#probably need to move the one shoulder scar closer to the arm

[headcanonsetcc]

I've seen a lot about what it would like to date Jason Todd, so here's mine in three daily scenarios~

----------~(⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

His arm hung lazily around your shoulders, a silent declaration that you are his, perhaps even a reminder for him. He manspread on the couch, a drink in one hand while the other squeezed your shoulder gently. You were both at the Wayne Manor after another one of Jason's mandatory family dinners Dick somehow convinced him to do every week, and Jason decided to bring you along. He never says it, and he might never actually admit it, but you are his anchor, the one thing that can hold him down. Tim was in a video game battle with Dick on the ground, laid out and focused solely on beating the other. Damian sat in the armchair beside them, criticizing every wrong move Tim made and saying how he would have done it better. Bruce was gone, probably somewhere in the BatCave, and Alfred was making his famous cookies, the smell so alluring that the other half of the Batfamily were all waiting in the kitchen.

"...Did you like dinner?" Jason asked, his voice only loud enough for you to hear. He had been staring at you silently for a while, something you noticed but didn't say anything about.

"I'm still thinking about that food even though I'm stuffed. It was delicious." You met his gaze, his blue eyes that had a smidge of green stared back at you, unspoken love clear in them. "I should thank your family again, especially Alfred for making me some food, too."

Jason only let out a light hum, and for a moment he didn't say anything, until he smiled softly and pressed a kiss to your lips, savoring the taste.

"Nah, it's okay. You've already told them twice."

You didn't know it, and in fact only Alfred and Bruce knew, but Jason had actually been the one to make tonight's dinner. Just for you.

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

The morning light hits your eyes, making you squint and shift in bed. It has been another night filled with...strenuous activities, your clothes long forgot about in the kitchen where it first started. You were just lucky he brought you to his apartment, in fact, you mostly hung in his apartment either way. He loved the way your scent was everything of his and if he was being honest with himself, he needed more.

"You okay?" Jason muttered in your neck, the arm over your waist pulling you closer, needing to feel you. He knew he could be a bit rough during *those* moments.

"Mm yeah." You said sleepily despite your limps feeling like jelly. It was hard to tell how those nights would be, as he often switched between being gentle and rough, though you definitely didn't mind.

A moment of silence passed, the birds out the window chirping a sweet melody, adding to the moment. You could feel him open his eyes, his lashes tickling your skin. Then, softly, as if you were a delicate doll, *his* delicate doll, he pressed his lips to your neck. He started from the back of your neck, going towards the curve of your shoulder, even nibbling at your ear. You smiled, your eyes fluttering shut at the lingering kisses. His hand cupped your cheek, trying to turn your face towards him, but you let out an embarrassment 'no' and tugged away.

"My morning breath, love. I can't torture you with that." You joked, but he didn't care, only pulling you closer.

"I'll suffer." He faintly grinned, squeezing your hip and turning you to face him. He tilted your chin up and brought you in a deep kiss, one that made you think he didn't have a sense of smell or taste.

For the rest of the morning Jason had found it upon himself to kiss every atom that was you, his calloused hands, that were healing from you applying moisture and scrubbing them, never leaving your body nor did his lips.

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

You knew Jason had some problems, okay, a lot of them, but it only made you love him more. His scars that you would always trace, his tears that you kiss away. Tonight wasn't any different.

You had just come back from work to find him sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Slowly, you approached, a frown set in place.

"Baby?" You asked, your voice soft. When he didn't respond, you placed your hands over his on his face. "Jason."

Almost surprised, he looked up, panic in his eyes though not because of you. You softened at his glossy eyes, the sparkles of green highlighted in the blue, his lips a bit red from him biting them.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're pitying me. I don't need it."

You glanced between his eyes, your lips going in a thin line as you nodded slightly.

"It's not pity, Jason. It's concern. Concern for the person I love most. You." You clarified, running a hand through his hair and pulling him close.

His face was in your stomach, his shoulders tense from the unshed tears. He wasn't usually like this, he didn't allow himself to be, yet, when he felt you, smelt your comforting scent, he started bawling. His once hesitant tuff at your clothes between an unwavering grasp that told you just how much he needed you in this moment. His shoulders shook and for a moment you didn't see Red Hood or even Jason, you saw a little boy who was scared, you saw your boyfriend who doesn't need a lecture or to talk, but to just cry.

You waited until he was fully calm before lifting his face from your stomach, his hands still clinging onto you, even going underneath your shirt to feel your skin. Silently with a smile, one that he knew wasn't mocking or anything less than in love and caring, you placed tender kisses wherever you saw space on his face. His cheeks, his nose, the corners of his eyes and mouth. His puffy eyes fluttered closed, his lips parted as he memorized every touch of yours.

That night, he was the little spoon, and that morning, he didn't let go of you once.

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

This was just how I saw him in a relationship. Kinda nonchalant but not at the same time, hecka caring and in love but afraid.

Hope y'all liked it~

[thekitsunesiren]

Dc x Dp #54

Dan wondered if he was about to keep most of his mind due to his own existence being an anomly amonst time itself, or if Clockwork somehow interevened because he believed that it was best he had his mind instead of being a complete child with his ridiculous powerset. Probably both, if Dan was being honest. Or should he say "Dante" now? Honestly, he knew his momma wasn't original, but seriously? Dante was the best he could do?

Momma-heh. Dan looked up at his younger counter part as he frantically moved around their small cramped apartment as he tried to wrangle Dani into her pajamas for bed. The younger child flying around and going intangible whenever her momma was too close to putting the clothes on her after their evening bath. It was domestic, somewhat, if you didn't know more about them.

Three out of four of their only kind in hiding. Hiding from those who don't understand them. Who wants to hurt them jsut because they are viewed as non sentient.

Danny could've left him alone. Simply take Dani and leave. But he didn't. He looked at him as a child. His child. Made sure he was just as safe as Dani as they disappeared from Amity and far away from the GIW. Now playing a happy family in one of the most crime ridden towns in the United States. Far enough for the GIW to not immediately look there

Dan remembers his original timeline. When he killed every hero, vigilante, and villain that stood in his way of greatness until there was nothing but weak humans who couldn't defeat him. Every alien invasion wasn't a threat, it was a work out to him. And it lead him to crave more. His need to fight. For Power. To become the strongest until there was nothing left. And yet, even then, the only person that could stop him was him.

Honestly, Dan didn't remember much during his reign. The heroes were strong, but not enough. Even the villains that turned against him weren't anything but a small distraction of the bigger things. But the biggest threat, unsurprisingly, were the bats.

Smart. Cunning. Stubborn. Put up a better fight than anyone else and got closer to anyone else to figuring out how to stop him. How to hold him down. How to make him bleed.

Yes, they lasted the longest out of all of them, and it wasn't until Dan stood over the remains of the infamous bat family did he realize: this was his family.

While only his ghost half, Dan still remembered being Danny. And more than that, he remembered Danyal: the shadow of the heir to the al Ghul name. Twin to Damien Wayne, but treated nothing but a shadow and a bodyguard.

Congratulated none for his efforts but punished twice as much for if Damien failed. He was nothing, while his brother was anything. Scars physically and mentally that he pushed into the back of his mind when he finally left the League. It was easy to see how little how they felt about him when none of them left.

When he left and was adopted by the Fenton's, everything was great. He actually succeeded about forgetting about his past life. Especially with all of the ghost business and trying to hide his identity from his parents.

But as he stood over the corpse of his brother, the youngest Robin, he wondered if Damien ever wondered about him. Wondered if he looked for him. Wondering if the great Batman knew he had another son out there. Would he turn him away if he did? Would he haved turned away Dan? It was too late to find the answers.

Until now that is.

Now, his future was a distant timeline. Broken and forgotten with no going back. But that didn't mean that the people weren't still here. He knew his father was Bruce Wayne. He just didn't know when Damien was introduced to the Wayne family.

Dan startled out of his thoughts when momma picked him up into his arm, Dani in the other dressed and snuggled against momma's chest in a sleepy daze.

He rested his head on momma's shoulder as he was carried into their small bedroom and tucked into bed. His eyes briefly closing as he felt cool lips press against his forehead in a goodnight kiss. A soft and fond voice wishing him and Dani a good night.

Dani responded but Dan stayed quiet. Not opening his eyes until the door clicked shut and his mommas ectoplasmic presenced lessened as he went to the next room. Then, his eyes opened to reveal a glowing red as he stared out the window into the cloudy and smog covered sky that was Gotham.

He was going to get the help his momma needed. He just hoped this trouble was worth that it was.

[dinosus]

Threads of Devotion⋆౨ৎ˚⟡ ˖

Summary : How each Arcane character might feel if the reader called them their favorite person Pairings : Violet, Ekko, Jayce, Victor, Jinx x Reader Warnings : Too much fluff ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Vi (Violet) ₊˚⊹ ᰔ⭑.ᐟ

Vi stops dead in her tracks. She was mid-conversation, her usual cocky demeanor on full display, but your words—“You’re my favorite person, Vi”—hit her like a sucker punch. Her brows furrow slightly, almost as if she didn’t hear you correctly. “Say that again?” she asks, her voice lower, more serious. You repeat it, softer this time, and it’s like watching a storm give way to sunlight. Her tough exterior crumbles just a little, enough for you to catch the faintest pink rising to her cheeks. She exhales through her nose, shaking her head like she’s trying to brush it off, but her lips curl into an unguarded, lopsided smile. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” she mutters, hands finding her hips. Her fingers fidget slightly against her belt, betraying the nerves she rarely lets show.

There’s a pause before she steps closer, her shadow falling over you. Her scarred knuckles brush against yours, hesitant, searching for permission. When you don’t pull away, she grips your hand with a firmness that’s comforting rather than overwhelming. “I don’t know what I did to deserve that,” she says, her voice rough, almost cracking, “but… thanks. That means more than you know.” For the rest of the day, she’s quieter, stealing glances your way with a softness that’s rare. You notice the way she keeps you within arm’s reach, as if silently claiming you as hers. ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Ekko ₊˚⊹ ᰔ⭑.ᐟ

Ekko stops in the middle of adjusting his goggles, the usual smirk on his lips faltering as your words register. “Wait, wait,” he says, holding up a hand like he needs a moment to process. His brown eyes, bright with youthful energy, widen, and for a split second, he looks utterly vulnerable. “You serious right now?” His voice cracks just a little, his usual smooth confidence giving way to something rawer. When you nod, his grin comes back tenfold, wide enough to rival the light of the sun. He laughs, the sound bubbling out of him uncontrollably. “Man, you really know how to make a guy feel special.” But it doesn’t stop there. Ekko steps closer, his movements brimming with energy, his curls bouncing with each step. He plants himself in front of you, arms crossed, but the playful gleam in his eye is unmistakable. “Favorite person, huh? That’s some serious stuff,” he teases, though his voice softens at the edges. His fingers tug at the chain around his neck—a small, nervous gesture—as he leans in, his tone dropping to a near whisper. “Guess what? You’re mine too.”

