#red experiences cw

[indulgentdaydream]

Can you write something where the reader is badly injured in some way and jason rushes her to the manor for help and everybody is confused on who she is bc they didnt even know he was in a relationship (despite them being together for awhile) but they see how soft and cute he is with her. (I’ve never made a request so sorry if it got kinda rambley)

anon you’ve got me TEEMING with ideas I LOVE the trope of nobody knowing jason has a girlfriend and they find out but it is NOT by Jason’s choice nor reader’s.

Also omg? Your first ask is to lil ol me?? That means this is a special occassion. And you’re doing great I’ve def sent worse asks.

Out of the Bag

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader || Hurt and Comfort.

Word Count: 1,862

Warnings: Injuries, swearing, near death experience, blood, knife mention, stabbing, canon-typical violence, use of pet names (princess, baby), drug (pain med) use

You were sat in an alleyway, vision going in and out.

“Tell me something, princess. Anything.” Jason’s voice rang out in your ear.

That’s right. In your right hand, you held your phone, to your ear. Your other hand was pressing the fabric of your coat to the side of your stomach. The blood had soaked through, becoming sticking on your palm and fingers.

You should’ve listened to Jason. You shouldn’t have walked home alone, at night. Luckily your phone had been in your pocket and not your purse, which had been stolen from you by the same guy who decided to stab you.

“Princess,” he sounded panicked.

Right. “Wish I had kicked him harder.”

You heard a sigh of relief leave him, “That’s my girl.”

The phone slipped from your grip a little as your head swam. The sight of blood coming from your own abdomen made no help in quelling your nausea.

You fixed the phone. You had called Jason the second the guy ran off, leaving you to bleed out. He was driving, you think. Tracking your phone to try and get to you. “How far?”

He said something you didn’t hear. Your vision was swimming, your side was aching, and you couldn’t help but keep this funny understanding out of your mind that you were dying.

That this is something Jason had come back to your apartment with a few times, claiming it was nothing. It was something.

You heard him call your name, “What’s around you?”

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

It seemed to happen in a blink of an eye. Jason was trying to tell you to stay awake, to look at the alley around you. To look out towards the street and tell him what you saw. Then he was there, standing in front of you, his helmet hiding his face.

“I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He cupped your face, tapping your cheek to get you to open up your eyes. He crouched down, pulling your hand from your side to assess the damage.

You smiled lazily and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

Jason muttered a slew of swears as he pressed something soft yet hard against your agonizing wound. You let out a yelp before Jason was picking you up, placing you on his bike.

He’s talking fast, “Fuck. Okay, listen to me. We’re going to go somewhere new, okay? There’s nowhere around here except there for me to get you safe.”

You passed out nearly as soon as he started the bike.

Jason’s freaking. He had tried to keep you safe from anything like this. From everything less than this. And here you were, bleeding out in his arms as he carried you through the batcave. He beelined for the cots and the medical supplies off to the side. He knows his motorcycle couldn’t have been the smoothest of rides for someone in your condition, but it’s all he had in such a short time span.

He’ll apologize when you wake up.

When. He repeats. When she wakes up and when we can get the hell out of this place again and when I can remind her I love her.

No one was back from patrol yet. He set you down on the cot before tearing off his helmet. He tossed it aside, pulling out a med bag and ripping it open. He pushed up your shirt, examining your side and where he had placed the military-grade gauze pad. He curses at the amount of blood.

His hands are shaking. Jason’s hands don’t shake, but you’ve proven to him a lot of things you could make him do that he hadn’t known he was capable of in the last year and (almost) a half of your relationship.

Jason nearly drops the suture thread before another hand is reaching out from just behind him. It catches the thread and Jason looks back over his shoulder. Alfred’s there, moving up to you.

“Allow me. You keep checking her vitals.”

Jason hadn’t even heard him come up. He’s nodding, stepping back to let Alfred take over the stitching. He moves to the other side of the bed.

That’s when he catches sight of the dark figure moving closer from behind Alfred. Jason immediately fixes him with a deadly glare, pointing at Bruce, “Do not come closer!”

Bruce stills. He’s in his bat suit, his cowl hanging behind his head, exposing his face. He looks down to your body, “Who is she?”

Jason doesn’t want him here. Rather, he doesn’t want to be here. You should’ve been home by now. Getting ready for bed and sending him a goodnight text. He turns his gaze back to you.

There’s some hair across your face that he hadn’t noticed. He moves it out of your way without a second thought, “My girlfriend.”

“Finally feel some remorse for sending someone to their grave, Todd?” Damian’s voice spoke up, walking up and stopping beside Bruce, “He’s probably trying to just reverse what he did.”

Jason ignores him. He wants to yell, scream, and maybe shoot the little bastard, but he was right. In a way, this was his fault. He didn’t look after you. He should’ve offered you a ride. Called you a taxi. An uber. Anything.

Jason grips your hand into his. It’s a way to count your heartbeat, and another way to ground himself. To reassure that you’ll be okay. His other hand stays on your cheek. His thumb gently moves back and forth, stroking your skin.

He barely registers Bruce telling Damian to go wash up. When the brat is gone, Bruce speaks up again, “What happened?”

Jason doesn’t take his eyes off of you, “She was walking home from her friend’s. A mugger got her purse, she fought back. He stabbed her.” Jason takes a deep breath, “She still had her phone. She called me. I brought her here because it was closest.”

A beat of silence. Still stitching you up, Alfred speaks, “How come we’ve never been introduced?”

Jason shakes his head, “I didn’t want her near any of this. She’s bad off enough sticking with me.”

