#scar mention tw

[springbandit]

❝ Tell me who we hate today. ❞ (Parker & William)

"I try not to hate people." he lied. William hated lots of people. Saying William hated everybody as a general statement wouldn't be completely untrue. "Although, it would be wrong of me not to give mention to the individual who inflicted all of this upon me." Despite having been out of hospital for a few weeks now, William was still obviously worse for wear. The bruising was beginning to go down but was still noticeable and was adorned by a large gash across the bridge of his nose, which threatened to scar. "I hate him today, and, I suppose I will still when I struggle to get out of bed tomorrow." He wasn't going to let himself have any peace surrounding it until the assailant was dealt with by his own hands. No matter how long that may take. "What about you? Who's your nominee?"

@fcdcdmcmories

[nghtmarish]

@leagueofdccm ; negan : where did that scar come from? meme that can't be found ; meme tag : always accepting.

    𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲  𝐡𝐚𝐝  𝐭𝐨  𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩  𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟  𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦  𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝  𝐮𝐩  𝐭𝐨  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫  𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧  𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭  𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞  𝐨𝐟  𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞,   it  was  a  long  thin  scar  that  went  through  her  eyebrow  and  stopping  just  after  her  cheekbone.   she  had  been  lucky  that  her  eye  hadn't  gotten  damaged  in  the  process.   a  small  smirk  pulls  at  her  lips,  looking  over  at  him,   "   what?   you  don't  like  my  new  defining  physical  trait?   i've  gotten  used  to  it,    "   she  shrugs,  playing  it  off  as  something  that  wasn't  anywhere  near  as  bad  as  it  actually  was.   maybe  there  was  also  a  part  of  her  that  didn't  want  to  tell  him  because  she  had  no  idea  how  he  would  react.   she  had  gotten  used  to  not  telling  him  things  back  at  the  sanctuary  to  avoid  someone  else  getting  the  brunt  of  his  anger  or  someone  winding  up  dead  because  she  didn't  keep  her  mouth  shut.   except  they  weren't  back  there  anymore,  but  they  were  still  playing  the  same  games  and  she  was  an  absolutely  expert  at  it  by  now.

    𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠  𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐥𝐲  𝐚𝐬  𝐬𝐡𝐞  𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝  𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝  𝐟𝐨𝐫  𝐚  𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟  𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭,   before  looking  back  at  him  and  she  knew  there  was  no  point  in  keeping  the  truth  from  him,  he  already  knew  the  croat  was  here  and  what  he  was  capable  of,   "   i  didn't  exactly  come  to  manhattan  by  choice   .   .   .   the  croat  found  me,  killed  two  of  my  people  to  get  to  me  and  brought  me  here,    "   she  admits,  moving  to  lean  against  the  table,  arms  crossing  and  she  looked  down  at  her  feet  for  a  moment,   "   i've  been  a  lot  of  things,  but  bait  was  probably  a  new  one.   the  croat  didn't  care  about  me,  it  just  wasn't  the  family  reunion  he  was  hoping  for.   tried  to  get  me  to  talk,  to  tell  him  what  he  wanted  to  know  and  he  figured  i  needed  a  little  souvenir  of  the  trip   .   .   .   hence  the  scar,    "   tilly  told  him,  looking  up  at  him  and  meeting  matching  hazel  eyes.   her  mom  had  always  told  her  that  she  may  have  taken  after  her  in  looks,  but  she's  got  her  dad's  eyes.   the  croat  used  his  previous  knowledge,  thinking  that  she  would  be  able  to  bring  him  what  he  really  wanted.   might  have  worked  nearly  a  decade  ago,  but  not  so  much  anymore,   "   the  croat  was  definitely  surprised  when  my  people  showed  up  instead  of  you  to  rescue  me   .   .   .   like  i  said,  i  was  bait  and  it  was  supposed  to  be  for  you.   i  don't  think  he'd  been  watching  me  for  long  enough  to  figure  out  that  we're   .   .   .   well  you  didn't  come,  much  to  his  disappointment,    "   

