#so the result is this gaze filled with so much love and longing

[asvidema]

the affection radiating from hans is palpable here isn't it

[holeforzenin]

CRY, BABY!!

Tw - Dacrycilia, creampie, he's a lil tease, praise n degradation, Not proofread. This was supposed to be for kinktoberr!

Kinktober List ԅ(°Д°ԅ)

You and Satoru are an experimental couple when it comes to intervening and accommodating each other's sexual desires. So needlessly to say, the two of you have fucked and tried out a lot of different kinks/fetishes especially when it comes to exploring sex positions.

One night he'd be standing on the floor, the warmth of his strong hands kneading into the soft curves of your ass—his big muscular arms supporting your weight and holding you up effortlessly as you wrapped your legs securely around his waist, your soft breast comfortably pressed against his broad chest as your arms entwined around his neck, hanging on for dear life as he slams you down on his lengthy cock, stuffing your hole to the brim of him until you could feel every inch of his length stretching your pussy open, just for him to lift you back up like lightweight—repeating the cycle till your cum is dripping down his balls and pooling onto the floor.

You’d get cross-eyed and make a disgusting dripping mess all over him. just the thought of him being so strong to support your weight for so long and effortlessly treating your body as if you were a little sexdoll—his little doll and fucked you absolutely stupid made your mind hazy. His biceps and back muscles flexing against your palms, motivating you even more to mark up the strongest—to make all the dumb little bitches that think they have a chance with him know who he already belongs to you.

Another night he'd have you face down, ass up in a disorderly arch he manhandled you in, your soaked panties lazily pulled to the side of your cheek, using it as cleavage to pull you back onto his cock—accommodating his pace and adjusting to his rhythm as he delved deeper into your tight warm pussy. The air filled with desire and lust as he continuously pounds it into you in a brutal manner, your ass rippled against his pelvis as they met together—making his cock penetrate deeper into your velvet walls. He mutters a low “fuck” under his breath, as his eyes locked onto the movement of your back dimples flexing because of the brutal arch as both of your moans fill the air.

But Satoru’s all-time favorite position to ruin you in, will always be missionary just for the sole purpose of mocking and making fun of you—verbally bullying his adorable little girlfriend for crying and leaking tears on his fat cock while he’s purposely abusing your hole, stretching your tight entrance open to snug his cock into you. Your pathetic tears and vulnerability just fuels him to keep going and fuck even more tears out of you.

“Fuckkk—you like this thick cock splitting this tight little pussy open? Hmm? ” He questioned with hints of mischievous teasing laced in his tone. An amused look plastered on his handsome face as he smirks smugly. Blue eyes pierced, filled with a mixture of amusement and superiority, gazing down at your messed-up ruined face. Streams of what looks like black tears? Cascaded down your face, resulting from the ruined remnants of your expensive mascara running down the side of your softened cheeks as your features distorts in pure pleasure from his treatment.

“Mmm! Oh—fuck ahh” you bit your lips and close your eyes shut as your pussy opened up for him.

The thought of him being the reason for your vulnerability—seeing his little girlfriend leaking droplets of tears from his cock alone, drove him so fucking crazy. It makes him proud. It's Gojo fucking Satoru, it boosts his ego.

“Awww are you crying, sweetheart?” He mocks, in a particular way that makes him seem like he was trying to sound sympathetic but also obvious that he was making fun of you. He fucking loves belittling you like this so fucking much. He knows you’re way too far gone and fucked out stupid by his bullying and rough treatment to give him a proper response other than your uncontrollable moaning. Your pathetic crying and loud whimpers that he fucks out of you says a lot already, so he doesn’t expect one anyways.

The poor bed creaks and shudders loudly against the wall as he passionately fucks himself into your aching, drooling pussy like a crazy possessed motherfucker.

Heavy wet balls thwacking against your slippery asshole that’s coated in a thin layer slick from your arousal every time he thrusts his unrelenting hips into you. His pace was so fucking animalistic, it’s as if his one and only goal was to break and abuse your poor pussy. His cock was stretching your little cunt open so deliciously, the sensation overwhelming your senses with an intoxicating mix of pleasure and desire that you couldn’t stop moaning and babbling noncoherent words that you don’t even think existed. Each powerful, hard thrust brought waves of carnal pleasure, making you completely lost in his crazy primal act. You’re sure as hell glad you bagged yourself a wealthy man who owns a mansion because if it was some normal apartment, there's no way you two wouldn't get noise complaints from your neighbors hearing the loud pounding of the headboard knocking against the walls, along with your fucked out moans and his filthy mouth.

“Hah—Such a goodd girl, is my cock making you cry like this?, Awww I’m sooo sorry sweetheart” he feigned, it’s so damn ironic how he’s “apologizing” yet his questionable actions showed no effort in dissenting what he was apologizing for. His twisted satisfaction at your distress was palpable, matter a fact you could swear you felt his cock hitting harder and harder against your bruised cervix, his tip hitting every single sensitive spot inside of you vehemently.

He let out a vocal moan when he felt your warm walls clenching tighter around his long veiny cock, your hole seizing around him snugly as he continues forcing it in and out, not letting your tightness prevent him from bullying your insides, Causing your back to arch which give him a better angle to fuck his cock deeper into your stubborn walls. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this baby, hahh-shit don't stop sweetheart—keep fucking crying for me” he moans out laughing, you hiss as you felt your thighs aching from being wrapped around his waist so tight–trapping him in. You felt so dizzy—hazed with pleasure as drool escapes your mouth, making him chuckle.

He bites his lip when he feels your cunt fluttering around him nonstop—he already grasp the hint that you're about to cum, even without you telling him.

“Fuck sweetheart, you gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over this cock? Come on do it, babe, this dick is all fucking yours” he groans, snaking a hand down to rub fast circles on your throbbing clit. He lets out a low “fuck” when he felt how wet and socked you were down there. Your slick dripping down your asshole and onto his expensive sheets—ruining it. If it wasn’t for his blindfold, you would’ve definitely been 100% sure that his eyes were rolling back to his skull.

“Holy shittt— look at this slutty little pussy crying out for me, she’s just like you baby. Such a little crybaby” he laughed through a breathy moan. His hips now fucking into you at a disparated pace as he loses his mind inside your gushing pussy. His jaw falls slack as he continues fucking the both of you towards your horny orgasms. “Fuckk you know what? let’s cum together baby, fucking cum with me” he hissed, sticking his tongue out to lick the pathetic salty tears dripping down your cheeks. Your eyes roll back when you felt his cock twitching and throbbing inside of you as if it’s trying to communicate with your pussy.

He pressed his sticky sweat-covered forehead against yours, his hot minty breath fanning in your face. “Fuckk-hah-shit, are you ready sweetheart, m’gonna cum fuckfuckfuck” the two of you moaned desperately in unison. Your manicured nails dug deep into his toned biceps as cum spurts out of his throbbing dick as your cream smeared over all his cock. His eyes rolled back as he continues mixing your releases together, drips of God knows whose cum drips out of your pussy every time he attempts to fuck it deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Attaa girlll” he praises—painting, out of breath. His body collapses onto yours as heavy breathing fills your ears. His cock still buried deep deep into your soaked pussy. The amount of times you and Satoru fucked in this position was incalculable, maybe it’s because it’s the position he had you in the first time he fucked you— or maybe it’s because he’s such a teasing bully who loves to make fun of you, right in front of your face.

[amirasainz]

landos little sister is super shy and does get along with the drivers but she likes to just cling to lando the entire time which he loves but oscar. she meets oscar and suddenly she has a favorite driver that’s not lando and lets oscar hold her and spend time with her. lando is not even mad because his sister’s personality is so much like oscar he knew she would love him. the others drivers are pouting

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

A Silent Connection

Yn had never been one for the spotlight, much like her brother Lando. While he thrived in the chaos of the Formula 1 world, cracking jokes and charming everyone around him, Yn was content to sit in the background, quietly observing, far more interested in watching the cars roar past than in the whirlwind of media, fans, and endless chatter.

She’d always been a little shy, a bit introverted. As a result, the paddock felt like an overwhelming place to be. She only had one person to lean on: Lando. He was her anchor. They’d grown up together, and even though they’d both grown up in the fast-paced world of racing, Lando was the only person Yn felt truly at ease with. So, when he invited her to spend time at a Grand Prix, she didn’t hesitate. It was easier for her to be around familiar faces, the ones who understood her need for space.

However, this particular weekend at the Italian Grand Prix in Monza, things were about to change in the most unexpected way.

---

It was a quiet morning at the paddock. Lando had gone off for a meeting with his engineers, leaving Yn alone on the couch in the McLaren hospitality area. She was sipping her coffee, gazing at the monitors around her that showed various bits of the weekend's events. The usual buzz of the paddock filled the air — the low hum of mechanics working on cars, the excited chatter of team members — but to Yn, it felt like all of that noise was in the background, fading into nothingness.

She had found a corner to nestle into, out of sight, where she could drink her coffee in peace. She’d done this countless times, sitting quietly and observing her brother’s world from a distance. But today, she wasn’t the only one sitting in the corner.

The door to the lounge opened quietly, and someone walked in. Yn glanced up to find Oscar, the young Australian driver, who had just joined McLaren that year. He looked around for a seat and, seeing the empty space next to Yn, he slid into the couch next to her without a word.

Yn, startled by his sudden presence, looked over at him. He was sipping his own coffee, staring blankly ahead at the monitors, his usual calm demeanor settling around him. She didn’t mind the silence. In fact, she liked it. There was no pressure to talk, no need for awkward small talk. Just the comfortable sound of people moving around them, the occasional chuckle of engineers, and the faint noise from the track outside.

Oscar, sensing her gaze, gave her a brief, polite smile. She smiled back shyly but didn’t say anything. He seemed to understand that she wasn’t much for words, and he didn’t push.

For the next hour, they sat there in perfect silence, each with their coffee, neither of them feeling the need to fill the air with conversation. For the first time in a long while, Yn felt a sense of peace. She didn’t feel judged or expected to speak. She could just… exist.

The moment was simple but profound, and it became something they both began to look forward to. Every time Yn visited the paddock in the following weeks, Oscar was there. It became their routine: he would quietly enter, glance at her, and then take a seat beside her. They would drink their coffee in silence, occasionally exchanging a nod or a smile, but mostly just enjoying the calm company.

---

It wasn’t long before Lando noticed the change in his sister. While Yn had always been content to stick by his side, she was beginning to spend more time in the lounge with Oscar. At first, he’d assumed it was just a coincidence, maybe they were talking strategy or something related to the racing side of things. But then he saw it for himself one day — the two of them sitting there together, silently enjoying their drinks, looking comfortable in each other’s company.

