#next to figure out how to draw hands properly

[queenjazzyart]

(Rinshi Implied) Shiemi(haza)‘s Love.

[submattenthusiast]

caught

summary - catching matt humping his pillow

pairings; sub!matt x soft-dom! reader (no use of y/n)

contents; smut; male masturbation; mommy kink; etc.

notes- thank y'all for the love on my work, i heart each and every one of you so bad. enjoy!

you didn’t necessarily have a rule against matt touching when you’re not with him, no but he recently figured out he couldn’t cum without you.

he tried so hard to cum, he felt like his dick was going to fall off with how many times he’s jerked himself off, trying to reach that high point. he feels pathetic, absolutely fucking pathetic, he can’t cum without the soothing praises that you whisper, the soft pet names you call him, he needs it, he needs you. 

matt begged you not to leave the house this morning, claiming that the errands could wait and that spending time with him was more important. you reassured him that you would only be a few hours and that he could be the passenger princess if he wanted. 

upon his refusal you headed out, kissing his pouty lips goodbye. 

matt tried to keep himself busy, watching tiktok, youtube, eating, and playing video games– which satisfied him for a split second until he was bored again. he had never felt so clingy in his life, not clingy enough to call or text you though. he had stalked your location just about a thousand times after you left. you were still at the store, not on your way home, not in the driveway.

matt slid down in his gaming chair, you still weren’t home yet and it had been hours. he was pouting, he just wanted to be with you. his mind began to wander, thinking about you, how pretty you were, how much he loved you, how your hands felt wrapped around his cock.

sinful thoughts began to cloud his head, he was practically drooling at memories of your intimate moments. matt winced at the tent growing in his jeans, cock rubbing against his boxers, beginning to feel tight. he closed his eyes, a soft exhale coming from his mouth as he reached down to palm himself.

this was so wrong, is what he kept kelling himself but it felt too good, and you were still nowhere to be found so why not? 

his pleasure was short lasting as lust took over his body, he craved more. his hand was no longer enough for him. he opened his eyes with a groan, agitated that he still couldn’t satisfy himself.

his blue eyes roam around the room, looking for something to satisfy his hunger until they landed on the pillows on his bed, specifically the pillow you sleep on. matt chewed on the skin of his lips, he felt dirty for even considering humping the very pillow you sleep on at night, but it smelt like you and your scent drives him insane.

insane enough to hump this pillow for some relief.

matt sauntered over towards your side of the bed, reaching for your pillow, catching a whiff of your natural scent. he let out a whine before positioning it properly. he nervously sat next to the pillow, he’s never done anything like this before, he was feeling awkward. he adjusted his cock in his jeans, they were getting unbearably tight. that was the final push he needed.

he was driven to please himself that he forgot to check your location, to make sure you wouldn’t catch him in such a vulnerable position. you had stopped for gas quickly before heading home.

matt was kneeling on the bed now, plush pillow brushing against his crotch. he started easy, not wanting to cum so quickly, he was flustered enough by his actions. he wanted to draw this out  as long as possible, so he kept his jeans on, gaining as much friction as possible.

faint moans and whimpers bounced off the walls of the room, the wood of his headboard squeaked as he moved his hips frantically against the pillow.

the sound of the garage rang throughout the house, you were finally home. matt was blissfully unaware of your presence.

“matt?” you called out, and was met with silence. it was creepy, not to mention all the lights were out. the only time the house was quiet like this was when you both were asleep. you shrugged it off and stepped out of your shoes and made your way upstairs. 

his name was on the tip of your tongue until you heard them, the sound of moans and whines coming from your shared bedroom. you stopped on the top of the stairs, unsure of what to think, mind going to the worst case scenario.

you tiptoed to the door, calmly twisting the knob. you were met with a mouthwatering sight, matt grinding hungrily into one of his various pillows, mouth ajar, pleas of desperation falling out. his hair was a mess, shirt pulled up just enough to show his happy trail, jeans unbuckled but not fully off.

you were about to make your presence known until a particularly loud moan came from him. “fuck mommy it hurts please” he moaned. he paused his thrusts momentarily to shuffle his jeans down to his ankles, not bothering to remove them fully. 

he froze as he saw the door open, he swore it was closed before. he stood in his boxers unable to move as he turned his head to the door. you stood in the door frame, smile on your face as you greeted him “hi honey, missed me?”. his face burned red, he can’t believe you caught him with his pants down, literally. you treaded into the room, shutting the door behind you. 

“i-i can explain–” he stuttered out “just missed you so much and i got horny-” he babbled. “are you close?” you questioned, debating on what to do with the boy. “y-yes are you mad– i’ll stop” he anxiously spoke, breaking eye contact. 

you stepped further into the room, walking towards the opposite side of the bed. matt’s curious eyes followed you, watching your every move. you perched up against the headboard, as if you were going to watch tv. you patted the spot where he previously was, he was still frozen, hesitant to move. 

“you’re going to cum from humping that pillow sweetheart, then if you’re good i’ll take care of you” you explained to the boy who was visibly confused. “y-yes mommy i’ll be your good boy i promise” he said while climbing back onto the bed. 

matt leaned down into the bed as he gained his rhythm back, hips thrusting into the pillow hurridly. “there you go, just like that” you praised, your thighs clenched together as you watched him, fucking into the bed like he does you.

his cock spasmed in his briefs and the coil in his stomach threatened to snap. “mommy close fuck– please need to cum” matt sobbed. his hips never slowed, chasing the orgasm that he’s been craving for hours. 

“ah please mama i can’t hold it please fuck” he pleaded. “cum for mama” you hummed.

his eyes rolled back into his head as he came, his hips stuttered and his jaw went slack. high pitched moans decorated the room.

white stripes of cum filled his boxers, leaking out from the side. he rode out his high, exhausted from all the effort he put in.

“thank you mommy fuck i needed that” he sighed,flopping onto the bed next to you. you giggled at his silly motions, before caressing his hair.

“you did all the work sweet boy, i’m proud of you” you warmly said. matt blushed at your words.  “but now mommy needs help too” you whined. matt jumped up “i can help, i’ll do whatever, please let me make you feel good” he begged. “whatever?, gonna fuck me like that pillow?” you teased, working him up again.

notes - this is really bad but i wanted to put something out. not proofread

taglist; @mattybsgroupie @frnkocnlvr @fratboychrisera @issysh3ll @zariyam @bellassturniolo @thepubeburgler @gwennybenny @matts-myloverboy

[blindmagdalena]

All of a Sudden, There You Are

3k. homelander x gn!reader. pining. pure fluff! an older fic that desperately needed cleaning up. rewritten for a consistent perspective and added 600-some words. gif credit. AO3 link.

As Homelander's stylist, it's your job to ensure he looks his best, whether he's saving the world or saving face in front of the cameras. After nearly a year servicing him, things between you change abruptly.

Familiarity and consistency feed a base need in all of us. So much of what is best in us is bound up in the permanence of those around us that it becomes the measure of our stability. For Homelander, there are precious few things in his life that offer him any such quality of solidarity. People come and go. It's the nature of the business that has always been his life.

He's stopped paying attention to the PA's, interns and other worker ants that rotate in and out. Their faces blend together in a bland sea of normality and mediocrity. They're little more than cogs in the machine of his contrastingly extraordinary life.

Funny, then, that you should catch his attention amidst the insectoid buzz of it all.

It happens quite abruptly. He's just sat down before a brightly lit vanity where it's your job to style his hair and makeup, as it has been for the last several months. You greet him good morning, as you do every time, but for whatever reason... He notices you today.

"Remind me, what's your name again?" Homelander asks, watching you draw a comb from your kit.

That visibly catches you off guard. You offer only a dumbfounded stare for a moment before snapping to attention, smiling sheepishly as you introduce yourself. The name doesn't sound familiar to him. Had he never actually asked? Probably not. There’s rarely a point in bothering.

He hums contemplatively. "You've been styling me for a while.”

"Yes, sir. About eight months now," you say, using the comb to begin working product through his hair. He’s fairly certain this is the most he's ever spoken to you in all that time.

That sounds like both a long while and yet no time at all. It's nothing in the grand scheme of his life, but in terms of the people he sees consistently, that puts you in a shockingly small pool of individuals. Inevitably they move on, whether by choice or because they’ve found a way to irritate him enough that he has them dismissed.

He can recall his last stylist not by their name or face, but by the way they’d always manage to spray product in his eyes. They hadn’t lasted two days. The one before that he can’t bring to mind a single detail of.

Typically humans only become exceptional to him for how they grate on his patience. You’ve somehow managed to avoid making yourself noteworthy in that regard. Before today you had served as little more than a properly functioning gear in the well-oiled machine of his life.

Now it's as though you suddenly exist to him. Blood, flesh, laughter and all.

"Gooood morning," he greets you the next day, once again triggering another flare of surprise in you. He’s aware of the strangeness of his initiation, but behaves as though he isn’t. He flashes you one of his trademark Hollywood grins.

"Good morning to you, sir," you say with an answering smile that catches his eye. You sound pleased, which tickles something pleasant in the back of his own mind. He likes how well you’re mirroring his shift in mannerism.

He waves his hand dismissively. "Please, Homelander is fine. You keep it awfully formal."

You're actually quite pretty, he notices. Not exceptionally so, not like the celebrities and figures of social influence that someone like him brushes shoulders with on a daily basis, but... pretty nonetheless. He doesn't remember you being this pretty before, and speculates while you work whether you've changed something about yourself. He cannot put his finger on what exactly that may be, though.

He’s perceptive when it comes to the things that matter. Until yesterday, you hadn’t.

You laugh sweetly, pushing your fingers through his hair. His eyes flutter shut as you do. You’re good with your hands, much better than the last stylist. He’s sure he made note of that at some point, but in the same way someone notices when a door stops squeaking. You take it for granted after the first time.

"I'm a creature of habit. Might take me a couple tries to adjust," you warn, covering his forehead with your palm as you spritz product into his hair. You never let any of that sticky crap get on his face, much less in his eyes. You take measures to ensure his comfort, even though he’s never scolded you. You seem to do it entirely out of reflex simply because you care enough to.

"Well, you've made it this far. You've got time to adjust," he says. Now that he's seen you, he finds that he doesn't care for the thought of you being gone. More than that, he starts actively looking forward to the time he spends in the chair with you. What used to be a monotonous aspect of the celebrity side of his life becomes a comforting ritual. 

The two of you chat with surprising ease, like old friends made new. He tells you about himself, vents to you about work and personal business alike. In turn he learns about you and the life you live beyond the time you share with him. It’s nothing extraordinary–not like his–but it's yours, and for some reason, that’s enough to make it interesting.

The more he grasps that you are an entire person outside of the service you provide him, the more he wants to know. He doesn’t give a fuck about your elderly cat, but he does like the way your voice changes when you talk about it. His mind drifts when you tell him these little anecdotes, and he wonders what you tell the people in your life about him. He wonders if your tone similarly changes when you do. Do you speak fondly of him? Days turn to weeks. Little by little, Homelander discerns small changes in himself. There’s a slight pep in his step these days. The sun feels a little warmer, the thrum of crowded events less irritating. His attitude towards interviews flips; even the ones he used to dread he begins to anticipate. He knows you’ll have him looking and feeling his finest. He knows that regardless of what awaits him, you’ll have something to say about it that will make it easier to smile for the cameras.

Thinking of you is sometimes all it takes.

When he has nothing on his schedule to be styled for, he sulks. On those days, he misses your laugh the most. 

He makes sure the products he keeps at home are the same as the ones you use. The smell of them reminds him of the smell of you, of your knock-off Dior perfume that fades too quickly after you apply it, which makes it just perfect for his keen sense of smell. The humble subtlety of you, your sincerity and gentleness, have become a boon against the unfeeling corporate reality of his life. On the days he does see you, he begins to miss you before he’s even left you. Now, as he walks to his next scheduled appointment with you, he’s painfully aware of the beat of his own heart. His stomach is twisting in on itself, though he isn’t hungry. If anything, he feels a little nauseous. The closer he gets to the door, the louder the cacophony inside of him becomes. Is he sick? That shouldn’t be possible, but he can’t understand what’s happening to him. Pausing just outside the door, he takes in a steadying breath.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Taking a moment to collect himself, he gives his face two quick pats on either side, shaking his head. Get it together, he tells himself, stepping into the dressing room. 

“Gooood morn–” Homelander cuts himself short, looking around the empty room. His brows pinch. He isn’t early. Pursing his lips, he takes a brief stroll about the room, clutching his hands behind his back. He peers down the hallway, cutting through the layers of wall with his vision. No sign of you on the grounds yet. He clicks his tongue. 

You’ve never been late. Unable to settle, he paces for a while. He has the thought to call you, but he realizes he doesn’t have your number. Why doesn’t he have your number? It seems such an obvious thing to have despite the fact he’s never needed it.

He’s just pulled out his cellphone to track it down from Ashley when the door suddenly opens and his head snaps up. The initial relief he feels is cut short, turning cold in his chest when the person who steps through the door is most definitely not you. “Good morning!” the woman greets him, her voice chirpy and grating in his ears. She’s not really happy to see him. She doesn’t know the first fucking thing about him. At most, she’s another sycophantic drone who’s only pleased to breathe his air. In his upset, she looks freakishly distorted, her smile overly wide and fake. His leather gloves creak as he curls his hands into fists. “Who the fuck are you?” he asks, voice as measured as he can manage it. His anger hits in an unreasonable surge, hot like lava from a volcano. This woman’s only crime is the fact she’s not you, and yet it’s enough to make him want to rip her head off her shoulders, spine and all. The woman hesitates in the doorway, her chipper demeanor flipping to a fearful one. “Uhm, my name is Lisa, I’m supposed to style you to–” “Where is my stylist?” he interrupts her, prowling towards her like a hungry predator. He says again, louder this time, voice full of anger and anxiety in equal measure, “Where the fuck is my stylist?!” “I– I don’t know!” Lisa yelps, stepping backwards from him. “I was called in as a last minute replacement! They said– they said there was an accident, or–” Homelander pushes her roughly out of the doorway, blowing past her with a frustrated growl. She hits the wall hard before crumpling to the floor like a lifeless sack of potatoes, but he doesn’t even register it. He calls Ashley, stalking down the hallway, his footfalls loud with fury. Why the fuck didn’t anyone think to tell him? “Ashley!” He snarls into his phone the second she answers. “Tell me where the fuck my goddamn stylist is.”

Homelander is at the hospital within minutes. The staff puts up a meager effort to enforce protocols, but he’s The Homelander, and after a lie or two, they eventually let him through. He hates the smell of hospitals. The sickly mix of bleach and illness, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights. They never should have brought you here. You should be in Vought’s med ward.

You should be with him. When he finds you, you’re sitting with the hospital bed halfway reclined, wearing nothing but a hospital gown. The vibrant reds and blues of his suit paint a sharp contrast to the stark white walls of the hospital room when he steps inside. You have a pudding cup in your hand, though you nearly drop it when you see him in the doorway. His hair is woefully unstyled, splayed loose in every direction from his flight. “H-Homelander,” you sputter, choking on your bite of pudding. You swallow, clearing your throat. He’s walking towards you. The closer he gets, the faster your heart beats in his ears. “What are you doing here?” “Are you okay?” He asks, blowing off your question entirely. He blinks and his vision flickers through your clothes and skin alike. He scans your body for internal damage, for broken or fractured bones. You’re not wearing a cast or anything, but he needs to be sure. You nod, clutching at the blanket, wearing your confusion plainly on your face. “Yeah, I’m okay, it’s probably just mild whiplash, but I’m getting an x-ray to be–” “You’re fine,” he breathes more to himself than to you, his relief palpable. He can hear the flustered patter of your heart clearly. With the adrenaline wearing off, he’s beginning to feel that sickly familiar feeling that he had experienced in the hallway; butterflies rampant in his stomach, battering their wings frantically inside him. His jaw feels tight, his tongue too big for his mouth. Staring at you now, frail and precious as you are in this ugly hospital bed, he realizes what’s the matter–what has always been the matter–he is deeply and incurably in love with you. “Are you okay?” You ask, taking in his tortured expression, his wildly wind-swept hair. The obvious concern in your voice and in your eyes churns his already twisting gut. “No,” he says, the response knee-jerk. Even though the room is still, he feels as though the world is spinning around him. “No, I think I’m in love with you,” he says, expression twisted up, like he’s figuring out each word as he says them. Your heart skips a beat, your breath catches in your lungs. It’s as if the words have paralyzed you. Homelander laughs. It sounds a little hysterical. 

“I’m telling you all of a sudden, but it isn’t new with me,” he says, reaching out to cup either side of your face in his gloved hands. “I love you,” he says, voice firmer now, the realization setting in fully. He looks slightly delirious with it. He’s discovered a secret that he should have known all along, that seems so obvious in hindsight. Of course he loves you, because you love him. The gentleness in your hands as you touched his face, the care in your fingers stroking through his hair far longer than both of you knew you needed to. You dedicated yourself like no other to showing him reverence in service of him, and is that not love in its purest form? And yet, you don’t look to share his elation. You look like you’ve been struck by lightning, expression wide and bewildered. You still haven’t taken a breath. Homelander’s smile falters. “What’s the matter?” He asks, tone dropping a touch. “This is good news! Great, even.” For every second that you do not speak, the beat of his heart feels heavier in his chest. Why don’t you look happy? Finally, you suck in a shaky breath. He watches you with all the intensity of a viper poised to strike.

“I…” You hesitate. You lift your hands and grip his wrists, squeezing them through the thick fabric of his gloves as if to convince yourself that he’s really there. Maybe the accident was worse than he thought. Did you hit your head? 

Panic swells in his chest. It hadn’t occurred to him you might not reciprocate. The thought makes him ill.

“I never…” your eyes turn glassy, welling with tears. “Say it!” he wants to shout, his own heart hammering loudly enough to nearly drown out your words.  “I never would have thought–or even dreamed–in a million years that you might love me back.”

love me back.