    𝐢𝐭  𝐰𝐚𝐬  𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭  𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞  𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟  𝐭𝐨  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭  𝐢𝐭  𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭  𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫  𝐡𝐨𝐰  𝐟𝐚𝐫  𝐬𝐡𝐞  𝐡𝐚𝐝  𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭  𝐬𝐡𝐞  𝐡𝐚𝐝  𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧  𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦  𝐡𝐞𝐫  𝐝𝐚𝐝,   she  couldn't  outrun  the  trouble  that  he  had  caused  and  they  would  always  be  linked.   in  a  way,  she  had  almost  been  disappointed  herself  that  her  dad  hadn't  come,  but  how  could  he?   he  had  no  idea  she  was  even  here  on  this  island.   but  in  a  way,  she  had  felt  closer  to  him  in  manhattan  than  she  had  in  years,   "   but  we  got  stuck  here,  couldn't  find  a  way  off  the  island   .   .   .   so  we  stay  one  step  head  of  them  as  much  as  we  can.   thankfully,  i  know  their  tactics  better  than  anyone,    "   she  admits,  hands  dropping  to  her  sides,  gripping  at  the  table  and  she  didn't  really  know  what  else  to  say.   they  were  surviving,  but  this  wasn't  living  and  she  wanted  to  get  her  people  off  this  island  more  than  anything,  but  she  would  never  make  a  deal  with  the  croat  or  the  dama  that  he  works  with  to  get  away.   they  will  figure  it  out  themselves  and  she  would  be  glad  to  never  come  back  here  again,   "   so  yeah,  that's  how  i  got  the  scar   .   .   .   if  i  ever  get  the  chance,  the  croat  gonna  wish  he  had  killed  me  when  he  could've,    "

[viscerism]

i just got a fuckin sick new scar on my upper arm my dudes

[devilsmenu]

@hiddenpxpercuts​ - Tony & Maria

“Really, baby, is nothing” Tony said trying to calm down his girlfriend. “It’ll be just a tiny scar. I was unpacking some boxes and just cut it a bit, I’m going to be fine” he said trying to relax her. “Just some days and then it’ll be fine again”.

[coreofgold]

@connor-a-reilly continued from here

Wu Xi nods at that. "I see. I apologize if I brought up unwanted memories." He can at least do that. "The scar has healed more or less well."

[lcngliive]

mindy & noah ( @devilsmenu )

"I swear, if I'm stuck in this place and I remotely see any idiots with a ghostface mask I'm out," mindy had gone through it twice already and they didn't want to end up with any more scars on her body going through it a third time.

[gclden-glider]

“yeah, but you should see the other guy.” — calleigh & lisa snart

Lisa laughs a little knowing she probably looked like hell too. "Oh, I have no doubt you gave them the hell they deserved. Don't worry, a girl looks even better with a couple battle scars." That may have been biased of her since she had more than plenty; yet she didn't know the true story behind them. "You want a partner to watch your back till this is over? I'm surprising myself at how good of a fighter I am."

[daiwild]

changing room mishap

Kons a lil confused but he will ALWAYS get pissed at bad guys hurting his friends

[springbandit]

"Sounds like you're pretty hard to kill." He smirked, finding it a little amusing that she seemed to have had plenty of near misses. Most people had one or two good stories to share, but, it sounded like she could write a book. "If you get to our age and don't have a bunch of cool scars, I'd say you didn't do a lot of living." He didn't see scars as a bad thing, never had. They were just reminders of old stories, good and bad. "I think you're as lucky as you are cursed. You're alive and you seem pretty sane - though, maybe I'm not the best judge. Sounds like of all these people you keep mentioning, you made out the best."