“You’re spending a lot of time with Oscar lately,” Lando remarked one day, raising an eyebrow as he slid into the seat across from Yn and Oscar.

Yn’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she only shrugged, her usual reserved nature still evident. “He’s… nice to be around,” she said quietly, looking down at her coffee cup.

Lando chuckled, not surprised by his sister’s understated response. He knew Yn well enough to know that “nice” was about as much as she’d give away. He didn’t mind, though. In fact, he was happy. Yn had always been so shy around everyone, and now she had found someone she could spend time with without feeling pressured. He had always wanted her to feel more comfortable in the paddock, and Oscar was a good friend — even if he wasn’t the most extroverted person, either.

Oscar, sitting beside Yn, shot Lando a casual smile. “We don’t talk much, but she’s good company. It’s… easy to be around her.”

Lando grinned. “I’m glad to hear that, mate. You’re welcome to hang out with her whenever you want. Just don’t steal her away from me completely.”

Yn’s face flushed again, but she didn’t say anything. She liked how easy it was to be with Oscar. Unlike the other drivers who constantly tried to engage her in conversation or expect her to join in their chaotic paddock discussions, Oscar didn’t push. He never tried to draw her out of her shell, never made her feel like she had to talk. He simply existed in the same space as her, and that was all she needed.

---

As the weeks went on, the friendship between Oscar and Yn grew. It wasn’t loud or attention-grabbing, but it was real. Whenever she had a free moment, Yn would be found with Oscar, sitting side by side, watching the monitors or sipping on their coffees in the lounge. It was a quiet companionship that seemed to suit them both perfectly.

Oscar, who had always been a bit reserved, found himself becoming more outgoing around Yn. It wasn’t that she asked him to, but somehow, his presence around her made him feel more comfortable, more willing to open up. It wasn’t like he was suddenly a social butterfly, but he’d start offering her small bits of conversation, teasing her gently, and making her smile. She didn’t feel like she had to respond, but she appreciated it all the same.

“You’re not as quiet as you used to be,” Lando said one day, his grin wide as he watched Oscar try to make his sister laugh.

Oscar shrugged sheepishly. “Maybe I’m just getting used to the silence,” he said with a grin. “It’s nice.”

Yn, for her part, didn’t mind it at all. She liked how Oscar had become a bit more expressive for her. It was like he had learned how to communicate in the way she preferred — without overwhelming her with noise or pressure.

---

The other drivers began to notice the growing bond between Oscar and Yn. They couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, especially since Yn rarely spoke to them. Even the more talkative ones, like Max and Charles, found it a little odd that she seemed to reserve her energy for Oscar. It was clear that they were becoming friends, and the rest of the paddock wasn’t quite sure how to react.

“Have you noticed how quiet she is around us?” Max asked Charles one day, watching from the sidelines as Oscar and Yn exchanged a few words before falling back into their familiar silence.

Charles nodded. “Yeah, it’s like she only talks to Oscar now. It’s… strange.”

Lando, overhearing their conversation, couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax, guys. She’s not interested in being the life of the party. She’s got her own thing going with Oscar, and that’s cool with me. I’m just happy she’s found someone she can be herself around.”

Max and Charles exchanged glances. Maybe they were just a little envious that Yn, usually so shy, had managed to form such a quiet but solid bond with someone. But Lando was right — it wasn’t about stealing attention. It was about finding peace.

---

In the months that followed, Oscar and Yn continued to sit in their corner of the paddock, side by side, silent but comfortable. Lando was happy that his sister had found someone who understood her, and the drivers, while a little envious, began to understand the unspoken connection between the two.

It was simple. It was quiet. But for Yn and Oscar, it was exactly what they both needed.

[junezsq]

cigarettes

steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you hate the way cigarettes taste and when he finds out he decides that maybe it’s time to quit

established relationship

warnings: alcohol, (underage) drinking, partying, smoking, a few swear words, make out scenes

word count: 3.6k

a/n: someone get me somebody like steve ugh!!!! the way I feel like he'd do anything for the people he loves :')

── ᵎᵎ ✦

by the time you’d filled up the kitchen counter with all the different types of liquor you could find it felt like you had run half a marathon. to be completely honest, you were still in shock about how one household could own this much alcohol in the first place.

the sound of footsteps echoed throughout the hallway towards the kitchen and when you glanced sideways you smiled at your boyfriend walking towards you. “hey,” you pushed yourself off the counter and motioned your hands at the kitchen island, proud of the set up you’d made, “tadaa! what do you think?.”

he chuckled, “you didn’t have to.” he looked over the full counter before looking back at you, taking a few steps closer so he was able to place his hands on your waist, “it looks great, sweets.”

you shrugged, “i wanted to help.” you smiled, moving your hands along his chest and up to his shoulders. your eyes flickered up to his hair, which he had carefully styled in the time you’d been setting up the kitchen. the devil on your shoulder told you it’d be fun to run your hands through it and mess it up a bit. you didn’t want to force him to undergo the entire styling process again though, which would result into him missing the start of the party he was organizing, “it was a lot though, is it all yours?”

steve glanced over at all the bottles you’d picked, “it’s my dad’s.” he looked back at you, raising his hand to carefully tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. you raised your brows, “and he lets you use it? i bet my dad would kill me if i drank even the tiniest bit of his precious liquor.”

“i don’t know.” he moved his hand back to your waist, “he’s never home long enough to check.”

your gaze softened as you softly squeezed his shoulders in comfort. you knew how difficult it had been, and still was, for steve; not having his parents home for majority of his life. “luckily, you now have me to irritate you.” you tried to lighten the mood, successfully, because he let out a soft chuckle and dipped his head to sweetly place his lips on yours.

you let yourself melt into the kiss for a short moment before pulling back, leaning your forehead against his, "on that note," you bit your bottom lip, slightly smirking as you leaned backwards so you could look at him again, "could i stay the night?"

steve smiled at your request, "you know you don't have to ask that, sweets." he softly squeezed your hips, placing a quick peck on your lips. "but if you do, you have to help me clean up."

you giggled, moving to stand on your toes and reconnect your lips with his. you felt him smile through the kiss and you slightly tightened your grip on his shoulders when he pulled you closer against him.

the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the house interrupted your moment and a laugh escaped your throat at steve throwing his head back in annoyance. you softly patted his chest, "i'll open the door."

steve watched as you walked off around the corner and towards the front door. god the things you did to him. there was never a moment he looked at you and didn't want to smother you with kisses. he was sure he could kiss you all day, everyday, and never get tired of it. he shook his head, a small smirk playing on his lips as he turned to the kitchen island, grabbing two red cups to fill them up with a drink he knew you liked.

the first to enter were some you recognised as steve's friends and a couple of your classmates. you decided to keep the door unlocked so no one had to worry about constantly hearing the obnoxious sound of the doorbell.

while you made your way back to the kitchen you widened your eyes, surprised by the amount of people that had arrived in the span of a few minutes. you muttered a couple sorry’s as you squished yourself through the crowd and a breath of relief left your lips when you’d finally reached the kitchen.

your eyes fell on steve, who was talking to someone you vaguely recognized as someone from your school year. you dusted off your hands on your jeans as you stepped closer to them, “hey.” you breathed out, and at the sound of your voice the two immediately turned their heads to look at you. you glanced down and caught sight of the two cups in steve’s hands. “what’cha got there?”

steve followed your line of sight, “right.” he glanced at the guy next to him, telling him he’d find him later that night to continue whatever conversation they were having, “here you go, gorgeous.” he turned to you and handed you the fullest cup, clearly already having drunk from the other one.

you thanked him as you took the cup from his hand, a small smile playing on your lips, “you didn’t have to cut off your conversation with …?”

he chuckled, leaning back against the counter, “joshua.”

“right,” you nodded before taking a sip of your drink.

“it’s fine, we still have the entire night to finish that.” steve kept his smile playing on his lips as he took your free hand in his, pulling you closer to him, “and i needed to give you your favorite drink.”

you playfully rolled your eyes at his words, “you’re such a cliché, harrington.”

“don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“hmm.” you stilted your head, trying to appear as if you were in thought, “maybe.”

steve smirked at you, softly squeezing your hand as he pulled you even closer against him. he immediately smashed his lips on yours and you returned his smirk through the kiss. you tried your best not to spill the drink you were still holding in one hand as you untangled your other from his, moving it to the back of his neck.

his tongue swept over your bottom lip, as if to ask for permission and so you moved your hand up to slightly tug on his hair in answer. he groaned softly at the gesture and tightened his grip on your waist, slowly starting to loose himself into the kiss. he couldn't get enough of it. of you.

"yo, harrington! stop sucking the life out of your girlfriend!"

a voice called throughout the kitchen and you giggled as you pulled away from steve. your hand was still tangled up in his hair when you glanced to the backdoor in which eddie was leaning against the doorpost. you playfully rolled your eyes and looked back at steve starting to carefully fix his hair.

"you're just saying that because you're still bitchless, munson." steve shot back, removing his hand from your waist only to immediately wrap his other arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. you instinctively wrapped your arm around his middle.

"whatever." eddie scoffed, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, "you comin' outside?"

steve's gaze landed on you, his eyes searching your features for a hint of your thoughts. you smiled at him, "go! i'll try and find robin or nancy."

"are you sure?" steve's eyes were focused on yours and you gave him another reassuring smile, "yeah!" you detached yourself from him and softly pushed him towards the backdoor, "go!"

"alright, alright," steve chuckled, leaning closer to you again to place a quick kiss on your lips, "don't let anyone get close to your drink."

you giggled at his protectiveness, knowing he would stay by your side the entire evening if you asked him to, "i won't, now go! eddie's waiting." his hand found your cheek as he leaned in for another soft kiss. you smiled against his lips while slightly pulling him closer by his collar.

“harrington!”

eddie’s call-out made him draw back with a stupid grin playing on his lips, “see you later, yeah?”

you nodded, letting go off his collar to softly pat his chest, “see ya.” your own smile didn’t recede as you watched him stalk off towards eddie and out the back door. a soft breath escaped your lips before you quickly downed your drink. time to mingle.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

the chatter and music died down as you stumbled through the hallway, trying to make your way towards the bathroom. at the sound of a door closing you glanced backwards, but the quick movement caused you to loose your balance. before you could fall face first to the ground though, a pair of strong hands found your waist.