Like a dying ember roaring back to life, Homelander’s demeanor reignites, his faded smile broadening once more. 

“I realized it when I was worried fucking sick because you didn't show up,” he says, leaning closer to you. He’s brought the scent of ozone from the sky he tore through on his way to you, but all he cares about is the faint smell of pudding lingering on your lips.

He huffs a laugh. “They sent in some idiot to fill in for you. Like they could replace you. I almost tore her head off,” he says, giddy with euphoria. Your expression shifts, brows furrowing. “Wait, what? You almost-” “I’m gonna kiss you now,” he interrupts, his voice a low rumble. He can already taste you in the breaths you’re close enough to share with him, and he’s never been hungrier for anything–or anyone–in his life. You fall silent with a shiver, nodding minutely, eyes falling shut. “Please do.” His lips meet yours in a gentle press. He deserves a medal for not crushing you with the sheer magnitude of his desire. You all but melt against him, settling into his grip as smoothly as you settled into his life, his mind, his heart. When the two of you break apart, you make a breathless noise that shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He feels hyper aware of your every sound and move.

God, how he wants to feel every part of you. 

You move your hands to touch his face and he leans into the softness of your caress. You’ve been close enough to kiss more times than he can count. The fact it’s only now occurred to him to do so seems like lunacy. Your eyes dip to his lips, your thumb brushes the bottom one. He catches it with a quick kiss and you laugh your sweet bell-chime laughter.

Pushing your hand into his hair, the wondrous joy in your expression becomes tinged with amusement. “And people wonder why I use so much gel,” you murmur, smooth the wild splay of his hair down with both hands, cupping the back of his head. Homelander smiles wide and boyishly, which prompts you to kiss him again.

“I’m not having some kind of brain bleed hallucination right now, right?” You ask quietly, the tip of your nose lightly pressed to his. He brushes his lips against yours between words. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he purrs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Despite the ugly fluorescent lights and the dreadful hospital stench all around, you look resplendent in your joy.

He had been right. It was love that you touched him with. It had been subtle, imbued in your every movement, and for months he had soaked it up until, unbeknownst to him, he fell into it as well.

“Trust me when I say you’ll be seeing a lot more of me from now on,” he says, brushing your nose with his.

Maybe instead of tearing them limb from limb, he’ll send flowers to whoever the sorry son of a bitch that rear-ended you this morning was. Who knows how much more time he would have wasted before he realized he was utterly smitten with you.

[illyrianbitch]

Winner

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: You and Azriel are both sore losers. But when you cheat in a game of cards, winning takes on a whole new meaning.

Warnings: alcohol mention, two competitive losers, a card game, a makeout, some wandering hands & fluff!!

Word Count: 4.6k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian threw his hands up in defeat, letting out a deep groan as he fell back further into the couch— wings sprawled out, spine slumped. He turned his head to Mor.

“Looks like Az and Y/N beat us again.”

She only groaned in response, rubbing her face with her hands before running them through her hair— taking a moment to smooth it down and tuck a few loose locks behind her pointed ears. 

 “You guys are relentless,” she said in disbelief, “I’m out. You two can have the winner's title.”

You and Azriel exchanged a look— a quick, almost instinctual, response. 

“No way.” You shook your head with a frown. “We can’t both be winners.”

From beside you, Azriel nodded. The movement was eager in agreement, but the alcohol in his body caused his motions to be slower than usual, sluggish, and Mor raised her eyebrow in response. 

“One more game,” he said, eyes tracking between both Mor and Cassian. “Just to settle this properly.”

But Mor only raised her hands in surrender. “Dear gods, no,” she responded, “I’m way too drunk for this.” 

You let out a small sound of disapproval but Morrigan ignored it, turning to give Cassian one last look of retreat before she stood up— unsteadily and disoriented. “Good luck with your showdown. I’m going to bed.”

Azriel gave her a scowl, a look that she matched with another brow raise. With no verbal response given, she turned to offer Cassian an outstretched hand. “You smell like a bar. It’s bedtime for you too, I would say.”

Cassian stilled, staring at her extended hand in a moment of contemplation. His eyes darted towards where you sat next to Azriel—meeting your gaze momentarily before jumping back to Azriel. His lips pursed, eyes narrowing for a second before he seemed to draw a conclusion and his face relaxed. 

“Yup,” he said with a decisive clap of his hands on his thighs. He pushed himself up and grabbed Mor's hand. "I'm outta here. I still have a fun buzz and Az's seriousness is going to kill it."

You let out a small sigh, lips falling into a frown as Cassian met your gaze once more. "Come on, Cass, just going to give up like that?"

He gave you an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, Y/N. You two can fight amongst yourselves.”

“She can't,” Azriel began as he turned to look at you. Something sparkled in his hazel eyes and the corners of his lips twitched into the ghost of a smirk. “The only reason she plays so great is because you two make her look better with how awful you are at this game.”

Your mouth fell open and an offended scoff left your mouth. You smacked his bicep. "That is not true."

Mor chimed in, "Yeah—we aren't that bad."

It was Cassian who responded with a raised eyebrow at her. She scowled at the gesture. 

“Whatever,” she muttered, waving him off with a casual hand as she began walking away. “It’s bedtime."

“Night.” Cassian gave you and Azriel a lazy salute as he stumbled towards the exit. “May the best competitor win.”

You both watched as they left the room, emitting subtle groans as the weight of their drinks began to manifest in their bodies. When their figures disappeared from view, you and Azriel brought your gazes to one another at the same moment, eyes narrowing in on the other. The room quieted around you. 

“I know I can win,” you said, straightening yourself, “I’ll show you.”

Azriel stared at you for a moment, eyes darting around your face before holding your gaze again. A smile grew on his face— confident and slightly lopsided, and his shadows swirled slightly around him in response. “Alright. Let’s keep going.”

You hummed as you cleared the table from the previous game, grabbing a deck of cards and setting the scene for Speed— the perfect game for a winners victory. It required quick reflexes and sharp focus. 

You threw a glance at Azriel, whose eyes were already on you. This felt like a routine. 

Azriel was extremely competitive. He made everything a competition, whether it needed to be or not. Who could get somewhere the fastest, who could get Cassian to say a specific phrase first. And out of everyone, you were the one able to match that energy the most. 

You knew you were competitive. It wasn't something you tried to hide—not that you could. And when you were around Az, it tended to come out the most. But on nights like these, drinking and playing card games, it seemed to come out even more, like a monster at night feeling the strength of the full moon. Except the monster was your inability to accept defeat and the moon, in this case, was the glass of wine you had downed alongside Mor.

Your eyes shot to the empty glass of whisky Azriel had nursed before smirking at him.

“Ready?” 

Azriel's expression turned serious and he nodded slightly, the movement tousling a loose strand of hair on his forehead. You found yourself momentarily distracted by it before quickly snapping your attention back to his intense gaze.

"You sure you’re up for this?" he teased, a hint of a challenge in his voice. "Last time, I seem to recall you complaining about my unfair advantage."

You rolled your eyes. "Unfair advantage, my ass. Just because you have shadows whispering in your ear doesn’t mean you’re unbeatable."

Azriel chuckled and his eyes gleamed with the sound, something bright and warm, golden like honey. "We'll see about that."

With a final shuffle, you placed the deck between you. "I’ll start.”

You began the game, cards flying between you as you tried to outpace each other. Your fingers moved swiftly, eyes darting between the cards and Azriel’s focused face. 

"Is that all you've got?" you teased, slapping down a card.

Azriel gave a low, deep chuckle. "Just getting started."

You matched each of his moves with your own, feeling your competitive fire burning bright within you, a simmering, insatiable adrenaline that made your heart beat faster. The sound of cards slapping against the table echoed through the room, mingling with your rapid breaths and the occasional muttered curse. You bit your lip, tightening the hold on your card.

"You’re slowing down," Azriel taunted in a melodic, light tone. You could hear the grin in his voice and you resisted the urge to look over at him. 

"Wrong," you shot back, eyes darting to the next card. “I’m just giving you a chance to catch up.” 

He snorted beside you, a sound so casual and childish that you bit back a laugh at it. He scooted closer to the table, moving forward to place another card, his arm brushing against yours in the process. 

It only took that one movement for you to become acutely aware of the closeness between you, of the heat of his body radiating into yours. Each time he grabbed or placed a card, the sensation built, sending a nervous flutter through you— a flutter too strong to be attributed to the alcohol alone. His shadows brushed against your skin and you bit back a shiver. 

You tried to ignore it, focusing on the game, but his scent—dark and intoxicating—kept pulling you back in, his body continuing to brush against yours—his knee, his arm—each touch subtle yet electrifying as he drew his hand back.

You briefly considered moving away to regain your composure, but the thought of disrupting your flow and losing concentration on the game held you in place. Then Azriel moved again, placing another card down, and you found yourself fixating on his fingers more than the card itself. The card faded into a white blur against the dark wood table as you stared at the ridges of his scarred hands, his slender fingers, his tan skin— they were attractive. Real attractive.

Azriel was attractive. This was a fact. And if you were being honest to yourself, you always harbored a crush on him—- though, you'd never acted on it, even if there were times where you could've sworn he felt something for you, too. You were good friends, great friends. You never dared to think about it too much. There was no use in entertaining unrealistic ideas. 

But Azriel looked even more attractive now—laid back, hair tousled, cheeks tinged with an alcohol flush, shadows stilled, and determination set in his grin.

You blinked.

"What the hell am I doing?" you muttered under your breath.

Az turned to you. "What?" 

"Huh?" you responded, feigning innocence, but Azriel narrowed his eyes, scanning your face intently.

"What did you say?" 

"Nothing," you replied quickly, trying to regain your composure. Azriel’s gaze steadied on yours, probing and assuming.

"You seem distracted."

“Me? No. I don't get distracted," you asserted, straightening yourself and sizing him up. Azriel raised a brow, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"No?"

"No.”

He leaned back slightly, his smirk widening.

"Then why are you losing?" he asked casually.

Your eyes widened as you snapped your head to the table, a movement so swift and abrupt that a dull ache pulled at the base of your neck. Sure enough, you were losing. Az was one card— two if you were lucky— away from a clean victory. You ran your tongue along your teeth, forcing a smile as you tossed a glance back at him. 

"It's part of the plan.”

"Right,” Azriel quipped, the amusement seeping through his dimpled grin. “The plan to lose?”

That competitive fire flared within you. Damned him and that smile— that arrogant, smug smile. You couldn't let him win so easily, couldn't let him win at all. You rolled your eyes. 

"Are we gabbing like old ladies or are we playing?" 

He raised a brow but pulled himself even further to you. “Neither,” he murmured, “I’m winning.”

You gave him a mocking smile as he placed his next card, falling into another quick-paced round. You were bound to lose— a reality that had begun to manifest right before your eyes, solidifying with every card Azriel placed down. 

You needed to see his cards to strategize, to figure out your next move. But Azriel was laser-focused, his determination etched into his features like details in a finely crafted statue. Each time he brushed against you, a subtle heat ran through your skin. You stilled, shifting your gaze to his face. 

"Oh, Az, wait," you murmured softly. He glanced at you, brows furrowing in slight confusion as you leaned closer to him. Bringing your lip between your teeth, you bit down on it lightly to contain your growing smirk, voice softening as you continued, "You have something."

Azriel frowned and you seized your opportunity, bringing your hands to his face and lightly brushing the corner of his mouth with your thumb. It was a feigned gesture, as if you were wiping away a crumb or a smear of chocolate from the pastries you all had enjoyed earlier that evening. 

There was nothing there, of course, but it served your purpose well.

You made sure to let your thumb linger there for a moment, to brush the pad of your finger against his lips as you pulled back. You held his gaze— a burning, deep hazel. His eyes danced across your face and you watched as he swallowed hard. A satisfied grin tugged at the corners of your lips but you fought it away, letting your hand fall down. 

You stole a quick glance at his cards before you leaned back, casually examining your own cards as you pretended to ponder your next move. He remained still beside you and you ignored the flutter in your ribcage, the strange, trickling sense of excitement that filled your gut. 

You placed your final card down on the table, the sharp snap of it breaking the momentary silence. Azriel snapped out of his reverie and looked down at the cards, then up at you. You leaned into him once more, a playful grin now tugging at your lips— smug and confident. "Speed," you declared confidently.

He blinked and shook his head slightly as he leaned in further to the table, examining the cards laid out before him. 

"Looks like I win.”

He dropped his cards onto the table and his gaze shot up to meet yours.

"You cheated.” 

You leaned back slightly, a mock hurt expression crossing your features. "I did not.”

Pointing an accusatory finger in your face, Azriel's voice grew firmer. "You're a cheater." 

You swatted his finger away, feeling the brush of his shadows swirling around it. "Get your finger out of my face.”

Azriel looked down, seemingly addressing his shadows in a murmured aside, before his gaze returned to yours. 

"It's not my fault you were so distracted," you teased, goading him with a sly glance.

"You distracted me!" 

Casting a nonchalant glance to the side, you shrugged casually. "I don't know what you're talking about," you replied, leaning back into the couch with a playful grin. "You're just mad I won."

"No, you didn't win," Azriel insisted, his jaw tightening in determination. “Because you're a cheater.”

Waving him off dismissively, you rolled your eyes. "There's that word again. Blaming me because you were distracted is such a sore loser move, dude." 

“Dude.” Azriel scoffed.  "You'd be pissed if I did the same thing.”

You innocently shrugged again. "I don't know what you're talking about. I would never get so distracted.”

He raised a brow and a sense of challenge flickered across his face. “No?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

It was a flat, bolstering lie. You knew it well. A simple brush against you had you so distracted that you nearly lost. And gods, does he look good like this, flustered, focused entirely on you. His furrowed brow, the intensity in his eyes—it was all so alluring. Some being, some butterfly must be trapped in your chest because the fluttering deep within your ribs intensified. 

Azriel didn’t move, his eyes scanning you in a manner that made you itch— made you feel naked and completely bare before him. 

"Don’t move," Azriel said, his voice low and teasing. You felt it against your skin like it was something tangible. "I think you... you have something here."

He leaned in closer, bringing his hand to your face, fingers poised to wipe the corner of your mouth just as you had done to him earlier. The movement was slow, sensual almost, and your heart nearly stopped when his eyes moved from your lips to your eyes. 

You held your breath and the corners of Azriel’s lips twitched. 

"Oh, nevermind," he murmured, withdrawing his hand. "Guess I'm seeing things."

You traced the path of that lip twitch, watching as it grew into a subtle, sly grin. The game had shifted now and Azriel seemed to think he was in the lead— seemed content in his victory. 

Absolutely not.

You let out a small hum. 

“Aw, Az,” you said, softening your face at him. You brought a hand to his bicep— he was dressed casually tonight, a simple black, short-sleeved shirt adorning his frame. His eyes widened slightly at your boldness but he didn't pull away. You placed your palm on his exposed skin, tracing a light, delicate path up his arm. “Always so thoughtful.”

He tensed underneath your touch, and his shadows curled over his shoulders, still and curious, peering down at the motion. Goosebumps ran along his skin and you felt him shudder underneath you, an almost imperceptible reaction. 

When you met his gaze again, Azriel’s eyes were molten. A muscle feathered in his cheek.

You gave into your urge, delicately brushing a small strand of hair away from his forehead and tucking it back into place. In truth, it felt like an excuse to touch him, to feel the softness of his hair beneath your fingertips. You heard a quiet, sharp intake of breath as his shadows moved slowly around his shoulders, watching your every move just as precisely as he did. 

“Well,” he said, and the sound came out as a croak. He cleared his throat as he brought his hand up to yours, wrapping it around your wrist as he lowered your hand with his own. “I’m thoughtful when it comes to you.”

His words didn’t feel like they were said only to get under your skin, nor did they seem like words chosen merely to rile you up—they felt like a confession. You fought to balance your reaction as you felt yourself being pulled in three different directions.

His words made you melt in a strange, almost pathetic way. They felt tender, caring, and you thought about how true they actually were, how much Azriel cared for you, and how often he made that care known. It was one of the reasons you liked him as much as you did, why it was so easy and comfortable being around him, why you felt so emboldened to distract him, to play with him, in such a manner that you did.

But then there was another emotion, a spitfire of competition that felt as if he had exposed a very vulnerable, very delicate nerve. That he was winning this game, that you were so openly affected by simple words and his hand around your wrist.

And finally, there was something else, something as strong as those flutters, something warm and hot that filled you with an urge to run your fingers through his hair, to pull him against you and feel those hands somewhere else. 

You scanned his face, watching as his expression seemed to soften a bit, as a crease formed between his brows. He was thinking too—deeply, intently, thoroughly thinking. It was almost the same look he wore in every game when he was strategizing, but this felt more intimate, more charged. You tried to reel yourself in, tried to throw every thought away and pull your mind together, fix your scent, your posture.

But then his eyes dropped to your lips.

Your heartbeat quickened and something fluttered in your chest, deep within your ribs— that damned caught, trapped butterfly moving in a frenzy. Your eyes dropped down to Azriel’s lips, and when you met his eyes again, he mirrored your actions. You took in the dark, thick lashes that adorned his eyes—lashes that you were able to see so clearly as he looked down towards you, towards your mouth.

The next moment was a blur. You weren't sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours. They were warm and soft and swallowed you completely— mind and body. 

His taste was intoxicating, a blend of the whiskey he had been drinking and something uniquely him. There had been small fantasies of Azriel that had creeped past your restraint over the years— images and thoughts about his lips and how he mustve felt pressed against you, how he fucked the countless women you’d seen him with.

Even this simple, heated and frenzied kiss was better than your most detailed dreams. 

You felt his hand slide up to cradle your face, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek as he deepened the kiss. Your own hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you leaned into him. 

This felt better than any win you’d ever experienced.

