more. He couldn’t help but laugh, though the sound was rough and uneven. “What did you expect?” he asked, his voice low and heavy with need. “I’ve been telling you for ages how beautiful you are. Did you think I was joking?”

Her blush deepened, and her fingers twitched as if she didn’t know what to do, whether to pull away entirely or press closer.

“I just…” she started, her voice faltering before she finally let the words out in a rush. “I didn’t think—well, I mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it? It would probably happen with… with any girl, right?”

Sebastian blinked at her, and for a moment, he simply stared, the disbelief washing over him like a wave. “Evangeline,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less intense, “you can’t seriously think that.”

She flinched slightly at the weight of his tone, and her gaze darted to the side, her fingers tightening on his shirt as though bracing herself. “Well, I… I didn’t think—”

“—You didn’t think you were my type,” he finished for her, his voice soft, laced with a quiet tenderness that balanced the exasperation flickering at the edges.

“I—well, whenever you said I was pretty, I just... I thought you were being nice,” she mumbled.

Sebastian didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. He shook his head. “Nice?” he echoed, his voice rough with disbelief and a hint of frustration. “Evie, you have no idea.”

He shifted beneath her, his body rising as he pushed himself upright, bringing them face to face. The sudden movement made Evangeline inhale sharply, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders to steady herself as she remained perched in his lap. He didn’t give her time to pull away or retreat—his hands moved with deliberate care, sliding up from her hips to cup her face gently.

Her brows furrowed slightly, confusion flickering in her eyes. “What are you—”

“You don’t understand,” he interrupted, his voice low but steady, a quiet intensity in every word. “You have no idea how hard it’s been pretending. For years, Evie. Pretending I wasn’t completely attracted to you. Pretending I didn’t notice every little thing about you that drives me absolutely mad.”

She froze, her breath catching audibly, but Sebastian wasn’t done. He swallowed hard, his gaze unwavering as he continued. “Since fifth year, Evangeline. Since the day we met and you obliterated me in that duel,” His voice softened, his words carrying the weight of all the years he’d kept them buried. “You’ve no idea what it’s been like. Being so drawn to you, wanting you so badly, and forcing myself to act like it wasn’t there. Like nothing was happening.”

“And now?” he continued, his voice growing quieter but no less raw. “Now that we’ve been sharing a bed for months, do you know how torturous it’s been? Having you so close, knowing you’re right there, and pretending it doesn’t affect me? Pretending I don’t want you?” He let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “And now, when you’re literally on top of me... How am I supposed to hide it, Evie? How am I supposed to pretend this doesn’t feel like I’ve slipped into one of my dreams?”

Her face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson, and her hands trembled slightly where they rested on him. “Sebastian...” she whispered, her voice fragile, but he pushed forward, determined to get it all out.

“I get it,” he said softly, his tone shifting into something more vulnerable, almost apologetic. “I understand if this is a lot for you. If it’s too much. And I’m so sorry if you feel like I’ve been deceiving you all this time. But I didn’t know how else to handle it—I didn’t want to ruin things between us. But I... I couldn't let you think for another second that you needed to hide from me. Let you think you weren't good enough."

“In all the flings I’ve had,” Sebastian pushed forward, his voice quieter now, raw and honest in a way that made his chest ache. “All those girls... I imagined you.” His dark eyes searched hers, desperate for her to understand. “It was always you, Evangeline. Not them. Not anyone else. Just you.”

Her expression softened, her wide eyes filling with something he couldn’t quite name—shock, maybe, or disbelief, or something more vulnerable. Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak, her hands hovering now as though she didn’t know whether to hold onto him or pull away.

The silence stretched and Sebastian’s caught the unmistakable glimmer of tears in her eyes. Panic surged through him, sharp and relentless.

He’d said too much.

The thought gripped him, twisting in his chest. He had gone too far, laid bare feelings he had guarded for years, and now he was watching her unravel beneath the weight of his confession.

His pulse thundered in his ears. Why hadn’t he stopped? Why hadn’t he held back like he always had, like he was supposed to? This wasn’t how things were meant to go—this wasn’t how he’d imagined her reacting if he ever mustered the courage to tell her the truth. Maybe he’d overestimated her feelings, maybe this was too much for her, maybe—

Her hands, hesitant but warm, slowly rose to his face, fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheeks, as though testing if he was real.

Sebastian froze.