“shit, sorry.” you grumbled, automatically grabbing their arm to straighten yourself. when you found the mystery person’s face you immediately widened your eyes in surprise, “steve!”

it was obvious you’d had a drink too many; the strap of your top had fallen of your shoulder and your hair was completely disheveled. steve chuckled at your excitement and let go of your waist to carefully readjust the strap and place some hair strands that were stuck against your lipgloss behind your ears, “what’s up, sweets?”

you shrugged, “nothing much.” steve’s hand found it’s way to your upper arm, causing your insides to warm up at his touch. you slightly raised your brows when you remembered something, “i found robin!”

“you did?” steve let his thumb rub small circles on your skin.

you nodded eagerly, “yeah! only a moment after you went outside, she walked into the kitchen. she made me a drink, actually!” you started rambling, “it was really good! not as good as the one you made me, but maybe, like, a close second!”

“a close second, huh?”

you hummed in response, “and then we talked for a while, i don’t remember about what, though.” you lightly tilted your head in thought, but gave up quickly, “doesn’t matter, because then we went dancing for a bit, and after that she made me another one of those drinks. that one wasn’t as good as the first one she made me, though.”

“that’s too bad.” steve’s eyes went over your features while he listened carefully, “and then … you ended up here?”

“yeah,” you smiled at your boyfriend, “i was on my way to the bathroom, but now that i think about it, i don’t really have to pee.” you shrugged and steve let out a soft chuckle.

you slightly tilted your head, placing your pointer finger against his chest, “what have you been up to, handsome?”

an amused grin was playing on steve’s lips and you swore you could see small sparkles glowing in his eyes as he looked at you, “well, while robin was playing your personal bartender, i was outside with eddie and a few other guys from our year…”

you tried your utmost best to focus on whatever steve was telling you, but for some reason all you could look at, and think of, were his lips. they were just too pretty to not look at. you swallowed, flattening your hand against his chest as your mind started wandering to what his way too perfect lips could do. what they’d done to you already.

“are you listening?”

his voice pulled you out off your trance and your eyes flickered up to his, “huh?”

he raised his brows teasingly, “what are you thinking off?”

you let out a soft breath, “sorry, it’s just … i wanna listen to what you’re saying,” you trailed your hand up to his cheek so you could place your thumb on his bottom lip, your own lips forming a small pout, “but all i can think of is your lips and how badly i want to kiss them.”

“do you now?” steve smirked, your thumb moving along with his bottom lip as he spoke. your eyes intently followed the small movement.

“yeah…” you let out another sigh, “wait! is this what you meant when you told me you wish you could kiss me 24/7?” you blurted out, tearing your gaze away from his lips to look him back in the eye.

all steve did was let out a soft laugh. his hand slowly creeped up your arm and to your hand, removing it from his cheek so he could intertwine them, “i did tell you that, huh?”

“i get it now.” your focus landed back on his lips as you softly bit your own bottom lip. the things you’d do to the male standing in front of you if his house wasn’t full with people right now.

he pulled you closer by your hand and leaned slightly closer. his forehead was almost touching yours and when he spoke in a whisper you felt shivers form along your spine, “you know you can just kiss me anytime you want, sweets.”

“i know.” you whispered, detaching your hand from his and moving it, along with your other, up to the back of his neck. his hands instantly moved to your waist. you smirked lightly as you pulled him closer; your foreheads now touching, “but what if i want you to kiss me?”

steve chuckled before connecting your lips with his and you felt yourself instantly relax. “you’re crazy.” he spoke in between kisses, softly squeezing your hips.

“about you, yeah.” you mumbled against his lips, tangling one of your hands into his hair; wanting him to be as close to you as possible.

you raised yourself to stand on your toes just as his tongue darted past your lips and into your mouth. a soft groan escaped steve's lips as he tightened his grip onto your hips. just when you started to melt into the kiss, you could taste a bit of nicotine on either his tongue or lips.

you pulled back slightly, which steve took as a hint to trail his kisses down towards your jaw and neck. your brows formed a small frown in thought. was it your imagination or did he really taste like cigarettes? wanting to find out you placed your palms on his cheeks so you could tilt his head back up and move back into a kiss. as soon as your lips touched his again, you knew you were right.

you leaned back, "did you smoke?" you asked, your eyes on his and his face still cradled in your hands.

steve blinked in confusion, "I did ... outside with eddie and the others." he let his fingertips slip just underneath your top as he spoke, under the impression you already knew he'd smoked earlier that night, "why?"

you threw your head back and let out a groan, “ugh.” a sigh escaped your lips, letting your hands slip down to his shoulders as you looked him back in the eyes, “ now i don’t want to kiss you anymore.”

steve's brows knitted together, getting more confused by the second, "what? ... why?"

"i hate the taste of cigarettes." your lips formed a pout as you spoke, "kinda makes me want to throw up, actually."

"really?! i didn’t know that."

"yeah..." you nodded, starting to play with the collar of his polo.

steve slipped one of his hands from underneath your top and reached up to tuck a stubborn strand of hair behind your ear, "so if I kiss you again right now, you'll throw up..?"

you giggled softly, "okay, maybe, not literally throw up." your eyes went over his features as you spoke, "i just think it tastes awful."

"right." steve slightly tilted his head in thought.

when you noticed you softly squeezed his shoulders, "I'm not saying you have to quit smoking, or anything! you can do whatever you want." you smiled affectionately, "i just won't kiss you right after you've smoked ... maybe you can eat a mint or brush your teeth?"

"alright." steve quickly nodded, still slightly thrown off by this new information. "yeah, i can do that." he smiled at you, moving his hand back to your waist, "wouldn't want to miss out on kissing you, now would i?"

a giggle escaped your lips as you reached your hand up to softly ruffle his hair, “i’m going to get some water, sober up a bit.” you smiled, brushing some hair away from his eyes, “see you later?”

even though you already knew his answer your smile grew slightly when steve hummed in confirmation. you raised yourself on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek, his hands instinctively squeezing your waist.

you gave him one last smile and steve watched as you walked off. his eyes stayed on the doorway through which you had just disappeared a moment longer before throwing his head back. all sort of thoughts were circulating through his head; he couldn’t stop thinking of the conversation you’d just had.

he ran his hands through his hair before placing them on his hips. how had he not know about this? he though of all the times he’d smoked, coming to the conclusion that none of them had been around you, and that there’d always been quite some time between taking a cigarette and seeing you.

steve sighed and let his hand slip into his pocket, taking out his lighter and a pack of cigarettes; the thought of not being able to kiss you slipped into his mind. he ran his free hand through his hair once more before stalking off towards the kitchen.

he squished himself through the crowd, mumbling a quick sorry when bumping into someone. a voice he vaguely recognized called his name but he ignored it as his thoughts were elsewhere.

when he reached the kitchen he instantly went for one of the counter cabinets and opened it to reveal the trash can. he took one last glance at the cigarettes and lighter in his hand before throwing them away. a small breath of relief escaped his lips; it almost felt as if he should’ve done this way sooner.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:

when steve wasn’t able to find you he decided to take a breath of fresh air and go outside for a bit. while he ran his hand through his hair he closed the back door. he was still wondering if he should tell you he’d decided to quit smoking tonight or if he would wait until after the party; not sure if you had managed to sober up.

“look who we’ve got here.” he glanced up to find eddie already looking at him, a stupid smirk grazing his lips. eddie reached out his hand that held a pack of cigarettes, “want one?”

steve shook his head, “thanks, but i can’t.”

“what?” eddie slightly tilted his head, taking a cigarette for himself before stuffing the package into his pocket, “didn’t you smoke one with me earlier?”

steve watched as eddie casually lit up the cigarette, “yeah, that was my last one.”

“your last one?” eddie knitted his brows, exhaling the smoke, “ever?”

steve shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. he had never been a big smoker, he’d probably describe himself as an occasional one; parties, etc. however, having eddie point out so specifically he’d taken his last cigarette earlier that night, it made it sound so official. “yeah, man.”

“why’s that?” eddie tapped his cigarette, his eyes focused on the male in front of him.

steve shrugged once more, “promised my girl.”

the moment the words had left steve’s lips, eddie perked up, his eyes widening and a stupendous smirk growing on his own lips, “no way.”

“what?”

eddie exhaled some more smoke and slightly pushed steve’s shoulder, “aw, my little stevie is in love.”

steve slightly rolled his eyes, but stayed silent as he let his eyes wander over his backyard. eddie’s smirk grew even larger at his silence, “dude, you’re not even denying it!”

“okay, shut up.”

eddie opened his mouth to tease steve a bit more, but closed it the second his eyes caught on the back door opening. when he saw who was making their way outside he grinned back at steve, placing his cigarette against his lips, “speak of the devil.”

steve knitted his brows in confusion, turning his head towards the direction eddie was looking. at the sight of you his brows and posture relaxed instantly and when your eyes found his he couldn’t help but smile. you returned his smile and walked closer to the pair, “hey, i was looking for you, actually.”

“were you now?” eddie tapped his cigarette, “i’ve been outside the entire night.” he playfully smiled at you.

you let out an exaggerated gasp, your eyes falling on the curly haired, "no way! dang it, I should've come out here sooner." you giggled softly.

eddie exhaled some smoke once more before peaking away his cigarette, "too bad and too late, cutie, because i'm going inside now." he sent you a smile and glanced at steve, softly patting his arm, "good luck with the whole 'no smoking' thing, buddy."

your eyes snapped to steve, who obviously cringed at eddie's words. the curly haired called out a goodbye; you waved at him but kept your focus on your boyfriend, "what did he mean by that?"

steve bit his bottom lip, his eyes avoiding yours, "yeah, uhm, exactly what he said. i decided to quit."

"what?!" you exclaimed, reaching out your hands to place them on his cheek so you could turn his head and make him look at you, "but i told you, you don't have to do that."

"but i want to." steve's eyes finally found yours.

"why?"

steve instinctively moved his hands to your hips to pull you closer towards him, "because i can't miss out on kissing you."

you couldn't contain your smile as you let your thumbs softly caress his cheeks, "you're crazy, harrington."

"about you, yeah." steve returned your smile when he repeated the words you'd uttered to him earlier that night, "you know i'd do anything for you, sweets."

[cherry-coffees]

Bento Love <3

cw: 1.2K words | wife!Caitlyn, post-s2 act3, no warnings, making Caitlyn bento boxes bc she works so hard, domestic fluff

Caitlyn is having a brutally difficult day.

Between a long council meeting in which she had to break up several arguments, reading many letters from overseas, and planning for the upcoming Progress Day, she's exhausted. All Caitlyn can think about is getting home to you, to your warm embrace, and the day isn't even over with yet.

"Commander Kiramman?" a soft knock sounds from her office door, her assistant's voice breaking her train of thought. "I've had to move your meeting with the Noxian representative to an hour later."