You needed to cheat more often.

You pulled away for a brief second, gasping for breath, but the separation was short-lived. His eyes, dark and filled with a desire that mirrored your own, locked onto yours before he captured your lips once more. This time, the kiss was hungrier, more urgent. Azriel's hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head slightly to deepen the kiss. His hands— those large, rough, and beautiful hands— roamed, one staying at your neck while the other slid down your back, drawing you even closer.

The world narrowed to just this moment—  to the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, the way his hands felt on your skin. His hands guided you, and before you realized it, you were laying down on the couch, Azriel hovering over you, his lips never leaving yours. His body pressed against yours and his shadows threaded through the strands of your hair, the silky, air-light touch of their movement contrasting with the warmth of his skin— a heady mix that sent shivers down your spine.

He broke the kiss, lips trailing down your jawline, planting soft kisses along the way. You felt a deep, thrilling ache as he kissed the sensitive skin there and you tilted your head back, giving him better access as your hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax under your touch. You circled the base of his wings, admiring how they stretched out above you, and he shivered under the touch, leaving a small playful bite on your neck in response.

“Finally!" 

A heat of panic ran down your skin and you pushed yourself upright— a movement so quick that it sent Azriel falling back onto his side of the loveseat. You caught a brief glimpse of him—disheveled, lips swollen, breathing heavy—before your gaze snapped to the intruder.

Cassian stood in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" you managed to gasp, your own breath coming in shallow pants.

“This.” Cassian pointed a finger between you and Azriel. "Fucking finally."

You casted a glance at Azriel who stared at his brother with a single raised brow. 

“How long have you been standing out there, Cass?" He asked.

Cassian shrugged, still grinning. "Long enough.”

“A bit too long, actually,” Mor’s voice rang out as she rounded the corner, now adorned in a comfortable sleep set. She settled into a stand next to Cassian, offering a small, sheepish smile. “I was starting to feel like a pervert.”

You cringed, a heat flushing your cheeks as you glanced over at Azriel, who met your gaze immediately. But he only sighed, running a hand through his hair as a lone shadow moved down the couch to wrap around your ankle. You ignored the skip of your heart.

"That's real weird, guys," you said.

Just a semblance of dignity is all you asked for.

Cassian waved it off. "Trust me, I've seen more than a handsy makeout with Az."

You grimaced, scrunching your face in distaste. Mor gave Cassian a pointed look. "Cassian—"

He shrugged, unperturbed. "I gotta admit, though, I didn't think we could get you to go that far. I thought maybe a realization—but holy shit!"

Mor’s eyes widened and she smacked his arm with the back of her hand. "Cassian!"

You threw a glance at Azriel but he didn't meet your gaze this time. Instead, he sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing at his brother. It was both unnerving and incredibly attractive—oh gods, focus.

You sat up straighter. "What do you mean you could get us that far?"

Cassian gave an unsure smile before responding, "Oh, you know, just a friendly little push." He looked at Mor, who looked equally guilty but offered you a sheepish, dimpled smile. 

"We were just trying to help you two along.”

Cassian pointed a thumb at her. "Her reasons are selfless, mine are selfish. I just couldn't deal anymore. It's like shoving two dolls together and making them kiss." 

He brought his hands up, mimicking the motion of holding two dolls and repeatedly mashed them together while making loud, exaggerated kissing sounds. Mor watched him with an unamused, scrunched face. 

You furrowed your brows and opened your mouth to talk, but Cassian cut you off, falling into a tipsy ramble.

 "I didn't anticipate how much we needed to drink, though. I thought I was going to get alcohol poisoning before you even touched."

Mor rolled her eyes. "Alright, that's a bit dramatic—"

"It is not," Cassian interrupted, turning to her.

"We barely—"

“You call that barely?”

"—We had one bottle—"

"-— A family-sized—"

You exchanged a glance with Azriel, eyebrows slightly raised, lips twitching with barely suppressed smiles. His eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and mirth as Cassian and Mor continued their bickering. Leaning back, you extended your hand toward the shadow near your feet. 

Azriel groaned. "Guys—" 

They kept talking.

"Guys!" 

They finally stopped and turned to face him, the room plunging into an awkward silence. Azriel sighed deeply, then said, "Get out. Please."

Mor's eyes widened. "Right! Sorry," she said, giving you a sheepish smile. Cassian, however, turned to you with a grin. 

"You're welcome," he said, and then turned to Azriel, winking. "You're extra welcome."

Mor scoffed, pushing Cassian out of the room. She turned around as she left, flashing you another smile and giving you two thumbs up. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, and your fingers tightened around the shadow on your hand.

When they disappeared from view, you exhaled deeply and turned towards Azriel. His gaze softened as he looked at you and the corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. The room felt quieter now, more intimate, and your heartbeat began to slow—  the fluttering in your chest giving way to a warm, steady pulse.

He let out a breath. “Well, that was..." 

"Something," you finished for him.

You locked eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound echoing throughout the room. 

"I love your laugh," Azriel murmured, his voice low and intimate.

You went breathless, the last note of your laughter leaving your tightened chest in a whisper. 

"Yeah?" 

A flutter filled your chest. 

He nodded and your smile widened as he edged closer, his hand gently cupping your face once more, drawing you to him. 

“They interrupted us," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

You swallowed and your cheeks flushed subtly with a blush as you leaned further towards him.

"What a shame," you murmured back, your words a soft invitation.

"A shame indeed." 

Without any further hesitation, his lips found yours again. The kiss was filled with an undeniable urgency—a promise and longing that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long. You melted into the sensation, every nerve ending electrified by the closeness, by the brush of his shadows against your skin.

He pulled away for a second, his breath warm against your lips.

"You were really good at that game, by the way."

You frowned.  "I was losing. Badly."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he shook his head. "Not originally. I was."

His thumb circled gently along your cheek. "But who knew all it took was a couple of brushes against your arm to get ahead again."

Your eyes widened in shock and you let out a small gasp, pulling back further to observe his face in full.  He met your gaze with a smug smirk, and despite yourself, a grin of impressed disbelief spread across your face.  

"You dirty little cheat!" you exclaimed, half in playful protest, half in genuine admiration.

He shrugged nonchalantly, his touch still caressing your cheek. "I'd say it worked out."

“Does this mean I win—" 

He cut you off softly, "Just let me kiss you."

Your protest melted away into a sigh of surrender as he closed the gap between you eagerly. You welcomed the warmth of his lips against yours, falling lax in his touch as he moved to hover you again. The world around you faded into insignificance. 

You definitely won tonight. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

idk why but this is one of my favorite lil moments ive written, it gave me butterflies writing it (i am touchstarved and a sore loser)

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli

azriel tag list 🫶🏻

@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty @acourtofsteelandthunder 

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Mesmerized.

Pairing: Yandere!Lyney x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.8k.

TW: Hypnosis, Unhealthy Relationships, General Lose of Autonomy, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Stalking, and Obsessive Behavior.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

“You’re getting crueler, brother.”

Lynette watched you stir at the sound of her voice, nearly identical to that of your dearly beloved, but you slackened as soon as you realized it was only his sister, melting back into place against Lyney’s side. Your expression was one of vacant bliss; all glassy eyes and careless smiles, worry only visible in the dark circles laced under your eyes, the pained creases folded into either corner of your mouth. A poor imitation, altogether. You looked more like yourself when you were angry.

Lyney hummed, resting his head on your shoulder. As if trained to, you cooed softly and raised a hand, carding your fingers through his hair as he spoke, self-satisfaction heavy in his voice. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Is it cruel to want to spend time with one’s dearly cherished?”

“Father said not to let the public see them until—”

“—until we’ve fallen in love,” Lyney finished. It was a clipped summary, to say the least. In reality, Lord Arlecchino’s order had played more closely to the tune of ‘until you’ve collared your pet properly’, but admittedly, Lynette might’ve missed something. She and Freminet had been listening from the other side of a steel door, and Lyney hadn’t been eager to discuss their conversation after her lecture ended. “And I’m sure, if you bothered to ask, you’d already know that we’re quite in love. Aren’t we, beautiful?”

“Quite in love,” you parroted. There was something strange about your inflection, as if you were trying to speak in a language you hadn’t yet mastered, but Lynette chose not to dwell on it.

“And I’d hardly call this the public,” Lyney went on, when Lynette made it clear that she had yet to be impressed. He made a quick, sweeping gesture to the rest of the backstage area – as if the technicians and stage-hands rushing between lighting rigs and half-assembled props were no more real than the silhouetted figures painted onto the set dressing they were hauling into place. “Think of it as… a trial run, to see how much we’ve improved. If everything goes well tonight, perhaps we’ll be able to attend Father’s next banquet together, too. I’ve been dying to introduce them to the rest of our family – preferably without all the screaming and biting, this time.”

That, Lynette could admit, would probably be for the best. She still had a bruise in the shape of your teeth on her left wrist from the day she’d met you, but Lyney still claimed it’d been one of your better first impressions.

“I’ve always wanted to see one of your shows.” You were cupping Lyney’s face, now, using your thumb to draw tender circles into his cheek. “I’ve always loved the opera. You’re playing the male lead, right?”

Lynette pursed her lips, her eyes widening slightly as she turned her attention pointedly towards her brother. He looked away. “I’m still working out the kinks. By this time next week, it should all be right as rain.”

Reluctantly, Lynette let her attention shift back to you. Your sleeves were long, dense with lace and tulle, but a patch of reddened, raw skin where the shackle had been wrapped around your wrist was just barely visible underneath the frivolous material. There was a slight tremble in your stiff shoulders, and when she looked closely, she could see that you were swaying; your legs weak from disuse, barely able to hold your own weight. Her brother, on the other hand – she could remember the last time she’d seen him smiling so widely. He been in a state of pure, untethered euphoria since the moment you were dragged, kicking and swearing, into one of the Fatui’s lesser-used underground holding facilities, and she rarely saw him without a glint in his eye and a light flush painted over her cheeks. It was almost upsetting, to see a face so much like her own so distorted. If she hadn’t been so used to his sudden flurries of passion, she might’ve been disturbed.

“It can’t last.” Lyney straightened, but she didn’t give him a chance to cut in. “The—the trance, I mean. You’re a magician, not a hypnotist. It’s going to wear off, eventually.”

“I’ve always hated stage magic,” you muttered, dreamily. “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I hate feeling like I’m the only person who doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“It doesn’t need to last forever, just long enough.” This time, it was Lyney who caught your chin in his hand, pulling you just close enough for a quick, shallow kiss. Lynette looked away before she could be forced to endure yet another unabashed show of affection, but she could still hear him far too clearly when he spoke seconds later, his voice now nearly distant as your own.

“Until we both manage to forget how we could ever live apart.”

[typing-catastrophe]

could you write a stanford pines x reader headcanon where the reader is an artist and always draws him and draws in his journals when he isnt looking? maybe he talks to the reader about the drawings and they get really flustered i dunno!!! <3

oohhh! yeesss, that's a great idea! thank you anon ^^ hope this is okay, enjoy!

1.2k words, no warnings --------------------------------------------------

Your little habit started out even before Stanford came back. Dipper saw you sketching in your notebook from time to time, and asked you to draw something for him in the journal. He handed it to you and pointed next to a text he'd written about some anomaly (maybe a Manotaur or the Pterodactyl). First you were unsure, how would you feel if someone randomly decided to draw in your sketchbook? But it actually seemed really fun, and you didn't want to disappoint Dipper. Also it was in the spirit of research and preserving observations. And honestly, what were the odds the mysterious author would ever show up again?

With that attitude you began, whenever you got the chance to, to doodle yours and the twins encounters with the countless strange phenomena in gravity falls into the journal.

Well, oops? Seemed like the universe decided that not long after you started doing so, it was the right time for the author to come back.

It wasn't a big deal really, Dipper kept the journal for most of the time and Ford told him that he liked the additions he made. You weren't sure if he only meant the notes Dipper added, or if he even knew that someone else drew the newly added creatures.

It didn't take long for you and Ford to get to know each other better and spend more time together. Literally everything about him was just so fascinating. From the way he talked about his dimensional travels, anomaly hunts and research, his interest in a shared hobby of yours (dd&md), to the way he held himself. And, even if you were a bit embarrassed to admit it, his looks.

You couldn't help it, he was captivating. So to no surprise, one day you found yourself sitting on the shack's porch, looking over at Ford standing in the yard, working away at something that was too bulky for the basement. You didn't even realise what you were doing until something startled you out of your thoughts and you looked down at your sketchbook, seeing a familiar figure on the open page.

And then it happened again, in the lab. He was explaining away, deeply invested in whatever topic he was rambling about, not really taking in his surroundings. You had started out just sketching his study, but somehow he turned out to be the main focus of it.

One evening you found yourself in the living room of the shack. Ford was sitting on the floor, which was almost entirely covered in graph paper. You had joined him while he prepared the next campaign session, the tv quietly proving some background noise. While he was franticly scribbling away sheet after sheet, you propped open your notebook and began sketching some of the characters that came to your mind. Ford's, Dipper's and your characters and some npcs you encountered on your travels. But looming over all of them, half hidden behind the dm-screen, the scheming face of the man before you took his shape.

The end of the evening was rather blurry, you remembered falling asleep on the floor and being carried to bed, half asleep in someone's arms.

"hmm thank you", is all you could mumble when you felt the soft pillow under your head.

"No problem, dear", you heard a deep voice chuckle.

-

When you thought about it the next morning, a smile crept unto your face and you kinda wished, you would've been more awake, so you could've enjoyed the moment properly.

The smile was quickly wiped off though, when you realised that you must've left your sketchbook in the living room, given that Ford probably didn't bring it with him last night. You panicked and jumped out of bed, stumbling to the door when your gaze was caught by something. Your sketchbook, laying on your desk. You exhaled, glad it didn't lay around for anyone to see. You took it into your hands and opened it to the last page you were working on. But instead of the drawing from yesterday evening, only the one before that stared back at you. Confused, you turned the pages a few times, examined it, maybe someone ripped it out? No, no remnants of a torn out page....

Then, it dawned on you. You left your notebook in your room yesterday. You didn't plan on staying or even going to the living room. God knows how you ended up there, but it definitely was without your sketchbook. Which could only mean one thing...

In record time you were out the door, down the hall and in the living room. Right in time to take in the scenery of Ford staring down at his campaign notebook, opened to the page of your drawing.

"Ahh!! No no don't look!", you jumped forward and put your hands over the drawing. Ford furrowed his eyebrows, looking quite puzzled.

"This? Oh I already saw it last night after getting you to bed. It is incredible!"

Your cheeks heated up. "Oh" was all you could utter.

"It was also you who added the depictions of the twin's adventures, right?"

"Uhmm" You didn't keep your passion for drawing a secret, but you also didn't make a big deal out of it. And honestly, the way Ford was always so indulged in his own mind, you didn't think he was paying much attention to what you were doing. Now you felt a bit stupid for believing he wouldn't connect the - admittedly - obvious dots.

"They really are marvellous. And this?", he gestured to yesterdays page "Truly phenomenal!"

You didn't know what to say. You weren't even sure if you could say anything at all. All you felt was blood rushing to the tips of your ears and a flaming hot sensation in your cheeks.

"I- well uhm, thank you", you managed to stutter "I uh, I actually didn't mean to- uhm, use your campaign book. It was a mistake, I'm sorry."

"You've got to be joking! It's the perfect addition!" Ford exclaimed. "Do you mind if I keep it?"

"Oh", his enthusiasm caught you off guard. "I-, I guess not. Actually, that would mean a lot to me." you admitted sheepishly.

"Very well then! Thank you, dear." He looked at you with a fond expression.

You were about to retreat back to your room, turning around ready to leave, when Ford spoke up again, the smile apparent in his voice. "I also liked your artistic rendition of the twins adventures. Anything else you want to show me?" You froze.

Your heart started beating ridiculously fast. Did he knew? Did he notice you staring at him while drawing? Your thoughts started racing, but came to a sudden halt when he leaned down. His lips were almost touching your ear when he started to whisper.

"Maybe another time." And with that he walked by you, leaving you to yourself.

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

a/n: if you want a second part with romance and/or where ford discovers the drawings of him, let me know! Have a nice day/night!

[death---dealer]

Berry Foraging. ( Planet of the Apes Imagines. )

Characters below includes: Ceasar, Noa, Anaya and Soona ( The Trio babey. ), Blue Eyes, Koba. Prompt: You've gone Berry Foraging. How would the scenario play out with each characters? Rating: T. ( Some language, primarily in Koba's LOL. ) Caesar.

The sun felt good against your skin now that you had shed your jacket, leaving you delectably exposed to the clean air. Caesar found it difficult not to watch how your shoulders move when you worked, when you shifted next to him to dive inwards towards the blackberry bush in front of the two of you. As simple as an activity it was, and as easy as it was for the Ape King to pin the task on someone else, to have you escorted to the Red Woods to pick berries, he did relish in the mild silence that surrounded the two of you as you intently placed your fingers against a vine and inspected it for ripeness, bringing it ever so closer to your face as your eyes narrowed at it. The way your mouth opened as you muttered to yourself, saying that it wasn’t ready before seeking another vine to inspect… Caesar found it difficult to actually focus on finding his own to pick. Like he would know how. Like he actively came foraging with the female Apes when they came out once a week in a group. Huffing to himself at that, he was careful to watch you.

You were surely faster than he was, deducing that the vine you had turned your attention to was more than good and you began plucking them berries off one by one, placing them delicately into the basket that was between your bent knees as you had crouched down to inspect the berry bush properly. Admittedly… This was something that Caesar had not done for years.

Well, at least since the Colony first took hold and he was demanded to be stationary there in case danger arose. Always easier to be in the same spot than to be missing in action and having tens of Apes out in the woods on horseback looking for their leader. Now, with Blue Eyes coming to age, and with the assistance from Rocket and Maurice, Caesar was able to take in moments like this, laced intricately with his favorite type of intimacy.