“Evangeline,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, rough with emotion. “I—”

“Stop,” she murmured, cutting him off. Her voice wavered, soft and unsure, but there was no anger in it, no rejection. If anything, she sounded... overwhelmed. “Just… stop for a second.”

He obeyed instantly, holding his breath as her hazel eyes darted across his face. “You’ve... thought about me?” she asked, her voice unsteady, almost disbelieving. Her fingers tightened slightly against his cheek. “Like... that?"

“Every day,” he admitted instantly, his voice hoarse. “Every bloody day, Evie. For years. And you—” He let out a shaky breath, his eyes never leaving hers. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, and I’ve been too much of a coward to tell you because I couldn’t risk losing you.”

Evangeline certainly didn't miss the way he'd worded it, calling himself a coward. He could see it in the way her eyes searched his, darting across every line, every flicker of emotion that crossed his face, as though adding pieces to the puzzle she'd been trying to solve. And Sebastian held perfectly still, his breath shallow, his heart pounding so hard it drowned out the night around them.

Her brows drew together, a faint crease forming between them as confusion and disbelief flickered across her face. “Sebastian…” she began softly, her gaze dropping for a brief moment before lifting again to meet his. “How you feel… Is it just... a physical thing?”

Her words landed like a blow, and Sebastian’s heart clenched painfully, panic igniting in his chest like a wildfire. “No—” The word burst from him sharper than he’d intended, the urgency in his voice startling even himself. Her eyes widened slightly, and he immediately winced, his tone softening as he leaned closer. “No. It’s not just that. It’s not even close to just that.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he fought to untangle the mess of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. His dark eyes locked onto hers, pleading silently, desperately, for her to understand. “Do I think you’re beautiful? Merlin, yes. You’re stunning, Evie. You drive me absolutely mad, and you have for years. But it’s so much more than that.” His voice cracked slightly, and he leaned closer, his hands cupping her face in return as if afraid she might slip away.

“It’s you,” he said, his words trembling with the weight of everything he’d kept bottled up. “You’re everything. Everything I never knew I needed until we met. Everything I’ve been too afraid to want. And it’s not just about how you look, or how much I want you—though Merlin knows I do.” He exhaled shakily, his gaze never leaving hers. “It’s about you. All of you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Heavy. Crushing. It stretched between them, every second of her quiet pulling him further into the churning void of fear. His heart thundered in his chest, the sound almost deafening in his ears, and though his hands stayed steady against her cheeks, his mind was unraveling.

Why wasn’t she saying anything? Had he said too much?

When he couldn’t bear the silence any longer, his voice broke through it, raw and pleading. “Evie,” he whispered, his throat tightening around the name. “Please. Say something.”

Her breath hitched audibly, and she let out a shaky exhale before covering her mouth with one hand, her eyes darting away from his.

Sebastian’s stomach plummeted. Dread sank its claws into him, dragging him down into a pit of despair deeper than anything he’d ever known.

She’s upset. She’s hurt. I’ve ruined everything.

“I—” he started. “I didn’t mean to—”

Evangeline let out a shaky breath. “You—” Her voice wavered, muffled by her hand as she turned back toward him. Her eyes shimmered, not with rejection or anger, but with something else entirely. “You absolute idiot.”

Sebastian blinked, stunned. “What?”

Her hand dropped from her mouth, and she let out another incredulous, watery laugh, her chest heaving as she tried to collect herself. “You’re daft, Sebastian Sallow. Completely, utterly daft.”

“I—what?” He stared at her, his confusion mounting. This wasn’t what he had expected. Not even close.

Evangeline shook her head, her laughter breaking into a soft, almost broken sob, her expression an aching blend of joy and frustration. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “For you to say these things? To finally hear what I’ve been hoping for?”

Sebastian stared at her, his mouth slightly open, completely unprepared for the torrent of words that followed.

“Years, Sebastian,” she continued, her voice cracking on the word as her emotions poured out, raw and unfiltered. “Years. I thought—I convinced myself—you’d never feel the same way. But then… then after the Prefect’s Bathroom, after the Equinox Ball…” She paused, her hazel eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her voice barely holding steady. “I let myself hope. I thought maybe… maybe there was a chance.”

Her breath hitched as she tried to steady herself, shaking her head as if fighting back against the weight of it all. “And all summer, I hoped that you’d say something, that you’d give me a sign.”