Caitlyn exhales, resting her head in the palm of her head as she leans her elbow on her desks. She rubs her temples: a result of all the stress of the day. "Okay. Do I have anything for the next hour, then?"

"No," the assistant continues from the other side of the door before she pauses. "There's also been a delivery for you."

Caitlyn's eyebrows furrow as she straightens up in her office chair. She hadn't ordered anything to be delivered today. "What is it?"

The door finally opens as her assistant steps into the room, a small, pink box and a matching bottle in her hands. She sets them down on the wooden desk in front of Caitlyn before shooting her a small smile. "I'm under instruction not to tell you," she claims before making her way out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

Caitlyn's left staring after her blankly. "Not to tell me...?" she mutters, repeating her assistant's words in total confusion. Who could have even instructed her? She glances down at the small, pink box when she notices the pink ribbon wrapped around it. Namely, the ribbon you like to tie in your hair whenever the two of you go out. 

Caitlyn's face breaks into a small smile, gently untying the delicate ribbon. It's clearly some sort of gift from you – though she doesn't quite understand why you wouldn't have told her that you were sending her something. She moves to lift the lid from the box, and her breath catches.

It's a small bento box with four compartments: one larger one and three smaller ones. The larger compartment contains slices of chicken katsu sitting on a bed of white rice, sesame seeds sprinkled on top. The smaller compartments contain a small caesar salad, strawberry slices cut into hearts, and a mini lemon-blueberry tart. 

The box is complete with a napkin, mini utensils, and cute toothpicks adorning the food. Caitlyn smiles at the cute cat toothpicks: the ones that you always say reminds you of her. She twists the cap of the bottle off to reveal the contents of a steaming, jasmine tea – her favorite.

Caitlyn's eyes are wide, her lips parting in surprise as she gazes at the perfectly prepared meal. It's so lovely – so cute, and warm, and filled with the obvious love you have for her. She traces her fingers over the folded napkin before she notices the small note taped to the underside of the lid. She gently peels the tape off, holding the note up to see the words written on it.

You work so hard, Cait. Take breaks and eat well, okay? I love you so much, and I can't wait to see you tonight.

Caitlyn bites her bottom lip to stifle her fond smile at your words. She can practically feel her heart swell within her chest, already longing to wrap her arms around you. For now, all she can do is begin to eat the bento: savoring the way the food feels like a perfectly-packaged hug from you. 

For the rest of the day, her head swims with thoughts of you. Caitlyn's shoulders feel remarkably lighter, and the seconds tick by faster and faster. That is, until she's headed home to you: time seeming to drag on forever as she rushes away from work to see you.  

Meanwhile, you're humming away in the kitchen of the Kiramman Manor, already planning what you'll make for her tomorrow. You quite liked making the bento box, knowing that your beloved wife often forgets to eat when she has busy days. While her priorities are often swamped with those of Piltover, you ensure that her well-being is one of yours. 

You're staring at the fridge, mentally planning ideas for tomorrow in your head, when you feel a pair of arms wrap around you. You jump slightly before your lips tug into a beaming smile, feeling Caitlyn embrace you from behind. "I don't know how you sneak up on me so well," you lean your head back to rest against her shoulder. 

Caitlyn chooses to ignore that comment in favor of pressing a kiss to your temple. "You didn't have to do that for me," she murmurs, her breath warm against your skin.

"I wanted to," you sigh. "Someone has to take care of you, you know. You work too hard."

Caitlyn lightly sways you both from side to side as you turn around to face her. Her hand comes up to cradle your jaw, her thumb running over your cheek. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Exist," you half-joke, but there's a note of truth to it. No one can deny your obvious adoration for her. "You need to eat and sleep and take breaks sometimes. I know it's hard for you to stop working, so just... let me help you with that."

Caitlyn takes a shaky breath. Because you're right: she does neglect her well being for the good of the city more often than she'd like to admit. When she looks down at you, seeing your wide, adoring eyes gazing up at her, she can't believe she has you. Her entire world, and it's nestled in her arms.

She can't help but lean down to press a soft, sound kiss to your lips. A single kiss that turns into two, three, four – she can't help it. Gentle pecks turn into hot, open-mouthed kisses, and she's not even quite sure when exactly she slips her tongue into your mouth and when you whine against her lips. Caitlyn is incredibly skilled with her self-control, but around you, it's like all of it is lost to the wind.

Gods, does she love you. 

The bentos continue after that: packed, warm meals that Caitlyn looks forward to on rainy days and stressful weeks. Whether they're filled with steaming udon, grilled cheese paired with tomato soup, a mini quiche cooked just how she likes it, or her favorite fancy dark chocolate truffles – she's obsessed with them. Caitlyn's never been one for cutesy things, but when you attach your notes all tied with a ribbon, she's grateful that you're fond of them. Your words hold her over until she can get back to you.

And when you're back together a few hours later, holding each other close within  Caitlyn's silk sheets, she lifts your left hand to gaze at the diamond ring that rests on your finger. Touches it with her own wedding band, too. There's no one, Caitlyn thinks, that she'd rather be with for the rest of eternity. Bentos or no bentos.  

Oh, to be Caitlyn Kiramman's housewife.

I've never had a cute bento and I was SO jealous of all the kids in elementary and middle school who got them. Trust, I have so many ideas for ones I could make for my future wife. And for myself :)

~Cherry 🍒

[anakinca]

PLEASE I NEED SOME SIZE DIFFERENCE WITH ANAKIN, god I need this man to tower over me and compare hand sizes just for the sheer fun of it

—❝achingly gentle❞

anakin skywalker x reader

tw ; nothing, just pure fluff

a/n ; GUYS I AM SO SORRY I HAVEN'T POSTED ANYTHING IN AGES 😭 i got WAYYY too caught up in my work after that little.. incident.. with my arm.. BUT WE ARE BACK. i hope you all enjoy this, angels <3

THE SUN HAD LONG SINCE DIPPED BELOW THE CORUSCANT SKYLINE. The air carried a quiet chill, whispering against your skin. Training had gone on too long, the heat of the battle between you and Anakin now cooled to nothing but tired limbs and unsteady breaths.

The first time you truly felt it—felt just how much bigger he was, how easily he could envelop you—it was in something as simple as a borrowed cloak.

You hadn’t even noticed the way your body shivered, hadn’t paid any mind to the way the wind nipped at your sweat-damp clothes—until his warmth was draped over you.

Anakin’s cloak was heavy, impossibly so. The fabric smelled like him—something grounding, something safe. It pooled around your shoulders, its sheer weight pulling you downward, sleeves swallowing your hands, the hem nearly brushing the ground.

You turned, peering up at him from beneath the oversized hood, and found him watching you with that slow, knowing smirk—the kind that sent warmth curling through your chest.

“You look ridiculous,” he teased, reaching out to tug the cloak tighter around you.

You scoffed, struggling to push the sleeves up enough to free your hands. “It’s not my fault you’re built like a krayt dragon.”

Anakin hummed, stepping closer, so close that you had to tilt your head back just to meet his gaze. The sheer size of him was something you had always known—felt in the way he stood, in the way his presence filled a room, in the way his arms caged around you when he fought to protect you. But here, like this, his height, his strength, his warmth—it was undeniable.

A playful determination sparked in your chest. You lifted your hands—your small, ridiculous hands when compared to his—and pressed them against his chest, shoving with all your might.

He didn’t move. Not even an inch.

You blinked.

Anakin raised an eyebrow, so unbearably smug. “Was that supposed to do something?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I was testing a theory.”

“And?”

“I don’t like the results.”

His laughter was warm, that boyish yet infuriating grin you love so much appearing on his features. And then, before you could escape the embarrassment of your failed attempt at moving him, he reached out and grabbed your wrist. “And what did you learn?”

Your breath caught. His thumb traced a slow, absentminded circle along the inside of your wrist, warm and steady. He lifted your hand, turning it so your palm pressed against his.

The difference was laughable.

His fingers stretched far past yours, the breadth of his palm nearly double in size. His hand was strong, calloused from years of wielding a saber, yet so achingly gentle as he laced his fingers through yours. Your hand looked so small in his hold, fragile in a way that made something deep in his gaze soften.

You swallowed, a sudden shyness creeping in. “That you’re unfairly large.”

Anakin let out a low chuckle, his voice a warm vibration beneath your fingertips. “Or maybe you’re just unfairly small.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, he did something unexpected—something that sent your heart stuttering.

He lifted your intertwined hands and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your knuckles.

The touch was featherlight, reverent, as if he was memorizing the shape of you, the feel of you, in the only way he knew how. His lips were warm against your skin, his breath a whisper of heat that sent shivers racing down your spine.

Your fingers twitched against his, tightening ever so slightly.

Anakin’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, pure and utter adoration flickering behind them.

A pause. A heartbeat suspended in time.

And then—

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice softer now, a thread of something deeper woven into it. “Let’s get inside before you disappear completely in my robes.”

His fingers tightened around yours, a silent promise, a tether, a warmth that chased away the cold.

And with your hand still safely tucked in his, you let him lead you to the safe haven you two call home.

@thesassypadawan @anakinstwinklebunny @sydkneez @dessxoxsworld @nikiloveshayden @sweetcheesecakesblog @throughparisallthroughrome

let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the tag list, angels <3

[ivonhart]

haircut | sevika x fem!reader

— one shot

masterlist

cross posted on ao3

gif credit: @terrapia

inspo credit: @roastedoatmilk

summary: You wake to Sevika struggling to maintain her hair and offer to cut it.

a/n: This was so self indulgent - I just love Sevika so much and wanted more fluff out there with her

You were gently stirred awake at the soft cursing that left the mouth of your girlfriend. What little light that could breach Zaun’s smoggy atmosphere trickled in from the torn blinds hanging from your bedroom window and illuminated her…as well as the smoke that surrounded her from the cigarette hanging from her lips.

Despite the sleep that clouded your vision you could see that she was hunched over at your desk in front of your vanity mirror. You watched as she gathered her shoulder length hair and attempted to tie it up before the hairband slipped from her fingers, causing her to curse once more. She was stressed…even in your sleepy state the fact she was smoking so early told you as such.

Ever since the death of Silco, neither you nor her have been able to scrape up enough money to get a replacement arm for her, leaving her back with one arm. Something she wasn’t used to after so long with a mechanical one. Each day you could see her get more and more frustrated at the Zaun and what it’s becoming.