“No, no,” Your hands were suddenly grabbing at his own, the touch itself setting Caesar’s calloused hands alight as you grasped at them and pulled them towards you, “Do you see here?” Your pointer finger gestured at a berry at the very top of the vine that Caesar had figured was okay to pick at. Obviously not as you explained to him in a gentle voice, one that he would drown in if he was allowed, “They’re still a little green. Not ready yet.”

Were… Were you… telling him how to do this? Caesar narrowed his eyes, brow pulling in on itself as he looked at you, perplexity written completely over his expression. He chortled at that- At someone telling him what to do, how to actually do something correctly.

“Look here,” Lifting a hand up, you placed it against his bicep as your other hand reached and grasped it considerately as to not place any damage to it, “See how they’re colored? Darker?” Caesar looked at what you were referring to and gave a slight nod. Smiling at him, you squeezed where your grasp was placed on his body before pushing both hands forward and plucking the berries off with content, “That’s the color you want. Otherwise they’re going to be too bitter to eat. I don’t know any Ape who would enjoy that.”

Caesar tried to follow suit, almost mimicking your body language as he fell into a deeper crouch, inspecting the bush for what you had in turn told him to seek.

“Koba,” He said suddenly, the brazen and deep baritone of his vocals drawing you in without any regard for your other senses. He knew you liked to joke, in fact, Caesar found himself more prone to do just that when alone with you and it was a great way to put you at ease, to put you in a good mood - Or, if flirtatious in nature, enough to get you to lay with Caesar. This joke fell into the ‘good mood’ category as he finished his statement, “Koba would enjoy.”

That made you snicker, nodding in agreement. Caesar felt entranced momentarily as the sun caught your hair, giving the impression that you were ablaze as your gaze reached his own and you laughed in return, “Bitter berry for bitter Ape.” Noa, Anaya and Soona.

There were tears very visible at the corner of your eyes. Noa felt a small sense of panic wash over him at the expression, how you looked down at your feet in absolute defeat. Rested right in front of you were the remains of the berries you were so careful to pick, so careful to clean as you placed them in the wickered basket, scattered all along the floor of the woods. Now covered with mud and sediment and you were on the very verge of crying as a result. Anaya hadn’t meant to - He apologized the moment it happened, the moment the basket hit the ground and you let out a rather startling yap. Anaya swore to Noa he was just playing around, hiding behind a tree in a bid to scare you. In fact, your hands were still dangling mid-air out of shock like you were still holding the basket. Soona was silent next to Noa, her eyes looking between the raspberries and you, wondering why you were having this reaction. She then turned her attention to Noa in hopes that maybe he could translate. Unfortunately, for all three Apes, there was no clear translation. The look Noa gave her, the look Noa gave Anaya, biting around the edges but never enough to ruin a friendship, told them to back off slightly. You spoke - alerting all three of them that you were still there, not completely lost in the abandonment the poor berries must have felt being on the ground. “My… rasp… berries….” Shaking in tone, Noa tried to flank you so he could see your face but your chin was dipped and your eyes were now tracing the shapes the berries made. A few of them, in your mind at least, looked like a poorly drawn flower. You swallowed softly and looked at Noa with a distressed gaze, “They’re all gone.” Anaya yipped, “Sorry---” Noa placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. Removing his hand just as quickly as it was placed, Noa reached down and grasped the basket in front of you, crouching on all four in front of you to obscure the vision of your now wasted forage. The pads of his fingers lined the wickered basket, catching here and there against the rough nature of his skin as he attempted to hand it back to you, his arm extending before dropping at the crushed visual of your face. The twist in his stomach was incredibly uncomfortable as the basket was placed on the ground and suddenly, Noa was encapsulating your entire vision. He placed a hand to your cheek first, caressing the smoothness of your skin before bringing his head in to rest against your own to comfort you. You didn't move in response and Noa took a step forward in a bid to captivate your attention.  “A… A lot of bushes here, can pick more.” A small sniffle hit your nose as you nodded in agreement, suddenly aware of your mated love’s closeness. Of course there were more. You were in the middle of the woods, your favorite spot in fact, and were surrounded by many bushes, riped, lush for the picking and taking.

You sniffled again, finally breaking the awkward stance you were holding and raised a hand to wipe the underside of your nose before you grasped Noa’s forearms, beckoning him nearer, to keep him close to you so you could have a speckled moment of privacy in front of Anaya and Soona, who were entangled in their own argument about the entire situation. You could vaguely make out Soona telling Anaya to apologize again. “T-They were for you,” Noa’s eyes widened at the declaration and with that, he held you a bit closer, almost to the point where it felt like a headache was forming where your foreheads were cusped. “I picked them for you, you-you really like raspberries and we-we never have enough at dinner and I---” Anaya shifted towards you and Noa, looking at his friend first who stepped aside slightly. Anaya  offered you the basket that was against his back, half full. He never went back with a full one, often picking some out to eat while plucking subsequent berries from the bush and often indulged on the journey back to the Clan. He gave you a gracious smile, extending his arm out with the basket. “Can… can take Anaya’s.” Swallowing gently, you grabbed his basket delicately and gave him a half-hearted smile as he apologized under his breath again, “Th… Thank you.” Noa watched the encounter and softened his gaze at that. Just one more thing; the Eagle Clan leader stepped forward and lightly brought his thumb along the top of your right cheek to catch a tear from falling. You smiled slightly at him, looking down at Anaya’s basket and finding yourself maniacally entranced in laughter. 

“He ate all the raspberries.” Blue Eyes.

Cornelius was so… Small. You tilted your head at that thought, hands full of fuzzy blackberries. You found it difficult at the moment to find a better description. But, it was beyond true. The berries in your hand found a home in the basket in front of you. Incredibly cute and so very small. Fragile, almost. That was not the case at all; if anyone even looked at the baby Chimp with the wrong indentation, Blue Eyes was prone to attack out of protectiveness. Watching with bated breath, Cornelius brought himself to cling a little further closer to his older brother, splatted along his back as Blue Eyes was crouched next to you, Ash on the other side. They had gotten you to go fishing, it was only fair you got them to go berry picking.

The added bonus? Cornelius was under Blue Eyes’ care today, and the little stow-a-way was eating the berries right out of the basket that his older brother was trying to fill. You chuckled at that, watching the small frame dip himself down Blue Eyes arm, onto the ground and then quite literally, into the basket itself. The quaint hoots and small howl at a blueberry warmed your heart, but the absolute chaos of Blue Eyes' gaze on his baby brother was universally known. Wise older brother, annoying little brother who got in the way. It was not more evident than in the moment as Blue Eyes grasped him softly, placing him outside of the basket before Cornelius jumped right back in. A growl escaped the older of the two before he repeated it and signed at his brother, ‘stay’ with one hand. Smiling at him when he made eye contact with you, you were flushed and eager to turn your face back towards the action of your hands.

Funny how that worked. Sibling annoyance was truly known across all creatures. Smiling at the Ape Prince when he made eye contact with you, you were flushed and eager to turn your face back towards the action of your hands. Pulled into a state of lulling day-dreams, you slid your fingers along the vines that held the berries and found a mild prickle sitting at the base of your spine when Blue Eyes’ fingers brushed against yours when you went for the same bunch. You apologized quietly, letting him have his fill, Cornelius’ small eyes watching the berries fall into the basket with intensity. He raised his hands to grab one but Blue Eyes simply ignored it as if it were second nature to deflect the annoyance that rose when Cornelius ended up in his way. Truly siblings, you thought to yourself with a small chuckle.

You were being nudged--- Humming under your breath, your focus turned to Ash who was peering down at your basket with focused intent. You blinked, swinging yourself back into reality, right out of the nice thoughts of Blue Eyes and his baby brother. Wh--- You blinked again, the munching sounds overtaking all of your senses as Cornelius shoved the freshly picked blackberry into his mouth before looking up at you.When did he get there? How long were you daydreaming? There was a mild stare down between yourself and the younger of the two brothers. It felt like you were enthralled in each other’s presence but it was quickly shot down when Blue Eyes finally took notice and pulled his baby brother out of your basket and placed him back onto his shoulder silently.

‘Sorry.’ Blue Eyes signed at you, digging into his basket and placing a few of his berries into your own as recognition that Cornelius had eaten some of your own. His were okay to eat, but yours? Off limits.

Koba.

“Human,” The gruff nature of Koba’s voice was more than grating enough to take you out of the quiet day-dream you had going in your head as your fingers were quick to push blueberries off their twig home and into a basket laying beside you. Groaning to yourself, you dropped your head before looking up at the Bonobo who had been so graciously blessed by Caesar to take you into the woods to forage for berries. He didn't even bother to dis-mount his stallion and rested on it for the last thirty minutes. “Almost done?”

This was the fifth time he asked you if you were ready to leave in the last ten minutes. Your patience felt like it was teetering between an insane breakdown, which you resisted waging that yelling at Koba was not going to earn you any favors, and quite aggravation. You drove with the second choice and smiled sarcastically at him, “Do you think my answer is any different than it was two minutes ago?” Silently, Koba fell back on his saddle, the action in itself rather reminiscent of a child who wanted to leave the grocery store but was placed in the shopping cart of a prison to ride the remainder of the trip in disappointment. Without a doubt, he was going to have words with Caesar about this later, figuring it to be just a punishment for causing mutiny without a abandonment. You laughed at that to yourself, knowing that Koba’s complaints were going to fall of deaf ears.

Bothersome silence ensued beyond your capacity. It felt bubbling, the way that he looked at you with his one good eye. The sweep against your entire body as you moved to another bush, content with what you had foraged from the previous. The glare against the back of your head as you began diligently working the new bush. You quipped sarcastically at him, looking at the berries in your hand before letting them slide down your palms into the basket, “You know what would make me go faster?”

Koba tilted his head in thought, though you knew what he was thinking with reckless care. He’d surely say something like ‘you… to be dead’ or a rather clever ‘Koba… threatening you’. Smiling at the sudden wash of familiarity at the fact that despite his best efforts, you knew how he could respond, the grin you gave him was more than shit-eating as you grumbled, “If you’d get off your horse and help me. I need to fill the basket.”

The narrowing of his expression was something you could write a book on. The tense nature of his muscles, gleaming it seemed as the sun vibrated off his fur, the permanent scowl of his brow and mouth. Koba had to be the metaphorical poster child for ‘human hater’. Not that it was a problem most days, but right now, you wanted to be left in some semblance of peace to pick your berries without having to hear him complain over and over again about wanting to go back to the Colony. Without his absolutely relentless dry inquiries about whether you were done or not. He hummed - deep in his chest and the sound was brutal to your ears. “Koba does not…”

The grimace on his face tempted you to double over in laughter, but you were positive that would be interpreted as a threat and you’d be pinned to a nearby tree with his teeth in your jugular. Bringing your knees together, you bounced in your squatting position and looked up at him, almost asking with your eyes to finish his statement. “Koba… does not… pick berries.” No shit, you wanted to say but refrained. You filed away the response to be used at a moment when you were around others who would ensure your safety. “Just thought I’d throw the option out there. If two of us were doing it, we could go back in like… Ten minutes.”

There was no processing your words, or at least, there was no clear indication that Koba actually considered them. More often than not, they slid right off him and he just ignored them, preferring to sit in petulant silence which was exactly what he was doing. With one more look at the Ape, you proceeded forward and found pleasure in how your fingers moved around the bush to find what you were seeking, all too aware of the heated scrutiny you were now being surveyed under. Looking right into his eyes, you smiled viciously as you popped a berry into your mouth and chewed painstakingly slow. For sure, you thought to yourself with a chortle, Caesar was going to hear about this from Koba.

[ectologia]

I gently request a Dabi fic wherein he's been letting his little sister crash at his place and decides to pimp her out to Shiggy. Please, thank you, your writing is amazing ❤��� ❤️

BUSY EARNIN’

TOMURA SHIGARAKI + FEMALE READER + DABI

WARNING: DUBCON/NONCON, THEMES OF INCEST, SEX-BUYING, HUMILIATION, CREAMPIE, PROFANITY

The recital of your name ushers you downstairs. Your feet tip-toe down the rickety steps while you refrain from gliding your hand along the splintered wood of the bannister.

You bound along until you recognise your big brother, slouched against his patchwork sofa with his knees spread and a cigarette pinched between his fingers.

“Hey, you.” The subtle flick and curl of the ashen digits lulls you closer, close enough until you’re able to see the sizeable stacks of green bills piled up and snapped together with tight rubber bands lain across his coffee table.

You shift, curious as you notice the lean figure hunched next to Dabi, counting through another hand full of cash and muttering. He’s frantic as his fingers work on shuffling through the paper, his eyes are an unsettling blood red surrounded by rings of black and flaking skin, while his hair sits nestled beneath the shadow of his hood, only the stormy ice blue of his fringe peeking out.

“What’s all this?” You lilt, pointing a finger at the stacked paper.

Dabi all but hums, parting his lips as a whispy stream of smoke escapes the ruptured seam. “What you owe me.”

You draw back immediately, confused. “What?..”

He laughs, a deep, hoarse chuckle. Lowering the cigarette from his teeth to address you properly. “You heard me kid. You gotta earn your keep, you know? Ain’t shit free in life.”

You splutter, furrowing your brows. “B—but, wait, what do you mean I owe you that?” You gesture to the wads of cash sat waiting atop the wooden surface.

And just like that, the last few pages of money are slapped down onto the table. “That’s all of it, Dabi.” Shigaraki croaks, bobbing his foot up and down in anxious waiting.

Dabi shifts through the bank notes before giving a satisfied tut, settling back into the plush concave of his couch and taking another drag. “Thanks, Shigs. She’s all yours.”

You retreat backwards as his bent form extends into a looming shadow the moment he stands, taking a stride towards you.

“Wait! Dabi, what’s going on?” You squeal the moment your hands are seized, pulling and tugging until you’re bent against the wall at an angle.

He clicks his tongue, crossing an ankle over his leg. “I just told you. You’re paying me back, kid. Eatin’ my food, drinking my water. All that shit. You didn’t think you’d be crashing at my place on my dime, did you?” His chuckle is grim and dark as he pours over your hurt expression. “That’s cute. I’m a nice guy but I ain’t no saint, family’s still gotta’ pay their dues.”

You’re jolted about to Shigaraki’s liking until you’re positioned over the coffee table. A big hand pushes your cheek down into the hard surface while the other handles your hips, raising your ass up into the air. “Dabi! No, please stop! Tell him to stop!”

Your big brother winces at your shrill squeaks, squinting at the gritty nails clawing at your delicate flesh. He snaps his fingers, leaning forward. “Yo, Shiggy. Be careful, yeah? She’s still a virgin so she’s gonna be a lil’ skittish.”

He’s met with a harsh grunt, beady red eyes squinting up at him. “Shut the fuck up, makin’ my dick go soft with all your yappin’. I paid for her, so I’ll fuck her how I want, yeah?”

Your big brother huffs a sigh, sitting back against the cushions as he watches Shigaraki tear at your clothes. Your shirt is scrunched just above the meat of your tits as two hands reach down to tug and twist at your pebbled nipples. He tuts, palming at the doughy flesh. “Fuck, your sister’s kinda hot, man.”

Dabi hums in agreement, taking another puff of his cigarette as he rubs his hard-on through the rough denim of his jeans. “You should see her pussy.”

Shigaraki halts, lifting up to eye his friend. “You’ve seen your sister’s twat?” A broad smile curls onto both pairs of lips as they sneer at each-other. “You’re a freak.” He snickers.

The flimsy pair of panties concealing your pudgy mound are slid down past your ankles. Dabi scoffs as the skimpy garment is tossed at his face with a chuckle, the scent of your pussy encasing him for a split second. “A lil’ trinket for big brother Dabi.” Shigaraki grins.

“Please Dabi! I’ll pay you back! I don’t want him t—”

You’re cut off with a whine. “Awh, you don’t want me?” Shigaraki pouts, squeezing and jiggling your ass-cheeks. “That’s just hurt my feelings, babe. Looks like I’m gonna have to fuck you extra extra hard now.”

You gasp as Shigaraki spits a fat wad of saliva into your asshole, bringing two cold fingers down to smear and spread the sticky substance all the way across your slit. He dips the calloused pads into your folds, searching for the little bundle of nerves that has you twitching. The moment your hips flinch he’s cooing, rubbing harsh lines into your hooded clit. “Oh yeah, get that cunny nice and wet, hm?” Your mouth gapes and your jaw slackens, shuddering upon his abuse. “Yeah? You like me rubbing that clit? Getting your little pussy masturbated? Just like that?”

He chuckles at the small hand grasping his wrist, pleading for some type of relief. He retracts, wiping his soiled fingers into the back of your head before knotting them in between your mussed locks, tugging your neck back in a painful arch.

A flicker of hope ignites once you see your brother lean forward with a smile. You keen, reaching out for him. “Da—”

“Shh..” Before you can finish, a thick cloud of musky smoke cuts you off. He purses his lips into a snide grin as he blows the ash right into your spluttering, teary face.

The two laugh at your blushed cheeks and bloated lips as you cough, whimpering every time Shigaraki rubs at your swollen seed.

“I want you to look at him.” Your chin is held up by a pale hand, angling you to meet the bulging tent in your brother’s pants. “Look at your big brother while I rape you.”

At this you crack, breaking down into a plethora of blubbering cries. Shigaraki seems satisfied with your shell-like expression and takes the opportunity to stretch his fat mushroom-tip through the taught flesh of your pussyhole, sighing out a grunt as he does. “Fuck yeah.” He wastes no time in gathering the reins of your hair, jutting into you from behind with a broad smile. “Oh yeah, take—that—dick—baby—take it!” He punctuates every word with a thrust, pushing and pulling you along as he rides your ass.