Once you stabilize, Jason brings you up to his room in the manor. He walks past Dick, Tim, Duke, Cass, and Steph without looking at them. They sit around the batcomputer, watching Jason gently carry you out ot the cave.

He changes you out of your dirty clothes once he makes a run back to your apartment to grab you some of your own spare clothes.

Asides from that, he doesn’t leave your side.

He lets you have the bed to yourself. He pulls up a chair beside it, waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t want you to be alone when you did, in a strange place after a traumatic event. It was a recipe for disaster.

The sun’s been up for a long while and Jason hasn’t budged. He sits there, your hand gripped in both of his, held up and pressed against his mouth. His lips brush over your knuckles whenever he speaks up. Uttering a “I’m sorry.” every now and then.

There’s a light knock at the door before it’s cracking open. Jason turns his head to find Dick poking his head in. Jason glares at him.

Dick steps further in, presenting the tray he was holding. There were two glasses of water, some solid foods, and lighter ones, probably for you. Jason looked back down at you, letting his older brother enter.

“Just… figured since you’ve been cooped up in here all day,” Dick begins, setting the tray down on the beside table beside Jason.

Dick moves back around. He stands at the end of the bed, leaning against the tall bed post that was meant to hold up a canopy. “I heard…” he trails off, before nodding and your body in the bed, still unconscious, “Who is she?”

Jason looks up at his brother, not letting go of your hand, “So you haven’t heard.”

Dick rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

Jason raises his brows a little. He looks back down at you. His hand reaches out to brush along your forehead, moving away imaginary stray hairs, “My girl.”

Dick nods in understanding, “How long you two been together.”

Jason pauses in thought, “Over a year. Our anniversary was in December.”

A small, choked sound comes from outside the door, in the hallway. “A year?”

Jason looks up at Dick, who makes a face that shows he’s knows he’s been caught.

“Are they seriously listening right now?”

Steph poked her head in first, an apologetic smile on her face, “We wanted to know!”

Duke pokes his head in next, just above Steph’s, “And we wanted to meet her.”

Tim’s head in next, above Duke’s, “You can’t carry a random bleeding woman into the cave and expect the family of detectives to not be curious.”

Cass’ head appears below Steph’s. She nods in agreement.

Jason let’s one hand go of yours to wave his hand through the air, “What the fuck? She’s not even awake!”

“Well that’s why we sent Dick as bait.”

“For the record,” Dick held up a finger, “They built off of my original, innocent idea of bringing you snacks.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason stands up, taking a few steps forward. He points them all back towards the door as they start to filter into the room, “Get—“

“What’s going on…?”

Jason’s whole body whipped back around at the sound of your groggy, rough voice. The others watch as he’s back at your side in a millisecond, his whole demeanour changed. “Hey, you’re okay. Everything’s okay. Remember how I said we were going somewhere new? You thirsty, baby? Here, I got you some water.”

“Oh, you certainly did not get the water,” Dick piped up.

Jason glared back over his shoulder as he held the glass of water for you, keeping the straw Dick had added placed in your mouth.

You stopped drinking, your eyes now on the other people in the room. You turned your head, propped up against pillows Jason had put there for you. You weakly raised your left hand to wave, “Hi… oh?” your gaze turned down to your hand. A heart monitor clip sitting on your finger grabbed your attention. You gave a confused pout at it, “I feel funny.”

Jason set the water aside again. His glare was gone. He leaned in, kissing your forehead, “You’re hopped up on pain meds. That’s why, princess.”

“Damn,” Steph spoke up, “I wish I got the literal princess treatment.”

Jason turned back around, pointing out the door, “Get. Out. Leave my girlfriend alone until she’s better.”

You looked at the strangers, pointing at Jason with your left hand, “I’m his girlfriend.” Your head tilted back against the pillows as you stared up at Jason, pursing your lips, "I’m tired.”

“I know,” Jason said softly. The others began to filter out of the room as he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss, this time on the lips.

From the exit, a collective, “Awwww,” sounded out.

“Out!”

Your drugged up voice came after his, once they were all back in the hall, “Nice to meet you!”

[ivysangel]

Jason as a nibbler, a neck biter, a vampire. Not literally, he doesn't need blood to survive, no, but the way his mouth somehow always finds your neck, always finds a way to catch his teeth on your carotid, you'd think he did.

He comes up behind you so innocently sometimes, his hands ghosting over your hips and his hair tickling your jaw. His beautiful, soft, jet-black hair that is so quickly replaced with sharp nips of his teeth. You pull away, pushing his head back with your hand, and he groans; what did I do, his eyes say when he lifts his head to look at you. "You're biting me." you point to the teeth marks on your neck, indents a little deeper where his canines were. "I'm loving you."

You patiently wait for the day he gets carried away and accidentally draws blood, the day when the permissiveness of your flesh gives way to this indulgent behavior of his. He'll nose at the tiny droplets of blood collecting around the puncture wounds, licking and laving as a pool of iron collects on his tongue. Pulling away, looking like a wolf who's just devoured its prey, with blood smeared on the tip of his nose and his pupils blown wide.

He'd tasted blood before when he'd punched too hard, when he'd been punched too hard; the taste was always bitter in his mouth, too metallic, and always lingering long after he'd washed it away with water, but not yours. No, yours was welcome, just as bitter and metallic but also sweet? Comforting? Welcome? Yes, welcome. He'd welcomed you into his life a multitude of times, made room for you in places he'd previously thought to be too cramped. In his home, in his mind, in his heart, but the one place he could never figure out how to integrate you was his body.