Silco’s death had sent Zaun into a whirlwind of chaos and Sevika had to follow behind cleaning up whatever she could by herself. Slowly, you sat up, resulting in the thin blanket to fall from your bare chest, exposing your skin to the chill air that filled the room. With a yawn and a stretch you stood from the bed and made your way over to her. You didn’t bother to put a shirt on as you did. “My love…you should’ve woke me.”

Your soft voice visibly relaxed her tense shoulders as you ran your hands across the back of her neck before wrapping around it. The warmth from your bare chest heated up her backside while you rested your chin on her forehead. A heavy sigh left her mouth as she looked away from the mirror after you pulled the cigarette from her lips and brought it to yours.

“I should be able to tie my own fucking hair up.” Her tone was harsh but you knew it was only because she was hurting. She didn’t say it much but his death left a wound in her heart you don’t think would ever heal. And with everything else happening you knew she would burn out sooner or later. No matter how hard she tried to hide it from you…you knew.

With one last drag you put the cigarette out and climbed onto Sevika’s lap, she didn’t fight it - she never did, and silently cupped her scarred cheek and parted her mouth to allow the smoke you held in your lungs to travel to hers. Another heavy sigh forced the smoke from her mouth as she dropped her head against yours.

Her hand held your hip as you stroked her cheek. “You don’t have to keep doing everything alone.” You began to say while you closed your eyes. “Let me carry some of the burden.” Your words caressed the woman’s mouth as you whispered them. Sevika’s hand wandered up your body, mapping out every bump and scar that littered your skin as if she was afraid you would disappear from her very hands. “Everything went to shit after Sil…” The woman choked back the name of the man she admired so much.

While she spoke you softly rubbed your nose against hers. “I just don’t know what to do.” Her hand had traveled under your chest and around your ribs before moving up your spin to cup the back of your head. Knowing what it was she wanted, you pushed your head into her neck and wrapped your arms around her shoulders.

The embrace seemed to halt time. All that was and would ever be was the two of you. Sevika felt a burn behind her eyes as she gazed at the ceiling. She didn’t know why she felt such emotion. Perhaps Silco’s death was finally hitting her, or the exhaustion was catching up to her. Or maybe it was the pure and unforgiving love she held for you.

“Maybe I could cut it for you?” The question snapped her out of her thoughts and she quickly blinked any tears away. You pulled away and smiled softly. “I’ve always thought you’d look good with an undercut and besides, it would be one less thing for you to worry about.” Any tension Sevika once held was washed away as she cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Oh…really?” Your soft smile grew wide as you nodded before you pushed her hair out of her face and tucked the strains behind her ears. Showcasing the large eyes you fell so hard for. “So?” You asked while mimicking her facial expression.

-

“You're the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” The words escaped your mouth before you even realized as you looked at the final product. After putting a shirt on and getting everything set up, it had taken about an hour until you finished cutting her hair.

Sevika felt heat bloom under her cheeks at your words, causing her to clear her throat. Despite dating for a few years, sudden words such as that threw the fighter off. Sometimes she’d think she had made you up. “Alright, let me see, woman.”

A soft laugh escaped your mouth at the name, knowing she only called you that when you made her flustered. When you handed a small handheld mirror to Sevika you watched with bated breath as she took in your handiwork. You were, in no way, a hair dresser so you were worried how she’d react. “D-Do you like it?”

In the blink of an eye you were suddenly in Sevika’s lap again with her lips against yours. She swallowed your gasp before you slowly kissed her back with a large smile. When you pulled away you spoke. “So was that a yes?” Your breath ghosted over her lips as she bore her gaze into yours. “Marry me.”

You pulled back to look at her face fully as a beat of silence filled the air. The sudden words you’ve been longing to hear from her threw you for a loop, causing you to stare blankly at her. Sevika’s eyes shifted between yours with nervous energy as she slightly shifted you in her lap.

“What?” You whispered as tears began to fill your eyes. The brute that you softened cleared her throat before repeating it. “Marry me.” All of a sudden, Sevika’s center of gravity was thrown off as you launched your arms around her shoulders once again, causing the two of you to tumble to the ground. “YES!” You screamed with a loud laugh. Sevika couldn’t help the chuckles that left her lips as you covered her face with pecks while the tears fell across her skin.

“What in Janna’s name is happening here? When did Sevika cut her hair?” Jinx’s questions were barely heard of the sounds of joy that left the two of you. When you finally registered her presence you stumbled to your feet with a wide smile, noting Isha standing next to her with matching blue hair. Seemed Sevika wasn’t the only one who changed hairstyles.

“SEVIKA ASKED ME TO MARRY HER!” Another beat of silence followed before Jinx broke out in a loud cheer while Isha followed along with loud claps. Sevika made her way off the floor and to the bed as she watched you, Jinx, and Isha jump around in a circle with interlocked hands while cheering. Jinx saying ‘Took Lefty long enough’ over and over again as the three of you did. The warmth she always felt around you burned even brighter, knowing she’d be with you till the end.

[sunghoonbite]

okay how about enha's (the members you write for) reaction to reader crying during like really rough sex?

pairing: hyung line (- hoon) x reader

warnings: nsfw, rough sex, dacryphilia, choking, degradation, throat fucking, biting, mentions of marks and bruises

minors dni before reading

oh anon i love you . your mind. this took so long im sorry but i love this. i’ll get to my other rqs soon i swear. hope this makes up for the wait

when heeseung fucks, he fucks hard. and that’s exactly how you found yourself face down pressed into his mattress, whimpering out into the pillow beneath you.

heeseung gets carried away often. first he gets distracted by your outfit, and then by your curves, thighs, and body. when he gets his hands on you, he’s unable to stop. for lack of a better term, he thinks with his dick. so when he’s inside you, pounding you from behind as you whine, he goes faster with each noise. every little shiver of movement, every sound, he gets addicted to the feeling of you against him.

he gripped your waist, palms tightening into your skin, pulling you closer to him as if he wasn’t already inside of you. he let out a groan before fucking you harder, resulting in your legs giving out. to this, he responded by holding your weight up and continuing.

overstimulated by the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you, your legs shook. he was fast, panting, shakily moaning as he fucked you. he didn’t think. he just continued to fill you up, completely ignoring the possibility that he might be too rough.

“heeseung,” you shakily cried out, gripping the sheets.

“yeah?” he said, breathlessly, distracted by pleasure. you felt good, so fucking good clenched around him.

“too much, hee,” you whined. you hadn’t realized, but you had started to cry. tears that resulted from his coarseness formed, although not falling from your eyes yet, you sniffled.

“shit,” he spoke, pulling out at the sound. he began to console you, whispering out “hey, hey hey,” unintentionally conjoining each word together with the pace of his speech.

his grip on your waist made it easy to turn you around on your back, and he leaned over your body to wipe away tears that had found their way out of your eyes.

although embarrassed, you missed the feeling of him in you as soon as he pulled out, despite the roughness that took place. you lightly held onto his hand that now cupped your face.

“you didn’t have to stop,” you said, softly.

“but you’re crying?” he questioned in a similar soft tone, inadvertently tilting his head to the side as he spoke. he didn’t release his hand from your face just yet, allowing his thumb to rub against your jaw.

“i don’t mind,” you responded, “it feels good when it’s too much,” attempting to hide your humiliation for requesting him to continue.

heeseung’s lips curled up, and he turned his head to cover his smug expression. he readjusted, and spread your legs.

“yeah? you wanna cry for me, then?” his tone shifted, “wanna sob on my dick when you can’t take it anymore?”

your hands found their way to your head immediately, concealing your face. he didn’t typically fuck you in missionary, so having him above you, right above you, felt like you were on display. it was impossible to look him in the eye as he spoke to you in such a way, but he didn’t care. he enveloped your hands with his and pinned them each beside your head.

“missionary? why?” you somehow managed to ask, stumbling over your words as you looked to the side, avoiding his gaze.

he exhaled.

“i wanna see you,” he replied before entering you once again, “you look so fucking pretty when you cry.”

jay is usually pretty gentle during sex, unless you make an effort to let him know that you wanted him to be rougher than usual. he has absolutely no problem with that, since he’s actually been hoping you’d offer. he’s respectful, too respectful, which makes you want a taste of something more harsh. luckily for you, he can be a mean dom.

when it actually came down to it though, he was more intense than you had in mind.

“sit down,” he ordered. you did.

he placed his thumb and pointer finger between your chin, and tugged lightly to open your mouth. you allowed him, parting your lips more.

he unbuckled his belt mere inches away from your face, letting his pants fall and his clothed bulge stare back at you.

once he uncovered his cock, he didn’t even begin to warm you up before entering your mouth almost entirely. you let out a small whimper at his size, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair in response.

he started to rock his hips back and forth, moans falling out of his mouth as he fucked yours. jay had never made you suck him off in such a way, so quickly filling your throat and making you gag.

before tonight, he’d often brush stray hairs from your flushed face as he guided you to lick his tip and downwards, slowly easing up to gently permit you to suck him off at your pace. he’d release small groans as you did.

“fuck, doing so good, baby,” he’d say, with a smile as he looked down at you.

now, though, he had your hair gripped as he smacked his cock to the back of your throat. he barely gave you air to breathe in as he relentlessly fucked your throat, forcing you to rely on just your nose to inhale.

you looked up to him with watering eyes from the intensity, clawing your fingernails into the sheets that rested below you to release tension.

it’s not that you didn’t enjoy it, quite the opposite, actually. but he was so harsh, so fucking ruthless and it made your throat burn. taking him into your mouth at all was a struggle due to his size, and here he was, forcing you to take it. honestly, it was all you ever wanted from him and more, but you couldn’t help the tears falling from his rough his cock felt hitting your throat.

jay removed himself, and placed a hand on your cheek, tilting your head up to him.

“too much? do you need me to stop?” he asked, sweat dripping from his dark hair. his chest rose and fell expeditiously with his hurried breaths.

“no, jay,” you mumbled, voice sounding a little more desperate than you anticipated, “keep going, please. make me cry.”

it didn’t give him a second thought before he parted your jaw and fucked into you once again, keeping his grip on your hair tightened, fixing your head into place so that he could look at you.

tears fell and you sniffled, looking up at him with sparkling eyes, and he took his thumb to rub the droplets away.

“so fucking pretty,” he muttered, “such a good girl, crying on my dick.”

fucking jake is exciting. he’s always up for trying new things, which includes rough sex. however, he was always worried of hurting you, despite your pleas for him to bite and mark you. he had convinced himself that he would simply be too much for you, not realizing that’s exactly what you wanted to happen. you wanted him to completely lose control, lost in the way he fucked himself into you.

concerned, he’d constantly check in with you during his attempts to be rough. it’s not that he didn’t want to fuck you, marking you as his in the process, but it was all so new. what if you felt too hurt?