Dabi can’t help but slip his vacant hand down the waistband of his boxers, fisting his fat, dribbling cock while he watches you get molested. It turns him the fuck on. He croons, hissing through the thin space of his teeth biting down on his cigarette. “Mm, look at you, getting used like a little piece of rape-meat. Should’ve done this ages ago lil’ sis.”

You’re practically foaming at the mouth, the only way you’re able to stay upright is by the massive hands groping at your titties. Shigaraki snarls and howls behind you like a beast, raping your pussy faster and faster with his sweaty uncut dick until a vision of black begins to seep past your field of view. A pierced brow quirks upwards as Dabi watches your eyes shift to a ghostly white.

Shigaraki growls, slowing his hips to exchange his frantic rutting into pounding your pussy with deep, lethargic, hurtful thrusts, knocking your hips painfully into the edge of the table. Your cries are smeared into the wood, your whole body rocking as your knee is lifted to spread you open further.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your ears twitch at the sound of Shigaraki’s voice. He hunches, slamming a fist down dangerously close to your head as he jutts his dick and balls into your slit at a rapid pace. “Fu—agh!”

The room drops to an eery silence as Shigaraki groans and shivers above you, swaying his hips side to side to ensure he’s pumped your battered womb full of his hot, creamy jizz.

The moment he retreats, your body is dragged along with him until your clenching pussy unhooks itself from his throbbing tip, ropes and ropes of sticky white cum following his retraction.

“Damn. That was good.” Shigaraki huffs, catching his breath while he stands proud and bare above you and Dabi, two hands bent on his hips while his flaccid member hangs lowly between his legs, bobbing and swinging.

“Glad I could help.” Dabi grins, slapping a wad of cash against his palm triumphantly.

[0womae]

Lost in the Fire ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆

Ellie Williams X fem!Reader

tw: 18+ content, Minors & Men dni!! Dom!Ellie, fingering, oral sex, makeout, grinding, r receiving, Ellie receiving.

✎4.1k

‧₊˚ ⋅ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

Like most nights in the small town of Jackson, it was a cold, snowy and brutal one. You had just gotten off of patrol with Jesse, and were making your way to the small humble abode you resided in alone with your cat, Luna. As you walk to your house, the gravel and snow crunching beneath your feet, your eyes flicker to the house Ellie, the girl who had came to Jackson with Tommy’s brother, Joel, a while back lived in, they were seen through the window, watching a film on the box television in Joel’s living room.

Joel was always so sweet to you, since you always asked him questions about the films he always talked about, that and how to properly pull weeds and which plant to pull when it was your turn to garden, or how to properly brush the horses.

Whenever you had a question, Joel was always around to help show you the way, and that’s why you started to take a liking to him, as some sort of father figure in your life.

Ellie, though, is the one who peeked your interest from the beginning. As soon as you laid your eyes upon her, when she was sitting on the porch swing, drawing in her book around 4 years ago. You two were close friends, but not as close you would’ve liked. You wanted to be more.

You always told your best friend, Dina, your patrol partner for this week, girlfriend, how much you had liked Ellie, but always too nervous to make a move, that and you weren’t sure if she was over Cat after their break up.

You tilted your head in thought, pondering whether or not this would be a good opportunity to make a move, you were an opportunist anyway, what the hell? You thought.

But what would you even ask her about?

“I can’t do this, I can’t do this, just turn around and go home, Y/N.” You muttered quietly to yourself, luckily it was already late and no one was around to look at you like a maniac.

Not crazy, just trying to grow a back bone.

You sucked in the cold air, fixing your posture as you walked confidently to the door.

You close your eyes for a second, feeling the breeze of the chilly wind.

You knock on the door, clearing your throat. The faint noises from the Television paused, indicating that they heard your knock.

You heard muffled chatter inside before the door opened, seeing Ellie opening the door, a surprised look written all over her face.

“Y/N, hey, what’s up?” She asked, she stood there with smile on her freckled face, she wore jeans and a grey sweatshirt she’d normally wear.

Ellie stared , watching as you snuck your arms around one another. She noticed the tip of your nose red, burning from the cold.

“I’m sorry to bother you guys, Ellie, I was just wondering if you..” Your head tilted to the side, words trailing off as you both looked to Joel.

“Ellie! What’s the hold up? Come on, it’s getting to the good part!” Joel bellowed from the couch, turning his head to see you standing at the door, looking at him.

“Y/N, What’re you doing here?” He sat up, smiling at you. “I was just, I don’t even know, I guess I had a question.” You shook your head, “Well, come on inside, we just started Curtis and Viper,”

He turned to the TV, holding the remote in his hand. You looked to Ellie as she looked at you, smiling, she stepped aside, allowing you to come in.

The warmth of the house overpowered you, almost instantly warming you up.

She put her hand on the small of your back, leading you to the couch, letting you take a seat next to Joel, “Do you want anything? Water, coffee, tea? Popcorn?” She stared down at you, you gently shook your head, smiling at her.

“I’m okay, really! You can resume the movie!” You voiced, throwing your long hair over your shoulder in attempts of getting it out of your way.

She collapsed next to you on the brown leathery couch, it was cramped since Joel was also sitting on it as well, so your bodies touched.

You notice every breath you took, your chest heaved, slightly grazing her arm. Ellie noticed, glancing down at your chest on her arm, and back up to your face. You intently stared at the screen, ignoring her glance.

You felt her eyes on you. Piercing through your soul. Joel muttered something about what had happened in the movie, that you weren’t even really paying attention to, your eyes were on the screen but your mind was somewhere else entirely.

You crossed your legs, wrapping your arms around yourself, pushing your breasts together.

Ellie looked away, but kept glancing at you. You smirked to yourself. You didn’t know where this new found confidence came from, especially in front of Joel, but you had to do what you had to do, right?

Ellie put her hand on her thigh, gently touching your thigh with the side of her hand. Sending jolts up your body.

You’d be lying if you said you’d had sex with anyone before, the opportunity presented itself a multitude of times, but you never were interested in the person to let them take your virginity, not like you were with Ellie.

Of course, you knew how to kiss and knew what sex was, you just never let it get that far with a person before. You always stopped, always made up an excuse to get out of it.

You sighed, leaning back more comfortably now. Ellie tapped your thigh gently, gaining your attention, you looked over at her and she motioned to Joel, you looked beside you and see him passed out, mouth slightly opened as he gently snored.

“Must’ve had a long day,” You mutter, snickering lightly. “Must have.” Ellie smirked, looking at him before the two of you made eye contact.

She stared at you, making you squirm awkwardly, unable to maintain eye contact.

You cleared your throat, looking toward the television once again.

You leaned into her arm once more, gaining her attention, you looked up at her as she turned her head to you.

You both stared at each other, this time you tried not to pull away out of sheer fear, again.

“What did you want to ask?” She whispered, glancing at your lips and back to your eyes.

Your eyebrows furrowed together, “What?” You inquired quietly. “You came over to ask something, what was it?” She replied back in a low whisper.

“Oh, uh.” You scrambled to think of a quick question to ask her, “It was really nothing, I just, um, wanted to ask if you..”

Ellie sat up, turning to you, listening to your next words, “If you had any weed.” You whispered, grinning awkwardly, you noticed the slight fall of her shoulders, making you look at her curiously.

“Is that all?” She smirked at you, you nodded slowly, looking up at the ceiling as if to think if there was anything else you wanted to say to her.

“Well, you’re in luck, because I just so happen to come across a couple of joints from a stash Eugene had,” She continued, “But, the bad news is, that it’s at my place,” She voiced, turning her head to the window.

You followed to where she was looking, watching as the snow fell lightly, leaving a thin blanket of fresh snow on the ground.

You sighed out, looking defeated. “Don’t worry, it’s not too far, you can come back to my place, and I can warm you up.” Ellie smirked, gaining your attention, your eyes slightly widened at her words.

“I have a fireplace,” She leaned in, whispering in your ear smugly, pulling back with a sly grin on her face.

You punched her arm, getting up whilst laughing lightly. She rubbed her arm, as if you hit her hard enough to hurt her, looking up at you as you stood over her.

You both stared at each other, grins on your face as something stirred in you.

There was a spark of electricity, as you both stared deep into each others eyes, your arms tempted to wrap around her arm and straddle her right there on the spot.

Joel shifted in his sleeping, pulling you and Ellie out of the trance that enthralled you both.

Oh, right. You sighed in defeated, drawing your attention back to Ellie. She stood up, taking your hand as she helped you put on your jacket you hung up before taking a seat.

A light blush crept up your face as you held onto her cold fingers. She opened the door, the cold air instantly hitting the both of you. “Come on, it’s not too far, don’t worry.” She turned back at you, smiling.

You tipped your head, watching as she drug you by your hand, warming your hand up from her body heat.

You smiled silently to yourself, she glanced over at you, looking at you with a curious expression.

“What?” She chuckled, “Nothing, it’s just, it’s cold, your hand is warming mine up,” You laugh lightly, it’s not funny, but you’re all mushy and soft from her being affectionate.

“I’d rather my hands warm up another way,” She muttered, almost to herself. You tilt your head, urging her to go on. She glances down at your breasts, and back to your eyes.

Your face heats up, your breath hitching in your throat. “You can’t just be sweet and cute for once, can you?” You quickly voiced, trying to act smug after being caught off guard.

“Aren’t I always?” She looked at you, a grin on her face. You playful rolled your eyes, mouthing a ‘No’. Making her snap her head back at you.

The two of you got to her door, she opened it for you, letting you go in first. The warm air consuming you. You let out a sigh, Ellie coming up behind you to help you pull off your jacket.

“Do you want some tea? Or hot chocolate? It’ll warm you up,” She inquired, turning to face you. She finally was able to get a good look at what you had on.

You wore a thin, dark green long sleeve, a pair of blue skinny jeans and converse. No wonder you were so cold, she thought.

She stares at you as you hung up your jacket on the coat rack next to the door, taking in your appearance whilst she can.

You glance over at her, watching her eyes look you up and down approvingly, as if you were a big juicy steak. She stopped when she saw your body turn to her, seeing your perked nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

Her eyes snap back at yours when she realized you were looking at her, “Sure, I’ll take some hot chocolate, please, that sounds good.” You smile, rubbing your cold arms.

“Here, go sit next to the fireplace and I’ll bring you some,” She muttered, smiling. You nodded, sitting on the couch that sat next to the warm fireplace.

You closed your eyes for a moment, sucking in a breath of air, the smell of her house, where she slept, ate and bathed.

You snuggled into the couch, your eyes wandering the scenery in front of you, you were never in Ellie’s home for longer than 2 seconds, so this was new territory for you.

You took off your converse in the sake of being respectful, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them.

After a few seconds, Ellie walks in, holding two mugs in her hands, placing them down on the coffee table in front of you.

She walked toward a cabinet near her bed, shuffling through the drawers.

She brought out a lighter and a joint between her fingers. She made way to you and where you sat, sitting next to you on the couch.

“Are you still cold?” She asked, positioning herself to look at you. “I’m warming up,” You smiled, leaning over to pick up the hot mug.

She leaned over to pick up hers, her shirt lifting slightly, showing you a sliver of her abdomen.

You looked through hooded eyes, taking small sips of your hot chocolate before placing the cup back on the table.

Ellie handed you the joint as you put it between your lips, staring at her as she lift the lighter to the joint in between your lips, lighting it for you.

You stared at her in her eyes, inhaling the drug. You held it in your lungs for a moment before slowly letting it out.

“Why are you so quiet?” You asked, pulling the joint away from your lips, she titled her head slightly, giving you a questionable look.

“You always have something slick to say, why are you so quiet tonight?” You wondered, handing her the joint.

“I just don’t have anything to say.” Ellie voiced, inhaling. She, of course, had things to say, but she was too concerned on taking glimpses of how your perfect, hardened nipples peered through the thin layer of your shirt.

“I find that hard to believe. Something is distracting you, what’s up?” You voiced, getting comfortable on the couch.

She looked at you, as she inhaled once more, exhaling the smoke, “You.” She said, pulling it away from her lips and handing it to you.

“Me?” You pondered aloud, accepting the joint. “Mhhh. If Joel wasn’t there tonight, what would’ve happened?” She finally asked.

Your eyes flickered to hers, the drug hitting you slightly, making your mind loopy and you laughed.

“I don’t know,” You laughed, looking at her. She blinked, staring at you, as if waiting for you to continue.

You cleared your throat, sitting up. “What’re you trying to do?” You muttered, inhaling the joint.

“I’m just curious.” She tilted her head at you, smirking. The light from the fireplace casting shadows on her lightly freckled face.

“Things probably would’ve … happened.” You awkwardly said, inhaling once more. “Things?” Ellie questioned, her finger grazing your leg.

“You’re irresistible, Ellie. You’re hot. What else can I say?” You rolled your eyes, lightheartedly, smirking, looking down at your fingers. Allowing the drug to control your mind.

Ellie tipped her head to look at your eyes, you looked up at her, chest heaving. Her eyes wandered down to your breasts again.

You watched as she stared at your chest, her eyes dragging back to yours after she realized you were watching her.

“Be more noticeable, won’t you?” You smirked. Ellie looked at you with half lidded eyes, this time you couldn’t find any hint of smugness, the only thing that showed in the expression on her face was pure… hunger.

Lust.

Ellie leaned into you, you leaned into her, she grabbed your jaw, pulling you in for a deep kiss. Chills ran down your spine, this took a turn for the best.

She hungrily kissed your lips, you tried to match her pace, kissing back. Soon her tongue grazed your lip, granting access, your mouth fell open, her tongue slipping in your mouth.

Your tongues danced together, a small moan rippling through your throat. Only fueling the burning desire Ellie had for you.

She continued, slipping a cold hand around your hip, pulling you on her.

You straddled each side of her legs, your back arched against her. You breathed in her scent, her natural smell. She always smelled so wonderful to you. You were always attracted to how she smelled.

You ran your fingers through her hair, she slid a hand up your back, feeling the soft, warm skin, sending goosebumps spread like wildfire throughout your skin from the touch of her cold hands.

She pulled at the hem of your shirt, you broke away from the kiss, taking the hint and lifting up your shirt, exposing your bare chest.

She wasted no time with fondling one whilst kissing your neck, your head tilted back, feeling the sensation between your legs build.

You pulled at her sweatshirt, she broke away from you, removing the article of clothing, throwing it somewhere on the ground. She looked so irresistible sitting there under you, with a sports bra on and breathing heavily, staring up at you, lust and hunger in her eyes.

You could just moan at the sight of her like that, you wrapped your arms around her neck, leaning back into her, you captured her lips in a heated kiss again. Grinding your hips on her lap, trying to feel some sort of pressure on your dripping core.

Ellie noticed this, breaking away from the kiss and looking down at your crotch straddling her lap, making her bite her lower lip seductively.

“I think these pants are going to have to go,” She looked up at you with half lidded eyes, a smirk playing on her red, swollen lips.

“Oh, really? Whys that?” You grinned, acting stupid. “Because I can’t feel your wet pussy through jeans, babe.” She purred, looking up at you, her hand sneaking around your ass.

You lifted off the couch, unbuttoning your pants slowly, teasing Ellie as she stared at your hands.

Her eyes flickered to yours, her stare was devious and filled with yearn for you alone.

You smirk, pulling the pants off you, she stared at your panties, black thongs, “It’s like you’ve been ready for me to fuck you, pretty girl.” She seductively voiced, scooting closer to you as you towered over her. Her hands reached around you, feeling your bare ass.

You kneel in front of her, her face contouring into curiosity and confusion, mixed with lust and want.

You unbuttoned her pants, “I’m not the only one who is going to be stripping, Els.” You tut jokingly, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of her pants, she lifted her hips slightly, allowing you to pull them off.

After she was just left in her bra and boxers, you climbed on her, only straddling one leg, your knee gently pressing against her clothed core.

She gasped slightly, looking up at you. A playful smile dancing its way on her lips, you looked at her and then her lips, leaning in to kiss her again.

After hovering over her thigh, you sat on her carefully, not putting your full weight against it, you rubbed your pussy against her thigh, whilst rubbing your knee slightly to make her feel some friction as well.

Your panties were soaked at this point, Ellie cupped one of your breasts whilst suckling and kissing the tinder part of your neck. Sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.

You moaned, riding her thigh slightly faster, stabilizing yourself by putting both of your hands against each of her shoulders.

Ellie made her way down your neck, leaving open mouth kisses against your skin, making her way down to your collarbone and finally she found your nipple, sucking and nibbling gently.

You squirm under her touch, trying not to be too loud as you threw your head back out of pleasure.

Ellie pulled away from your breast, wrapping a hand around your back and another around your thigh.

Ellie lifted up from the couch, you still on her, you looked at her confused, wrapping both of your arms around her neck, pushing your tits against her chest, making her want more.

She made way over to her bed, laying you gently down on the bed, your chest heaved, staring up at her as she looked at you, as if she were a lion ready to pounce on her prey.

You rubbed your thighs together, trying to feel something. Anything.

Ellie tutted, walking to the end of her bed, she climbed the bed, snaking a hand in between your legs, pulling them open.

“Ellie..” You whispered out, coming out a little too whiny. “Tell me what you want, Y/N.” Ellie smirked, lowering her face to your heat.

You felt her warm breath, you lifted your hips, trying to get closer to her face. She put her hands on your hips, pushing them back into the mattress.

“Use your words,” Ellie smirked, trailing her hands up your body, landing on your breasts.

You decided to suck up the embarrassment, playing into her little game. You arched your back, using your middle finger and pointer finger to spread your lips apart, allowing her to see how wet you are.

“I want to feel your fingers in me, Ellie. I want to feel your hands exploring my body, I want to come on your tongue.” You moan out, Ellie stared intently up at you with half lidded eyes.

She wrapped her arms around your thighs, lowering her face to your bare core.