Of course, he'd had sex with you, let you touch him in ways he had never been touched before, seen him at his most vulnerable, but it would never be the same for him as it was for you. You could never be inside of him the way he was inside of you. He thought he'd never know how it felt to walk around with ghosts of you inside of him the way you did when he came too deep or stretched you out too much. He thought he'd never know what it felt like to carry a part of his lover around with him outside of a material object. Now, he knew otherwise; he knew there was an alternative—a painful, bloody alternative—but an alternative nonetheless.

[artcake]

[suchafuckingriot]

Wilbur Soot as an abuser

cw, physical abuse, graphic descriptions of physical abuse

this analysis seeks to break down the supposed type of abuser wilbur is for the purpose of showing people what abusers can look like and why they do it the way they do. especially in this instance, where it can feel ambiguous or exaggerative to call that person an abuser when you’re in a relationship with them. WARNING: this post will be uncomfortable and sad to read. VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED.

first and foremost, go watch shelby’s stream. she said exactly what she wanted to say and she said it very well, and i’m not going to synthesize it. additionally, the only reason i feel comfortable writing this in the first place is because i’ve experienced the exact same thing, bites and all. because of that fact, some of this information might be biased towards my own experiences, but know that this essay is not about wilbur as much as it is about this one type of abuser. this is not drama or gossip like usual, it is meant to be educational and give awareness to a covert type of abuse that is often hard to recognize, a type of abuse that i know and understand. it is also meant to explain why it happens, as i’ve seen a LOT of questions about “why biting?”. remember, wilbur is just our poster boy in this instance. you could swap his name out with any other, he’s just who sparked the discussion this time. anyways,

How it Starts

remember my post from a while ago about wilbur and manic pixie dream girls? (if someone could send it to me i’d like to reblog it) there is a simple process to wilbur’s attraction to women:

find “special” girl -> rizz her up -> it fails -> spiral into self loathing bender -> (“update me on your life and now you’ve found the one, but i don’t like his eyes…”)

or

find “special” girl -> rizz her up -> it works -> oh wait she’s not special to me anymore -> she’s supposed to be special -> but she’s special i cant not like her she’s such a catch -> she loves me and i hate her -> i’m in love with the fact that she loves me -> (“you’re just so painfully punctual, i’m starting to get bored”)

and here we get to what happened with shelby.

she was his childhood crush. she is also petite, beautiful, very cutesy, giggles, is very sweet, has a distinct personal style, is SHUBBLE. to name a few things. she is a perfect dream girl for wilbur to chase.

wilbur catches her -> he loses interest -> the ego boost and additional benefits from dating shelby is so great that he values her status as his girlfriend above her as a person -> she is still a person with relationship needs -> he lashes out at her in seemingly innocent ways in attempt to satisfy both his ego and the needs of a relationship. which brings us to

Biting/“Playful” Injury

love bites are a fairly common form of affection. the important distinction to make is that they are usually gentle, and done by someone because they know it’s silly. it’s a human thing to do. a very common question i’ve seen: why did he bite her?

because when you are in a relationship with someone you resent (as shelby said) and you get the inclination to physically harm them, you know you can’t. this is obviously bad, and wilbur knows it’s bad, so he picks something that can be turned into a joke. wilbur is a known biter. this gives him a justification that shelby will take and so will everyone else that sees it happen, especially since his mom backed it up.

the bites serve to

-allow him to hurt her without feeling guilty

-affirm his ego that she’ll stay with him even if he treats her poorly

-provide a visible marker to other people that she is “his”, further affirming his ego

the bites being in her skin allowed people to see them and she’d be forced to explain that he was the one that did it, he could show them off himself if they were together, they could be passed off as a silly joke, and he got the satisfaction of hurting her under a “safe” pretense. especially because he set up a safeword, he got to justify in his head that he was not a bad guy or abusive for doing this. the bites are a mark of possession, like a brand. it’s gratifying that he’s the only person that gets to do this to her.

there is also something… attractive? romantic? about how much someone will endure for you. this type of abuser loves to stress test how much you’ll take from them before breaking. they feel validated that you’re willing to do that for them, so even if he had to stop doing it on her arms and move to her legs instead, it was still gratifying that she would take it.

one question i saw a lot: is it a sex thing? not necessarily. it could be, but in this case and in my own experience i don’t think it is. i don’t think it sexually gratifies them, just fuels their ego.

i would also like to add, biting is not the only way this can happen. here are a few more examples of covert physical abuse, from my own experiences because that’s the best way to word them:

my ex would “crack my knuckles”, meaning bend my fingers a dangerous amount until they forcefully popped, framed as an inside joke

"playfully" shove me, making sure to do it hard enough that i was knocked into a wall and would hit my head

pinch bruises into my ribs so they would hurt when i laughed

back to shelby/wilbur, her story of him pinning her down and asking her to try to push him off, then gloating when she couldn’t

i just think it’s worth noting: shelby wanting to be a bunny on origins smp, then wilbur modifying her lore saying she was a bunny until he killed her because he was lonely and wanted another ghost around. that shit was not normal

i would also like to add, often the person being hurt in this scenario does express that they are being hurt, that they do not like it, and that they don’t want it to keep happening. the abuser will dismiss it because the ways they harm you are “a joke”, or they may set up a safe word or fake apology or negotiation in attempt to placate you. or they will guilt trip you. know that almost never are any remedies they try to provide you genuine. you will not fix your relationship. they do not care about you, they care that you satisfy their ego. they want to harm you, and they will not stop.