"YEAH, I KNOW. TRUST ME. COMING FROM SOMEONE WHO'S BEEN IN THIS SITUATION PLENTY OF TIMES? i know. last time, it nearly killed me. this time, it nearly killed me. one could say i'm getting way too old for something like this." he probably had no idea of how truly fucked up she was when all was said and done and.. well, she didn't see that changing anytime soon. right? yes. no one did and... yes, that upset her as much as one could probably see that it did. "yeah. and i have more scars than i could tell you about and the two people who went through all of it with me are either dead or... don't remember it. as i said? i'm cursed. in whatever way you see it." @springbandit

[springbandit]

❰❰ CHIN ❱❱ sender tilts the receiver’s chin with their weapon (Jasper & Astarion)

Jasper trembled with an instinctual fear as the blade was pressed against his chin. While he wasn't sure who the other was or why they were threatening him in the way that they seemingly were, he knew about silver looking metal. The deep scarring all around his neck was a permanent reminder. He looked up into the eyes of the person towering over him, though, he slowly tried to take a step back, hoping to get away from their weapon before it cut his flesh.

@bejcwcled

[thxgrxmrexpxr]

[Trace] Trace my muse’s scar purposely / sable

[Trace] Trace my muse’s scar purposely

The reality of life is that even if you are notorious for what you can do, mistakes will still happen. Runners stumble, painters knock easels, the grandest of champions have tasted the sour ashes of failure once or more. He is no exception to that rule - save perhaps that he wears every misstep on his skin like tattoos.

From the corner of his eye he see's that far too intrusive gaze that hons in on him like a beacon. He's not a wearing a mask right now for her to take but still he does not trust her.

The tips of her fingers are barely detectable. A result of nerves that died when the skin across one side of his face was burned. He can't even recall exactly what happened that day, only that he is forever reminiscent of how his own skin smelled when it melted and burned down to the muscle.

"Don't."

A gloved hand grasps her wrist and pushes it back before she can fully trace the jagged outline that travels down his cheek and along his chin. A steely look harden his expression as he grips her just enough to serve as a warning.

[pileofmush]

luffy is for the sad, pathetic, touch-starved bitches. the ones who shiver at the mere brush of skin. who wince whenever their friends go in for hugs, unsure of where to put their arms. the ones who are so, so aware of their proximity to others. so careful not to brush fingers when walking side to side with a peer, or when handing a pencil to a friend, because they’re sure that one affectionate squeeze of the arm could leave their innards a puddle at their feet, creeping toward the nearest drain.

when you meet luffy, you think he’s one to be admired, not touched. you see the way he infects everyone around him with his reckless abandon. hanging off shoulders and dragging people to and fro. his crewmates are used to it. they scoff and wiggle under his weight for show: for there’s a sense of relief when monkey d. luffy has his eyes on you. you can tell in the automatic decompression of their shoulders, in the languid way they turn to him—saplings curving toward the sun. 

you see it, and you envy it. respect it. respect him. but that’s the extent of your thoughts on the matter.

you never considered that he would turn his sights on you. 

but he does. 

he picks you up like you’re something shiny, holds you up to the light and squints. and whatever he finds must be satisfying, because after that, he doesn’t put you down. 

it overwhelms you, at first. he tugs on your cheek at the sight of a frown, like you’re the one made of rubber, and your heart does a funny jig that’s actually not funny at all. he pokes you in the ribcage to grab your attention, and ignores you when you try to tell him that a verbal cue would work just as well. he grabs your hand, instinctively twining your fingers, and pulls you along when you stop in your tracks.

and you feel—you feel like a puddle. be careful your mind warns, or you’ll slip.

but luffy’s there to catch you when you fall.

and that’s what’s so terrible about him, you think. he’s the question and the answer. 

and he’s burrowed himself under your skin. 

how foolish of him to touch you so casually and expect you not to revel in it. not to crave his pokes and his prods more than you crave air. how foolish of him to drape himself over you like a weighted blankie and not expect you to desire him by your side, always, to keep the cold at bay. he’s a fool and you’re a pauper.

but, sometimes, you think he knows what he does to you. he has to. oh, how he’ll laugh when he catches you staring at his hands. bound over until he’s right in front of you, place a thumb under your chin and tilt until your gaze meets his. his eyes are dark, but so, so bright. you want to look away. you don’t. 

everything is so easy for him. it's unnerving. he plops his head in your lap one day with a carefree grin. you still—hold your breath like a child playing hide and seek. he cracks open an eye, like he can read your thoughts. or maybe he can just feel you tremble.