She licked a stripe up your swollen, wet cunt, tasting you. She kisses your clit sloppily, sucking and gently nibbling on it. Ellie forces your legs over her shoulders, her tongue exploring your hole, allowing her to bury herself deeper within you.

You moan out, back arching, “Ellie, please!” You pant, already feeling the knot in your stomach forming.

She pulls away slightly, feeling your clit with two fingers before she slowly inserts them. You moan out more, putting your hand over your mouth.

“Don’t you dare cover up those pretty moans,” Ellie groaned, her mouth sucking your clit.

“I..I…” You trail off, your fingers entangling in with her hair. “I want to taste you.” Ellie muffled out, the voice vibrating your clit.

You gasped, you looked down at her, her dangerous eyes staring right into yours as your mouth fell to an ‘o’ shape. Your back arched, your body tensed up as the knot in your stomach comes undone.

You moaned her name out, trying hard not to clench your legs around her. The sound of you screaming her name got her even more horny, if it were even possible.

You laid there, out of breath as she came up next to you, laying down as she stared lovingly in your eyes.

You stared at her, catching your breath. She only smirked, looking at you.

You lifted up from the mattress, her face contorting into a confused look.

“Oh, you don’t think we’re done, do you?” You smirked down at her, leaning in as you kissed her neck.

“But you—, you finished?” Ellie pondered, staring up at you.

“Mhm… and now it’s my turn to make you come.” You slyly voiced, palming her clothed heat.

Her eyebrows raise, her mouth falling slightly open. You lean next her ear, kissing it gently as your hand travels down from her bare abdomen, to her cunt.

Your finger explored her heat, playing with her clit and then gently dipping a finger into her, teasing.

“Oh, shit.” She cursed, a moan rippling out her mouth. You hummed, kissing her neck some more.

You feel her hand wrap around your wrist of the hand that was in her boxers, her fingers pressed your middle finger and pointer finger into her pussy.

Guiding your wrist, you fucked her wet hole with two fingers. “Fuck, Ellie, you’re so wet.” You purred, soaking up this vulnerable moment for the both of you.

Ellie groaned, letting a ‘fuck’ slip from her lips as you felt her clench around your fingers, making your own cunt throb with need. You pressed light kisses over her neck, and chest. You felt her body tense below you, as you pulled out your fingers to massage her clit before dipping back in.

Ellie’s hitched breaths were the only thing to be heard in the quiet room, that and the pornographic squelching noises coming from her drenched heat from you playing with her.

You moaned in her ear, pushing her over the edge.

Her hips bucked, her hands wandering to your back as you felt her shake underneath you as the knot came undone, she was seeing stars at this point.

“God, you’re so hot,” She breathed out, staring up at you as she came down from the high. You smirked, kissing her lips gently as you moved to lay on her side, cuddling in her.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been longing for this,” She muttered, looking at you with a genuine smile. “Oh, so you’ve thought about me a lot, have you?” You slyly smirked, reaching over to press your lips against hers.

You pulled away, smiling down at her. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this, as well.” You sighed out, wrapping your arms around her as you cuddled into her chest.

[hai7ani]

divorced parents au / with your faves

When your daughter turned two, you and your husband had brought her to Disneyland as her birthday gift. Growing up, Umi was always fond of the 12 Disney Princesses ー more specifically Princess Belle ー and she keeps a photograph of her and Belle at a meet and greet on her nightstand. Her father's half-expected her favourite to be Ariel, given that Ariel and Umi do go pretty well together. (Ariel and the sea.)

In Disneyland that summer your baby has had the time of her life, so she starts asking for it every birthday (which slowly turned into every milestone) and up until then you both have had no issues with bringing her there. He'd told you once that if going there makes her happy then he was willing to visit again, no matter the amount of times and the slight boringness he'd have to face when waiting in line to go on rides or booths.

Today she had learned how to properly draw a flying bird in art class after failing a few times and drew flying chickens instead. When you picked her up from school, the first thing she said after showing you her art proudly was, 'Let's go to Disneyland, Mama! Let's go with Daddy!'

You would bring her if you could. You know you would in a heartbeat.

But it has been two years since her last visit to Disneyland, and you and your husband aren't together anymore.

So when he comes over for dinner tonight ー just like he has been every Friday without miss ever since your divorce ー you show him Umi's drawing of the flying bird.

"Can I bring this back with me? I'd like to frame it up." He asks. In his head he plans to hang it on the wall of his living room, right on top of his television, next to your family portrait.

You eat a piece of the orange he'd peeled. "Of course."

/

At noon when your daughter asked, you told her no. So at night she is tugging on her father's shirt with a red face full of tears and she is begging for him to stay.

"Stay here, daddy. Don't go." She cries to him at the foyer. Only one side of his shoe is put on and he kicks it away quick when she attempts to climb into his arms.

"You'll see me again on Sunday, Mimi." He attempts to console her. "We're gonna go to the mall together 'n we'll find the toy you've been wanting."

Her father scoops her into his arms and sits on the floor. She kicks her feet in the air and wails.

"But I want to go to Disneyland with you and Mama." She sobs into his arms. He pecks her crown and shushes her a little.

When your chest gets too heavy you push yourself off the wall you've been leaning against and turn your back to them.

(You've been watching the duo since the moment her father was putting on his shoe, ready to leave, and your daughter came running after him in her pyjamas with wet tears already streaming down her cheeks.)

And Umi continues to cry while her father rocks her in his arms, trying his best to console her.

While walking away from the scene, you pick on the skin around your thumb. Your nose sours and you try pinching it in hopes of soothing it a little.

"Why d'ya wanna go to Disneyland?" You hear him ask before you disappear into the hallway. It's funny how he still asks even though you and him both know that going or not going to Disneyland was never the problem.

Umi sniffles. Her father hums for her to say it.

You hide behind the door of your bedroom.

"I want Mama, Daddy and Umi together again."

Just the three of us together in Umi's favourite place.

You cry.

/

"She's asleep now."

You pause from folding laundry at the couch and look up. He's got both hands in his pockets and a soft smile planted on his face.

He's also a mess, you notice ー his shirt a little stretched and out of place from how hard your daughter had been tugging on it earlier, the fabric wet from tear and snot stains, his hair a bit disheveled (you figure he was resting beside her when putting her to sleep), and he's moving to sit beside you on the couch now.

You smile back. "Thank you. I haven't been able to calm her down easily these days."

He picks up one of the garments from the pile and starts folding it beside you. "It's fine. You know I like doing it." I like being a dad, is what he wishes to say. But he knows you know it already and he holds his tongue.

Neither of you say a thing to each other after that and he continues helping you with the laundry. He folds your bra the way you prefer and your daughter's school uniform neatly so that it doesn't crease.

You steal a few glances at him without shame while stacking his sweatpants onto his pile of clothes.

"Your hair's getting long." You comment.

"Is it?" He raises his brows, genuinely wanting to know.

"Yeah." You reach a hand up to comb through his soft strands of hair. You push them back and try parting it on the middle.

"I've been busy." He's got a boxy, kind of nervous smile on his face when he explains. "Can't really see well through the mirror anyway." He rubs his nape.

You chuckle. "Want me to cut it for you?"

"Okay."

/

You still keep a room for your ex-husband even after the end of your marriage and he's given you the house.

You like telling yourselves it's solely for the sake of your daughter, for when she misses her father a little too much and refuses to let him leave.

But both of you know that's not really the case.

Somehow it didn't feel right when he was in the process of moving out to his new apartment somewhere in Meguro, and you slowly realise that you'd be having an empty room all to yourself.

(Back then you didn't think you could cope with living alone in the house you used to love each other in ー in the house you'd both created a life in.

You still don't now. Not really, anyway.)

So you transform the room that used to be his study into his own bedroom just right across the master (yours). He didn't reject the idea when you told him so.

And because of this, you leave your bedroom door open whenever he stays the night.

Tonight you do it again, and you watch him across the hall, in his room, drying off his freshly cut hair. Your head is resting on the edge of the bed with one hand tucked under your cheek and the other playing with a plush toy he'd gifted you many years ago.

When he turns to hang his towel on the wall he sees you like this. You don't shy away when he smirks.

"Goodnight." You mouth to him. You stay like that until he leaves his door open and finally gets in bed ー until he, too, shuffles around, and dangles his head off the edge of his own bed.

"Goodnight." He mouths it back to you.

You spend some time looking at each other like that ー really taking your realities in ー in rooms across each other with heads dangling off the edge of your beds, two hearts connected by the sea, and your daughter asleep in the room next to yours.

On most nights he comes over sometime during the night and helps you back on your pillow when you accidentally fall asleep like this, and every time, you'd unconsciously tug on his arm and beg him not to go.

He stays every single time.

Tonight, however, he pads over to your room while you're still awake with a pillow clutched in one hand.

"Hi." You scoot on the bed to make space for him as he throws his pillow next to yours and lays down beside you ー face to face, heart to heart. "Hey." He sighs upon getting comfortable on the bed he'd grown to find so much comfort in.

You bring the blanket up to cover his shoulders. He scoots closer to you, sneaks a hand under your shirt, and rubs a warm hand up and down your spine. (You always sleep better when he rubs your back like this.)

And while falling asleep you think to yourself that perhaps someday you'll get to try again as lovers.

You know for a fact that you'll always love him in your heart, and you'll never stop loving him even though it doesn't really make sense anymore ー just like how he'd sworn to never love again after your divorce.

Perhaps someday the both of you would be ready to move on ー still loving each other, but ready to move on from your past, from your love.

And perhaps someday the two of you wouldn't have to argue about money or time anymore. Perhaps someday he'll find a suitable work-life balance, and you're able to trust him enough to keep himself safe at work.

But for now, he's content with rubbing your back as you fall asleep next to him in the bed you'd once shared. You're content with the flowers he still buys you from time to time and cutting his hair whenever it grows out.

For now, you know that you're not ready to move on just yet. Both of you are not, and both of you have something else in mind...

You want to try again.

And you know that trying again will not be easy, but you both also know that you're willing to start all over again with everything you have if given the chance, the opportunity.

Maybe someday.

Maybe you'll give it more time.

(You feel a nudge on your elbow.)

Or...

"Wanna go to Disneyland tomorrow?"

(You smile.)

"Yes."

...Maybe tomorrow?

(He reddens all over.)

"Okay."

You'll see.

(just some characters i have in mind) TOKYO REVENGERS RAN, RINDOU, KAKUCHO, DRAKEN, NAOTO JUJUTSU KAISEN GOJO, NANAMI BLUE LOCK SAE, RIN HAIKYUU KITA, OSAMU & your faves

(i have never been to disneyland before. 😹)

© HAI7ANI ON TUMBLR. DO NOT STEAL

[nxtaliaistyping]

Being The Riddler’s favourite camgirl <3

18+ nsfw, stalker behavior

While you weren’t the most experienced cam girl out there, you did your best. And you had to say, you were pretty good.

Three nights a week you streamed yourself, setting the camera up facing your bed as you pleasured yourself in several unique ways for your audience’s pleasure. Whether it was using a vibrator your audience controlled via donations, or fucking yourself on a dildo while you moaned out the names of the several men (and occasional women) who paid. It wasn’t your main job, but it certainly gave you a secondary source of income.

Edward wasn’t typically a man who bothers himself with sites such as the one you post on. After all, indulging in sexual desire via his own hand seemed primitive, an impulse that weaker men have. But alas, his body sometimes needs a release, so he makes do. Online porn doesn’t particularly do it for him, too fake and sterile, not to mention the obscenely stupid noises.

So when he stumbled upon the cam girl website, he figured he’d give it a go, grumbling to himself at how annoying it was to have to deal with such base desires. He clicks through a few girls, finding some satisfaction in whatever way they touch themselves, before receiving a perfectly ordinary orgasm.

It’s only the next time he feels horny, finding the site again that he finds you. Something about you immediately draws his attention, your soft curves unique in the glow of your room. He watches closely as you circle your clit slowly with your finger, just teasing yourself as you read the messages from various men.

“You’re too sweet, thank you.” You say quietly, and Edward knows deep down he needs to hear your voice again, hand instinctively wrapping around his shaft.

He reads the comment you were referring to and scoffs. The imbecile couldn’t even spell gorgeous correctly, and you’re flattered? Clearly you weren’t used to actual compliments.

Although his attention is back on your body as you start your session properly, hand rubbing your clit as the other teases your twitching hole.

“So boys, what’ll it be tonight? I have a new dildo I wanted to try…or perhaps a vibe?”

You watch as the responses pour in, as well as a few donations. You giggle as a clear answer wins, and you grab the dildo. Lubing it up, you give a cheeky wink to the camera as you slowly sink down on it.

Edward quickly grabs the bottom of his shaft tightly, for once not wanting to cum too quickly. He stares at your cunt greedily taking in the toy, before you bounce up and down slowly.

“Oh…it fills me up so good.” You say quietly, moaning when it hits the right spot.

He’s drawn to the noises you make, how you aren’t constantly playing up the pleasure. It makes the moans that do escape your pretty red lips all the more sweet. Pumping himself once again, he wishes he could see your face properly without the masquerade mask you keep on.

As per the viewers requests, you either speed up or slow down depending on the donations. You bring yourself to orgasm once, but your audience want you to overstimulate yourself, so you lay on your side and thrust the dildo in and out of your pussy.

“Fuck, can you hear how wet I am?” You say provocatively, bringing the phone closer so everyone can hear the sloppy sounds of your cunt getting fucked.

That’s all it takes for Edward to cum ropes over his fist and stomach, panting at one of the most intense orgasms he’s been able to give himself. And much to his surprise (and annoyance), he stays to watch the end of the stream, watching you cum a second time before waving goodbye to everyone, blowing some kisses.

He’s hooked, checking your profile and making a mental note of when you stream. Over the next week, he catches most of your sessions, and by the third one he actually sends a donation.

“A-ah…thank you Edward, mmm that means I can turn this up to…o-oh my god…”

He actually shivers when you say his name, watching your eye roll back as the vibrator stimulates your clit and g spot at the same time. Realising he’s becoming almost addicted, he can’t bring himself to care as once again he’s cumming all over himself.

But it isn’t enough to watch you, he needs to see your face, to know who you are. So he hacks your profile, running a trace on your name and location. Oh good, you live in Gotham too…and that’s what your face looks like unobstructed. God you’re as pretty as he imagined. And your name is pretty too, everything about you. Even the fact you’re a college student, oh you get good grades by the look of things. Of course you’re smart, as if his head would be turned by someone dim.

Now, the pleasure he receives from your streams has intensified. He knows who you really are, and he still wants you. These other men wouldn’t want you, they just want a fantasy, an unreal version of you. But not Edward. No he can treat you right, give you money that these idiots can’t dream of, fuck you better than any of them could. He just needs to show you. That’s all.

And as he hacks several security cameras outside of your apartment building, he knows his chance will be coming soon.

[yo-yo-yeonkai]

AND THEY WERE ROOMATES - KANG TAEHYUN - NSFW

Taehyun x AFAB!reader

Genre: smut

Warning list: Roomates!Taehyun, dom!taehyun, sub!Reader, fingering, degrading (bad girl, dumb, slut, whore), praise (good girl), use of rules, talk of punishment, deprived of the dick she deserves, use of "sir', not proof read yet,

Word count: 1,255

Summary: You only put on your roommates shirt (to tease him) and you were only minding your business (you were definitely showing your body off) and he got cocky and claimed you were doing it purposefully (you 100% were, you needed him)

A/N: Early post for Taehyun’s birthday because I’m too busy to post on the day. Happy birthday Taehyun!!!

"You sit around in my shirt all day, panties out, nipples hard, and expect me not to stare, doll?" Taehyun scoffed, easing closer and closer to you.

The situation you were currently in had only ever been a fleeting dream, a thought that would stain your mind a dirty red, you had never thought it would actually come true.

Currently, you were sandwiched between your sofa and Taehyun. This, of course, was entirely your intention when you put on his shirt, no trousers... but his words and actions still had your mind going blank and shivers racking through your body. When you'd imagined how this may go, you'd never expected Taehyun to be so dominant, or frustrated by just a top.

His hand teasingly ran up your leg, fingers barely grazing your skin, almost like a tickle. You were so sensitive, shaking for him already pathetic. Sparks igniting your skin with want, need.

"it's so baggy, but even then it doesn't cover you properly. Every time you bend over I see your perfect ass." He pauses, running his hand further and further up your soft leg, only just reaching you knee. He was taking his precious time with you, making you wait.

"It hangs off your shoulder you know...I think you'd look better all marked up for me" he finishes, hand reaching the plush of your thigh and squeezing. Not gently like you'd expected, no, he dug his fingers into your skin, he wanted to FEEL you.

You couldn’t think of much but him, but you knew this was strange, even for a flirty Taehyun. He'd rendered you essentially useless with his stupid touches, and sultry words. "Tae, what are you doing?" You whispered, lacking confidence to raise your voice at him when he was so very close to your body. Scared your voice might break and he’ll know how desperate you are for him.

He leant over you, pushing you further into the sofa. "What's it look like I’m gonna do doll... I'm gonna fuck you~" he chuckles. Your thighs act subconsciously and squeeze together, encasing his hand in the soft plush of your thighs. A sigh escaped him as he spoke, "oh? And that's exactly what you want isn't it? Such a bad girl" He draws closer, expectedly.

He was looking for an answer, but you didn't have one, you were wordless, such a dumb fucking slut. He had you wrapped around his finger, but you just couldn't figure out how to comply.

He tuts, pushing his hand higher up your legs until he reaches your clothed cunt, panties wet with arousal. "Answer me slut~" He ordered, seemingly unsurprised by how soaked you were. He just knew you've been walking around the flat all day just thinking about him fucking you, such a naughty little thing-

You chocked on your words, but you got them out like he wanted, "y-yes... I was hoping the s-shirt would catch your attention" you admitted, looking away from him in embarrassment.