if you suspect you may be in this situation, get out of it. nobody deserves to be hurt by their own partner or be made to feel resented by their own partner. research all of the different types of abuse, and figure out the best solution for your situation. like shelby said, she was the one that broke up with him, which is the case for a lot of these scenarios. i pulled the trigger in my own relationship. it might be scary, or not feel right, but if you can come to the conclusion that your situation isn’t right, you can leave it too.

wishing everyone happiness, health, and healing,

-riot

(p.s. in the tags)

[painonthebrain]

Also, bonus question, does what role the character play affect how you feel about their death or if they were to die? For example, a whumper dying vs a whumpee dying or a caretaker dying

[enniewritesathing]

👁️

[courfeyracs-swordcane]

Hm. Ari Finch ballad brothers was NOT supposed to have this much in common with me gamers what the fuck

[lunarscaled]

-> Lyric knew, in the reality, that this had not slain him. They knew that. Knew no matter how realistic he may have made it feel—blood in their nose and staining their shirt, the grip of the handle of the knife heavy in their hands, the way his muscle and bone cracked and squelched every time they sank it's blade in again and again and again—that this is all just like a hazy dream. A nightmare. Knew it the moment the chain of their blessed necklace snagged and popped apart and sent the charmed pendant rolling, the opening he was always waiting for, the moments they were no longer protected and could keep him away. He snapped shut around them like an alligator's jaws; Lyric had no grounding if this was real, or a hallucination, or some amalgamation of the two made to torture them.

And it does feel like torture. The high of feeling they might be free of him is so potent and brief—Icarus near the sun just before his wings fall apart.

-> They can't even bring themselves to feel disappointment or defeat. As their chest heaves and they hold the bloody knife in both hands, they are instead trembling when his eerie voice speaks from the corpse. When his empty eyes turn fresh again and the mass at their feet deforms. When he sets a hand on their shoulder, too long to feel human, and the chill of his dead self leaves shivers running down their spine when he leans closer to their ear. ( they want to turn the knife on their own throat instead. they think about it, and then think he'd get too much satisfaction from it, and then think he may do something worse just to keep them in his claws. horrifically unpredictable—they think his sadism has no end to it. they press the blade of the knife to their gut and wish it was more comfort. )

"Leave—"

-> Their voice cracks out, mouth shaking, body rigid from the fear he creates. They fear that he may seize them from behind and wrap his hand around their throat, fit just right, and watch them choke until their voice is hoarse and non-existent but never until they pass out or perish. ( they fear he may do something even worse that plagues on their fragile mentality, still not sure what is real. where is real. were they even real? was this? were they having a nightmare right now? )

"Leave me alone...!"

@groazei from ask.

[animeluver34]

Uh-oh! Looks like our contestant is running out of Slime!

[smol-grey-tea]

Back on my Nameless bullshit cuz I'm hyperfixating on it again and just today finished replaying Lance's route

Wanted to take this post to infodump about the character designs. Yes we all know the outfits are really strange and aren't co-ordinated at all, especially Red's, but I think at the end of the day, the outfits are the doll's default clothing and since they're just dolls the outfits prioritise design over practicality so it kinda makes sense that a doll's clothes wouldn't translate well into a human body

But I didn't wanna talk about their default outfits, I wanted to talk about their school uniform. They all (excluding Yuri) wear the exact same uniform. Yet they all manage to wear it in a way that highlights their own personality thru it.

Starting with Lance, he wears his blazer buttoned up with a plain and formal tie, showing how plain and straight forward his personality is.

Yeonho wears a bow but it's slightly lopsided, showing he's a bit fancier than Lance's tie, but he's inexperienced and younger than the others so he a lil confused but he got the spirit.

Tei wears a bow, like Yeonho, but it's straighter and more professional, so he's definitely fancier but knows what he's doing.

Yuri's suit is more professional too, as he's a teacher in the school, but he also regularly wears a pair of sunglasses to show how he is the only one of the boys to really care about his appearance as to change it so much, and especially with the choice of sunglasses showing status and how he views himself as cool

Finally, Red doesn't button up his blazer, nor does he button up the top button of his shirt, and he doesn't even wear any tie at all. This shows just how different he is to everyone else and also that he's more of a free spirit who doesn't particularly conform to the majority. Also, not buttoning up blazers/coats and top buttons is an autistic mood, on top of having difficulty with tying bows and ties. I personally headcanon he just straight up doesn't know how to tie knots like that at all and needs Tei to tie his shoelaces for him, but he eventually gets fed up with relying on Tei and just buys velcro instead

I'm not done yet tho cuz now I'm gonna talk about the girls too:

First of all, Soi's uniform is, again, the same as the other girls, but the way she wears it really emphasises her larger than life personality. She wears a ribbon in her hair as well as a bow tie but also with an um,, open,, chest? She definitely cares about her appearance and expresses herself in a very feminine way with her posture as well. Did you know Soi only has 1 sprite? Somebody else who uploaded the character sprites talked about this, but it's very easy not to notice her lack of sprites because of just how expressive her 1 sprite is on its own. It's just so expressive she doesn't need any more than 1 and you don't even notice it!