Her hands trembled as they cradled his face, her touch warm despite the cool edge of her desperation. “But you didn’t,” she whispered, her voice cracking again. “You never did, and the silence... well, I started doubting everything again, doubting us. It felt like… like I’d been foolish to hope at all.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her expression twisting with a mix of relief and pain. “That’s why I said yes to New Zealand. Because I thought… I thought this moment would never come. That I’d spend my whole life waiting for something that was never going to happen.”

Sebastian’s heart stuttered in his chest, her words crashing over him. For a moment, all he could do was stare at her, his breath caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat. Shock and relief warred within him, tangling with a sharp pang of guilt that twisted in his stomach.

“You’re serious?” he managed finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Evangeline gave him a watery smile, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Merlin, yes, you idiot. I’m serious.”

Sebastian swallowed hard, shaking his head as the weight of her words crashed over him. "Evie..." he began, his voice hoarse and unsteady. Guilt clawed at his chest, raw and unrelenting. How had he been so blind? How had he let her believe, even for a moment, that there was no future here? No future with him? The thought that she had accepted New Zealand because she thought she had no other choice made his heart ache in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, the words spilling out with desperate urgency, his hands instinctively reaching for hers. His grip was firm but careful, his fingers curling gently around hers as though trying to hold her together—or maybe himself. “Evie, I’m so sorry. For making you wait. For not saying something sooner. For letting you think I didn’t—” His voice cracked, his throat tightening painfully as he searched for the words, his dark eyes locked onto hers with a kind of raw intensity.

“For letting you doubt, even for a second, how much I feel for you,” he continued, his voice trembling. “You’re right—I’m an idiot. I’ve been an idiot for years. But I—”

And then she leaned in.

Her lips were soft against his, warm and urgent, like she’d been holding herself back for far too long and couldn’t bear another second of restraint. The moment their mouths met, Sebastian’s usually sharp mind went scattering, his thoughts fracturing like glass under the weight of this impossible, beautiful reality. She was kissing him—Evangeline was kissing him.

The fantasies he’d conjured in stolen moments—before sleep, during quiet spells when he let himself hope—were pale, fragile things compared to this. His imaginings had never been able to capture the way her lips moved against his, how soft and inviting they were, or the way she tasted, faintly of lake water, a whisper of salt from her tears, and something so distinctly her that he knew he’d crave it for the rest of his life. Nothing had prepared him for the feel of her body against his, warm and yielding, her curves fitting against him so perfectly it made his heart stutter.

His fingers slid into her hair, threading through the damp strands as he gently tilted her head. His lips found hers with a tenderness that felt almost sacred, parting them with a care that spoke of quiet devotion. She met him with equal fervor, her lips moving against his in a rhythm that felt like a rediscovered melody—unfamiliar, yet instinctively known, like a song he’d been waiting his entire life to hear. The world around them melted away, the lake, the trees, the cool whisper of the night air all fading into insignificance. There was only her. Only this. Only them.

When they finally broke apart, it was only because their lungs demanded it. Their foreheads came to rest against each other, their breaths mingling in soft, uneven gasps. Sebastian’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto hers.

Her hazel eyes were wide, the moonlight catching on the unshed tears that lingered there. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen and slightly parted, and the sight of her—so close, so vulnerable, so achingly real—took his breath away all over again. She looked beautiful, painfully, heartbreakingly beautiful, and he couldn’t stop himself.

"I'm in love with you, Evangeline." he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. "I always have been."

She let out a soft, breathless laugh, her lips curving into the faintest smile as her fingers lightly traced the line of his jaw. "I'm in love with you too."

Sebastian let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his heart hammering against his ribcage as her words settled over him. It was almost too much to process, and yet it wasn’t enough—

“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice low, almost pleading.

Evangeline’s smile widened slightly, her hazel eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. “I’m in love with you, Sebastian Sallow,” she repeated, her voice firmer now, more certain. “Utterly, hopelessly in love with you.”

A low laugh, more like a sigh of relief, escaped his lips, willing the air between them with something soft, something that felt impossibly fragile and yet unshakably certain.

“I don’t deserve you,” he admitted quietly, his voice raw. “Not after everything I’ve put you through. But Evangeline, I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever.”