“what’s wrong?”

you rack your brain for an answer he could understand. “what do you want me to do?” you hedge. 

luffy furrows his brows. “whatever you want,” he says.

“no, i mean—where do you want me to touch?” 

he shrugs. “wherever you want.”

and you feel—you feel like you want to run your hands over every inch of his skin until you have a mental map of his body you could navigate through touch alone. you want to put him in your mouth. you want to inhale him like a drug, want him to burn the back of your throat 'til it stings. you want… him. 

you settle for caressing his jawline. tracing the slope of his nose. his eyes flutter shut, and you pause, but he grabs your hand and plants it firmly on his face. and it feels, it feels like you’re the question and he’s the answer. it feels like maybe, just maybe, you’re okay with becoming a puddle of a person, for him. 

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

stories left untold

18+, mdni.

been cooking up this one for awhile i hope y’all like it

readers can expect: fem reader, an established relationship: playful banter with big ‘ol boyfriend jason todd, flirting in a dressing room, car sex, fingering, unprotected penetration (reader is on birth control), a resulting creampie , tw mention and discussion of scarring, it ends a little angsty if you squint

your boyfriend, jason todd, loves literature.

but the only thing you read is him. as long as the two of you are dating, you’ll never want a book.

he’s covered in stories. the scars scattering his body tell you about his past, even if he might be hesitant to. but he humors you, relishes in the fluttery feeling of your delicate fingers all over his massive body.

and sometimes, he’ll tell you the story himself, if you’re lucky.

you’re straddling him, the couch cushions dipping under your knees. you’ve never talked about it, but you somehow always end up on his lap.

jason loves it, because he gets to study you up close, under the guise of you doing the same to him. his hands roam over your thighs and hips, his callouses creating friction against your smooth skin. having you on his lap grounds him, having you so close keeps him sane. you hum as you run a thumb over the scar on his lip, leaning down, kissing him.

“got that one fightin’ as robin-” he starts. you pepper his face with kisses, reaching his mouth again and cutting him off.

he smiles as he kisses you back, pinching your waist and making you squirm for interrupting him.

“as i was sayin’, i was up against some of two-face’s goons,” he continues. “two of ‘em, ironically enough—”

you kiss him again, biting his lip. he groans low in his throat, grabbing a handful of your ass.

“you gotta stop with that. let me finish.”

you shake your head, batting your eyelashes at him. he playfully rolls his eyes, and reaches his own hand up to your face to tug on your bottom lip.

“but i was up against two of ‘em, and while i had it under control, batman dropped in to help me,” he eyes you warily, leaning his head back.

you widen your eyes at him like a warning, a stupid grin on your face.

“but bats surprised me, and one of the goons took that opportunity to split my lip open. thanks a lot, guy, right?” jason pushes his lip out to show you the scar.

“the thing is, i wouldn’t have this scar without the element of surprise, which, in my line of work, is a crucial thing to be able to employ.” his thumb twitches where it’s resting on your waist.

before you know it, he’s spun you around and down, your back on the couch cushions that your knees were just pressed into. a smile plays on your boyfriend’s lips, making his scar dance. he lowers himself over you, flicking the button of your jean shorts open.

round one: you.

he’s following you around a department store as you look at clothes, his muscular forearm supporting the weight of all the clothes you’ve tossed his way.

he lumbers after you dutifully, just happy to be there.

some dude hits your shoulder as you walk past. it was pretty hard, but you don’t even think of it. it’s saturday, the mall is insanely crowded—you’re bound to get bumped into.

you glance back to make sure jason is still following you, but instead catch a glimpse of the daggers he’s staring at the man that shoved into you. you giggle to yourself, grabbing your boyfriend’s hand and pulling him away.

he’s still glowering, even now in the perfume department.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d say this is you pouting.” you stare at him pointedly.

“people need to watch where they’re goin’.” jason shakes his head, rolling his eyes.

“jay, i’m not some delicate flower.” you smile up at your boyfriend, linking his fingers with yours. he nods, agreeing. “but thank you for looking out for me. i love you.”