Shinbi on the other hand, has a formal tie, showing she's more reserved than Soi, but she's regularly seen either with her hands in her pockets or holding a strawberry milk carton, showing that she has quite a laid back attitude, compared to Soi's energy

Eri, I think, is the only character to have 3 different outfit sprites, which is 1 of the few things I would change about the game - I think if the main characters are dolls shouldn't they dress up a bit more? I don't even think Red has a justice warrior sprite, altho that's probably thrown out in favour of the play cg in his route. Eri's uniform is plain but still a bit messy - she has a bow tie but it's lopsided and she doesn't button up her blazer, which shows that she knows her own style and hobbies but isn't too organised or professional about anything herself

I don't rly know what else to add and it's kind of late. Maybe someone else has made a similar post, maybe that person was me, but this is what I made and now I'm posting it so everyone else can see it too :)

[uzumakichcined]

(puts the entire ballad into her head)

Deep into the stony hills miles from town or hold a troop of guards comes riding with a lady and her gold. She rides bemused among them shrouded in her cloak of fur companioned by a maiden and a toothless, aged cur.  

Three things see no end, a flower blighted err it bloomed, a message that miscarries and a journey that is doomed.

Little does the lady care what all the guardsmen know that bandits ambush caravans that on these trade roads go. In spite of tricks and clever traps and all that men can do, the brigands seem to always sense which trains are false or true.

Three things are most perilous: the shape that walks behind, ice that will not hold you and the spy you cannot find.

One among the guardsmen has a shifting restless eye. And as they ride he scans the hills that rise against the sky. He wears the sword and jewels worth more than he could afford and hidden in his baggage is a heavy seceret hord.

Of three things be weary of a feather on a cat, a sheperd eating mutton and a guardsman that is fat.

From ambush bandits screaming charge the pack train and it's prize and all but four within the train are taken by suprise. And all but four are cut down as a woodsman fells a log, the guardsman and the lady and the maiden and the dog.

Three things hold a seceret- lady riding in a dream, the dog who sounds no warning and the maid who does not scream.

Then off the lady pulls her cloak in armour she is clad her sword is out and ready and her eyes are fierce and glad. The maiden makes a gesture and the dog's a cur no more. A wolf, swordmaid and sorceress now face the bandit horde.

Three things never anger or you will not live for long, a wolf with cubs, a man with power, and a woman's sense of wrong

The lady and her sister by a single trader lone were hired out to try to lay a trap all of their own, and no one knew their plan except the two who rode that day. For what you do not know you cannot ever give away.

Three things that it's better far that only two should know, where treasure hides, who shares your bed and how to catch your foe.

The bandits growled a challenge and the lady only grins, the sorceress bows mockingly and then the fight begins. When it ends there's only four left standing from the horde, the witch, the wolf, the traitor and the woman with the sword.

Three things never trust in: the maiden sworn as pure, the vows a king has given and the ambush that is sure.

They stripped the traitor naked and then whipped him on his way into the barren hillsides like the foes he use to slay. And what of all the maidens that this bandit raped and slew, so as revenge the sorceress makes him a woman too.

Three things trust above all else: the horse on which you ride, the beast the guards your sleeping and your shieldmaid at your side.

Send anonymous voices to my muse

These may be intrusive thoughts or literal voices that my muse hears in their head! So long as the mun is comfortable with it, anything goes!

Okay. . . . she isn't hating this. At least this song is a bit nicer than the others to listen to as she heads into Konoha looking around for someone she knows that she can inquire about facilities to help with mental health. Humming softly with the repeated melody, she probably wouldn't mind singing along with this if she knew the lyrics.

Still, it was an odd song to have playing in her head and she wonders if she'd heard it from one of the prisoners back when she was a warden. It begs the question to her in some small corner of her mind that was no occupied by this tune, how many songs had been sung about her. Did any prisoners make up a tune about her cruelty? Something to maybe look into, it would certainly be interesting to hear.

Since Sasuke and Suigetsu had freed many of her prisoners it's not like her tales of cruelty would be too unheard of but seldom believed.

[vampiric-calls]

[mayra-quijotescx]

In the United States, it's very commonly the case that a menu item listed as spicy is only 'spicy' in that it has spices in it, not as in 'it exceeds a given Scoville heat threshold'. As a result, oftentimes someone with relatively low spice tolerance can get something with a pepper next to its name on the menu, and merely experience something flavorful with very little heat (which can always be added in later, at least.)

Halal Guys is not one of those places.

They know they use spices in all their food already, if you order hot sauce in there (or if they think you ordered hot sauce because let's face it, between the fridge humming and the grill sizzling, who can hear anything?) you are getting *hot* sauce and whatever happens next is between you and God. Who you might see about three bites in, if your spice tolerance is comparative to mine (low).

[cheesit-notes]

TASK FORCE 141

and how they fuck you

cw: MDNI!, fem reader, rough fucking, raw dogging it, riding (cowgirl), finger fucking, slow ghost, thigh riding, fucking in front of recruits a/n: teehee pls don't ban me for this Tumblr, this is 18+

soap who likes fucking you rough, and even rougher when in front of the recruits. not really into condoms, likes it raw kinda guy you know? don't worry, he'll do tons of foreplay for you. kisses trail from your face down to your thighs. will get down on his knees to eat you out, and mind you, he's as good as he says. he honestly forgets about any forms and sorts of dirty talk at this point because he's too busy, your moans do most of the talking. by the time you're ready, he's already superr impatient. his pants strained and he's leaking precum like a faucet, he's been so patient up until now so he feels like he deserves a reward. his reward being he gets to ram his cock into you with little to no warning^^ if you think being fucked hard and rough is the end of it, you're wrong. he's a cocky fucker, he'll fuck you in front of the recruits just to show them who's better.