Later, you find him tinkering with something in his hideout. It’s a small, intricate pendant, the gears moving in perfect harmony. When he hands it to you, there’s no mistaking the pride in his voice. “A favorite deserves somethin’ special, right?." ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Jayce ₊˚⊹ ᰔ⭑.ᐟ

Jayce freezes, his broad shoulders going rigid as your words sink in. He was mid-laugh, hammer slung over one shoulder, radiating the confidence of someone who’s used to leading and inspiring. But this? This was different. He turns to face you, the sunlight catching the gold accents of his armor and the stray strands of hair falling across his forehead. His dark brown eyes search yours, the vulnerability there stark against his usual bravado. “You mean that?” he asks softly, his voice so low it’s almost a whisper. When you nod, his lips part in a smile that’s so genuine it could melt steel. His laugh comes next, warm and boyish, and he shakes his head like he can’t believe his luck. “Wow,” he breathes, rubbing the back of his neck. “That… that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” For all his brilliance and ambition, you can tell your words have touched a part of him he doesn’t often let show.

He sets the hammer down with a soft clink and steps closer, his larger frame almost shielding you. His hand brushes against your shoulder, tentative at first, before it settles there firmly, grounding you both. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his tone a mix of admiration and affection. “Guess I’ll have to work extra hard to keep that title.” ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Viktor₊˚⊹ ᰔ⭑.ᐟ

The room goes still. Viktor’s pen stops scratching against the paper, suspended mid-air as if your words had reached out and taken hold of it. His head tilts slightly, golden eyes peering up at you through strands of messy brown hair. “I—what?” he stammers, the faint tremor in his voice betraying his disbelief. It’s rare to see Viktor, the ever-focused genius, so utterly disarmed. He sets the pen down carefully, as though afraid any sudden movement might break the spell. “You’re joking,” he says, though the slight hitch in his tone suggests he desperately hopes you aren’t. When you shake your head, his lips part in a soft, almost boyish smile—one that carries no trace of his usual guardedness. “Your favorite person…” he repeats, testing the words as though they were foreign. His slender fingers, ink-stained and delicate, fiddle nervously with the edge of his sleeve.

“I… don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favorite anything,” he admits quietly, his accent thick with unspoken emotion. There’s a long pause before he meets your gaze fully, his eyes shining with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief. “Thank you. Truly.” Later, you’d find him working late into the night, crafting something small but exquisite. When he finally hands it to you—a delicate charm inscribed with intricate patterns—it’s accompanied by a shy, almost bashful smile. “For my favorite person,” he murmurs, the words soft but heartfelt. ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Jinx ₊˚⊹ ᰔ⭑.ᐟ

Jinx’s entire body reacts to your words. Her head snaps up, her electric blue hair flying as she whirls around to face you, pink eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait, WHAT?!” she screeches, her voice high-pitched and chaotic. She grabs your shoulders with both hands, her grip firm but not painful, as if she’s trying to ground herself in the moment. “Did you just—did you just say I’m your favorite person?” Her face is a kaleidoscope of emotions—shock, glee, a flicker of doubt, and then unrestrained joy. She laughs, a sound that’s wild and unhinged but full of genuine delight. “Oh, man, you’re not pulling my leg, are ya? Swear on it! Swear on a cupcake!” When you assure her, she lets out a triumphant whoop, throwing her arms around you in a tight, slightly chaotic hug.

But as the laughter dies down, something softer emerges. Her hands linger on your shoulders, her manic energy settling into something more vulnerable. “I mean… that’s cool and all,” she says, trying to play it off, but her voice wavers. “Didn’t think anyone’d ever say that to me.” She pulls back, her grin still wide but tinged with something deeper, more fragile. “Guess that makes you my favorite, too.”

Later, you find a crumpled piece of paper in your pocket, a messy doodle of you and her, surrounded by stars and hearts. At the bottom, scrawled in her uneven handwriting, are the words: “Faves 4ever". ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆─ Hope you enjoyed >:D !! (yes i edited this post lol) IGNORE THESE <3

[gpcwsl]

teen reader who has sh scars across her body and one day when they are changing someone from the team sees but brings it up to leah who overreacts about it.

Sorry I changed it a little, I guess.

Leah Williamson x Teen Reader

Someone

WC: 2048

Leah Williamson MasterList

MasterList

Warnings: Self-harm, Mental health struggles, Anxiety/panic, Emotional distress, Mentions of alcohol (party setting), Depression themes, Supportive response (no graphic detail)

-

The fluorescent lights of the changing room stung your tired eyes as you stepped inside, the heavy thud of your boots against the tile echoing slightly louder than usual. It was too early, and your head was still spinning from last night—not from anything illegal or dangerous, just the overwhelming blur of a party you probably shouldn’t have gone to.

You tried to act normal. You forced a smile at Caitlin, nodded at Lotte, and made your way to your locker. But you could already feel it.

The shift.

The silence.

Someone noticed.

“Wait—what’s that?” Beth’s voice cut through the low chatter. You didn’t look up fast enough to pretend you hadn’t heard.

“What’s on your arm?” Katie added, already walking over before you could tug your sleeve down.

You froze.

The locker room suddenly felt smaller.

Too many eyes.

Your arms were covered in faint, fresh scars—some shallow, some darker, some still healing. They peeked out just under your short sleeves, and there was no use hiding them anymore.

“Did you fall?” Victoria asked gently. “Like, at the party last night?

“Guys, maybe don’t crowd her,” Alessia said, but her voice was tinged with the same concern.

You could feel it building—panic, heat, shame. You didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t even know what to say.

“Y/N.”

That voice made everyone step back just slightly.

Leah Williamson had entered. Vice captain. The protector of all things Arsenal. And she was staring straight at you.

You tried to avoid her gaze, mumbling, “It’s fine. I’m fine. I don’t wanna—”

“What happened?” she cut in, more forceful than anyone else. “Where did those come from?”

Her voice wasn’t angry. It was scared. Frustrated. Like she needed an answer right now or she’d fall apart herself.

Kim walked in right after, eyeing the tension. “Is everything alright?”

“Y/N’s got scars on her arms,” Katie said softly. “We’re just… asking.”

Kim stepped forward, her expression serious but not overbearing. “If something’s going on, you can tell us. No pressure. But you’re not alone, alright?”

You nodded, but didn’t speak. You didn’t know how.

Leah stepped closer, her eyes locked onto yours, barely blinking. “Did someone do this to you?” she asked, voice cracking slightly.

“No,” you said, finally. “It’s… it’s just been hard. That’s all. Last night didn’t help. I’m just tired.”

Leah exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for years. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, voice small.

“I know,” she replied, softer now. “But next time, talk to someone. Me. Kim. Anyone. We’re your teammates—but we’re also your family. And I won’t let you carry this by yourself.”

Kim nodded, putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We’ve got you.”

And just like that, the changing room wasn’t cold anymore. You weren’t just a teenager surrounded by elite players—you were one of them. And they weren’t letting you fall.

-

Training didn’t start for another thirty minutes, but no one moved.

You sat on the bench near your locker, arms tucked close to your body—not because you were cold, but because being seen like this made you feel vulnerable. Too exposed. Too real.

But Leah sat next to you. Quiet, steady. Not crowding, just there.

She didn’t need to say anything yet. Her presence was loud enough.

Kim stood nearby, leaning against a locker with her arms crossed. Calm. Observing. Her eyes weren’t sharp—they were soft. Concerned, but not pushy. You could feel the care without a single word being said.

Around the room, the others slowly began moving again. The tension was still there, but it had softened. Shifted into something gentler. Compassionate.

Caitlin walked past and handed you a bottle of water without saying a word. Katie brushed your arm lightly and gave you the smallest nod, a silent I’m here if you need me.

Beth lingered a moment near the lockers before slipping into her training kit. You could tell she wanted to say something, but she knew not to press.

You kept your head down.

“I didn’t mean to worry anyone,” you muttered.

Leah looked over. “You didn’t mean to,” she said carefully. “But you still did.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice even. “I didn’t think anyone would notice.”

That made Kim speak for the first time, her voice quiet but strong. “Well, that was never going to happen.”

Leah nodded. “You’re part of this team. We notice when our own isn’t okay.”

“I didn’t want to make it a thing,” you admitted, the words tumbling out. “It was just a bad night. It’s not like—”

“Hey,” Leah cut in gently, “you don’t have to explain anything if you’re not ready. But don’t downplay it either.”

Kim knelt slightly to be level with you. “You’re young, yeah. But you’re here for a reason. And being tough on the pitch doesn’t mean you have to carry things alone off it.”

You nodded slowly, blinking back the emotion that suddenly felt like too much.

“I’m trying.”

“That’s all we ask,” Kim said. “Try—and let us be there for you when it gets hard.”

Leah gave your shoulder a soft squeeze. “And if anything ever happens again—anything—you come to us. Me. Kim. Anyone. We’ve got you. No matter what.”

You nodded again. “Okay. I will.”

“Good,” Kim said, standing upright again. “Now let’s get dressed. We’ve got twenty minutes before Rénne starts yelling.”

Leah stood too, offering you her hand to help you up. You took it.

And for the first time that morning, your body didn’t feel so heavy.

You still had things to work through. Maybe a long way to go. But now, you knew this team wasn’t just your squad—they were your family.

And they weren’t letting you walk through this alone.

-

Training had finished hours ago. The sun had already dipped behind the trees outside London Colney, casting a soft gold glow through the window of the recovery room. Most of the team had left—some heading home, some staying behind for extra gym work.

But Leah lingered.

And so had you.

You sat on one of the padded benches, legs swinging gently off the edge, arms loosely around your knees. You didn’t expect Leah to still be here. You thought she’d left with the others.

But she walked in with two mugs—tea, of course—and handed you one like it was second nature.

“You looked like you needed it,” she said softly.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, wrapping your hands around the mug even though it was still too hot.