“love you too, princess.” his face softens as he gives you a little smile.

you pull up your intertwining hands to eye level. “now what about this one?”

his eyes flash as he realizes what you’re indicating. a scar snakes up the length of his index finger, white and defined against the tanned skin of his hand.

“paper cut.”

you’re in the dressing room now, your giant boyfriend sitting on a little stool next to the floor to ceiling mirror. you twirl, turning this way and that to see all angles of your reflection.

you turn to him, raising your eyebrows. he shakes his head, frowning at the deep blue dress you’re modeling.

you sigh, taking it off to toss it in jason’s face. he makes a choked noise, pulling the dress off of his head. he smirks at your lack of clothing, looking you up and down.

“oh, keep it in your pants,” you scoff, grabbing another dress off its hanger. “so, your finger?”

“bad paper cut.” jason deadpans as he puts the blue dress back onto its hanger.

you blink at him, surprised at the lack of story.

jason nods at you. “a really bad papercut.”

you make a face when you realize he’s bullshitting you.

“no, jay. really.”

he sighs, feigning annoyance. “so nosy!”

you shoot him a look before stepping into the dress, turning around so he can help you. he stands. his hand brushes your ass.

“jay.”

he chuckles under his breath, caught. “sorry, i couldn’t find the zipper.”

“riiiight.” you smile to yourself as he slowly pulls the zipper up your back.

he leans down, brushing your hair to one side.

he kisses your neck, sneaking an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. good thing, too. your knees would’ve given out with no support if he’d kept up the attention to your neck.

his eyes are on you in the mirror, hungry, tracing their way up your body in this dress. something nudges your ass, and you snuggle back into your boyfriend. he nips your earlobe. his other hand reaches up to your tit, finding your nipple through the fabric of the dress. it peaks at the feeling of his fingers, rolling the nub between his thumb and index. you let out a breath, and watch jason’s eyes darken in his reflection. the spot behind your legs starts throbbing. it sort of jolts you back into reality, and you turn out of jason’s arms. the look on his face makes you want to burst out laughing. you poke his stomach.

“jay, we’re in a dressing room!”

his eyes glint as he inclines his head, wrapping his arm back around you.

“your point?”

he pulls you flush to his body, and the two of you connect like puzzle pieces. you let out a breath at feeling his hard cock pressing into your stomach. you grab the collar of his shirt, and he leans his face down towards yours. he slants his lips, parting them with his eyes fixed on yours. you dodge him, giving him a little kiss on the nose. he harrumphs under his breath at being swerved, grumpy. you wrap your arms around his neck, batting your eyelashes at him.

“take us home?”

“sure thing, princess.”

you turn around so he can unzip you, and you watch him in the mirror. his lips are stretched into a smile. jason kisses your cheek as the deep red dress drops to the floor.

“so i’ll buy this one?” you ask as you put your clothes back on.

he’s got a hungry look in his eyes as he nods, running a hand through his hair.

you check out, your boyfriend tapping his card on the reader and flashing you a smile. the sales clerk is practically drooling. hey, you can’t blame ‘em, but still.

all jason can think about is the way you were looking at him in the dressing room.

he’s contemplating the logistics of installing a floor to ceiling mirror on the wall opposite his bed when you slide an arm around his waist. his arm automatically slings around your shoulders, and he presses a tender kiss to your hairline.

he grabs the bag from the cashier and your hand with his free one, leading you out to the car.

“baby, what?”

“what? jay, i didn’t say anything.”

“your body language is sayin’ plenty, princess.” he side eyes you, his lips pursed.

“the cashier was checking you out. like, pretty hard.”

jason grimaces as he unlocks the car.

“ew.”

he opens your door for you, closing it after you’re seated and buckled.

he gives you a quick kiss, starting the car. the sun is setting, painting the two of you in a soft, golden light. his hand finds your thigh like they’re magnetized, giving it a squeeze. seeing his fingers pressing into the smooth skin of your thigh reminds you of the conversation you’d been having.

“hey, jason?”

“hm?” he glances away from the road, gauging your expression.

“so what is that scar from?”