gaz who has you ride him, cowgirl style. you could be on the couch in the common area or in his barracks on the bed, doesn’t matter. he’ll sit there and watch as you do all the work. at first you’re doing so well and he’s praising you for it but after a while, you start to get tired :( poor you. he knows when you’re slowing down and he can get soo mean. a hand on your hip as he instructs you to go faster, harder, until he has you slammed down, bottoming out in you. the entire time, he’s spitting out insults about how you can’t do something as simple as riding him properly. cums inside you, sticky hot white cum drips down your thighs as you try to get up before his hands force you down on him again. he’s just trying to keep the cum where it belongs so let him fuck it back into you, yeah?

ghost who, surprisingly, likes fucking you slow. really slow. so slow in fact you start begging him to go faster. it feels like he’s teasing you with how little he’s giving you, but he’s enjoying it. there’s two position you’re in: on your knees taking him from behind with his hand on your stomach, or on your back with his thumb pressed over your abdomen. has at least a finger over your stomach to feel the bulge as he slides in and out. shit gets him high. calls you his little doll ‘cause you’re honestly just laying there letting him do whatever. he cums just from feeling the bulge that’s his cock in your stomach. even after he’s all soft, he’ll still shove some fingers in. he’ll curl his fingers and they’re so big and fat, and god, even his fingers stretch you out. this’ll go on for hours until you’re a babbling crying mess who came just from some fingers. he’s got all the time in the world to play with his doll.

captain price who’s a more hands-off kinda guy. he won’t even fuck you until you’ve cum from riding his thigh. making a mess over his pants as your legs tremble from the sensation. shoves toys in your cunt in the morning, “quiet, i’know you can take it”, so by nighttime you’ll be all wet for him! he’s not rough like soap, and not slow like ghost, he’s just normal fucking. not too rough, not too slow, just right. trust, he’s got tons of experience so he knows how to please a woman. if there’s one thing to complain about, it’s his death grip on your thighs. it doesn’t stop at red markings that last for hours or days, there are bruises on your thighs that can last up to weeks. he takes making you unable to sit normally to a whole new level. price is like soap in some ways, he wants to show people that he’s superior but not as obvious as soap. he won’t fuck you in front of the recruits, but you will be riding his thigh during briefings with the team.

[mrsimpurity]

CLAWS AND MARKS

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: getting logan’s name tattooed on you earns you a very unexpected reaction

wc: 2k

cw: smut (nsfw), oral (fem receiving), p in v, cum play, questionable relationship dynamics, reader has a tattoo, logan’s claws come out

a/n: writing this was… an experience! pls don’t do this i’m pretty sure you’ll get an infection of some kind 

It's quite late. Heading to sleep is the only thing on your mind on this early September night. Your bed is warm, and so is your boyfriend’s embrace, so you rarely sleep in anything else besides your underwear. 

You pull down your flimsy shorts and step out of them in a hurry to get under the warm sheets. You’re left in simple black panties and, well, something else.

“What’s this, kid?” Logan asks, eyebrow raised in question. Shit. You turn your head to see him staring at your ass. You can’t quite decipher the look on his face. Is it anger?

“Oh, just something silly me and the girls did last night.” you snicker, looking back at your own butt. A fresh tattoo, which is still a bit red, takes up a small space on your right asscheek. And it reads “Logan” in a serif font, little twirls decorating the capital letter. You can’t help but feel embarrassed at the aftermath of the two margaritas you had last evening during your weekly girls night. 

Logan approaches you with careful steps, still looking awfully intimidating (in your defense, he pretty much always does). Standing behind you now, he grabs the globes of your ass. You’re facing the wall, cheeks red. You can feel the smirk on his face as he kneads the fat, rubbing a thumb across the ink on your body. 

“You really did that for your old man?” your nerves slowly start dissipating, the tone in Logan's voice developing a sultry note. 

“Mhm.” you answer, still a bit unsure.

“Fuck.” is the only thing you hear being mumbled behind you before Logan picks you up by the hips and throws you on the bed. He’s like an animal, you think to yourself, with the way he grabs your legs and drags you to the edge of the bed while getting on his knees. Your panties are off you in a second, your bare cunt exposed to the chilly air. But the open window isn’t the only thing contributing to your goosebumps - the look in Logan's eyes is not one to be forgotten.

To say you feel like prey in a predator’s claws would be an understatement. The ink on your body ignited something long forgotten in him, something that connects him with his roots, a fucked up need to mark you. 

Logan’s mouth latches on your clit and you’re brought out of your trance as he sucks on the swollen nub. His hold on your thighs is unbelievably strong. He's holding you down as you squirm under him, submitting yourself to the pleasure his mouth brings you. His tongue licks up a long stripe between your glistening folds and sets on your puffy clit again, the kitten licks he places making it impossible to stay still. 

Your moans get louder and louder and your elbows can’t keep you up anymore. You fall back on the bed and close your eyes. The loss of one sense only sharpens the rest, Logan's hot breath on your pussy captivating your mind.

You’re dreaming, you’re sure. The sound of Logan lapping up your juices, tongue entering your hole, is possibly the most erotic thing that’s ever blessed your ears. 

You don’t hold back anymore, you just can’t. You let your whines slip past your lips oh so loudly as Logan's nose pushes up against your clit. He himself is entranced, by your sweet arousal, by the lewd sounds you’re making.

And fuck, does he get painfully hard by listening to you moan and thrash under his hold. Even thinking about the tattoo for a moment drives him insane. He has to have you.

You’re teetering on the edge of your release as Logan licks circles around your clit. Your breath comes out in short pants. You’re under his mercy, begging him with helpless cries to relieve you of this painful teasing.