She sat across from you, not too close. Giving you space. Not demanding anything.

You stared at your tea for a long time before you spoke. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

Leah didn’t push. Just waited.

“I don’t even know why I went to that party,” you said eventually. “Everyone was drinking, being loud. It was like I was there, but not really there, y’know?”

She nodded once. “Yeah. I do.”

“And I just…” You swallowed hard. “I left early. Went home alone. Sat in my room and everything just felt… loud. Like my brain wouldn’t shut up.”

Leah’s eyes never left yours. You could tell she was really listening.

“So I did something stupid,” you said, looking down at your arms. “Not to hurt anyone. Not even to really hurt myself. Just… to feel something different.”

The silence stretched for a moment. Not uncomfortable—just real.

You looked up, expecting disappointment, maybe pity.

But Leah’s expression didn’t change.

“You’re not stupid,” she said gently. “You’re human. And hurting doesn’t make you weak. It makes you real.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them back. “I didn’t want anyone to see.”

“And yet,” she said, leaning forward slightly, “a part of you still wore short sleeves.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Maybe you didn’t mean to,” she said, “or maybe some part of you wanted us to notice. Maybe you didn’t want to hide anymore.”

You sat with that for a second. She wasn’t wrong.

“I just didn’t want it to be a big thing,” you whispered.

“It’s not a big thing,” she said. “It’s your thing. And that means it matters.”

You wiped your face with your sleeve, embarrassed. “You probably think I’m just a kid.”

She shook her head. “No. I think you’re strong as hell. Strong for showing up today. Strong for being honest with me now. And strong for still being here, even when it felt easier not to be.”

You stared at her for a second, overwhelmed by the weight of her kindness.

“Thanks, Leah.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she said. “Just promise me something.”

“What?”

“If it ever feels too heavy again—really heavy—you call me. Day or night. Doesn’t matter. I’ll show up.”

You managed a small smile. “Even if I wake you at 3 a.m.?”

“I’ll be mad if you don’t.”

You laughed, and this time, it felt genuine.

The healing wasn’t instant. But in that quiet room with tea gone lukewarm, you felt something shift.

-

It was just after midnight.

The room was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that makes everything in your head echo louder. Your duvet felt heavy on your legs, the air in your chest tighter with every breath. You stared at your ceiling, fists clenched in your sheets, trying to will the storm inside you to pass.

But it wasn’t passing.

It was getting worse.

You sat up, legs trembling, hands shaking, your thoughts loud and messy and fast. You didn’t know what triggered it. Maybe nothing had. Maybe it was just everything, all at once.

You looked at your phone on the nightstand.

Your reflection in the black screen scared you more than the thoughts.

And then, like muscle memory, you unlocked it.

No scrolling. No hesitating.

Just tapping on one name.

Leah.

You didn’t even think—you hit call.

It rang once.

Twice.

“Hello?”

Her voice was tired, but it cut through the noise instantly.

You couldn’t speak at first. You just breathed, uneven and shaky.

“Y/N?” she said again, more alert now. “You alright?”

“No,” you whispered. “No, I’m not.”

“Okay,” she said, instantly calm but serious. “Talk to me. What’s happening?”

You struggled to get the words out, but they came. “I—I don’t know. I just—I feel like I’m losing it again. And I don’t want to do anything stupid. I just—I don’t trust myself right now.”

There was silence on the other end for half a second.

“I’m coming,” she said quickly.

-

It took 6 minutes. Till a knock was a knock at your door, soft but firm.

When you opened it, Leah didn’t say anything—she just stepped in and pulled you straight into a hug. One hand on the back of your head, the other wrapping around your shoulders, grounding you like only she could.

You melted into her, the sob catching in your throat finally breaking free.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t demand answers.

She sat with you on the floor of your room, back against your bed, your head on her shoulder. She held your hand like it was keeping you tethered to this world.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled at one point.

“No,” she said gently but firmly. “No sorrys. You did the exact right thing. You called me. You let someone help.”

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

“That’s okay. That’s why I’m here.”

You felt the weight start to shift. It didn’t go away completely—but now it wasn’t crushing you. Not with her there. Not with her holding you steady.

“I’m not letting you go through this alone,” she murmured. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that. But by the time your breathing had calmed and the tears had stopped, the world didn’t feel quite as terrifying.

You were still here.

And Leah was still holding on.

[lacettes]

✩‧₊˚ ' beneath the mask '

simon “ghost” riley x f!reader — smut, readers first time seeing simons face, vaginal sex, hand-holding, body worship, soft dom!simon (is it obvious i love soft doms?), protective simon ♡

!! nsfw under the cut, mdni ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

you’ve kissed every part of him but his mouth.

cheekbones, jaw, the bridge of his nose through fabric. your lips know the shape of his mask better than your own skin, memorized from the nights you curl into his chest and let him hold you through the dark. it’s a line you’ve never crossed — never even tried. not because you’re afraid, but because he is.

simon keeps the mask on. always.

and you’ve never asked why. you only nod when he presses his forehead to yours, gloved hand cupping your cheek like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.

but tonight, you’re spread across his lap, bare thighs on denim, arms looped around his broad shoulders. you’re both half-dressed — your shirt is off, and his is pushed up enough that your belly brushes his stomach with every shift of your hips. his hands are shaking. not out of lust, but something deeper. he’s holding you like you’re something fragile. something precious.

he pulls away slightly, thumbs brushing the swell of your hips, and says your name like a prayer.

'can i show you?'

your breath catches.

you don’t even ask what he means. you just nod, soft and slow, and bring your hands up to cradle his jaw — his real jaw. the rough stubble scratches your palms. his chest rises and falls, uneven and shaky. then, with hesitant fingers, simon peels off the mask.

and god.

he’s beautiful.

not in the polished, perfect way that magazines would call handsome. no, simon’s beauty is raw. scarred. there’s a split along his lower lip, faded and white. his nose is crooked — clearly broken once, maybe more. his cheekbones are sharp, jawline tense, a little bruise shadowing the underside of his chin.

but his eyes.

they're the softest thing you've ever seen.

'jesus,' you whisper, awe heavy in your voice. 'you're... you're perfect.'

his jaw twitches, like he doesn’t believe you.

so you lean in and kiss him. slowly. reverently. your lips press to the corner of his mouth first, then his top lip, then finally — finally — you kiss him fully. he groans, low and pained like he’s breaking open. like it hurts to be loved this gently.

his hands roam your back as your mouths move together, and when you shift in his lap, you feel it— he’s already hard. he’s been hard since you undressed, probably, but he hadn’t made a move. not until now.

'touch me,' you whisper, grabbing his hand and guiding it down between your legs. 'please.'

he groans again, like it takes everything in him not to ruin you right then.

instead, he cups you. thumb brushing where you’re soaked through your panties, slow and reverent. his fingers are warm, careful, moving with a gentleness that makes your chest ache. and when you start to whimper, hips rocking into his palm, he pulls you closer — chest to chest, heart to heart.

'you're so good, love,' he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours. 'so fuckin' good f'me.'

your hand slides down, shakily unzipping his jeans, pulling him out with fingers that tremble around the weight of him. simon shudders, a curse slipping through his parted lips as you stroke him — bare, finally, and so painfully sensitive.

you line him up, and he pauses — hand on your hip, brows furrowed.

'you sure?'

you nod, eyes wide.

'words, baby.'

'i want you,' you whisper. 'i need you, si.'

he sinks in slowly, carefully, until he’s fully seated inside you. your head falls forward, lips brushing his bare neck as your body stretches around him. he holds you like he’s scared you’ll break, one hand gripping yours — tightly, like a lifeline — and the other buried in your hair.

you move together like you’ve done this a thousand times. slow, deep thrusts. you cry out, overwhelmed with sensation, and simon coos softly against your cheek.

'there you go. takin’ me so well. look at you.'

his lips find your jaw, then your mouth, then your cheek again, kissing every inch of skin like it’s sacred. his voice is breathless, sweet, breaking.

you’re so full. it knocks the breath out of you.

simon’s cock is thick, warm, dragging against all your softest, most sensitive parts. your thighs tremble around his hips as he stays still, buried deep inside, letting you adjust. his hand finds yours again, fingers laced together tight, and he kisses your temple like it might keep him from falling apart.

'fuck, you feel good,' he murmurs, voice rasping. 's'like you were made f'me.'

your lips part, a little whimper slipping free as you shift your hips — just barely — and the stretch burns so good it nearly makes you cry. his cock twitches inside you, and he grits his teeth, trying to hold back.

'easy, pretty.' he whispers. 'squeezin' me so tight.'

he starts to move, slow and deep, each thrust dragging every inch of him across your walls. your head falls back and he groans at the sight— your mouth open, eyes fluttering, body clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

'thats it,' he croons. 'let me take care of ye.'

his thumb finds your clit and circles soft, teasing strokes over it, matching the rhythm of his hips. your whole body jolts, and he swallows your gasp with a kiss.

'there she is,' he coos.

your nails dig into his shoulder blades. your pussy flutters around him, slick and hot, and simon’s composure starts to crack. his hips stutter just a bit, breath hitching as he buries his face in your neck.

he thrusts harder. deeper. the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, mixed with your soft moans and his breathy curses. his name leaving your lips like a chant, worshipful and ragged.

'mm, look at ye,' he growls. 'makin' a mess on my cock. gonna cum, hm?'

you nod, frantic. your thighs lock tighter around him. his thumb speeds up, pushing you right to the edge, and his other hand grips your ass, angling your hips just right —

'go on then.' he urges, voice rough. 'cum on my cock. show me how good i make u feel, yeah?'

and you do. hard.

your whole body trembles, thighs quaking as you break apart around him. your pussy clenches down so tight it pulls a guttural groan from simon, and he thrusts twice more before stilling — buried deep, twitching inside you as he spills, warm and thick, panting into your neck.

his whole body sags against yours.

'jesus christ,' he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple. 'you're gonna be the death of me.

you hum softly, brain fuzzy, clinging to him like he’s home. 'mm, i love u..'

he smiles, shifting just enough to look at you, brushing the damp hair from your forehead, and his voice drops low — tender.

'again?'

you blink.

'..now?'

he chuckles. 'i’ve got a lot of makin’ up to do, sweetheart. haven’t even had a proper taste of you yet.'