“i told you, princess, paper. it’s a paper cut.” the corner of his mouth is twitching, he can’t even keep a straight face.

“jay, oh my god.”

“if you must know, it’s from when i learned how to throw batarangs.”

he launches into the story as streetlights wink in and out of the windows, flashing through the car. his tale involves a much younger batman and a very stressed out alfred standing by with a med kit.

“i almost lost my finger.”

“you’re like, way too nonchalant about that.”

“psh, i’m nothing but chalant, baby.”

you giggle, running a hand through the hair at the nape of his neck as he drives. he suddenly switches lanes, turning the car into an empty parking lot. he parks, turning the car off.

you look at your boyfriend, amused.

“you are so easy.”

he leans over the center console, pulling you into a deep kiss. he bites your bottom lip, sparking a fire in your lower belly. he pulls away, staring into your eyes.

“you can’t expect me to just sit here and do nothing when you play with my hair like that.”

“oh, so chalant.”

he scoffs, scooting his seat all the way back. “just get over here.”

thankful for nightfall, you unbuckle, climbing over the center console to straddle him. you make it onto his lap, feeling his rigid length even through the layers of fabric between the two of you. you cock an eyebrow, surprised he’s already fully hard. jason looks away sheepishly.

“you were bein’ a tease in the dressing room.” he cups your ass, squeezing. “help me out, princess?”

you nod, smiling and brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. a nearby streetlight sheds just enough light into the car, as he runs his hands up your thighs, you grinding your hips against the length between his legs. he groans, and you reach down to unbutton his pants. the wet spot in your underwear grows as he nips and sucks along your jaw. he kisses your neck, moving down to your collarbone as you scoot his pants down his legs. he tenses as you brush your hand along his cock, smiling up at him.

“hi, gorgeous.” he says, as he kisses you on the cheek.

“hi, jason.” you reply, looking up at him through your lashes.

your boyfriend suddenly grabs you by the waist, shifting you so that you’re turned around, facing the steering wheel. you make a surprised noise, repositioning on his lap to get your balance. jason groans in response, your ass flush to his crotch. you lean back against him as his hand makes its way under your waistband, brushing against the curls covering your sex.

“may i?” he whispers, his voice rumbling into your ear.

“mmhm,” you reply, desperate for some relief.

his other hand cups your tit, giving it a squeeze. the familiar calluses on his fingers brush your clit, sending a spark of pleasure through your body, but he goes lower, sliding two fingers along your entrance. he gathers the wetness, rubbing your aching folds. his fingers start working between your legs, rubbing your clit in the familiar rhythm he knows you like. you stifle a moan, the pace already bringing you dangerously close to the edge.

“good thing i still have that finger.”

you can practically feel his smirk from behind you.

“oh, shut up.” you retort, shaking your head.

“well, since you asked so nicely.” he replies, punctuating the work of his fingers with kisses on your jaw, your neck, your shoulders. jason nudges your legs wider with his, opening the gap of your thighs to bracket his legs. he reaches into your underwear with his other hand, gathering slick on his middle finger.

“all good, princess?”

“yes, jay.” you peek up at him, smiling.

he kisses your forehead, holding eye contact as he slides his finger into your entrance. you moan at the intrusion, growing louder as he adds a second finger. all the while he keeps up his pace on that sensitive bundle of nerves.

“that’s right, beautiful. let me hear you.” jason kisses your shoulder, his fingers curling inside you, hitting just right.

you say your boyfriend’s name, causing him to pick up speed, groaning low in his throat. you feel his cock twitch under you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. you curl your toes, whining, as it all becomes too much, shuddering as the orgasm crests like a wave. your boyfriend continues working on your clit while you ride out your orgasm. you lean back against him, breathing heavily. he takes his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. he grabs your jaw, kissing you, his fingers wet against your skin. he leans down to take your shoes off, tossing them onto the passenger’s side. he pulls your underwear all the way off, hooking them around the stickshift. he loops an arm around your waist, lifting you off of him to shove his boxers and pants down to his ankles, exposing the muscles of his massive thighs. he sets you back down, and you rub your wetness against the length of his ruddy cock, his tip shiny with precum. jason hisses, his head falling back against the headrest, his eyes closed.

you smile, loving that no matter how often the two of you do it, his reaction is always the same. like he hasn’t been touched in years, like he’s been blessed by the powers that be to have this moment with you. jason peers down at you, his jaw clenching as you grind against him. he scoots down the seat, shifting, taking the liberty to turn you again. you face him, settling your hands on his shoulders. he swipes a thumb across your clit, and you hum, your thighs tensing.