“fuck,” he’d groan under his breath, starting to pick up the pace unknowingly, thrusting his hips into you. when he realized, though…

“shit, sorry,” jake would say, slowing down to a more gentle speed.

you never minded. he’s just shy, you thought.

jake was absolutely not shy. he’d spit into his palm and fuck his hand, murmuring your name when you weren’t around. he’d look at innocent pictures of you, smiling and posing, wondering how you’d look with mascara running down your pretty cheeks. he’d stare at your exposed skin in your off-the-shoulder top and hold back biting your skin until it became red, his teeth creating crevices and marks. he’d watch as you make a cup of coffee in the kitchen, quietly fantasizing about bending you over the counter.

tonight, as you laid beneath him in missionary position, he connected his lips with yours as he adjusted inside you.

“so tight,” he muttered, biting his lip unconsciously as his hands rested on each side of your body.

he felt his hips jerk into you like usual, stopping himself before going further, his eyes fixated on the curves of your body. he wanted more of you.

you let out a moan at him going deeper, but as always, he continued agonizingly slow. he was shy, you thought, but you knew he wanted to be deeper inside you. you knew he wanted more.

“jake,” you whimpered out, eyes gazing upwards to meet his.

“sorry, i know,” he quickly apologized before you could continue, “i’ll be gentle.”

“don’t,” you protested, desperation evident in your voice that you failed at covering, “please, be rough with me.”

with that, jake’s eyes lit up a little, “hm?”

“i don’t want you to be gentle. i want you harder,” you explained, moans getting caught in your words as he was still inside you, “please jake.”

he didn’t respond, but he dipped his head towards your shoulder, taking your skin in between and bit, exactly how he imagined before. he let out a groan, feeling you against his teeth, before fucking into you as deep as he could.

your back arched subconsciously, nails digging into his back as you whined out, tears already piercing into your eyes at his size.

“this is what you wanted, yeah?” he asked, voice raspy due to his low tone. his mouth traveled to your neck as he decided to leave his mark there, too.

“yes, jake,” you struggled to speak, “fuck.”

at your strained voice, his head adjusted so that he could look down at you. your face twisted into an expression he hadn’t quite seen you make before, eyes shut closed and mouth wide agape. he began to pound you, repeatedly now, your tears now beginning to fall.

he picked up the pace at that, aroused by how your mascara smeared. it was better than he imagined, and he resisted cumming inside you right then and there.

“you okay?” jake said, having to make sure, although knowing it was likely exactly what you wanted.

“yes,” you replied in a breathy whimper. his hand met your throat and he tightened his grip slightly, choking you a bit, but not to the point of harming you.

“good,“ he replied, “taking me so fucking well. my pretty slut.”

[the-halloween-jack]

Tether ✢ Jason Todd

Synopsis: When a battered Jason stumbles into an alley and finds unexpected refuge in a stranger’s kindness, it sparks a fracture in the walls he’s built to survive. Trust was never a luxury he could afford, but as survival blurs into something more, Jason is forced to confront the most dangerous risk of all, love.

Jason Todd x Reader, female pronouns.

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries and scars. Hurt with comfort.

Masterlist

Notes: A couple of weeks ago, I posted a pair of headcanons, 'when he realised he loved you' and 'when he admitted he loved you'. A few people were interested in an extension of Jason's parts, and this is the result. So, if some moments sound familiar, that is why. It follows Jason as he meets, gets to know, and, eventually, falls in love with the reader.

Words: 5,992k

The air was thick with the acrid scent of oil and looming rain. The Gotham sky threatened a storm, as it always did, the kind that lurked but never quite arrived, it pressed down upon her shoulders; she huddled against it. Y/N did not intend to be outside long. It was just the rubbish, nothing more than a trip down two flights of stairs to the alley behind her apartment, a chore too mundane to warrant much forethought. But that is when she saw him.

At first, Y/N was not sure what she was looking at. Just a shadow, too still, too broken at the base of the brick wall. Then it moved, a sharp, pained shift, and the outline resolved itself into something unmistakably human. 

He was bleeding. Not in the way of scrapes and gashes; this was deeper, darker. New wounds layered atop old scars. She froze, bin bag clutched within her grasp, knuckles white. For a moment, neither of them spoke. He did not look at her. He was watching the mouth of the alley, just past the corner, breath coming fast and shallow. Voices echoed from somewhere beyond. Sharp. Searching.

‘Where the fuck did he go?’

‘Check the rooftops. Check the damn dumpsters. He couldn’t have gone far.’

His eyes flicked up, just barely, only enough to register her. His shoulders fell slack, ever so slightly. She was not a threat. Just a girl.

Jason Todd had been in more confrontations than anyone should survive. He had bled in them, broken in them, died in one. There was a pattern to this kind of moment, the hush before pain returned, the liminal space where adrenaline gave way to his collapse. He had learned to expect nothing from strangers. No mercy. No help. Just the turning away of eyes and the closure of doors. So when she stepped forward instead of flinching, when her voice did not falter or fill with fear, something within him stalled.

‘My place is just there,’ she said, nodding toward the fire escape tucked beside the alley’s edge. 

‘You can’t stay here. They’ll find you.’

He did not react, nor move; he simply watched her.

‘You need to get off the street,’ she added, lower now. ‘You won’t make it five minutes if they come back this way.’

Still, he hesitated. His whole body was coiled with his refusal. She could see it in the set of his jaw, the way his fingers hovered near his belt, ready to draw, to run, to die fighting. She dropped her gaze, it fell to rest on his boots.

‘I’m not trying to trap you,’ she said, voice quieter now, nothing more than a whisper. ‘I’m trying to help.’

That was the part he could not understand, would not let himself believe. Why would anyone help him? Especially like this, so suddenly, without demand, without recognition. She did not know who he was, not really. If she did, would she have still reached for him?

Another voice rang out nearby. Closer this time.

She stepped forward and reached for his arm without thinking. He flinched, not from pain, but reflex. The kind born of being mishandled too many times. But he did not pull away. She guided him to his feet, shocked by how heavily he leaned once upright, how much weight he was carrying in silence.

And he followed.

All the while, Jason could not make sense of it. A thousand voices in his head, Bruce’s warnings, Alfred’s caution, his own brutal sense of realism, all shouted at him to resist, to stay low, to get out. But this woman, this stranger, offered him nothing but quiet resolve. And something in him, something tired and long frayed, gave in.

Her apartment was small, neat, yet well-lived-in. Warm lights, blankets strewn unceremoniously over the couch, a kettle still warm upon the stove. He stood in the centre of her living room, stiff and vigilant, akin to a stray dog unsure if the hand reaching for it would offer food or a harsh blow.

He should not have come. He knew this was a mistake. He did not belong in spaces like this. Every breath of its domestic warmth grated against the sharp edges of his being, reminded him of everything he had lost and all he had ruined. And yet he stayed, frozen beneath the soft lighting, the aromatic scent of bergamot and quiet calm surrounding him like a haze.

‘You need a hospital,’ she muttered, though her tone already bore traces of defeat; she knew this sentiment would be futile.

He turned immediately, preparing to leave.

‘Or not,’ she amended quickly, voice grim, and stepped into his path. ‘You’re not going back out there like this. At least sit down.’

He halted. Only because the pain had lanced through his ribs like a warning. He hated this, the helplessness, the imbalance. But she did not look upon him as a burden, but simply as someone who needed help.

Reluctantly, he eased himself onto the edge of her worn armchair, its leather creaking beneath him. His mask remained on, armour still clinging to him; blood was now beginning to seep through the layers. He shifted his weight, conscious of ruining her chair.

She returned with a first aid kit, unassuming, but well-stocked. He did not stop her when she knelt beside him, did not flinch when she pulled back the material of his jacket and placed it aside, though his hands twitched at every passing sound beyond the apartment. When she reached for his armour, the woman hesitated, not wanting to overstep, though Jason understood and quickly pulled it back in parts, revealing only what was necessary.  

She did not ask questions. Not the ones he had expected when he followed her here. She was not probing for his name or what he had done to deserve this, what had happened for him to pursue it. She just worked, focused and calm. Her touch was gentle, but not tentative. She bore a steadiness he had not expected, not from someone who should have recoiled, who should have been scared.

Jason found himself watching her, not with suspicion, but with something near disbelief. Why? Why was she doing this? Did she think she was helping some misguided hero? Did she see something redeemable within the blood and ruin of him?

Did she not care who he was? Did she not care about what he does?

These thoughts gnawed at him more than anything else. It bothered him that this kindness may not be the fallacy of a skewed perception, but rather a simple resolve to help, despite everything he was.

When she finished, she offered him water. He took it, fingers brushing hers. It grounded him more than he cared to admit.

‘There’s a spare bed in the study,’ she said. ‘You can rest there tonight.’

He did not answer. But he followed again as she walked away, grabbing his clothes that lay discarded on her floor. Something about her voice, soft, steady and undemanding, made resistance feel pointless.

Then she opened a door. It was a small room, books lined the shelves, and a narrow bed was tucked into the corner, with clean sheets and a folded quilt.

‘There’s a lock,’ she said, gesturing to the inside of the door. ‘If you need it. You can take your mask off. I won't be able to open it from the outside.’

He looked at her then. Truly looked. Not for weakness. Not for a motive. But for the truth. And what he saw left him stunned, not simply because it was unfamiliar, but because it was real. There was no pity within her unrelenting gaze. No awe. Just, quiet offering.

He did not say thank you. He could not. Jason could feel the words billow on the edge of his tongue; he yearned for her to understand his gratitude, and though he could not utter them, she nodded as though she had heard them anyway. His relief was palpable. 

Then he stepped inside as she hovered in the doorway. For the first time, he spoke up,

‘What’s your name?’ He wanted his voice to come across as gentle, but there was a gruffness he could not quite quell. She did not seem fazed by it.

‘Y/N.’ She murmured, and when it became clear to her that this conversation would not expand beyond this simple query, she closed the door.

He remained there for a moment longer, staring where she had just been, before shifting the latch of the lock. Jason peeled back the remaining layers of his ensemble until he was left in nothing but his boxers. It was not ideal, but he could not bear the notion of crawling beneath her covers in his grimy, blood-uncrusted getup. The bed was small yet inviting, his frame hardly fit, though he could not recall the last time he had been this comfortable. He was not sure if it was the sleeping arrangement or the soft snores of the girl across the hall that acted as a reminder of someone who had been so unusually kind. Regardless of the catalyst, he fell into a quick slumber as a foreign warmth bloomed within his chest.

By morning, the door was open.