Her hands moved to his wrists, her fingers curling lightly around them as she leaned into his touch. “You don’t get to decide what you deserve, Sebastian,” she said softly, though there was steel beneath her words. “That’s for me to decide. And I’ve already decided I’m yours. If you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll have you?” he repeated, his lips quirking into a faint smile as he tilted her chin up slightly, his dark eyes searching hers. “Evie, I’ve been yours since the moment I met you.”

A soft laugh bubbled from her lips, the sound light and full of something that felt achingly like relief. Before he could say anything else, before he could even begin to process the sheer joy of hearing her laugh like that, she kissed him again, softer, slower, as though they finally had all the time in the world.

She fit so perfectly against him, her body pressing into his like it had always belonged there. Every sigh, every shift of her weight, sent warmth coursing through him, settling low in his abdomen and making him ache with need. He couldn’t think, couldn’t form a single coherent thought beyond her.

And when they finally broke apart again, Sebastian pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering there as he whispered, “Stay.”

Her breath hitched, and she pulled back just enough to look at him. “Stay?” she echoed.

“Here. With me. Don’t go to New Zealand,” he said, his voice steadier now, his hands tightening gently on her waist. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever the Muldoons throw at us, whatever comes next—we’ll face it together. Just... stay, Evangeline. Please."

Her gaze searched his, the uncertainty flickering in her eyes softening into something calmer, something resolute. She nodded, her hands brushing against his jaw again as she whispered, “Okay.”

Sebastian’s chest swelled. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him as if to make sure she was truly there, truly his. The lake shimmered in the moonlight beside them, but all Sebastian could see, all he could feel, was her.

FINALLY IT HAPPENED. FINALLY. TIME TO CELEBRATE. THEY DID IT. THEY STOPPED BEING SO STUPID.

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[karlachismylife]

Juju's Masterlist

god i love how they look at each other when i place pictures like this

Figured this might be needed! As I am planning to spam-reblog so much cool stuff...

Hi, I'm Juju (or Juju Starr more formally XD), 22 yo and in this blog I primarly write things on the rarepair I came up with, Karlach (Baldur's Gate 3) x Soap (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, reboot trilogy by default).

However, I also write things in both these fandoms with other characters, different ships (including other ships with Karlach and Soap), poly ships, x reader and x OC. There are NSFW ones and I will be checking every blog interacting with them, so minors and ageless blogs DNI, please.

Requests are open! Send in anything <3

*also I have no idea if I'm using the word blurb right, feel free to correct!

The masterlist itself is under the cut!

First mention of Karlach x Soap (a little overview of the ship dynamic)

I Might Have A Type (a post mentioning how the ship was born, trust me, there's concrete evidence of them being compatible)

All things Karlach x Soap (thoughts, fics, little ideas and concepts - simply sorted by hashtag)

Karlach x Soap fics

Morning Routine (blurb, fluff, 238 words) - Karlach, Soap and shaving

Birds of a Feather (blurb, fluff, 271 words) - Karlach and her dynamic with task force 141

They're Horny (blurb, smutty (NSFW), 228 words) - Karlach is horny and Soap is horny, but there's a difference (there's not)

Explosive Love (blurb, fluff, 105 words) - what it's like when you have a demolitions expert and a walking bomb on your team

Not Fair (blurb, angst, 457 words) - Soap is there when Karlach breaks down after the death of a certain bastard

Restless Fingers (blurb, fluff, 130 words) - one word: fidgeting

Scar Twinsies (blurb, fluff, 245 words) - surviving Hell and blowing shit up leaves similar marks

Practice Makes Perfect (oneshot, fluff, 932 words) - something from Soap's weaponry catches Karlach's eye and he does not miss an opportunity for a date

Tactic Tactile Affections (headcanons, fluff, 764 words) - it's not just about kissing and fucking!

Baby Fever (blurb, fluff, 260 words) - can you imagine their babies tho (C)

Is It Visual Stimming or Is He A Romantic? (oneshot, fluff, 945 words) - something about smouldering coal is just so mesmerizing... what are you looking at, Johnny?