[myromanempiree]

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Azriel x Reader

word count- 1.1k

Summary - In the books, its usually the male getting jealous after a fresh mating bond. I don't see enough of the female getting jealous.

a/n - I read a lot of Azriel angst today, @azrielbrainrot 's "I laugh like me again, and she laughs like you" hurt so good. (go read it!) But I decided to write some fluff,because its good for my heart, and I needed to get back into the swing of writing and wanted to learn how to write smut. So this is kinda messy.

c/w - p in v, tooth rotting fluff, jealousy, fem reader

Again, he was talking to Elain again.

He was helping her work in the garden of your shared home, which he had asked her to do after learning your favorite flowers. Even though you knew it was just Azriel being his usual self, unable to let someone do work by themselves even when he asked for it, you still couldn't help but want him all for yourself.

Perhaps it was the freshly accepted mating bond, only about a month old. Yes, thats what's it was. Just some base, lesser instincts, not at all jealousy. No, not that.

Your piercing stare seems to garner the middle Archeron's attention, who excitedly waves you over. You walk through the garden, moving like a magnet to Azriel. Arm looped in his, your face buried into his bicep.

You ignored the conversation, focusing on your mates warm body. Eyes still hostile, gazing at Elain.

Everything seemed to be generally running smoothly until she touched his arm, your mates arm. There was nothing adherently flirtatious about the movement, she was simply thanking him for hauling heavy bags soil, but it still irked you.

In fact, it irked you enough to elicit a low growl from your throat. The Archeron's eyes light with amusement, a small smile on her pink lips. Your mate looking rather taken aback.

"You two should probably go back inside, Im almost done." Elain said, clapping her hands together. "Alright, help yourself to the pastries in the kitchen when you're done.' Your mate said kindly.

Then Azriel placed a scarred, warm hand on your back, guiding you inside of your cottage

"Love? What was that?" Your mate asked, a gentle smirk on his stupidly kissable lips. When you didn't answer he gently pulled you closer to him by your hand and small of your back. "Love?" He repeats.

You flush in embarrassment, looking at his shoulder, a shadow dancing along with Azriel's amusement.

You huff, moving past him, causing a soft laugh to escape his lips, following you to your shared bedroom.

After you hear the door click, you feel strong arms wrap around your waist, a firm body against your back. Azriel's warm breath dances across your skin as he buried his face into your neck.

"Answer me." He cooed softly, nuzzling his nose against the skin, his fingers drawing uncoordinated patterns on your hips. "Love?" Azriel began, kissing your skin. "Love of my life, sweetheart, darling, lovely. What happened?"

A silence enveloped the room, only for a few seconds before you whispered. "She touched your arm..."

You regretted it as soon as the words escaped your mouth, as soon as Azriel let out a deep, rumbling laugh that sent a heat to your core. The heat intensified as he moved his hands down to your thighs, kissing your neck.

"It didn't mean anything, my love..." Azriel began, "I know...I just—" you said softly.

"Were you jealous, little love?" His devilish smirk warm against your neck. And a soft nod of your head causes it to only widen. "You have nothing to be jealous of. You're the only one for me, only you." He mumbled truthfully, "A touch on the arm won't change that."

You still seemed a little wary, a little jealous. Azriel could feel it through the glimmering bond he had absolutely cherished since the moment he felt it. He slowly turns you around, picking you up in his arms. A soft, squealed "Azriel!" leaving your lips.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?" He said, laying you onto the bed, kissing along your collarbone, a soft sigh escaped you lips. Urging him forward, "That would be nice."

He grinned again, moving his calloused fingers up your thighs, dancing across the slightly dampened cloth of your panties. He began moving it aside to slide two of his thick fingers into you, eliciting a soft gasp as he continued.

Azriel's fingers curling inside you felt beyond heavenly, you squirm under him, placing your hands on his shoulders as he moved. He slowly kissing in between your breasts, humming contently and he scissors his fingers.

His thumb pushed against your clit, a breathy moan escaping you. "There we go..." He purred, "Such a good girl." You let out a soft squeal as his warm mouth attached to a pert nipple, "Azzie! Mh—...fuck, I'm close."

His mouth curved around your nipple, giving it one last flick of his tongue before finding the spongey spot inside you that made you see stars.

Azriel groaned, his forehead digging into your cleavage as you come down from your high. He slowly removed his fingers, causing a soft moan to leave your lips.

He gently kissing your lips and moved to bring down his trousers, freeing his aching cock. You hum and move to bring your mouth down to it, before he catches you. "No can do, pretty." He mumbled, smudging the pre and your cum along his length, before slowly insisting himself.

Even after almost a year of being together, the stretch still burned. You hissed softly, moving to get your fingers in his hair. Her gently placed a hand on the inside of your thigh, massaging softly. "Breathe, pretty. Deep breaths. Follow me.' He mumbled, guiding you in breathing,

"Just like that, love." Azriel cooed rewardingly, moving to test a soft thrust. When you didn't wince, he nods to himself, clasping his hands along you hip and thigh, holding you steady while he does all of the work.

You let out a soft whine, burying your face into the crook of his neck as taking in deep breaths as you slowly make love. He pressed gentle kisses along your hairline, his thumb stroking your hip reassuringly, the murmuring praises.

The room filled with pants, the rustling of wings, skin slapping together and the slight creaking of your shared bed. And as you both approached the edge together, a loud moan escaped your lips, and a mumbled curse from Azriel.

The couple sat in a cozy silence, before Azriel gently placed his head on her chest. "Did I prove you wrong?" He asked teasingly. "Mhm..." You lazily mumble, stroking his hair, a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

He then removed himself and moved to clean you up, scooping you into his arms and walking to the bathroom, perching you onto the counter. He dampened a cloth, gently wiping away your mixed cum and kissing your thighs.

After cleaning up, you both dress on another, and you mumble a soft apology for being jealous. "You're alright, it was cute.' He teased, kissing your forehead and guiding you to the kitchen to get water.

Elain sits at the table, a crumbly pastry in hand, and a small grin on her face, before extending the pastry box to the pair, with mirth dancing in her eyes.

"Croissant?"

[clarkeysbedchem]

whatever happens, i’m letting it | part nine

previous part | next part

will lenney x fem reader

summary: will falls for chris’ new assistant

masterlist | main masterlist

You woke up and dor a moment, you stayed still, letting your brain catch up to your body.

The sheets smelled like Will - vaguely like laundry detergent and whatever hair product he pretended not to use - and his arm was draped across your waist, fingers twitching slightly in his sleep.

You turned your head just enough to look at him. He was on his stomach, face half-buried in the pillow, hair sticking up in various places. One leg was kicked out, the blanket tangled somewhere near his knees. A mess. But a stupidly endearing one.

You reached over and gently poked his shoulder.

“Will.”

He didn’t move.

“Will.” You tried again, brushing the mess of hair from his face and spotting the smirk forming on his lips. You roll your eyes in disbelief. “Some of us have work today, you know?”

Will grumbled, pulling you closer to him despite your protest and feeble attempts at resistance. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“Will, I have to help Chris with a video shoot at 10, and it’s already 8.”

“I don’t see your point,” he mumbled into the pillow beneath him, making no efforts to get up.

“I have no clothes, I need to shower, and I have to go home to feed the cats.”

“Shower here, I have hoodies you can wear. I can go feed Scar and Kovu.”

His words caught you off guard - the simplicity and casualness of it making your stomach flip. You couldn’t help but smile, even though you’d sworn you were done with the overwhelming warmth of whatever was happening between you.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you said, shaking your head as you sat up straight, tugging the hoodie to cover your bare thighs.

“I offered.”

You let out a small laugh, though you felt a bit of nervousness flutter in your chest. “Okay, yeah, sure.”

Will smiled victoriously, then reluctantly peeled himself away from the warmth of the bed, heading toward the kitchen. The sight of him stumbling half-awake, barefoot and wearing only boxers, made you bite your lip to suppress a laugh.

You watched him go, your mind whirling in that strange space between affection and disbelief. You hadn’t expected this - this easy comfort, this little routine that had slowly started to develop between you.

The weight of the quiet morning settled around you, the hum of the city outside just faint enough to let you linger in the soft glow of the moment. You closed your eyes for a second, letting yourself just be.

Eventually, you slid off the bed, the cold air brushing against your skin. You grabbed a towel, heading to the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind you, but before you even had a chance to step into the shower, you heard Will’s voice from the other side.

“Y’know,” he started, his voice muffled but still clear, “I’m thinking of picking up lunch for us later. Maybe sushi?”

You paused, surprised at how casual he sounded - like he hadn’t just pulled you into a new domestic world this morning.

“Yeah, sure,” you called back, the sound of water running in the background as you adjusted the shower. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

There was a brief pause, then he continued, unbothered. “Well, after I feed the cats, I was thinking I might run some errands. You know, grab some bits for the apartment. Maybe start on the project I told you about.”

You smiled to yourself, already picturing him pacing around the apartment, distracted by whatever idea had caught his attention that week, “That’s a good plan.”

You could hear him moving around in the kitchen, probably pouring himself another coffee, “Alright, I also need to think of ideas for the second channel. And, uh, I might actually take a break and doom scroll or something.”

“Of course, the necessary break.”

“Exactly.” There was a brief chuckle on his end, then a quieter voice. “But hey, we’ll be done by dinner, so I’ll be here when you get back. And, you know, we could grab something to eat together. My treat.”

‘When you come back’, the words echoed through your head as you let out a soft laugh, the sound of water crashing over you almost drowning it out. “Okay, yeah, you’re treating me to sushi. I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m a man of my word,” he said, a hint of playfulness in his tone. “Sushi’s happening.”

You shook your head, smiling at how effortlessly everything was slipping into place between you two. Sometimes, it felt like things were moving fast - but in moments like this, it was hard to imagine any other way.

“Alright, I’m going to finish this shower before I drown in your excessive plans,” you called through the door, shaking your head.

“Hey, it’s not my fault if I’m efficient,” he replied with mock offense. “I’ll keep the world turning on my end.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. Even through the bathroom door, you could feel that the quiet connection that was becoming more intense with every second but it made everything seem just a little bit simpler.

“Want me to drive you in?” Will asked, taking a quiet sip of his coffee as you walked out of the bedroom wearing the linen trousers from yesterday and yet another Quadrant hoodie, stolen from his wardrobe.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. “I can get the tube - it’s easier anyway. I need to to the field anyways, and that’s a fair drive for you.”

Will shook his head, already handing you a mug of coffee made just the way you liked it, “I’ll drive you in.”

You raised a brow at him over the rim of your mug, lips curving into a small smile. “You don’t have to play chauffeur, you know.”