Not just unlocked, but wide and unoccupied. The bed was made, the quilt folded precisely. The only trace of him was a faint indentation left upon the pillow; if she had not known better, if she had not just thrown away his bloodied gauze, she could easily believe he was never there. 

She stood in the doorway for a prolonged moment, unsure if she was relieved or disappointed. The quiet lingered around her, louder now, and she caught herself wondering if he would ever come to fill it once more.

Jason should have known better.

The notion built upon him slowly, like bruises forming beneath his skin, invisible at first, until the ache settled and colour bloomed. The morning he slipped from her apartment, he had told himself it was nothing more than a fleeting refuge. He left nothing behind. He would not burden her with the aftermath of last night’s choices. But it was not until he had cleared the block, boots light, breath even, body stitched back into shape, that the thought hit him like a bat to the ribs.

He led them to her.

Not intentionally. Never that. But reckless all the same. The alley had been a haven born of desperation, not strategy. He had not known where he was going, he only knew that he had needed to get away. And when she opened that door to him, he walked through it without so much as a second thought. Without calculating the risks.

And now the calculation was catching up with him. This kind samaritan was in danger because of him.

He returned that night. However, Jason did not allow himself to venture too close. He perched three rooftops down, crouched low in the shadows, eyes locked on the slow hum of the street outside her building. The fire escape remained still. Lights flickered softly inside.

She was fine.

But that did not soothe him.

He stayed longer than he meant to. Hours passed. Long enough that the shadows stretched and yawned, long enough that his body reminded him it had not properly healed. Still, he waited. Not for her. Not really. That is what he told himself, at the very least. He was not watching her. He would never do that. He never allowed his gaze to touch her window. He was not here for her.

He was here for them.

The ones who had chased him. The ones still searching. If they had half the sense he wielded, they would retrace his escape route. They would check for kindness. They would look for open doors and cracked windows and people foolish enough to help. He hated how plausible it was.

And so he came back again the next night.

And the one after.

It became routine, though he refused to admit that to himself. This was a stakeout. A surveillance effort. He was not lingering. He was not tethered. He certainly was not attached.

But even in the silence, even with his gaze anchored on the street, he could sense her behind that wall; he pictured her reading in that chair, sipping from the chipped mug he could envision near the sink. She did not know he was out here. She could not. He would never be that careless.

Yet, somehow, it still felt like he was trespassing, even though he had not so much as looked at her in all this time. That strange warmth she had offered him, freely, like it had cost her nothing, haunted him more than pain ever had.

He told himself he would stop. Every night, he told himself it would be the last. 

He was so very close to relenting when he laid eyes on her for the first time since that night, she was not in the hazy warmth of the apartment, but under the jarring clarity of daylight. Mid-morning. A street corner in Park Row. She had a velvet bag slung over her shoulder, a paperback in one hand and half a pastry in the other. Casual and effortless.

He nearly walked past her.

Jason knew he should have.

But the moment he registered her, truly saw her, without the fog of blood loss and alleyway silence, something happened. Something ridiculous. His stomach flipped. Not in fear, but... something worse. Something more dangerous. Something soft. A breathless kind of jolt that made his chest feel too tight.

Butterflies.

He scoffed aloud at the word.

Ridiculous. Juvenile. Weak.

But they were there, fluttering behind his bruises, beating against ribs that had withstood so much worse. And the worst part? He did not hate the sensation.

Though he certainly did not trust it.

She did not recognise him. How could she? They were meeting in a new context. She stood before a different version of him. No mask, no blood, no warning in his eyes. Just a hoodie, dark jeans, hair still mussed from too little sleep. He looked... normal. That was the trick of it. That was the danger.

He could speak to her now, and it would not be an invasion. This was not some rooftop vigil. It was not surveillance steeped in adrenaline and exhaustion. This was his chance.

A chance he should not take. Though Jason felt the butterflies once more and spoke anyway.

‘Hey,’ he uttered, too rough, the word catching against a throat unused to casual conversation.

She turned. Eyed him.

No recognition.

‘Sorry, this is probably strange,’ he added quickly, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as though that could hide the nervous itch crawling under his skin. ‘You just looked like you could use a second cup of coffee. Or company. Or both.’

She blinked. Then, a slow, small smile.

‘Is that your way of asking me out?’

He froze. Not because she was wrong. But because she was direct. Unflinching. Just as she had been before. Could it really be that easy?

He laughed. A low, surprised sound that felt foreign against his tongue.

‘Yeah. I guess it is.’

She studied him for a breath longer, then nodded, easy as anything.

‘Alright. But I’ll take a tea.’

He wanted to ask her name again. Wanted to tell her his.

But instead, he fell into step beside her, quiet, casual. Just another face on the street, a casual trip to a café. He felt a blush creep onto his skin, and he turned away from her, fidgeting hands buried deep in his pockets.

It was not love at first sight. Jason did not believe in things like that, not anymore.

If anything, it was suspicion at the first conversation. Interest at second. Uncertainty for the next dozen or so. She had no idea who he was, and he preferred it that way. There was a freedom in this anonymity, in being seen without history clawing at his heels. She did not look at him like she was waiting for something to fall apart. She did not glance at his hands like she expected them to be bloodied. She saw him for who he truly was, it felt like the rarest thing of all.

And so he kept showing up.

Cafés became a habit. A tether. Once a week, then twice. Never planned, always on a whim, or so they liked to pretend. They visited bookstores and late-night markets. Together, they would walk past the same food trucks where Y/N would consistently order the wrong thing as though it were a rule, never complaining. Though she would smile sheepishly when Jason offered his much more appetising selection. 

Y/N would ask him about books. Music. The kinds of questions he had not been asked in years. He did not always answer. Sometimes he just watched her talk, let the cadence of her voice steady the parts of him that threatened to fray.

She had looked different in the daylight.

Less shadowed. Still sharp, still grounded, but without the weight of the tension that had hung between them that night. She had laughed once, and the sound had startled him. It was unguarded. Open. He had not heard anything that unafraid directed at him for a long time.

He had to stop himself from reaching for it.

Jason tried to keep it casual, whatever this was. Whatever they were circling. He made sure never to cross certain lines. He would not stay too long. He would not text first. He would not touch her unless she touched him. There was an instance where she had brushed her fingers over his knuckles on the edge of a café table, he had stared down at the spot as though it had caught fire.

She did not comment. Just went back to sipping her tea, Earl Grey. He could smell the bergamot wafting from it, as he had in her apartment that first night. 

He could not define when it changed. When the space between them stopped feeling like distance and started feeling like an invitation. Maybe it was the first time she made him laugh, not a small chuckle, not one of those scoffs of disbelief, but a genuine, gut-twisting kind of laugh that left him breathless. She had just looked at him with raised brows, like she was not sure whether to be proud or concerned.

Maybe it was the night she found him again, bleeding, no more than that first time. A busted lip, bruised jaw; he had already changed into his regular clothes and considered turning around. He should not allow her to see him like this. But before he could bring himself to move, she opened the door and ushered him inside without question. 

Did not so much as blink. Just helped him again, only her touch was familiar and welcome now. Still careful, still steady.

And when she looked at him, saw past the blood and the scowl and the silence, she reached up and brushed his hair back from his face, her thumb resting at the corner of his temple. Nothing more. How could she accept him so willingly, without question? How could she not demand the catalyst of his newly mangled face and bloodied knuckles?

Jason had kissed her then. He had not planned it. It was simple instinct, or rather an impulse, or some failing of his exhausted restraint. But she did not flinch. Did not push away. She just leaned in, met him halfway, soft and certain.

After that, there was no use pretending.

It was not some grand explosion, not as books had made him believe. There were no bold declarations, no breathless confessions. Jason did not see romance the way others did. He did not show up with flowers. He did not call just to say he missed her. He barely knew how to say what he felt, let alone trust that it would not crumble in his grasp.

But she understood him in a language he had not known he was speaking. When he disappeared for three days and came back with split knuckles and a haunted look, she did not demand an explanation. Just held his gaze for a moment too long and set a cup of tea on the table beside him.

He would never deserve her. He knew that. This concept was stitched into every part of his being, the sense of ruin, of fracture, of being too far gone to love or be loved back. But she never asked him to deserve her. She just asked him to show up. And over time, he did. More than he thought he could.

Eventually, she saw through him.

Not all at once. But in pieces. The subtle way he scanned every room before they entered it. The half-second delay before he ever turned his back. The scars he never explained, the exhaustion he carried within his shoulders.

He realised he could not lose her, the very thought of it left him asphyxiated, left him gasping and sputtering for air. It terrified him more than anything ever had. It was worse than the crowbar, worse than the vestige of the green glow left shimmering behind closed eyelids. He remembers how he had met her, how she had helped him so unflinchingly, how he had been bewildered by her lack of fear. And he realised this actuality left him horror-struck. What if she helped someone in this manner once more? What if they were not so kind? 

This is how he justified his need to remain in her orbit: that his vigilance was the only way to keep her safe from all lingering dangers, but even as the words circled his mind, a deep, gnawing doubt took root. Was he truly only here to protect her? Jason knew better, a heinous selfishness had been sown, and he stayed because he could not bear the notion of parting with her. Could he ever atone for how these mistakes had already placed her in harm’s way? The weight of that guilt threatened to crush him, but he could not walk away now; he was in too deep.

It happened with a shift of fabric. A flash of his skin. A scar.

They were in her kitchen. She had been making him breakfast. Jason, barefoot and groggy, was pretending not to enjoy the way she fussed over the frying pans. He had reached for something on the top shelf, muttering under his breath about her terrible organisational choices. Y/N had laughed and leant against the counter, trying not to watch the way the muscles in his back shifted beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.

Then the hem lifted.

Just a little. A second, maybe less. But time had a strange way of stretching in moments like this, in moments that mattered.

The scar was thin and brutal, a memory carved into his flesh. Indented above the waistband of his jeans, angled on his side. She remembered it too well. The jagged line. The way this shiny white mark had gleamed underneath blood-soaked skin, beneath dour body armour…

Her breath caught.

She did not mean to gasp. It was soft. Barely audible. But it was enough.

Jason froze.

Then, akin to a fiend caught suspended within a spotlight, his hand dropped from the shelf and yanked the shirt down with quiet, desperate precision. He met her gaze.

But it was too late.

She had seen it. And more than that, she recognised it; he could discern familiarity as it flooded her perception. 

He moved toward her, slow and measured, but stopped over a metre short. He already knew what was written across her face, he had no choice but to meet it head-on.

Their eyes locked, though neither of them shifted.