He grabs your face roughly and forces you to look at him, his eyes were a deep black, no twinkle like normal. He was hungry, and you would be his meal.

“it's rude to look away from someone whilst they are speaking to you. You really have no manners, huh? First you tease me with this fucking shirt, next you can't even answer me, then you look away from me whilst I'm talking. I'm gonna have to teach you some manners huh? Teach you how to be a good girl?" He pushes his fingers past the brink of your panties, the tips of his fingers instantly coated in the pool of desire between your legs. A gasp instantly slipped from your lips when he circled your clit. "Not gonna answer me slut?" He groaned, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

"I'll be a good girl! Fuck me!" You whine, grinding down onto his hand. He leans back so he's sat in between your legs, gripping your hip to hold you in place "first lesson, stay still. I'll fuck you how I want, you’ll take it how I give it… understood slut?".

"Understood" you whimper, nodding pathetically as he begins to sped up. He hums in approval "if you break a rule I'll have to punish you, do you understand that?" He asks once again. You nod at him, once again but quickly remember you need to respond "yes Tae" you whine.

He hums in thought before quickening his pace with his fingers, brutally fucking you dumb. He leans back over you, hand resting next to your head to hold himself up as he whispers in your ear "from now on its yes sir, you got that whore?".

You whine at the sound of his demand and moan "yes s-sir". His lips quirk up so sinfully, god he loved the sound of you calling him sir. He couldn't take the distance anymore, he finally closed the space between your lips as he kisses you. Each move was calculated, mastered like a skill.

His tongue slipped into your mouth as you moaned, seizing the chance to further take control of you, to use you like a puppet. Your tongues twirled together, until he quickly pulled back and bit your lip. Droll slipping from the corner of your mouth and lips swollen from kisses, you whimper "s-sir, please- wan' your cock" you beg. You were utterly pathetic, utterly adorable, perfect... absolutely perfect.

He tuts at you "is this not enough for you doll? Do you need more? Do I not make you feel good enough?" He asked, but it was all a trap, questions to make you trip up so he could punish you. He begged you'd slip up and break a rule so he could have you laid over his lap begging for him to stop as he spanks your pretty ass. He needed that.

"Feel s' good- I just need you" you whine, hands coming up from gripping the sofa to touch his abs, gently running your fingers down till you reach his joggers.

He tuts at your action, using his spare hand to grip both of yours, restraining your movement. A sly smirk spreads across his face, he'd finally caught you doing something else wrong, but technically it wasn’t a rule, so he can’t punish you yet. But he’ll make it a rule. You’ll do it again and he'll punish you, for your own benefit of course. 

"next rule, don't touch me, unless I give you permission. It's a privilege you have to earn by being good for me~" he teases, bringing your hands up to his face and licking your wrist teasingly.

"Sir, please, I need you" you begged once again, trying not to wriggle as he begins to finger fuck you again. "You don't get my cock till you follow all the rules. D'ya understand that whore?" He tuts, and suddenly the realisation dawns upon you, it sounds like you won't be getting his cock at all today.

You nod at him "okay, I'll be good, so good" and by that point you sound so dumb and needy for his cock that he's almost willing to give it to you, but he'll stay strong. He needs to teach you a lesson first. Bad girls who tease him don't get what they want, even if it's what he also happens to want. He wanted to fuck you stupid, drill you into the sofa, but not now, maybe later tonight-

[pearlymel]

Just wanna be in your arms.

Pairings: Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Synopsis: Coming back home from work all day to be in your arms makes it worth the exhaustion. All Fluff, angst if you squint.

Wc: 846

ೃ࿔₊notes: today drained me, writing this after doing all my work made me happy.

You were wrapped up in your favorite blanket while watching a film you decided to watch for entertainment. You then paused the the film with a sigh, eyes glancing towards the clock that was hanging on the wall that you can hear it ticking louder than usual—it was nearly midnight.

Oddly enough, your beloved boyfriend still wasn’t home, even when he was always strict and punctual when it came to leaving work. This has been going on for a few days every week, and you can’t blame yourself for the feeling of uncertainty growing in your gut.

Just as you were about to start overthinking again, the front door creaked. Your head snapping back to see a worn-out Kento who was muttering to himself in annoyance while taking his shoes off and placing them to the side before collapsing on the couch face first next to you.

You blink down at him, a bit unsure how to approach his slumped figure. “Rough day?” You decide to ask softly, hands still keeping them to yourself on your lap while watching him intently. “Hah, you have no idea.” He huffed against the cushions, hands then loosening the necktie because lifting his face tiredly.

“I had to cover for this slacker coworker of mine today.” He groaned from exhaustion. “It wasn’t even just a few hours before of overtime. The bastard left me hanging ‘till eleven thirty.”

“Poor baby.” You offer him a small smile, he immediately looks at you, and it just feels like the tension of his shoulders dropped when you started caressing his cheek.

“I didn’t even greet you properly.” He rasped with a frown, and his concern to that only made you smile even more. “Hello, sweetheart.” He whispered with a small tired smile

“Hi, Honey.” You whisper back, drawing your arms closer to embrace him and he immediately melts, face buried into your neck. “God, the thought of going back to work tomorrow is not a pleasant thought.” He murmured quietly against your skin, followed by a soft exhale when you start running your fingers through his hair, slowly massaging his scalp.

He lifts his head after a few moments, looking at you with gentle eyes “you know,” he started lazily, “I appreciate you sticking around with me, even when i barely give you any of my attention these days.”

And now you’re confused, of course you would stay with him. You would give him everything and anything he wanted. You would wait a hundred years just for him.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if i had come back to an empty house.” You feel your heart squeeze at his words, but you want to lighten up the situation. So you playfully yet lightly give his cheeks a pinch.

“Mmhm, ‘s not bad coming home to someone waiting for you, no?”

“It isn’t, is it?” He smiled, returning your grin. “I don’t know,” he continued, “I think I’ve gotten used to coming back to an empty, quiet house. It’s not like I ever had anyone waiting for me before, anyway.”

“And now you won’t ever have to come back to an empty house, Ken.” You reassure him, and he believes you, listens to you. He’d be damned to ever let go of someone as precious as you.

“Are you cold?” You then ask to check up on him since tonight was slightly chillier than usual, but he shakes his head in return.

“Are you?” He asks this time, and you nod. “Just a bit.”

“Here,” he pulls you impossibly closer until your arms were encircling around him. “Let me share my heat with you.”

You smile against his shoulder, trying to hide how your heart raced quicker at the closeness. “Is that your excuse to just have me in your arms?” You murmur and he laughs quietly, “no… and yes?” He tightened his grip around you before yawning in relief.

“I missed our little evening chats,” he added.

“Hm, me too.” You respond back, “missed the days where you wouldn’t overwork.”

“I’m sorry, love.” And he frowns again, her words bringing a twinge of regret.

“You don’t need to apologize, Ken.”

“You never deserved a busy, tired guy like me—” This time, you shut him up with your lips. Your soft lips giving his a chaste kiss. He’s dumbfounded, staring at you in amusement.

“Please don’t ever think of yourself that low. I love you, and that won’t ever change because of your job.” You told him in a firm tone yet in a gentle approach.

“Thank you.” He says, his thumb tracing circles around your waist, and you chuckle. “For what?”

“For loving me for who i am, even when I’m at my best or worst. I love you, dearest.” He whispers close to your lips, and you roll your eyes playfully at him before giggling.

“I should quit my job.” He suggests and you raise your eyebrow. You would support him nonetheless, especially when it’s making him this tired.

“Will you?”

“Yeah, I should marry you too.”

[sunnie-angel]

Part 2: The Decision

part 1 | part 3 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason todd easily sees the potential for something more in his friendship with you but resolves to keep his distance.

tags: fluff, self-loathing, off-screen killing

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.8k

a/n: sooo i had planned to get the second chapter out much sooner, wrote it, realized that what i had planned for chapter 3 worked better, had to rewrite chapter 3 as chapter 2, and ended up here (cue the internal screaming). on the upside, that means you’ll all get an update on chapter 3 (formerly chapter 2) much sooner.

Jason Todd has somehow gotten back on track to graduate university, fallen in with a group of friends, and may have found the first person to truly understand him this side of the Pit. He’d been uncertain about finishing university, already dealing with the hassle of running a criminal empire and the tattered threads of his family relationships. But Talia had suggested, “Better not to be consumed by revenge so that one may properly enjoy its results,” and that had been all it took to convince him. Barbara, for all their problems still unresolved, had helped him hide the decision from the bats and hadn’t that been a lovely conversation to have?

Sitting in class that first day had been strange, a sense of deja vu hitting him of all the times he’d sat in classrooms before. A different person answers now when he’s called on to introduce Jason Todd. As part of his time with the League, Talia had arranged for him to take courses by correspondence but none of that had prepared him for it would be like to be in a classroom with a handful of 20-somethings. It makes him feel old to hear them discuss their plans for the future with the surety of a world that will shape itself to their expectations. If he’s honest with himself, it also makes him envious.

He hadn’t expected to be invited to lunch that first day, though he’d at least seen the blonde’s approach. It had been… nice to be noticed, like he was any other 22 year old new to campus and looking for friends. What had really caught Jason’s eye though was Danika’s (that’s what her name was, right?) friend, standing a few rows back. She’d looked downright mortified by her friend’s antics but had smiled tentatively at him anyway. He’d rushed through his meeting with Dr. Okafor, really just confirming a time to discuss his credit transfers. Clearly he’s interrupted yet another embarrassing moment for you, but you handle it with a grace that rivals only Alfred’s ability to deal with inconvenient situations.

That intrigues him though, your kindness even when uncomfortable. Finding out you’re from home, another Crime Alley kid that defied the odds but never forgot your roots endears you to him even more. You bite back, take the attention away from him when you see how flustered he is by Lina calling him pretty and he’s determined now to make you a friend.

You’re smaller than he thought once you’re finally sitting next to him. He’s acutely aware of how the booth forces the two of you together, the long length of him pressed up against your side. The way your knee knocks into his thigh and the soft cushion of where your hip meets his. You’re one of his already, one of those that the Red Hood has claimed as under his protection, but the reality of you drives home who his work is really helping. Your mention of food pulls him out of his thoughts and scrambling to rectify the situation by offering to share his own. He’s positively delighted by your reaction, the way your compliments freely given still have a bite to them that’s honest. A warmth in his stomach that doesn’t originate from the spices in his meal only makes him want to figure out more ways to draw you out of your shell.

You share another class with him in the afternoon and he’s thanking whichever lucky star is smiling down at him that he’ll get you to himself at least once a week for the next few months. Walking into class with an acquaintance, though maybe it's too soon to call you that, is everything he wanted in the time from Before. Lost day dreams of sharing a desk with a friend in high school, hanging out together after, longings for in-jokes and shared histories are rearing their heads. Class passes quickly, a flurry of information and a hyper awareness of how close his body is to yours. It’s only an introductory class, but already he can tell that you’re clever from the few times you speak up. Makes him look forward to the next class when he’d never planned for academics to be his priority.

Class lets out into the evening air just starting to turn crisp with a hint of dampness. He’ll have to go soon, get started with patrol now that darkness was coating the city. He turns to you and distracts himself from the strip of skin where your shirt rides up as you stretch by asking you about your plans for the evening. Walking you to the bus stop is nice, in a quiet kind of way. He stays until he’s sure you’re safely on the bus, doors closing with a pneumatic hiss. Walks off the path and out of the halo of the street lamp until the shadows have swallowed him whole. Takes care to check that no one’s looking and scales the side of the building, gothic stonework rough under his bare palms. Scans the horizon until he’s found your bus again and goes to follow. Thinks that maybe the paranoia that had persuaded him to pack most of his Hood gear in a school bag isn’t the worst thing to suffer from. It’s overboard yeah, but you’re a pretty girl planning to walk alone at night. He just wants to make sure that you get home all right. You weren’t exaggerating when you said the bus stop was only a block from your apartment, but he still breathes easier when he sees the warm glow of lamp light click on through your apartment window. You should have better locks on your window if it’s looking out onto a fire escape, he thinks idly. But its a problem for later and when he’s got a more solid reason to bring it up.

Patrol is quiet most of the night. Buoyed by the unexpected success of the day, his usual route feels brand new. He takes pleasure in the way the wind picks up his jacket and whips it around him, almost laughs out loud at the way his stomach swoops before the grappling line pulls taut. Jason’s managed a full day of normalcy, something that no one thought he could do. Not after everything. He’d talked to people his age that for once weren’t the victim of some terrible crime and came away with the potential for friendships. It’s been a long time since he’s had more than a work related conversation with his men or a cryptic conversation with Talia he doesn’t count all the arguments with his fath— with Bruce. For the first time in a long time being the Hood isn’t the burden it had become. The peace doesn’t last for long though.

A whisper of black fabric on a rooftop just outside of the territory he’s established brings him crashing back down, a reminder of just how badly his attempts at anything other than solitude have fractured. It’s a bracing kind hurt, like when the air’s too cold after a snowfall and you can practically taste the ice crystals as they tear into the soft heat of your lungs. He needs it though, that reminder that no one who knows him is capable of seeing him without the siren call of suspicion following him. That thought follows him through the rest of patrol and the mechanical motions of getting to bed. It solidifies as he drifts off to sleep just as the first rays of light start to clear the skyline. He’ll grasp at this chance to be someone else for a bit, Jason Todd the fresh faced student, but that’s all it’ll be. A façade to keep everyone else from getting too close. Danika, Will, “call me Lina”, Rei, even you. Friends, but at a distance.

Jason doesn’t have any classes on Tuesday, but he runs into you as he exits his meeting with Dr. Okafor. It’s a new building to him, despite the time he’s spent pouring over all of the campus’ blueprints. He turns a corner on a staircase looking for an exit and almost knocks you back down where you’d just emerged from.

“Hey! Are you blind or— oh. Jason.” Your tone goes from indignant to wondering in a second, eyes wide with recognition.

“Not blind, but definitely not paying enough attention. You good though?” And he should probably be a little more sorry about it, but the glee of not having to wait until the next week to see you again outweighs it.

“Oh after the class I just had, it’d take a lot more than that to ruin my day.” A group tries to pass you two on the stairs, buffets the two of you into the railing.

“You wanna take this somewhere else? Give me another chance to ruin your day?” He grins, lopsided but hopeful.

You nod, and he leads the way, hulking figure cutting through the stream of people. He finds a nook on the first floor, big overstuffed chairs surprisingly empty for this time of day. You throw yourself into a chair dramatically, a sigh on your lips as your head tilts back.

“Class really that bad?” He prompts you.

“God I hate assholes that manage to make the most interesting subject painful. Like, at least wait until the second class before you start telling every single student their interpretation is wrong.” You swipe a hand across your face before visibly trying to pull yourself back together. “But as much as I hate Duvall’s teaching it’s mandatory for my program so I’m just gonna have to put up with his shit until next semester. Get my revenge during prof evaluations.”

“Look we don’t know each other that well, but by my reckonin’ you know what you’re on about. Don’t let him shake you, yeah?”

“Oh I know all about not listening to people that think my opinion isn’t worth the paper it’s written on. It just pisses me off that I still gotta deal with it every week for the foreseeable future.”

“Hey I’m all ears.” He offers, and it’s not entirely altruistic. Jason wants to support you, but it’s also a chance to learn more about you. It’s all a chance to be regular civilian he tells himself, and a civilian would do this for a friend.

“I’d love to but I think it’s right about—“ and the alarm on your phone sounds out, “yep, its about time for me to head to my internship.” You start to gather your things together. “But usually our group gets together on Wednesday afternoons to grab lunch and study together. We usually grab the same table in the student union around noon if you want to join us.”

Jason does join the study session, not that he needs to. But it's nice to spend time with people who like who they think he is. He arrives just as you slide into the booth, secures himself the seat next you (and the rest of the bench for himself). Your hair falls as you spread out your books and Jason’s close enough to smell whatever product you used last. It dazes him for a minute, and its only the arrival of Lina and Rei that shakes him out of his stupor. He starts up a conversation with Rei on the Gotham U swim team and gets roped in to come practice with him sometime next week. Not to be out done, Lina gently starts asking him how he’s settling in. He answers noncommittally, more focused on the way you’ve started to twirl your pen between your fingers as you come across a particularly dense passage. Seeming to understand that she won’t get much more out of Jason, Lina nudges Rei and they turn to their own books, though not without a tight-lipped and knowing smile on her face. The four of you work in silence broken only by the scribbling of pens and clacking of keyboards. Danika and Will turn up just as your stomach starts rumbling, causing you to meet Jason’s eyes in embarrassment.

He winks at you, before pulling out two Tupperware containers with chopsticks. Sliding one over to you he pretends not to notice as at first you protest, then guiltily start digging in as soon as you smell it.

Brandishing your chopsticks at him, you say “Don’t think I’m not keeping score mister. This has got to count as psychological warfare, there’s no way a sane person could turn you down after tasting your food once.”

He tucks a smile away and simply keeps eating. Will drags over some chairs for him and Danika, the one extra person throwing off your previously established seating arrangements. Conversation buzzes at the other end of the table but he can’t tear his attention away from you enjoying the labours of his hands. Eventually the table turns back to studying and you slide the container back to him with murmured words of thanks. Even you can only study for so long, so it's no great surprise when your books softly thump closed. You rest your forehead on the table and groan.

“Why is there so much reading? It’s only the first week back.”

“Ooooh, you know what that means though?” Danika exclaims. “We have to celebrate the first week back and that means going out! We’ll get dressed up, I’ll do your makeup, we can pregame at mine. You know you want to.” She wheedles.

You mock groan at her pronouncement, turn to rest your temple on the table to make eye contact with her. “Lina does my makeup and we’re done by 1 AM.”

“Awe, killjoy,” the blonde pouts.

“Lina does my makeup, Jason’s in charge of picking the post-club takeout, and we’re done by 2 AM. Final offer.”