“I want to,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

There was a beat of silence between you before you nodded, the quiet warmth in your chest returning full force.

You leant your hip against the kitchen counter while he moved around behind you, tossing his keys from one hand to the other like he hadn’t just offered to completely rearrange his morning for you.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both in his car. The morning traffic was in full force, and the city wide awake and ready to take on the day.

Everything was tinted in that soft, golden hush. The radio was low, playing something indie and forgettable, just background noise to fill the spaces between words.

Will tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he drove, one hand resting lazily at the top, “So what’s the video about today?”

You nodded, watching the blur of buildings pass by your window. “Ah yknow just another football video, I know George, Arthur and Bach are gonna be there though.”

He glanced over at you, smiling a little, Same old, same old.”

“Always,” you laughed, tucking your hair behind your ear, “With a side of Chris being extra competitive and taking over the shots.”

Will chuckled, pulling up to a red light, “Remind me why you still work with him?”

“Good pay.”

He let out a hearty laugh at your response and the light turned green.

The rest of the drive was filled with easy conversation; half-finished stories, shared glances, and that quiet understanding that didn’t really need to be said aloud. When he finally pulled up near the field, he parked just off the road and turned to look at you, one arm slung casually over the back of your seat.

You hesitated for a second, fingers wrapped around the handle of your bag, reluctant to open the door. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime,” he said. No hesitation.

You opened the door and stepped out, turning back to lean in through the open window, “Don’t forget to feed Scar and Kovu. And no, they can’t have chicken nuggets again.”

Will put a hand to his chest, mock-offended, “I am deeply hurt by your lack of faith.”

“You literally sent me a video of them eating McDonalds .”

“They loved it.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

He smirked, eyes softening just slightly. “Have a good shoot.”

“Text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

You were just finishing setting up the camera equipment with Chris when George, Bach and Arthur showed up, all of them looking like they’d rolled out of bed five minutes ago, a mix of sleepiness and caffeine barely keeping them upright.

George shot you a quick grin as he unloaded his bag from the car. “Late start, huh?”

“Nothing wrong with getting a little extra sleep,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though the red in your cheeks probably gave you away.

Arthur, who was already sliding on his football boots, gave you a sidelong glance and smirked. “Mm, yeah, I bet you had a really relaxing morning, huh?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Chris, being nosey as ever, grinned like a mad man, “Oh, we’re talking about Will, aren’t we?”

You froze for a split second, your heart skipping a beat. “What? No - what about him?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the fact that he’d caught you off guard, “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me Will didn’t drop you off this morning. Flo and Liv couldn’t stop gushing about you stay at his last night.”

You scrunched your nose making a mental note to tell Liv and Flo to keep their mouths shut around Arthur from now on.

Chris snorted, “You’re practically living out of his wardrobe, huh? This is the third hoodie you’ve taken of his.”

You glared at him, fighting back a smile. “Shut up. It’s not like that.”

Chris’ tone was playful but teasing as he spoke from behind the camera set up, “Mm, sure it’s not. You and Will? Just ‘friends,’ right?”

The smirk on his face told you he wasn’t buying it for a second.

You crossed your arms, pretending to be unaffected but secretly amused by how obvious you were, “Yes, Chris, just friends. And you guys should probably focus on getting the shoot started, yeah?”

George laughed making moves to put on his football boots as he looked up at you, “Listen, if Will ever goes full-on ‘Instagram couple’ with you, we’ll be the first ones to start designing your matching outfits.” He winked at you, “But for now, I think we’re good just teasing you about it.”

“Stop making it weird,” you muttered, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

George held his hands up innocently, “We’re just saying, no shame in mixing business with pleasure. But, uh, Will’s got great taste in hoodies, so at least you’re doing that right.”

You finally couldn’t hold back, laughing despite yourself. “You guys are ridiculous. I swear, you’d be the worst group of detectives.”

Arthur crossed his arms, a mock-solemn look on his face, “We don’t need to investigate. It’s all in the little details.” He pointed at your hoodie. “That’s Exhibit A.”

Chris held his hands out in a mock defensive gesture. “I mean, can’t blame you. Will’s got the softest ones.”

“Okay, enough,” you groaned, rubbing your face, “Let me focus on my job, not whatever nonsense you guys have going on in your heads.”

Arthur raised the camera with a wicked grin, “Oh, we’ll be sure to capture every moment of your flustered face. For posterity.”

taglist: @jamiekluivert @reidyourpalms @roc-haze @whisperturnedecho @graceln4 @dopeysunflowers @super-gay-for-u @bethorwhateverr @livvymd @lilyyxoii @4ngelrealm @kiyoomology

[gatorbites-imagines]

I was reading your Bruce Wayne alphabet and I saw that you had mentioned cuddlefucking and dom/sub on his kink list! Was wondering if you’d be willing to do a post where the reader edges Bruce while they’re cuddling or something like that?

Just Reader kissing Bruce all over and praising him after a hard mission making him feel head fuzzy mixed with Reader making slow love to Bruce, edging him until he’s overwhelmed (in a good way) and maybe crying a bit.

Bruce Wayne x male reader

Drabble

Ever since I wrote my bruce wayne kinktober prompt I’ve been thinking about him being submissive so much. I think Bruce would thrive with a partner to take care of him sometimes.

I wrote this with the reader being big and thick in mind, think those buff guys with a layer of chub over the muscle, but you can imagine it however you want.

The blanket was hot on top of you, it was one of the thickly woven cotton ones, made from some material that probably cost more than you could imagine. But even as sweat beaded on your brow, you simply pulled Bruce closer to your soft chest. He was laying with his back towards you, your stomach pressed into the arch of his muscular back as your arms wove around him and held him tightly.

Small huffs and muffled whines left him as one of your hands worked up and down his slick length, the heavy blanket barely moving with the motion as you pressed kisses against the bruises that littered his shoulder and neck. A needy noise left him as you nibbled at a bruise on the underside of his chin, where some goon had clocked him with a crowbar the other day. The slight pain from the bruise, mixed with the almost euphoric feeling of being held as your hand worked his length had Bruce feeling like he was gonna melt.

He had been working on cases nonstop for days, in the end you had pulled him into your shared bedroom and pulled the heavy blanket over the two of you. It had started as cuddling, as you knew your partner loved that more than anything, though he never said it out loud. But soon you found your clothes being chucked out from under the blanket, Bruces back sticking to your front from the sweat that developed from your closeness and the warmth it developed.

Maybe Bruce was dehydrated, as he panted and bit back a louder whine as you drew him near the edge before releasing your slick hand from his cock, his hips bucking from the loss of touch. It was a process you repeated a couple more times, your voice thick with praise as you kept kissing his back and neck, mumbling into his ear as you built him up only to let him fall again, not giving him the release he craved.

It was only when Bruce melted into the bed and his noises stopped being so choked, when he turned his head to hopefully catch your lips with his, when you knew he was floating slowly away to a lighter mental state that you took pity in him. The jerks and twists of your hand grew more purposeful as his noises rose in pitch, tears beading in his blue eyes as his hips twitched and his thighs tensed.

But like this he was so good, he couldn’t finish without your approval, so even as he whined and cried, he kept being good for you. It was only when you finally mumbled into his ear that he could cum that Bruce did, spilling into your palm with a shaky moan, his entire body twitching and shuddering as you dragged it out as long as possible, until his whimpers and whines became those of overstimulation.

He let out a sad noise as you crawled out from under the blanket to get what you needed to clean the two of you up, but you knew neither of you would enjoy waking up to dirty sheets, so it was a small sacrifice. But when the worst of your and Bruces sweat had been wiped off with a cloth, your hands washed, and a new blanket draped over your lovers scarred body, you crawled in beside him again.

Bruce almost arched into your touch, like a touch starved cat, melting against your pecs as he gripped onto your softer middle, a loud sigh leaving him as he seemed to melt against you. You swore he would have started purring if he had the ability, especially as you ran your hand through his hair and scratched his scalp, the already loose body growing heavier against you.

[revelboo]

Crooked Ways

TFP Wheeljack x reader

18+ 🌶️

He's back. Heart beginning to race, you push up from where you'd been stretched out to back up into the corner against the wall. Not that it would make any difference to the giant, metal jerk who's kidnapped you. Wheeljack. The big slab of hard metal you're trapped on vibrates under your feet with his heavy steps as he rounds the corner and comes into sight.

Mostly white slashed with red and green, your personal nightmare scans the room with those hateful, pretty blue eyes, those weird fins on his back lifting slightly before finding you. Like he thought you'd finally decided to throw yourself headfirst from the high surface he keeps you on in his ship. You'd already checked and there was no way to climb down without hurting yourself. As much as you enjoy spiting him, a fall isn't worth it.

Dropping your eyes just because it annoys him when you refuse to meet his, you wait. Surprisingly, he lets it go without a comment. Still silent, he drops a grease-stained fast food bag on the metal slab nearer him than you. Your stomach growls as soon as you smell the food, and you try very hard to not think about where he's gotten it. Or the collateral damage he's probably caused.

When you look up, those scarred lips are twisting into a knowing smile. "Not hungry?" That low, drawling voice elicits a shiver from you as you squint up at him.

Hating that you like the sound of his voice. That you're trapped and helpless and can't figure out what his game is. What he wants from you. Eyes narrowing, you stare at the bag. Of course you're hungry. He only lets you off the berth twice a day for a trip to the husk of a gas station, because by some miracle no one's shut the water off yet. While a good portion of the building is burned out and in real danger of collapsing at any moment, there are still dead coolers with hot soda and shelves of chips and candy.

Hot food, though? Glancing up at his face, at that smirk, you move closer to the bag. Every muscle tenses as you keep an eye on those huge hands. It isn't like he had to lure you over with food. He could just snatch you up if he wants to, a fact your bruised arms, sides, and hips can attest to. Funnily, you don't think he means to hurt you, he just doesn't understand how delicate you are compared to him. And when he does grab you it's to stare down at you with a scowl like your very existence offended him. There's always something just there, unspoken between you and you were so sick of it.

You're almost to the bag when he places both big hands on the berth on either side of it. It's a dare to come closer. A challenge. Blowing out a breath, you debate just refusing to make him angry. Of refusing to play this stupid new game.

A low, rumbling growl of annoyance escapes him. "It's not poisoned."

Sure. Body taut as a wire to run like hell if he so much as twitches, you dart for the bag, grab it, and run straight back to the corner. He stiffens, big fingers curling under into fists, but he doesn't grab for you. Heart still frantic, you slide down with your back to the wall and tear into the food.