“like that, princess?”

“uh-huh,” you reply, breathless.

“you want more?”

“obviously.”

your boyfriend chuckles at your response, pinching your waist.

“anything for you,” he replies, taking himself in his hand.

jason fists his cock, pumping once, twice, before grabbing your hips and angling you over his length. you suck in a breath as his tip opens your entrance, jason focused on giving it to you slowly, giving it to you so you can take it all. you fist a hand into the fabric of his t-shirt, catching a glimpse of his biggest scar, marring the path of hair from his belly button into the junction of his thighs. he’s never told you the story behind that one. but it’s a harsh reminder of how much your boyfriend’s been through, how hard he’s lived. but he’s still here with you, still here to have these moments with you. he pulls out, only to thrust back in, increasing the stretch. the slight squeeze of his hands on your waist only increases the pleasure, the feeling of being weightless in your boyfriend’s grip only furthers your need for all of him.

“please, jay?”

jason looks up in surprise, squinting at you. you’re not one to beg, and he’s usually not one to make you. he’d give you the world if he could.

“whatever you want, princess.” he slowly thrusts all the way inside of you, still wanting it to be comfortable for you. bottoming out, he groans, grabbing your thigh. “feel so good, baby.”

you hum in agreement, pulling yourself up to find the friction you’re looking for. your boyfriend gets the hint, placing one hand back on your hip, the other with a thumb at your clit. you moan at the sensation, jason picking up the pace. he doubts he’ll last long with how needy you’re being, needy for him, especially in this position. you lean forward into the hard planes of his chest, and his hands find your ass. thrusting into you, fucking you, hard. the wet sounds of skin slapping echoes out into his car, bouncing off of the fogged up windows.

“wet for me, huh, princess?” jason growls into your ear, driving into you harder.

you whine into the crook of his neck, a hand gripping at the hair on the back of his head.

jason grunts at the feeling, nipping and licking at the soft skin of your neck.

“‘m close, baby.” the rhythm he’s found is perfect for the both of you, the angle leaving you breathless.

jason’s thighs flex under you as he finishes inside you with a shout, groaning as he plants a warm kiss on your lips. you lean back, and his hand finds your clit again, circling the sensitive nub. he thrusts into you, hissing through his teeth. your back arches as your second orgasm rocks you, leaving you moaning and panting.

your boyfriend can’t take his eyes off of you, off of your fluids mixing on his cock. jason kisses you, swallowing your sounds as his tongue finds yours, swiping through your parted lips. he rubs your back as you nestle against him, the two of you breathing heavily.

round two: you.

some part of him, some deep, dark part, worries that one day he’ll tell you the story behind one of his scars, and it’ll scare you away. it’s not rational, he knows that, but who said anything about being rational?

you’ll never actually push him for a story, or an explanation, knowing he’ll tell you in his own time.

you doubt he’ll ever tell you the story behind his biggest scar, the one that runs up the length of his chiseled torso, branching off across his chest to his shoulders in a Y shape.

once when you were laying in bed together, talking, cuddling, kissing, you traced it with your fingertip, following the line of it down to his waistband. you stopped when he drew in a breath, pulling your hand back. the acute pain expressed in his eyes surprised you.

you tried to apologize, eyebrows pinched, wondering why he looked like he was in pain when the scar was long healed.

jason was panicked, his heart fluttering behind his ribcage at the prospect of confessing his biggest secret to you. he couldn’t tell you, even though he knows he should. he wouldn’t even know where to start, even though he knows he should at least start somewhere. he just wouldn’t know how to tell you that he’d died and come back to life.

so he kissed you instead.

your mind rushed with thoughts as you wrestled with making him explain or letting him distract you with his lips, his body over yours, his huge forearms bracketing your head. he nudged your legs apart with his knee and you were hopeless.

round three: jason.