Lina grins at Jason before shrugging. “Fine by me.”

Jason’s not sure what to expect when he shows up to the address Danika had sent through the group text. It’s a nicer part of town, a part of Gotham Heights he’s had no reason to visit as either of his identities. The doorman lets him in without too much fuss once Danika calls down to confirm he’s expected. She lets him in excitedly, limbs uncoordinated with the help of a few drinks. Rei leans forward to pour Jason a drink and at the same time you turn to look for who had arrived. The first thing Jason notices is the shiny red lip gloss you’re wearing as your lips spread into a smile at the sight of them. Something about the colour, bolder than you usually wear, sends heat straight to his groin. He hadn’t even realized that his hearing had gone muffled until Rei asks him for a second time how many shots Jason wants in his drink. Oh, he thinks distractedly. This could be a problem.

It definitely is a problem when he’s washing blood off his hands in the early hours of the morning and the only thing he can think of is that same cherry red lip gloss wrapped around the straw of your drink under the club’s strobing lights. How you’d looked up at him with pupils dilated from the drink and the heat, lips parted and gloss catching the light. The self-loathing hits then, crippling in its intensity. You’re smart and funny and so pretty it makes his breath catch. The last thing you need is him fantasizing after you less than an hour after he’d taken a life. The colour of a man’s life blood shouldn’t be causing him desperate to see if you’d taste as sweet as you look. It’s selfish and cowardly but he doesn’t want to give you up just yet. Doesn’t want to see the little smiles and commiserating looks turn to fear and hatred just yet. No, he can do this. He can smile and play nice, play at the Jason Todd you deserve. The one that won’t make you worry or hurt you with the truth of himself. Rules, he decides, rules are what he needs because it’s oh so easy to get caught up in you.

He can get close, but he can’t touch. It doesn’t matter how soft your skin looks or how tempting it would be to play with your hair. If he lets himself touch he is lost.

He will never let himself enter your home. He’s already followed you there, it’s a lost cause to pretend that he won’t check up on your safety. Better to decide now to never cross that final threshold.

He won’t let you in. He’ll be the best friend he is capable of being but he won’t let you see the truth of him. After all, it’s what’s sent those that know him running.

He will never tell you that he’s ever thought about anything more than friendship.

Part 3

[bigboysfalldeep]

mass cop conversion

After a successful field test, Officers Bradley, Johnson, Miller, and Phillips were sitting inside their vehicle. It was a pretty exhausting day, doing multiple fitness tests, shooting exercises, and reviewing tactical guidelines.

They are on their way back to the station on a vacant road through the forest, a little outside of town. Bradley has been sitting in the passenger seat right next to his partner for 3 years, Johnson, who's sitting behind the steering wheel. The other two officers are sitting in the back, both of them browsing their phones. He exchanged a knowing look with his partner before shaking their heads and smiling.

As two senior officers, they had to teach the greener cops how to act, what to do, and what to say without causing too much trouble. It was working quite well, but at times, the rookies, especially Phillips, were a bit too enthusiastic.

After a long day at work, Bradley was barely able to keep his eyes open; luckily, he wasn't the one driving. Yet, as he rests his head against the seat behind him, he spots a little bright light shining through the woods.

"That's odd." He growled, drawing Johnson's attention.

"What?" His partner asked before turning his head as well.

Both of them watch the light shine brighter, illuminating more and more of the forest ground.

Now, even the rookies turned their heads, and all four men watched the light approach them, bewildered, before Johnson stopped the car.

"What are you doing?" Miller asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"It could be something worth investigating." Bradley said, looking at his partner.

But then, before any of the officers could react, the light widened even more, engulfing their entire vehicle in a bright, white light.

"What the fuck?" Bradley said, covering his eyes with the back of his hands, as all the others did the same.

Through his fingers, he was able to see a big, shadowy figure approach their car from the front, clearly the source of this bright light.

"Fuck this." Johnson grunted, hitting the horn of the car in frustration.

"Who is this motherfucker?" Phillips groaned, trying to get a better look at the source of light as well.

Shaking his head, Bradley reached for the door, but before he could open it, a weird feeling spread through him.

The air all around them grew thicker, so heavy that it got so much harder to breathe properly. A burning sensation spread across Bradley's skin and eyes; clearly, it wasn't some ordinary light.

"Fuck." Miller groaned as well, and Bradley turned his head to the other officer's. Just by their expression alone, he knew they were feeling the same thing.

With his hands shaking, he reached for the door again, but the pressure on his body just got way worse. Something was pushing him back—some invisible force causing their bodies to stay in place.

"We need....to get out." Bradley's body was pressed against the seat, and he couldn't move a muscle; instead, his body tensed more and more due to the pressure put upon it.

"I can't.." Johnson said breathlessly, obviously feeling the same. "What is this?" His face grimaced in pain, and his voice broke, ending in a silent moan.

Bradley turned his head to find his partner leaning back against the seat, breathing very quickly. Both of his hands are on his chest, clawing at his clothes. He could tell that he was barely able to breathe.

At this time, his breath quickened rapidly as well. As Bradley tried to regain his composure, he looked at the rookies through the rear view mirror, just to see them in a similar state. Phillips looked even worse, sweating and panting heavily while also clawing at his tight uniform. The temperature inside the car rose as well, causing their predicament to feel even worse.

Both rookies looked at him, seemingly asking for help, but there was nothing he could do.

"It's going to be fine." He growled, trying to make the rookies feel at ease, even though he didn't even know what was happening to them.

Bradley shook his head but was unable to avoid the light. His face flushed with color as his skin heated up even more.

Subconsciously, he started to tug at his clothes and his vest, and he somehow managed to remove his helmet, making it a little easier to breathe, just for a second. It dropped to the floor, but the pressure on his chest intensified again.

The light was shining ever so brightly right inside their eyes, but there was something else, something much more dangerous, inmidst those beams of light—another, invisible beam, a force echoing through the entire vehicle.

Just then, Bradley noticed some sort of sound—music or a speech—echoing through the entire car as well. He couldn't understand a word; he just felt a rhythm invading his mind.

"What is that?" He growled, still breathing so fast.

In response, Phillips let out a low moan, with his voice so rough.

The car was rocking slightly, something neither officer had experienced before.

Bradley closed his eyes, all of him focusing, trying so hard to get control, to move, to get out of this car, yet something was stopping him—something now crawling into his mind.

Images appeared—so many different, weird images: men on their knees, men made to serve, men made to obey.

It struck something deep inside him: the sound, the rhythm, that blinding light—all of it was putting so much pressure on his body and mind.

As waves of electricity pulsated through every fiber and every bone of his body, his muscles were the first to react.

Bradley's body grew hard; his muscles bulged against the fabric of his uniform, causing his vest to act as more of a restraint than actual protection.

Unaware, he was now stroking himself, running a hand across his chest firmly through his vest and uniform shirt while trying to calm himself down and steady his breaths.

"Fuck." He shook his head, opened his eyes, and looked through the rear-view mirror once more.

Shocked, he saw both rookies doing the same, but even more: Phillips and Miller were leaning back against the seats, stroking their own chests with both of their hands. Their faces were plagued by pain and pleasure, with their expressions shifting rapidly. 

Both officers let out low moans as their bodies slowly reacted to their strokes. Their bodies moved in sync with the strokes and sensual movements.

Bradley himself intensified his strokes, feeling all of his muscles tense more and more.

As much as it was terrifying, something deep inside him found this alluring, but that wasn't him. It was a thought planted in him by that invisible, indoctrinating force.

"What is happening?" He cried out before a low groan escaped his lips. Barely able to move, he turned his head to see Johnson already one step ahead.

His partner's face looked pain-ridden, looking right into the bright light. He was stroking himself firmly beneath his vest, feeling himself, and touching himself so lovingly.

Bradley didn't understand what was happening to them, but his body was oddly into it. He could tell his member was hard already. Either due to the sight of the other officers or the pressure put on his body, he couldn't tell.

Just then, when he turned his face back into the light, his head grew so heavy. It was burning his eyes and, at the same time, invading his mind.

Panting, he struggled to keep his eyes open while his mind was flooded with more images and more thoughts of simple obedience.

This time, however, he saw himself as the obedient one. He was down on his knees, right next to this man he only knew as "sir". 

He was wearing a similar uniform, but his hands were cuffed behind his back. It was tight—it hurt a little—but he didn't mind. The man touched him lovingly—his cheeks, neck, and down to his thick chest—and it felt so good.

At the same time, one of his hands ran down his chest, right to his thighs, and between his legs. Bradley was growing so hard and so fast, and a sudden warmth began to engulf his chest.

Like a flower, it bloomed inside his chest and spread rapidly. His whole upper body tingled, and his breathing got out of control. Bradley moaned in ecstacy, leaning his head back once more.

His eyes rolled back into his head, turning white, while the tingling sensation flowed through him—into his arms, hands, and even into his fingertips. They felt numb, yet he experienced so much pressure and pleasure—his clothes were restraining him, however.

He tried to tear his clothes apart as all of his muscles grew bigger and harder, straining the fabric of his now-tight uniform.

Bradley was struggling to keep a sane mind; it was surreal. He managed to steady his head, but his eyes were so heavy.

Unable to speak, more moans escaped his lips, and when his eyes fell on those two rookies again, he groaned.

The young officers were experiencing the exact same thing. Both of them were touching themselves firmly through their uniforms. Their dicks were tenting visibly, with Phillips already staining his clothes either with his sweat or his cum.

They moaned and thrusted a few times, experiencing pure pleasure. Their eyes too rolled back a few times as their rough and husky voices filled the air all around them.

This encouraged Bradley to touch himself through his pants as well. His cock was larger than ever before—it was pressing against his pants, visibly even through his underwear and uniform—and he felt all of him growing even harder by the second.

Bradley was sweating heavily now as the air all around him grew even thicker, filled with the moans and groans of the other officers. The smell was even worse; all men were sweaty already, yet this was different. As some were leaking, it's smell mixed with the other bodily fluids.

Bradley closed his eyes, trying his best to block these thoughts, smells, and noises, but all he saw were more images of him being a mere plaything.

The man was demanding more, so his body flexed hard. He did everything to please him. And the same command entered his mind over and over again.

"Obey."

Part of him wanted to obey, to give in, yet he had to push it back to regain control over himself again.

Fighting back, shaking his head, and trying to thrash around, Bradley turned to Johnson, who was looking at him as well. Both men were touching themselves and their cocks firmly, but they tried hard to stay focused.

Johnson was looking for help—a release—but neither of them could move even an inch. They were struggling so hard but failed. Whatever was happening shouldn't be happening, was all they could think.

But the now-comforting warmth kept spreading into every corner of their bodies, making it so much harder to not just give in. Their minds were invaded once again—even more images of simple, blissful obedience.

Bradley steadied himself against the seat, one hand firmly grabbing his own cock, the other on his chest, stroking himself lovingly.

The warmth entered his thighs and legs and flowed into his toes, causing the numbing, tingling sensation to become more intense. His body moved on its own, spreading his legs to make more space for his large member and his hands running along its ever-growing shaft.

For one last time, he looked into the rear-view mirror.

In horror, he saw both officers giving in to this phenomenal feeling; Phillips and Miller were touching each other, stroking each other's chests firmly. Their gazes were empty, just looking straight ahead, while their expressions kept shifting—pain and pleasure—again and again.

He watched their hands encompass each other's bodies: chests, thighs, necks, biceps, and pecs. All while they growled, moaned, and groaned in unison.

Holding back a painful moan, he suddenly felt a hand on his chest—his partner's hand. Johnson started to stroke him gently.

"What are you?" Bradley turned his face to look at the other officer, who was looking into the bright light, his face red yet unbothered.

He tried to fight back, but something deep inside him was enjoying this. "Don't," he begged, but Johnson didn't reply; however, he moaned instead, still looking right into the light.

This sparked something inside Bradley's chest: the urge to be touched and be fondled with by another man. He saw the images again—how good it felt to be touched like that, to be obedient.

"Fuuck." He moaned deeply, loving the firm hand touching him, stroking him, and playing with his nipples through the thin fabric of his uniform.

Instinctively, he reached out as well, and once his fingertips touched Johnson's chest, his dick grew even harder.

He never thought of touching a man like that before, especially his partner or any other officer, but it just felt so good.

Bradley loved how this man's body reacted to the simplest touch—how hard his muscles and tight his clothes were.

He turned his face into the light and acted simply on command.

Both officers were touching each other, feeling each other, and enjoying each other's bodies.

It felt like the tingling sensation was following their every move as their bodies shifted slightly.

The officers eyes were unfocused; now vacant, all of them stared into the light when a single thought flooded their minds.

"Obey. Cum and obey. Cum and obey."

Simultaneously, the four men reached down for each other's rock-hard cocks, stroking them through their pants at first.

Sweating, they started to drool heavily as more and more moans escaped their lips.

One by one, they struggled to unbutton their uniform pants, but after a few failed attempts, they succeeded.

As Johnson pulled out Bradley's wet, hard cock, he instantly started to play with it. All the others did the same, wrapping their hands around each other's dicks and moving their hands up and down their lengths.

It just felt so good to be touched like that, causing them to let out satisfied groans.

Bradley bit his lower lip, holding back, yet his low guttural growl echoed through the car, followed by similar noises from the others.

While their cocks were being fondled with, they stroked their own chests again, and the tingling feeling entered their necks and minds.

All of them grew weaker, yet their strokes became firmer.

Their hands moved to an unseen and unheard rhythm, and all four cops were edging already.

It wouldn't take long for them to fulfill their duty.

"Serve. Cum and obey."

Miller's cock was the first to give in to the pressure. He shot load after load, covering not only Phillip's hands but their clothes with his precious, hot cum.

His moans filled the air, followed by Johnson, then Phillips. All of them were cumming simultaneously, and the smell of cum and sweat was undeniable.

With one final stroke, Bradley gave in to that tingling as well. As his cock erupted, his mind was drained of everything.

He couldn't think or speak; he just moaned again and again.

Bradley's beautiful eyes were vacant, unfocused, and dull, just like the others'.

With every load and every ounce of cum leaving their bodies, more and more of their will, their resilience, and their minds were drained. Replaced with only one thought.

Obedience.

They sat there for what felt like hours, but it was mere minutes.

The light turned off, and several shadowy figures approached the vehicle. They watched through the windows and found four cops—mere empty husks, empty and ready for further programming.

Their clothes were stained with sweat, cum, as they kept drooling as well.

The doors opened, and a young man, seemingly enjoying this sight very much, smirked.

"The first stage is complete." He said that and reached for Officer Bradley's chest, touching him and stroking him firmly, but the cop didn't react.

"Good boys." The man patted his chest and looked at four other men doing the same.

"Take them for further experiments." The man took a step back.

"Yes, sir." 

He watched four bulky men dressed in black leather pull those four cops out of the car—a sight to behold.

Their dicks were hanging out of their pants; all of them were covered in sweat and cum—a debilitating smell. Their eyes were empty, and even though they were thick, muscular men, they didn't fight back.

The officers were carried toward the other vehicle and out into the back.

With one last smile, the young man looked at them before closing the back doors.

[leeneir]

Relationship; Iso x Gender Neutral!Reader Headcanons

This is my first time posting stuff like this so idk how it fully works but I'm figuring things out🫶

These are mostly based off of what I have written for my Iso x oc ship, I'm sorry for that but take what you like💙💙🫶

Iso at first introduction isn't talkative. He's not necessarily an asshole, but he is introverted. Either you'll have to pull the first move quickly, or let him warm up to you

Very much goofy. If you have loose locks of hair, Iso will push it back and forth with his finger like a cat.

Iso LOVES food, but he's also picky. He's the type to eat his favorite food nonstop, but if there's something he doesn't like, he won't eat it. If you don't mind, he'll let you have it.

Boy is RICH. Not like presumably Chamber, but he's an infamous assassin that can kill dozens at a time. He's got money for sure. Iso will spoil you with clothes, food, items, literally anything you want he'll buy it for you. Oh, there's a really nice top you saw at the store earlier? He'll buy all the options available. (Bonus: He knows your size and preferences.)

LOVES holding you. It doesn't really mean holding you. Iso will simply put a hand on the small of your back and just keep it there while you're talking to other agents.

Iso is a jealous type but it isn't too much of an issue. He'll notice how you were extra chatty with Yoru during training or how you volunteered to help Sage the entire day and he'll get a bit annoyed that you aren't spending time with him too. Later that, he'll come into your room with a knock and literally just bury his face in your neck while keeping his arms firmly around your waist. You wouldn't see it, but he's definitely pouting.

Adding on to the last HC, Iso will stay like this with you even though your standing. If you complain that your tired, he'll simply pull away, pick you up, and carry you to your bed where he'll snuggle up to you for the next few hours.

Iso isn't open about your relationship. He's not one for PDA, the most he'll do is just place a hand on your shoulder or back. No one even knows he has feelings for you (even you earlier on). But behind closed doors, he's one big softie.

Iso has of playlists for any scenario. You're on a mission and he misses you? He's got one. You two are together and he's just staring at uou lovingly? Yup, got one for that too. Both of you are with the other agents and you're on opposite ends of the group and it feels like a slowburn friends to lovers romance? You bet. This man has playlists for a n y t h i n g .

Iso does that thing where when you're aim training and your form is a bit wrong, he'll hold you and guide you properly and intimately. There's no room between you guys.

If you get injured on a mission, Iso will beg Sage in his mother tongue to stay by you and make sure you're. He doesn't tell her about your relationship, but because he's asking in their native language, Sage has a suspicion that there's more than he's leading on. (Bonus: She's the first to figure out your relationship but is a good bro and doesn't tell.)

Iso is an artist. He's more into environmental sketching, but he'll occassionally draw you. He gets embarrassed when you find out and probably assumes you think he's a creep. Show him some TLC and reassure him that you love the drawings, it'll get you a kiss.