If he has a problem with your manners, he keeps it to himself. Just staring down at you as you lick mayonnaise off your fingers, biting into a slightly cold hamburger. The constant frowning and staring is going to give you a complex, though the kidnapping and giant, alien robot is probably going to scar you for life, too.

"Good?"

Eyes darting up to meet his and then away, you do a little frowning of your own. Why did he care? Maybe it was the giant, robot equivalent of a doggy treat? A reward for not trying to goad him into crushing you or for not screaming at him in frustrated despair? Not responding or just straight up ignoring him would set off his quick temper, so you nod obediently.

Leaning a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at you like you're the problem and he just needs to solve you, he huffs at you. Chewing and swallowing another bite, you lick your lips.

"When are you going to let me go?" You ask softly, body steeling for the fight that question always spawns.

Yep. His expression darkens to a lot of thunderous fury, that deep, angry rumbling in his chest growing as he shoves away from the wall and just walks away. From deeper in the ship, something crashes into a wall, and you hunch your shoulders as he goes on a rampage of fury, voice rising in that language you can't understand. Hands shaking, you lose your appetite, drawing your legs up against your body and resting your cheek on your knees, because he's never letting you go.

He doesn't want you here. But can't let you go, either. He’s as trapped as you are.

Next

[haliotropes]

Please anything at all Rust x reader would legit heal my soul.

I need Rust with someone who is smart and capable but sweet and loving. PLEASE LET THAT AFFECTION-STARVED MAN GET CUDDLES. 😭😭😭😭

You Know Where You Are

A/N: Rated T ig, fluff for Rust, you are good for him, this will probably be inserted into the long form fic!

₊˚ ✧.* ೃ ₊˚ ✧.* ೃ ₊˚ ✧.* ೃ ₊˚ ✧.* ೃ

You've slept on less comfortable surfaces than Rust's mattress, though it's thin and the floor is hard and the blanket is scratchy. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters to you but Rust's softening outline each time a car's headlights breached the slats of the blinds over his shoulder. Nothing but the way his breathing is even, soft, never held or heavy. His eyelids, always half-lidded, now seem so because of this rare pocket of peace and not because he's burdened with some horrific scenery.

Speaking of his eyes, they flutter occasionally, like he's trying to stay awake, but all he does it look at you. Which is fair, because all you do is look at him. It's all you do, but what you want more than anything is to follow the carved marble of his face. Your eyes trail from a muscle in his jaw that twitches, to the tendon it connects to, and then way the tendon disappears into his clavicle. And you laugh at your desired softness for him, and your stark nakedness, and the corners of your mouth lift despite exhaustion.

"What is it?" He asks through a small smile of his own, because your joy is sometimes the only thing that can save him from drowning.

"It's just ironic...you don't much like being touched."

He thinks carefully before responding. "Not unprompted, no."

Your hand, from where it rests between you two, flexes involuntarily.

"May I?"

He doesn't respond, but nods his head. Now, he holds his breath. He doesn't think you'll hurt him, far from it, but that your feather light touch on his volatile skin would shatter it. If that happens, you'd only get injured in the blast.

You raise a hesitant hand, one delicate finger out, and start by tracing a thin line from his brow to his cheekbone. From the first moment you met Rust, you yeared to touch this sharpest part of him, wondering if it could cut. It doesn't, of course. He relaxes almost instantly, the lines on his face fall away and he looks nearly ten years younger. He closes his eyes. He sighs.

Your thumb travels from his brow bone to his hairline, where you brush away a stray copper curl that has fallen onto his forehead. The tickling of his long eyelashes on the soft skin of your forearm proves to be too much so you pull away. But he catches your hand- swiftly, but still gently. Slowly, he raises your wrist to his mouth and plants a sort of half kiss there, mostly allowing parted lips to linger over the thin skin. His warm breath spreads in stark contrast to the chill of the night and your skin raises in goosebumps.

You dare. Lay your palm against the hollow of his cheek and stroke under his eye. His hand travels up and down your arm.

"Is this alright?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. His reply is no reply at all, only gentle breathing. When you eventually move again to pull your hand away, he instead moves it to his chest, right over his heart.

He wants to be felt. He needs to be known. Someone needs to look at him and know he's alive, he's human, he's here.

Your elbow grazes his scars. With his other arm, he draws you closer, now touching you with more care than ever before, and like this, you both drift off into a dreamless sleep.

[velidewrites]

thinking very hard about crying in front of sylas tonight. need to sob into his giant tits while he gets all big and scary and protective of me :/

You're suddenly enveloped by a fur cloak.

Sylas pulls you into his arms, the thick coat descending from his shoulders onto your own. This, you realize, is the very first time the two of you have ever stood so close — had you not sought him out in his war tent tonight, you might never have known the warmth radiating from his body, as if that fire simmering within him was as desperate for your touch as you are for its master.

He holds you in his arms with a strength that is gentle yet... reluctant. It makes you want to writhe against him until your bodies are welded into one at last, shattering that last bit of uncertainty, of hesitation, of the cold, cruel war that has so desperately been trying to drive you two apart. Somehow, he's always been able to find his way back to you.

Tonight, you finally managed to find him instead.

The featherlight touch of the fur against your cheek tingles, making you half-turn, burying your face into his chest subconsciously. You feel his muscles tense beneath your touch at the proximity, and a heat of your own begins to rise in your cheeks at your own boldness. The last time he'd tensed up beneath you like that, it was with the tip of your sword teasing his sternum, not your nose. How far the two of you had come.

He must be realizing it, too, as you feel his shoulders fall an inch, the broad hand on your waist moving to smooth over your lower back. He pulls you in closer, close enough now that you feel his breath brush against your temple before he rests his chin atop your head. Not once, in all those months on the opposing sides of the battlefield, did you ever imagine Sylas Vanserra like this. Let alone with you.

It dawns on you then that he's probably never comforted anyone this way — had never been comforted like that by another, at least not at a time when it would have mattered most. For a moment, the very thought makes you forget your own reasons for finding yourself in his tent in the first place, forget the nightmare that made you walk through the camp on shaky legs in the dead silence of the night. Sylas is holding you, and he's...

You dare to speak. "Sylas?"

"I'm here."

The response comes immediately, and it takes all the strength you have left to keep your body from melting into his own. Sylas's voice carries a rasp that makes you think — makes you hope — he's not the only one holding back.

"You're very good at this," you tell him, nuzzling your face deeper into his chest.

A small scoff sounds from above, and you can't help but let out a small chuckle.

"You make my compliment sound like an insult," you point out.

There's only a beat of silence between you before he finally says, "It's not."

You sigh, content. It's as if the sound of his voice had somehow dissipated all the tension in your body and quietened the raging storm of your sleepless mind. "I'm glad you think so." You turn your face to the side again, then, letting your cheek rest right above his heart — right where you know a horrible scar begins, twisting his skin into patterns of flames rising all the way up to his neck. He hides it, even without the bronze plates of his armor, and he hides it well. But you know — know he hates himself for it, and you've seen enough to understand who truly is the one at fault. Even if Sylas himself does not.

"Like this, I can hear your heart," you murmur, hoping its strong, if not a little rapid beat resonates with your own. Perhaps then, the two of you will finally sleep.

You might already be drifting away — or maybe his question is barely audible enough for you to catch, buried under the warm embrace of the furs. "What is my heart telling you?"

You smile.

"I think it's agreeing with me."

[hoodietypinggg]

Shiu kong x reader x Toji Fushiguro

A/N: pffffffff last time i tried writing was like in,,,,,,,, 2019-2020 please go easy on me. Shat this at ass o'clock when i felt particularly very much single, barely proof read HAHA iss v self-indulgent. Probably most likely ooc.

Enjoy

-Fluff-

Imagine feeling the bed dip and covers rustle around you through the haze of sleep, eyeballs rolling around but lids kept shut with the weight of dreams. A light kiss is deposited on you cheek. It's Shiu sliding in for the night after having finished whatever was on his tasks list of the day, bringing icy fingers and the familiar scent of cigs and woody cologne into the little cocoon you've made for yourself.

"Sorry darlin', didn't mean to wake you up", he huffs with an audible grin when you let out an airy whine. You jolt at the feeling of his cold hands grip onto you as he moves you gently.

The man maneuvers as quick as possible to set you on his chest, your ear next to his heart and limbs and body comfortably settled to be his personal weighted blanket; your usual sleep setup. The covers are pulled up and over your back once again and one big paw of a hand cups the back of your neck to keep you close. A sigh of relief is felt at the top of your head as Shiu nuzzles into your hair and muscles visibly relaxing under you. Warmth increases under the blanket with the addition of another body on the mattress; for some reason, Shiu runs hot like a furnace but has colder extremities than Jack Frost.

You glance with blurry vision at the alarm by the bedside table, the red digits telling you that it's one of the rare nights where at least one of your boys gets home before the clubs down the street close. A yawn is pulled from you at the slowing rise and fall of Shiu' breath. Legs gently tangle together and you nuzzle closer into the crook where his chin and neck meet.

"Fancy to see you 'round here so 'rly," your voice crows and slurs with sleep still threatening to pull you under.

"Well lucky you, been missing m' pretty baby too much to accept another round of mahjong with the boys," Shiu chuckles. His hand at this point has warmed to a comfortable degree from your combined heat and he slides it down to your back to give you gentle rubs, "now go back to sleep."

Not much was needed to lull you back down, with the rumble of his voice purring out his reply and comforting arm weighting down on you, you were already halfway to dreamland.

.

The second awakening of the night is far less tender, as the last of your trio literally lets himself dogpile onto your sleeping forms. A wall of muscles comes falling down on your back, covering you up so much that anyone would've thought that there was just Shiu and Toji on the bed.

You startle out of your flowers and stars filled dream as the yelp you released gets cut silent from the sudden rush of air out of your lungs. Instincts kick in and you attempt to curl into yourself like an armadillo, only to drive your knee up into Shiu's unfortunate family jewels from your entangled position. The man's painful choke and tightening grip around your waist is enough to inform you of his misery. Contrasting those motions are the rhythmic contraction and release of Toji's abdomen from his silent laughter. His delight is also felt in the light shaking of the entire bed as he affectionately rubs and nuzzles his face against the back of your shoulder and nape.