Hey Skullboy (blurb, fluff w/angst, 467 words) - Karlach shares with Ghost not only his sergeant, but also trauma

Solar Eclipse mini-series (2 parts)

Total Eclipse of the Heart (mini, fluff w/angst, 1286 words) - dog tags can be so many things, learns Karlach when she spots an unfamilar piece of jewelry among other alien things Soap brought from his world (part 1) Worshipping the Sun (mini, fluffy smut (NSFW), 4201 words) - solar eclipse is beautiful, thinks Johnny when he looks at his circular dogtags blocking out the glowing light of Karlach's engine. He wouldn't mind seeing a thousand of those as soon as he gets a chance to make the little steel plates bounce on her chest (part 2)

Introductions (blurb, fluff, modern!AU, 105 words) - what Soap would call Karlach in modern!AU

Two of Us Wearing Raincoats (headcanons, fluff, partially suggestive, partially modern!AU, 2855 words) - requested domestic fluff, a lot of it!

Love Texting (blurb, fluff, modern!AU, 96 words) - what their texting looks like (Karlach is illiterate, Soap is Soap)

(Be)longing (blurb, suggestive fluff, 190 words) - Johnny and collars, am I right?

Bath Time (blurb, fluff, 246 words) - sharing a bath to save time

Good Night And Joy Be To You All (oneshot, angst or hurt/comfort with hopeful ending, 1233 words) - Karlach finds Johnny standing on the edge of a cliff and knows all too well what it's like to miss your home

Afterglow Kisses (drabble, fluff, 646 words) - they make love, they kiss with love, they are in love

Karlach x Ghoap (Ghost x Soap) fics

Package Deal (blurb, fluff, 135 words) - tame one golden retriever, get one free

None Are Free Until (blurb/idea, angst w/fluff, modern!AU, 558 words) - anarchist!Karlach and everything complicated because of that

All The Leaves Are Brown (oneshot, fluff with a bit of hurt/comfort, modern!AU, 1463 words) - anarchist!Karlach, Soap and Ghost in the face of impending cold of the autumn

Call of Duty fics

Random Characters Assortment

Their favourite body part/touch headcanons (Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Nikolai, König, Valeria blurbs, fluff, partially suggestive, no use if Y/N gn!reader-insert, can be read as character x character too, 1367 words) - their favourite way to touch you and such

Task Force 141 Ensemble

Their reaction to you playing datesim games (individual oneshots, fluff, partially suggestive (NSFW), no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 5073 words) - how do they find out and what do they think?

You're a character in their favourite game (individual blurbs, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 786 words) - how do they approach you in-game?

The Queen of the Clan || Series masterlist (hyena shapeshifter!AU, no use of Y/N fem!chubby!reader-insert) - when you decide to shake up your life a bit and partake in a trip with a documentary crew, you have no idea that meeting an unnaturally friendly hyena and have it mark your backpack would be only the beginning of weird things to come. Whatever will you do when a leaderless clan of four male hyenas chooses you as their matriarch?

You're having a bad time after sex (individual oneshots for every man + poly 141, hurt/comfort, NSFW, dark themes, no use of Y/N gn!chubby/fat!reader-insert, 7351 words) - due to hormonal withdrawal after sex you spiral into a severe episode of self-loathing and body image issues, but you have someone to comfort you

You got sick (individual drabbles for every man + poly!hyena!141, fluff, partially suggestive (NSFW), sickfic, no use of Y/N gn!sick!reader-insert, 1834 words) - their rection if you got sick

You have chronic illness (poly 141 headcanons, fluff, sickfic, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 2388 words) - the way they care for you if you have chronic illness

Mini force 141 headcanons (poly mini 141 headcanons, silly fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1104 words) - what if task force 141, but reaaaal smol? (Inspired by a tiktok)

Task force 141 VS head massager thingy (individual drabbles for every man + poly!hyena!141, fluff, tiniest bit suggestive, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1038 words) - their complicated relathionship with the head massager

Thoughts on task force 141 and weed (individual headcanons, 748 words) - my limited perception of the topic

Task force 141 VS cute puppies (individual headcanons, fluff, 628 words) - if they need to take care of puppies, what's their approach?

Task force 141 VS raccoons (individual drabbles, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 2265 words) - how do they deal with raccoons that come to your home?

Task force 141 carving Halloween pumpkins (individual drabbles, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 2425 words) - what's their technique when it comes to creating Jack-o'-lanterns?

Forehead kisses (individual headcanons, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 569 words) - them giving you forehead kisses

Soap

Rushed (blurb, fluff, 78 words) - what some consider rushed, Johnny considers almost too late

Mohawk Appreciation Time (blurb, fluff, mentioned Karlach x Soap but Soap-centred, 249 words) - I do not condone calling his mohawk stupid unless it's fully affectionate!