“Logan, please.” those are your final words before Logan's tongue flattens out against your swollen nub. Your orgasm crashes over you as you cry out his name. But he doesn’t falter. He's licking and kissing, his face and beard covered in your juices. Helping you ride out your orgasm, he places slow pecks on your clit and massages your folds, rubbing them between his fingers.

You’re propped up on your elbows, staring at him like a deer in headlights. He can’t wipe that fucking smirk off his face. You feel scrutinized, like you’re under observation and he’s trying to decide how to further destroy you.

“You scared, doll?” Logan asks.

You gulp and curse yourself for acting like this. You have no idea what’s come over you, or him for that matter, but you just can’t shake off the fear creeping up on you.

“Of course not, Logan.” you whisper. He’s close to you now. Impossibly close. His lips are touching yours, you’re breathing into his mouth.

And then he’s kissing you, like a man gone wild. It feels like a fever dream, the way his thumb caresses your cheek in the most heartwarming way possible, the action in such contrast with the way his tongue enters your mouth, captivating you. He's hungry for you, he can’t get enough. You’re moaning into his mouth now, further egging him on. He grunts, strengthening his hold on your face as his tongue explores your mouth, leaving you breathless.

And before you know it, the familiar sound of metal passes dangerously close to your ears. 

His claws just came out.

In a heartbeat, you’re pushed down on the bed again, Logan's huge frame towering over you. The shadow of his shiny adamantium claws on the ceiling almost urges you to murmur a quick prayer under your breath.

“Lo, what are you going to do to me?” you ask.

You barely squeak it out, looking up at him through your eyelashes, but he almost cums in his pants right then and there.

“Oh, baby. Thought you weren’t scared, hm?” His tone is teasing, almost sarcastic. He's asking you this while slowly dragging the blunt part of his claw down your navel, getting dangerously close to your cunt. It’s like you’re trapped, you can’t move for the life of you unless you want to get hurt. The sense of impending doom creeps up your neck again and you’re truly left at his mercy this time, you think.

So then why are you getting even wetter?

“You’re killing me here, doll. Don’t you want this?” his question is dangerous, if nothing else.

“More than anything.” Your needs betray your mind, what you just said registering a minute later, the all too lustful part of your brain working overtime to please your body. 

Logan retracts his claws and flips you over on your tummy.

“Ass up.” it's a command.

And so you follow his orders, getting on all fours. You feel as if you’re expecting a punishment, but it’s a little more exciting than it should be.

You hear shuffling behind you and soon enough, Logan's briefs are discarded on the floor, his hard cock slapping against his stomach as he frees himself. You gulp again, this time in anticipation rather than fear.

Logan grabs a hold of your hip with one of his hands as he pushes the tip of his cock past your folds. He sinks himself inside your warm and inviting pussy. The chuckle he lets out at how wet you are is loud enough for you to hear and a red tint creeps up your cheeks again.

“You’re always so fucking tight.” Logan mumbles behind you as he begins thrusting inside your cunt. Your walls are squeezing him like a vice and he feels like a virgin that’s about to burst. You’re ravishing, a sight for sore eyes - on all fours for him, ever so obedient, his name imprinted on your skin. Your moans accompany the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as he picks up the pace. It’s like a crude, fucked up harmony that you want to listen to for the rest of your life.

“Harder, please, Logan.” you plead, having absolutely lost your mind. His cock is buried deep inside your cunt and the head of his cock thrusts up against the gummy spot inside you. You can feel him in your tummy. 

His girth twitches inside you at those words and Logan complies, he himself too lost in pleasure to tease, to even speak. He only pulls out completely and slams himself back inside you, too close to his own orgasm. You’re arching your back, fucking yourself on his cock with all the energy you can muster. His hips roll against you with vigor, a visceral need you’ve never felt exude from him before.

His fingers reach down to rub circles on your puffy clit and you whine as the pleasure becomes too much for you.

You clench around his length and he grabs your hips for support, the two of you chasing the unforgiving and much too intimate wave of ecstasy. His thrusts don’t falter, your pussy clenching greedily around him, only making him go faster. 

“You were made for me, baby. This pussy was made for me.” his words absolutely fucking finish you. Your gummy walls clamp down on his cock as you orgasm, feeling him twitch inside you before his release also comes. You moan out Logan's name like a prayer as his thrusts get sloppier. His seed is warm and you feel full. His hands are roaming all over your ass, grabbing the fat and kneading it. His cock twitches inside you again.

Right. The tattoo.

Logan carefully pulls out of you and you whine at the feeling of emptiness as his cum slowly drips out of your pulsating hole and onto the sheets. Too lost in the moment, Logan puts two fingers inside you. Unsuspecting, you moan at his touch, too sensitive.

“Fuck, Lo.” you pant out as you finally realize what’s happening. Logan smears the remnants of his release right on the tattoo of his name. He does so with such loving touches, it’s almost comical. You’re still catching your breath, trying your best to lean into his touch as he runs a thumb over his creation and leans down to press a loud smooch on your ass.

“Pervert.” you giggle behind him.

“But you love it.” he sneers.

Touché.

Drained of all energy, you finally collapse on the bed, facing the ceiling. Logan hovers above you, massaging your limbs attentively. He places a kiss on both of your hands and another trail of kisses from the valley between your breasts down to your navel. Finally, he comes up to face you. You rub your nose against his lovingly and his lips finally encapture yours in a kiss almost too sweet to believe.

“Did I tire you out, baby?” he asks, scared of having hurt you while being too lost in the moment.

“No. You know I trust you.” Logan smiles against your mouth at your words and places a kiss on your nose while grabbing your hand to hold in his.