"You're getting too lax shiu. Sleeping like the dead, wouldn't be able to protect our sweetheart from sneaky rats" Toji snickers, arms slowly tightening the hug he has you trapped in. You faintly feel him grin, imagining the slight stretch of his scar from his pleased expression.

The handler wheezes and lets out a cough at the comment.

"Fu-*cough*-fuck you, holy shit. Would've shot you if I didn't know better, you dick," true to his words, the heartbeat next to your ear is drumming away and shiu has his finger wrapped around the trigger above his head. "Besides, who else could get me passed out like this if not darlin'?"

Toji hums as if in agreement, though not stopping the affection he's been showering you, now adding kisses and nibbles wherever he can reach. They make you lightly giggle from the ticklish feeling. Your airy sounds of happiness fills the otherwise quiet room and the two men simply relish in it. Content of this little piece of heaven bestowed to them in the pits of Hell they call Earth.

"Nobody does it better than sweetheart."

Once finally satiated, Toji quickly removes his t-shirt and changes out of his day pants before slipping his way under the covers too. He pulls you from draping on Shiu to only half lying on your side and slides a hand up your sleep shirt to rest on your stomach. the press of his front to your back cements your spot between the two men and Toji takes the opportunity to litter more kisses on the back of your neck.

"Soft as a bunny and cute as a button, we're keeping you here fer sure," Shiu grunts as he rolls in a bit closer, delivering a peck of his own on your forehead. Toji expresses his agreement with a mean nip to the junction of your shoulder and neck as if marking their property.

"Fuck it, we're sleeping in," you barely hear your partner behind you mumbles, eyes already shut tight.

It's okay, tomorrow's a day off anyways.

[sabinemorans]

Nightly Fantasies

Aemond x Aegon (Aegond) fic

Word count: 1765

NSFW Warnings: targcest, dominant Aemond, submissive Aegon, male breeding fantasy, some humiliation, praise

It would be bold of his half sister-probably too bold-but it wasn’t impossible. More than likely it was his Uncle who had sent this person. It was much more his style.

He lay there pretending to still be asleep as he listened closely to hear the movements of the shadow. He kept his breathing even but also shifted a bit. Even going so far as to softly groan to sell the illusion. After his grown he thought he heard a soft whine-peculiar.

His bed dipped a bit with weight. The sheets and quilts covering him were hoisted up just enough for a body to slip in beside him. A hand he knew so well cupped his cheek, the one with the scar and a warm, naked body pressed his side.

Aemond let go of the dagger and wrapped his arm around his brother, who eagerly pressed even closer; his already semi hard cock rubbing against his thigh.

“What’s your excuse this time?” Aemond whispered, firmly but not unkindly, his long fingers tangling in Aegon’s hair.

Aegon groaned fussily and pressed his nose to Aemond’s neck. He breathed in deeply and his greedy hands roamed all over Aemond’s chest before one slid down to cup a lower cheek.

“Now now, use your words. You don’t smell of drink so I know you can.” Aemond pressed a few kisses to Aegon’s hairline, the action so sweet it made the other’s cock twitch in need. The younger brother smiled.

“Had a dream,” the older brother nearly whined, his hand squeezing the ass cheek in his hand. “Woke up hard and I rubbed it but it wasn’t enough…I needed you…”

Humming in a pleased manner Aemond brought his other arm around Aegon and pulled him half on top of him, so his thigh was between Aegon’s.

Aegon whimpered and automatically began to rut against Aemond’s muscular thigh. All his hours of sword swinging and dragon riding had toned his already lean body to have hard muscle. Aegon was softer around the middle due to drink and bouncy in the behind from sitting all day. The difference between them always excited Aemond, just another funny joke of fate’s to make the younger brother taller, stronger in mind and body and the older-now the *King* of the realm, shorter, softer, and easily maneuvered by the younger. Despite the abuse he had suffered at Aegon’s hands when they were younger and his own volatile feelings during the day Aemond loved his brother. When this…had started between them, it had almost felt like a way to make up for their past, Aemond would take it. Anything to feel the love they both craved.

Aemond let him go at it for a few minutes, his eyes still closed as if he really was too tired but that smirk was on his face. The one that Aegon said made him look like a mischievous feline. He didn’t moved at all until Aegon began to pant his name in between the word for please in High Valyrian. Aegon knew very little that was appropriate for the day time in High Valyrian. Aemond’s smirk deepened.

“There now,” he purred, finally opening his eyes and blinking to adjust his eyes to the dim light, He gripped the soft skin above Aegon’s hips and lifted him up so he could straddle his cock instead of his thigh. Aegon let out a whorish moan and kept rutting. He could see Aegon’s desperate look only a little but it made his longer, thicker cock throb at the sight.

“Is that what you wanted my dear love?” Aemond cooed, voice calm even as his breath was quickening. Their cocks were slick with Aegon’s freely leaking precum and it felt so fucking good his control was hanging on my a thread. For now he would just grip Aegon’s hips and rock their cocks together randomly.

“Not,,,not enough,” Aegon panted, leaning down further, his head now bowed towards Aemond’s shoulder to rub together harder.

“Oh? Did you need something specific?” There was only one thing, one thought or one fantasy that would get Aegon this riled up. Aemond felt his own cock start to leak. He suddenly gripped Aegon’s throat and squeezed, forcing his movements to stop.

Despite the dark he knew they were making eye contact and their dicks twitched in unison. “Tell me…tell me what you wish. It’s my duty to give you what you command to the best of my ability.”

Aegon’s answering moan was deep in the back of his throat. A raw, primal need. “I want-I *need* your child inside me.”

And the control Aemond had suddenly snapped, as Aegon knew it would. Aemond’s answering kiss was forceful and Aegon melted into it, allowing the other’s tongue into his mouth with relish. Aemond sucked on his tongue hard and then pushed him off.

It was easy to get Aegon into his favorite position. Sometimes Aemond thought Aegon enjoyed being fucked prone because of the way it made him feel helpless. At the mercy of his bigger, meaner, *younger* brother. One day he’d make him admit it.

Aemond reached into the nearest drawer for the jar of thick stuff he used to pleasure himself sometimes. That was what the maester’s only assumed it was for when he asked for it, they didn’t know it was also used for their new king to be prepared for cock.

Aegon was moaning openly, the pillow nearly strangled to death under his fists as Aemond massaged the stuff around his hole and began to press inside, Aemond hummed appreciatively as he bent to watch, pressing kisses to one cheek.

“Such a good boy Aegon…taking it so good. A bit tight though aren’t you? Perhaps you need more regular practice…” When Aegon moaned and pressed himself further on his slender finger Aemond grinned and give the soft ass cheek a harsh nip. “More practice it is.”

He kept up a delicate balance of soft humiliation and praise as he prepared him. Once three fingers had the King popping his ass up in need, his knees wide open but his cock still against the sheets Aemond nipped at the opposite cheek and then pulled his fingers out. He placed his heavy cock against the loosened hole and Aegon had a fully body shiver.

“You’re ready now aren’t you? Mmmm yes I can feel it…” Aemond leans down, kissing and licking up Aegon’s spine before nuzzling his nape clear of hair and giving it a kiss. He kisses it more, slowly, sucking softly and then biting just hard hard to leave little indents but not a bruise. “You’re a bitch in heat, and I’m going to give you what you crave,” he whispers, before pressing his wide tip inside.

Aegon clenches around him but then relaxes, knowing exactly what he has to do. “Gods,” he whimpers, “so good…nothing like it…more…?”

The sweet little question mark at the end made Aemond’s heart flutter and he pressed in further, his naked chest now against Aegon’s naked back fully and the skin on skin contact had them both groaning in pleasure. It wasn’t long before Aemond was fucking deep inside Aegon, his cock now sliding easily in and out, the his tip nudging that special spot that didn’t seem to have a name despite Aemond’s anatomical research. When he pushed it even further his fat tip slammed into it and Aegon had to have his face pressed into the feather pillow to quiet him.

“Shhhhhhh!” Aemond hissed between heavy pants. “Don’t want the guards to hear you do you? Don’t want the white cloaks knowing their King wishes he could carry a child do you? Mmm…we are gods though aren’t we? Perhaps the ancient blood magic in our veins will make it possible somehow…”

Aemond was in that frenzy he entered when he was close to spilling. Aegon was panting, mumbling with delirious happiness. He had cum already from the tightening Aemond has felt during a particularly rough few thrusts perhaps a full hour ago. Though Aemond may have better stamina Aegon could certainly take it.

“Yes, please,” Aegon panted, looking back at Aemond with that slack mouthed, near fucking *drooling* with pleasure look that drove Aemond crazy. Even if tomorrow Aegon called him names in front of his knights Aemond would think back to this moment and let it roll off him. Or perhaps he’d remember it, and use it against Aegon the next time this happened.

“Breed me, Aemond,” Aegon Targaryen’s second of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm begged of his brother. His hands reaching behind him to spread his ass cheeks wider and allow the cock inside at a dizzying angle for them both.

Aemond nearly bit off his own tongue trying to stifle his cry as he came, pressing as far as he could go inside Aegon and spilling everything he had. He collapsed on top of Aegon, who with a few more thrusts cried out into the pillow again as he spilled more onto the sheets. They throbbed in near unision, Aegon’s pulses causing his hole to tighten at the base of Aemond’s cock, milking him more.

It took awhile before their breathing returned to anything nearing normal, and Aemond pressed his lips close to Aegon’s ear before he pulled out. “You may call me your loyal hound, my King, but you’re my bitch in heat aren’t you?”

Aegon whined, nodded, and seeming to know Aemond would ask for words he whispered his assent in their mother tongue.

Aemond licked at the bite he’d given him on his neck, Then moved to the side to settle back in to sleep as the twilight of the early morning began to chase away the dark of the night.

“I must…get back to my chambers…” Aegon mumbled, half asleep already it seemed. Aemond pulled Aegon against his chest, spooning around him protectively and placing one hand on how softly rounded lower stomach. “no need…my door is barred. You can leave through the passage you came. Don’t worry, my dear, dear love. Our secret is safe.”

Aegon was snoring already. Aemond smiled, and fell asleep quickly. In the morning…they would try breeding again. He’d heard it was more likely to take the more you tried.

[nowimjustastranger]

Part 2 of this fic about Lee's facial scars! Lee and Stan arrive at the Shack and Watchdog... doesn't take Lee's injury well.

Ford paced the length of the porch, staring at the winding dirt road and willing a 1965 El Diablo convertible to round the bend. Stanford was standing off to the side, looking stiff and uncomfortable, his keen eyes watching Ford do his best to wear a path into the wood as he anxiously waited for his brother to arrive with Stan in tow as planned.