Emotional Support Dog (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1132 words) - when you're struggling with work-related stress, Johnny's there for support

I'm In Love 100 Times (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 485 words) - when you look at Soap, you almost choke on your love for him, but he's there to rescue

Don't You Forget About Me (oneshot, silly fluff, no use of Y/N fem!reader-insert (reader is Soap's mother), 1208 words) - your son is a troublemaker, but he's a good boy (and you're just as stubborn as him)

Masochistic Kid With a Split Lip (oneshot, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/N gn!sergeant!reader-insert, 1106 words) - Soap gets messed up on a mission, but he's just as irresistable

Fear Of the Depth (blurb co-created with @killerpancakeburger, kinda hurt/comfort or a little angst, mentioned Soap x reader but Soap-centred, 334 words) - what would Soap's one fear be?

Elevator Story (blurb/irl storytime that is very Soap-coded, fluff I guess, 277 words) - a story from my real life that was just too good to not tell

Gratitude From The Top (Of His Lungs) (oneshot, short smut, no use of Y/N gn!bottom!reader-insert, 569 words) - sometimes Soap whimpers when you let him finish inside

Gratitude From The Bottom (Of His Heart) (oneshot, short smut, no use of Y/N gn!top!reader-insert, 639 words) - sometimes Soap whimpers when you finish inside

Ghost

Now They Ain't Got a Prayer (oneshot, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/N gn!military!reader-insert, 1479 words) - after a mission goes not like planned, there's a heavy feeling in the air, but there's something even heavier in your chest

Flutter Into the Skies (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N fem!girly!reader-insert, 1277 words) - Simon is being a menace while you're trying to get ready for a friend's wedding, but you have your ways to take revenge

And We Just Disagree (oneshot, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 900 words) - arguments are an unpleasant, but unavoidable part of life, and good thing you and Simon can resolve them well

Chains Of Love (oneshot, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/N gn!civilian!reader-insert, 929 words) - dating Simon Riley wasn't an easy job, but an honest talk might save you from falling off this tiring swing

Wanting To Hold You (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reder-insert, 1534 words) - Simon is a menace, so why can't you be a menace too, just to put him in his place for once?

People Are Strange (oneshot, no use of Y/N afab!reader/self-insert, 2917 words) - you're in your own artistic world when someone who says he's your neighbour knocks on your door (this is very-very my self-insert)

Gaz

I Need a Hero (oneshot, fluf, no use of Y/N gn!civilian!reader-insert, 538 words) - Kyle is finally getting a medal and you're just happy for your man

Come On Baby, Light My Fire (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!civilian!reader-insert, 887 words) - you finally get to celebrate Guy Fawkes Night, with Kyle by your side no less

Temptation When I Look At You (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader, 2229 words) - going out with friends for a board game even turns into you poorly executing your flirtint skills and... scoring a date?

Price

I Need My Love To Be Here (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N fem!reader-insert, 715 words) - while your husband is away, you daughter is being a little troublemaker. But you're both good enough girls to recieve a special gift!

Valeria

Desnuda Tu Mente (oneshot, suggestive, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1015 words) - your life depends on the will of her blade, and you're absolutely thrilled by it

Ghoap (Ghost x Soap)

Help! (blurb, fluff, 213 words) - thoughts on Simon Riley and The Beatles

Fem!Ghoap mini-series

Wrestle Ye (oneshot/blurb, fluff, 751 words) - what would fem!ghoap be like and how would they fall in love? (Spoiler: with a bang) No Woman Left Dirty (oneshot, suggestive fluff, 1192 words) - how does Soap find her way into Ghost's apartment? And why does hair length matter?

Nikprice (Nikolai x Price)

Sleepy (blurb co-created with @devil-in-hiding, fluff, partially suggestive, no use of Y/N fem!mom!reader-insert, 498 words) - waking up on rainy mornings is hard, especially you have the weight of responsibilities for your baby and home on your shoulders. Unless there's someone to share the burden...

Hesh

Standing For Something (oneshot, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 660 words) - getting ambushed and shot isn't exactly pleasant, but your Lieutenant is a good man and makes everything a little better

Baldur's Gate fics

Dammon

Forged Under the Stars (oneshot, fluff, no use of Y/N gn!reader-insert, 1157 words) - at the Tiefling Party Dammon comes over to sit with you under the stars

will be re-working this thing