Logan sneakily lowers himself down your body to face your pussy. He places a small kiss on your cunt, that smirk of his making a dangerous appearance again.

“Then let me taste you again.” Logan says with the same intimidating tone that started all of this, the one that foretells an engulfing, alas frightening, erotic escapade.

And so you let him. By the end of the night, you’re stained of him, every inch of your body belonging to this man, the tattoo no longer feels as significant. 

Because the mark he’s left on you is much more visceral. And no orgasm can compare to the natural feeling of obedience which enthralls you when you lay eyes on him. A feeling perfectly sculpted to match his animalistic urges.

[ssahotchnerr]

yes! i do!! you have jj’s role and an unsub is shot dead infront of you and his blood literally soaks you and you’re shaking and speechless and aaron’s focus is to get to you and keep you safe and bring you back to earth 🥲🥲

stay with me

cw; fem liasion!reader, protective!aaron, multiple blood descriptions, panic attack descriptions, no established relationship but aaron and reader are close, there's also one small mention of aaron's shirt being big on reader, fluff <3 wc; 1k

your ears are ringing. whether it's from the gunshot or the blatant shock, you have no idea.

you're frozen in place; everything's fuzzy, your body is buzzing and your lips, hands, everything is numb.

you're not used to this. this isn't what your job usually entails. you look at pictures like this, you don't live or experience it.

in the haze, someone's approached you. someone's talking to you. someone's embraced you. there's a hand on your back, an arm attempting to shield you away. but your feet don't move. internally, you're screaming at them to move.

why won't they move?

"hey," it's aaron. you don't hear him, or process that it's him, until he shakes you ever so gently and again, he says, "hey."

you don't want to be used to this.

"i..." you rigidly stand there, staring at the unsub laid in front of you, the pool of blood around him growing as the seconds pass. you think you're articulating words, but you're not sure.

aaron follows your eyes - he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. a swirl of emotions fill him - first and foremost, relief you're safe and unscathed, but also horror at what you just encountered - what you shouldn't have encountered.

"it's on me." you manage to choke out, feeling rather lightheaded as you view your shaky hands, and then your blouse, both spattered with red. it's on your neck, your face, and it's like you can feel every singular dot, singeing into your skin like it's bound to be permanent. a new fear fills you - will you ever be able to not feel it?

"don't look, just look at me." your head whips towards aaron, finding his gentle and concerned brown eyes. the sight allows your chest to loosen, finding the smallest bit of normalcy when it comes to breathing. you're remembering how to breathe.

aaron wants to bring the cuff of his sleeve to your skin, to wipe away the residue but he can't. he fears it would make it worse, and remind you again that it's littered on you - the last thing you needed. he wanted to calm you, not further panic you. "or better yet, just close them, sweetheart."

the term of endearment goes right past you, as you grip onto his vest, the sleeves of his shirt, anything your fingers can hold onto as he's guiding you out of the house. he's talking to the rest of the team, relaying instructions, but you only focus on keeping your eyes shut.

"it's okay, you're going to be just fine." aaron assures you, his voice low and even, soothing. "hear the leaves crunching under your feet? there's a cool breeze tonight, too. can you feel it?"

you nod gingerly. the sound is distant, but it's there. and just as he stated, you feel the cool air hit your cheeks, the wind also tousling your hair. it feels colder than cool, though, due to the stream of tears trailing downwards - have you been crying too? "i can hear it in the trees."

"that's good. how about smell, can you smell anything?"

copper.

aaron realizes his mistake the second the sentence leaves his mouth, your face paling as well as his.

"your aftershave." you blurt out, surprising yourself. despite the sheer panic, it was fairly easy to redirect your mind to him. your fingers clutched onto the fabric of his shirt more forcefully. "it smells spicy, sweet too. it smells like you. familiar. safe."

you resist the urge to tuck your face into him, but after a moment's thought, you do. you need it. you need him.

and to further secure you, aaron holds you to him, his large hand spanning the side of your head and keeping your face buried close to his chest.

your eyes open when you reach the suv; when the two of you come to a stop, when aaron's hold is suddenly absent, the sound of the door opening deeming it safe - far away from the scene.

but at the loss of his contact, involuntarily your eyes fall back to your blouse. it's stuck to your skin, soaked by the... blood.

"stay with me." aaron manages to grab your attention before you begin spiraling again, his hands lifting and hesitating. "may i?"

you nod, frantically and this time, you can feel the tears resurfacing. "please get it off me."

first, aaron unvelcros his vest, and then removes his tie, his dress shirt, leaving him in just his white tee. he drapes it over the passenger seat - at the ready.

aaron ushers you closer to the interior of the car so the open door fully covers you, blocking any view that isn't his. he unbuttons your blouse with gentle fingers, acting rather quickly as well. and respectfully, he averts his eyes - either looking strictly at his hands, the buttons on each shirt, or your face, checking in on you.

he helps you into his shirt, holding it open so you can slide your arms in. it envelopes you, and just as fast as he unbuttoned, he fastens it shut.

it feels as if a small weight is lifted off your shoulders, and aaron tosses your soiled shirt onto the ground in the backseat. he leads you to sit sideways in the passenger seat, facing him.

"i don't want to be alone." you don't know why that's the first thing to exit your mouth, but it is. your eyes lift to his, frightened and pleading.

aaron nods as he gets down on a knee, cupping your cheek with his hand. "you're sleeping in my room tonight."

"with you?"

with a stroke of his thumb, overtop those bloodstains he's desperate to wash and rid you from, he nods again. "with me."