But Lee was two hours behind schedule, which could only mean that something had gone wrong.

The amount of times that Ford had to mentally talk himself out of ditching Stanford –who was a particularly stubborn variation– was becoming more frequent as minutes turned into hours. Still, Ford would give Lee another thirty minutes to show before he abandoned his current task in favor of tracking down his brother and ensuring his safety.

Ford was five minutes away from opening a portal when he heard the rumble of a familiar engine, freezing in place and staring at the road long before the car even came into view. He barely even registered that Stanford was saying something –probably to him– because his senses tunneled in on the car that was steadily drawing closer.

Ford surged forward the moment that he saw the headlights illuminate the bend in the road, bypassing the steps entirely and hitting the ground running. The car rolled to a hesitant stop, the driver probably realizing that Ford wasn’t going to let the car get closer to the shack. It wouldn’t have mattered whether the vehicle was in motion or not, he was getting into that car one way or another.

The passenger door opened the same moment that Ford reached the vehicle’s front fender, forcing him to go wide so he could get around the obstruction in his path. He grabbed the edge of the door to practically throw himself at Lee, who had only managed to get one boot on the ground before Ford was on him, six-fingered hands desperately latching onto his arm and shoulder respectively.

Lee’s mouth was moving but Ford couldn’t hear what was being said over the roar of blood in his ears, his wide-eyed stare fixated on the patches of gauze that were taped to the right side of Lee’s face. The gauze needed to be changed, partially dried blood –as well as a trickle of fresh blood– spotting the otherwise white material.

He was hurt. Someone had hurt his little brother.

“What happened?” Ford demanded, willing his brain to actually process words instead of focusing on the covered wound. He couldn’t quite manage though, his heartbeat thundering in his ears like a call for blood. He needed the gauze off so he could take stock of the damage, so he could construct the series of events in his mind. But, most importantly, he needed to fix it.

“Had a little welcomin’ party, Digit.” Lee slurred, his voice muffled as if he were speaking underwater yet still somehow coherent. Ford anxiously ran his hands through his hair as opened his mouth to question Lee further, but movement out of the corner of his eye had his distraught expression abruptly shifting into a snarl.

Ford moved on pure instinct to intercept the perceived threat before they could get within grabbing distance, bodily tackling them to the ground and wrestling them into submission. He grappled with the dark shape until he successfully got them into a hold, tightening the arm that he had wrapped around their neck. There was a lot of shouting from his left, the voice recognizable but distant, unable to reach him like Lee’s voice could.

“Ford! Let up!” Lee barked and Ford’s limbs went lax without his say-so, releasing his hostage in favor of climbing to his feet and reclaiming his place at Lee’s side. Ford’s target was coughing as they scrambled away from him, aided by another dark shape that swooped in out of the darkness surrounding the vehicle. The two silhouetted figures were illuminated when they stumbled into the radius of light that the car’s headlights provided.

It was Stan and Stanford.

Stan was leaning heavily against his brother as he caught his breath, recovering from the chokehold Ford had him trapped in moments prior. And, on a far less alarming note, Stanford bore Stan’s weight without comment or complaint, a protective arm curled around his brother’s waist to hold him steady. Stanford spoke to Stan quietly, coaching him through some controlled breathing exercises to help him calm down.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean– I’m sorry.” Ford spoke in starts and stops, dropping into a crouch before huddling closer to Lee, his gloved hands grabbing desperate fistfuls of Lee's red sweatpants. Hands that he'd… he'd attacked Stan with. He hadn't meant to, but that didn't change the fact that he had done so. But Lee was hurt. Lee was hurt and Ford hadn't been thinking straight and–

“Ace, breathe. He's not hurt, just winded. Look.” Lee quietly urged, running one hand through Ford's hair while the other gently cupped his jaw to turn his head, though it took several seconds for Ford to drag his gaze away from Lee's boots to look at the pair that stood a ways off. And, true to Lee's word, Stan was standing up on his own now as his brother examined his neck to make sure there was no lasting damage.

“Let's all go inside.” Lee raised his voice so the other two could hear him, tenderly patting Ford's head to silently indicate that Ford should pry himself off of Lee. Ford reluctantly did so, putting a significant amount of effort toward uncurling his fingers to relinquish his grip. “Explanations can happen over a warm meal. I'll see what I can throw together.”

[aleskyyy]

Eternal Ember — Kyle Gaz Garrick x F!Reader

You’ve walked through centuries—fought wars, watched empires fall, loved and lost more times than you can count. Immortality isn't a gift. It’s a quiet curse. Until you meet Gaz, a Task Force soldier with scars he hides behind sarcasm and duty. He’s mortal. Finite. But when fate throws you together on a joint mission, everything burns brighter. And for once, you wonder—what if you could live like you only had one lifetime left?

Warnings— starts with fluff, bittersweet ending, gaz being a simp, err a little naughty time but not explicit.

Main Masterlist COD Masterlist

The desert wind cut through your coat like razors.

You stood at the edge of the landing zone, eyes narrowed against the sandstorm. You’d seen storms like this in Egypt, back when pharaohs still ruled. Back when you believed in gods. Before you became something worse—something that couldn't die.

And then he landed.

Gaz.

You recognized him by the way he moved—steady, efficient, but not robotic like the others. He had a rhythm to him. A pulse.

You’d been assigned to him as a “special liaison.” Which meant babysitting. Again.

But when his helmet came off, and his eyes locked with yours, something cracked. He smiled—crooked, knowing.

“Didn’t know we were getting backup with cheekbones sharp enough to kill.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Try not to get distracted, soldier.”

He laughed. A real one. Not forced.

“I’m already in trouble.”

Days passed. The mission was straightforward—intel extraction in hostile territory. You’d done it a hundred times. Probably more. But this time felt different.

Gaz was kind. Sharp. Funny in ways that slipped past your defenses. He didn't treat you like a relic. He didn’t ask questions about your age or your scars. He just fought beside you like you were equals.

And he flirted. Relentlessly.

“So,” he said one night, while cleaning his rifle, “how does someone like you end up in a place like this?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

You studied him. The warm brown of his eyes. The slow smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’ve lived longer than most armies.”

He blinked. Then grinned. “That a metaphor, or are you gonna tell me you’re immortal next?”

Silence.

His smile faltered. "You’re serious?”

You looked away. “Don’t fall for me, Gaz.”

“Too late.”

It started with a kiss.

A firefight left you both winded, crouched behind cover, adrenaline high. Bullets whistled overhead.

You turned to check his shoulder. He bled—just a graze.

“You’ll live,” you said.

“You always say that like you know for sure.”

Then he kissed you.

Hot. Desperate. Alive.

And you kissed him back like you forgot how long you'd been dead inside.

The nights became fire. You tangled in sheets too thin for the heat you shared. His hands memorized every inch of you, like time was chasing him. Your body, ageless, trembled beneath him.

“You’re not afraid to break me?” he whispered once, lips brushing your collarbone.

You wrapped your legs around him tighter.

“No,” you said, gasping. “But I’m afraid I’ll never stop wanting you.”

He didn’t say anything.

He just held you closer. Like he could freeze time with his touch.

But time always moved.

The mission ended.

You stood by the extraction point, arms crossed, heart clenched.

“Come with me,” he said.

You smiled. Sad. Knowing. “You’ll grow old. You’ll die.”

“And you’ll still remember me,” he replied. “Isn’t that enough?”

Tears threatened, but you held them in. You’d cried too many times. For too many centuries.

“I’ve buried every man I ever loved,” you whispered.

He touched your face, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Then let me be the last.”

And just like that, you stepped onto the chopper. Because even immortals need something to live for.

© 2025 aleskyyy

[deadqueerboys]

Hair pulling

NSFW HEADCANONS - MALE READER

Plot; Hair pulling mid make out.

Tommy is x Ftm! Reader because I wanted to.

Wilbur, Tommy and Quackity (separate).

Wilbur

He wasn't ready for that, but it seemed natural. Will got feral with that, as soon as your hand grabbed his hair he let out a big moan and he rolled his eyes. He smirked and grabbed your hips, looking at you a little more needy than before. You two were in his room, he sat on your lap while he was riding your cock. Your body was feeling funny, with a mix of horny and worried. He didn't want people to find out about they making out, especially after the allegations. Wilbur always tried to make the best for you, even if that means keeping you as a secret.

He wanted more of it, begging you to do that again. With sweetness, he grabs your hands and spreads a lot of kisses on them. Will knows that you liked that too, so he made everything to see you doing that. His eyes close when he leans to kiss you, way more soft and passionate than before. One more pull, and he's already crazy for you, his hand going down to touch your zipper. He looks at you with those eyes, so needy and possessive, you love it. Of course you do, or else you wouldn't be doing him all day and night while he's not on tour.

Tommy

You two just got home. As soon as he closed the door, he had already jumped on you. His hands touch your chest under your shirt, touching the scars of your surgery. It was still recent, but not enough to bother you during sex or when Tom touched it. He loves doing that, his fingers on the line of the scars, smiling at you. When he looks up, he kisses you, just as needy as his touch. Tommy pressed you against the wall, his hips rolling against yours, he was probably thinking about it since he saw you with those clothes.

He was surprised when you pulled his hair, and he suddenly widened his eyes. Just a second after it, he giggles and kisses you again. He denied the whimper, just smiling at grinding more aggressively. Tommy was weak for this. He needed more of you. It would never be enough. His legs were getting weak, and he could feel himself lost on the thoughts of his boyfriend pulling his hair. Then, you did it again, and he whimpered. A small moan and his smirk at you, not innocent, totally nasty and lustful.

Quackity

Quacks is wearing his beanie, always with some hat or anything to cover his hair. He was caressing your thighs, running his hand up and down while he worked on something on his computer. Probably a new video or adjusting stuff for a stream. You lay your head on his shoulder, and he leans closer. His hand on your chin as he kisses you. It was soft, nothing too much. But, both of you were needy.. he moves from his chair, pinning you on yours. His arms are blocking your way out, and you bring your hands up to grab his hair.

He says a "what the fuck?" with a chuckle. He loved that, nodding for you to do that again. He's a simple man. If he liked, of course, he would want it again. He's strong enough to keep himself quiet while you do that, even tho his hands are directly on your belt, opening it while you're busy with his hair. He wants your dick so bad. He wants to taste you before you go away again or before he needs to work.