[frownyalfred]

what do you think *is* a scar bruce is ashamed of/can’t stand the sight of?

Either something from training where he was stupid and sloppy and almost let someone die, or a self-harm scar where he bailed out at the last second on a suicide attempt a la Joel from the Last of Us.

[seccndchances]

Pregnancy loss/still birth tw!

And he did. Asterin thought to herself. She watched him gray but never move on. He stayed and she had stayed away, unable to put into words the pain that filled her very being. Words that had taken her decades to find, words that came with the realization that they could have been more then just carbon copies of what came before them. As he moved closer, she took two steps back. A hand gentle raised in front of her. "I answered my Matron's call and she trapped me within her home." She began to explain the pain of what she endured, the life that was too come but never made it past birth. The witchling that was their daughter. She moved her hand to her belly and lifted her shirt. "I was practically gutted in retaliation, and branded with these words." 'UNCLEAN' was clear against her scarred flesh. "I should have died there, but I didn't." The rage had kept her going, the desire to see something better had kept her soul bound to her immortal coil. "I couldn't bring that back to you-- you deserve better then a damaged witch." A witch who shouldn't love, but she did. It was that love that drove her to make the Yielding with the other 13. It was love that brought her back to the cusp of their territory. To watch him age and it was love that made her mourn him.

he blinked softly as he watched her, retreat into someone he barely recognised - the strong woman he'd found in those woods all those years ago after the storm, the woman he'd fallen in love with despite all of the warnings to stay away that she was an iron teeth witch that if he wasn't careful he'd be her next meal. "please don't." he began, dropping the blade and standing, moving towards her. not wanting to scare her off like one might scare off a wounded animal. "please." he began, all he wanted in this particular moment was to comfort her and provide some reassurance that it was okay, whatever had happened it would be okay. "i would of waited for you forever if i could have - you must believe me asterin, there was never anyone else." he frowned softly, moving to wipe away her tears. "in my heart there was never going to be room for any one else, my life style not many women would of been happy to live in a cabin in the woods, and not that i would want them in our space - it was sacred." he swallowed thickly, blinking back his own tears. "i didn't want a strange woman in our home i wanted my witchling that i had found after that storm and had spent months healing and getting to know. and love." he blinked softly at her next words, shaking his hands "after what happened asterin?" the hunter questioned, glancing down at her shaking hands. "what happened?"

[aurorangen]

For how long will I have to live with this pain?

Transcript:

[Starting high school was a fresh start for me. I met new people and my best friends were by my side. I made lots of happy memories and forgot the bad things from primary school. It was all perfect when it began]

[That day, it started like any other day until I got to school. I was met with staring eyes and whispering voices. Talks about a missing person. Kingsley? Could he be related to Ashton Kingsley? 4 months have passed since the shed incident and we never talked about him at home. I hadn't thought about him in a while]

[Billy drove me home after school and I asked about the missing person case. The man was Dr Anton Boerescu and he showed me the newspaper, it was that doctor again. He kept quiet about my dad when he talked though. I was reading the article then looked up and saw an undercover police car parked on my house drive]

Police Officer: Payton Wilkinson, you are under arrest for the murder of Ashton Kingsley-

[My heart was racing and I was too stunned to speak. I couldn't understand what was happening. Billy tried to take control of the situation, demanding details as he recognised the officers from the other station]

[I wanted to run to my mum, but I was stopped and I froze at the sight. All I could see was her shaking while being handcuffed, crying and denying the accusations. I could hear Billy contacting his chief: he had no power]

Payton: [begging] Please! I would never do such a thing! Billy take care of Vincent! Make sure nothing-

[I was so scared: the police were arresting her for murder. I didn't know what to believe and started suspecting my own mother. The times she didn't seem like her usual self, if she was at work while I was at school, how much she despised him, why she has never mentioned his name. I fell to my knees. She couldn't have, could she?]