Silence bloomed between them, vast, tense and electric. Though not empty. It was full of all the acts and secrets he had not disclosed to her. Visions of the alleyway, of blood and heavy breaths, the weight of him leaning against her to stay upright, and her hands pressing gauze against the cuts that circled that familiar scar.

‘You remember.’ He spoke quietly.

It was not framed as a question, it was a statement, an observation. 

She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. ‘That night,’ she whispered. ‘The one in the alley.’

He nodded once. Just once. Nothing theatrical. Nothing dramatic. But it felt like the earth beneath them had shifted.

Red Hood.

It all slotted into place, the bruises, the silence, the way he would flinch ever so slightly when she would reach for a part of him he did not want seen. She had known he carried secrets. Had made peace with the fact that some parts of him were locked behind years of pain and choices she might never fully comprehend.

But this… this was different.

‘You should’ve told me,’ she murmured, not out of anger, but the truth felt heavy against her tongue. Like it had waited too long to be spoken aloud.

Jason’s jaw flexed, a muscle twitching in his cheek. ‘I didn’t want to lose this.’ He motioned around them, motioned towards her.

‘This?’ she echoed, almost hollow.

He looked upon her as though she were deserving of reverence, as though he could scarcely believe she was his to hold, yet, even now, his manner was crumpled with wretched trepidation. Jason awaited her outburst, anticipating the command to leave; he could not bear the weight of her silence.

‘You. This place. The quiet. The version of me that you know.’ He added. 

She stared at him, truly stared, and realised something terrifying: she had known. Maybe not consciously, not in the way of facts, names and alter-egos, but within her bones. In the way he moved. The way he disappeared. In the weight he bore like a shroud, constricting him with every breath.

And she had loved him anyway.

The hood, the violence, the vigilante beneath her kitchen light, none of it overwrote the man who made her tea when she could not sleep. The man who listened to her gush about books and could recall her favourite lines. Who kissed her like she was something he did not think he deserved, and treated her like she was the only real thing in a world full of spectres; Y/N was sure this was what he told himself. 

Her voice was soft when she finally spoke again.

‘You didn’t have to be someone else to be wanted, I hope you know that.’

He closed his eyes, and she watched as something in him fractured, not like breaking glass, but like old tension unravelling; she could see his apprehension flow out from beneath his skin.

‘I know,’ he said, barely above a whisper. ‘But I didn’t know how to be him… and still be this.’

She stepped forward. One pace. Two. Slow. Careful. As if approaching something transient.

Jason flinched, not quite pulling away, not quite reaching out. A lifetime of rejection was hardwired into his muscle memory. Though he caught himself before he could move away, standing rigid as she closed the space between them.

Her hand found his, warm and steady. He looked down at their entwined fingers. Jason could not believe that something so simple could feel so profound.

‘You’re simply you, boyfriend by day and regrettably, vigilante by night. Knowing this won’t change how I think of you,’ she affirmed. Then she tilted her head, thoughtful, and spoke once more.

‘Though… it may just heighten my anxiety levels. Knowing you’re out there.’

And for the first time since that fateful night in the alley, Jason let himself believe that maybe this could work. 

Jason felt it before he understood it, like the first rays of sun on his back after a winter that had lasted far too long. A warmth he had not asked for. Had not expected. It crept into his system uninvited, compelling and unfamiliar, thawing places he had long since numbed for survival.

It struck him suddenly, not like a realisation, but like a tempest. He thought he had not wanted it. He did not trust it. But it was there all the same, pressing against his ribs, blooming beneath his skin.

Love.

It was not loud. It was not cinematic. It was not even convenient. It arrived in the middle of a quiet evening, while she was brushing her teeth, half-asleep, one of his old shirts covering her frame, bare legs beneath the hem, humming something tuneless under her breath. A song he did not recognise.

The bathroom door was ajar. Lamp light filtered in behind her, soft and pale, painting the air gold. She was swaying gently where she stood, oblivious to the weight of his stare. And Jason, standing there in the threshold, rooted to the spot, watched her like she was something too precious for this world. As though she might flicker and vanish if he exhaled too harshly.

And in that moment, watching her in that domestic stillness, he could believe, even just for a breath, that the world was not a place of carnage. That outside the window, it was not broken. That pain was not inevitable. That this could last.

But the thought brought with it a sharp, biting panic.

It was in this moment that he knew he loved her.

His body tensed, his mind retreating into old reflexes. Not to run, not literally. He could never leave her. But something within him tried to pull away, to armour up, to prepare for the moment when this would inevitably be ripped from him.

Because that is what always happened. Moments like this, soft, perfect, undeserved, were fleeting in his world. They were the eye of the storm, not the end of it.

He did not deserve this. And even if he did, the world had a cruel way of taking beautiful things and turning them to ash.

She caught his reflection in the mirror, stilled, and turned toward him. Her eyes met his. Sleepy, soft, utterly unguarded. A small smear of toothpaste clung to the corner of her lip, and yet she looked at him like she could see through him. Not with fear or judgment, just mild concern and a gentle curiosity.

‘You okay?’ she asked, voice thick with sleep, amused by the way he loomed in the doorway like he had stumbled into a scene too fragile to touch.

It disarmed him. Utterly.

Jason swallowed hard. After everything he had seen, everything he had survived, the Lazarus Pit, the alleys, the gunfire and betrayal, he was not sure he had ever been less okay. And yet, standing there in her bathroom doorway, heart thundering like he had just survived a firefight, all he could do was step forward.

He did not speak, not at first. He just reached for her and kissed her temple, soft and fleeting, like the moment itself. It was not meant to answer her question. It was not meant to fix the chaos unravelling inside his chest. It was just the only thing he could offer that was not ruin.

‘Yeah,’ he said quietly. ‘Just tired.’

But it was a lie.

He was not tired, he was reeling.

That night, he did not sleep. Not because he was unable, but because he would not. He lay in her bed, curled beside her, her breath slow and even against his collarbone. One of her arms was draped across his ribs, anchoring him with a kind of warmth he did not dare disturb.

He memorised it. Every part of her.

The cadence of her breath. The shape that her hand made against his chest. The way she murmured in her sleep. He memorised her like a man convinced the morning would seize her from his grasp. Like this was all a dream and he would wake back in Gotham’s dirt-streaked alleys, alone, masked, and untouched by her grace.

But she was real.

And for now, it was enough.

Y/N was stitching him up again, hands steady, breath shallow, a routine so familiar it hurt. Nothing fatal. Nothing new. His form was half-draped in shadow, his skin cold under her touch. She sat cross-legged before him, knees meeting his.

‘You’ve got to stop doing this,’ Y/N murmured. It was not the first time she had said this, and it would certainly not be the last. Her sorrow clung to her like a second skin; he would never stop hurting himself and, by extension, hurting her. Her fingers twitched, and she forced them steady. 

Jason did not answer her. What would he tell her? Definitely, not the truth; she would not want to hear it. Every stitched-up wound felt like proof that she cared; he could not resist the temptation. It was how they had met, it was why he had allowed himself to grow close to her. Jason did not believe she could love a man like him, but when he felt her gentle fingers work over his skin, he let himself consider it; he let himself yearn.  

‘I’d die for you, you know?’ he muttered. Off-handed. As though it were the most obvious thing, as though it were as easy as breathing.

A frown turned her face. ‘That’s not comforting, Jason.’  

And then, something unspooled. It was akin to a thread that had been pulled taut for too long, it snapped under the tension. Jason sighed.  

‘What I was trying to say… What I meant was… I love you…’ He looked into her eyes, gaze piercing, willing her to see the truth of it.  

The words had flooded out like a barrage breaking open. 

‘That’s all I’m trying to say. I’d die for you because… I can’t picture a world without you in it. I wouldn’t want to.’ He shivered at this, at the concept of a sphere she did not grace; the very notion made him ill.  

She stilled. Hands held suspended above him, pausing their work. He was not looking for a response, only a release; he had needed this off his chest. But she gave him one anyway.  

‘I love you, too.’ She had uttered it so softly, had Jason not already been watching her lips, he might have missed it. His breath caught, not in fear, but in awe, as though his lungs had momentarily forgotten their most natural function.  

Her words felt like electricity brimming beneath his skin, like every nerve had been awoken at once. A new fullness bloomed within his chest, as though the ribs could no longer host his heart; as if it had suddenly grown too large to contain.  

He spoke up again, softer this time, ‘I’ll try to live for you too. That part’s harder. But believe me when I say I want it. More than anything.’ He gave her one of his rare smiles, and her heart jolted.  

She silently placed the first aid materials to the side and leaned in, placing her head against his shoulder. After a short while, she shifted, leaving scattered kisses across his fading scars, lingering on each for a moment. He felt that same electricity once more, humming under her touch. 

Her hands ghosted over him like he were something precious, as though the ruin of him was worth loving, and that was the message she was trying to convey, what she was trying to have him understand.  

Once again, Jason did not sleep at night. Not out of pain or panic, but because he was afraid it had been a dream. That peace, for someone like him, was more fragile, more fleeting than any reverie; and he could not stand the idea of waking up.

We saw small glimpses of domestic Jason here. Why is it everything I want in life? Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

TAGLIST: @aidansloth

[m4rv3l-girl]

Happens to the Best of Us - Part 4

Bucky x Y/N

Y/N took the test. Who’s gonna check it?

Note: I feel bad for the last part…kinda. (@mayafatimakhan)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Warnings: Possible pregnancy.

Time slowed as you and Bucky stood frozen, eyes locked on the small, plastic test lying on the counter between you.

The soft glow of the bathroom light highlighted his steady gaze, filled with unwavering support and gentle reassurance. For all his calm, though, you could feel the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly as they held yours, the weight of your collective hopes and fears pressing down on both of you.

Seconds stretched into eternity, each one pulsing with a nervous anticipation that filled the small space around you. You swallowed hard, barely daring to breathe. There was a strong chance that Bucky Barnes got you pregnant …

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, loud and unsteady, almost drowning out the soft click of the timer on your phone counting down to the result.

Bucky squeezed your hand gently, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. “You good, sweetheart?”

You gave him a shaky smile, nodding even as you felt your knees weaken. “Just…a little nervous.” Your laugh was tight, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s eyes softened, and he brought your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. “Whatever happens, I’m right here, Doll. We’ll figure it out together.”

The warmth of his words wrapped around you, settling your anxious heart, if only just. You let out a slow breath, resting your head briefly against his shoulder, savoring the moment. As much as this was terrifying, it was also exciting, a moment you’d both dreamed of, even if it had seemed so far away not so long ago.

“You know we can’t just stare at it all night, Kitten?” he asked, his voice soft but steady, his expression a mix of excitement and trepidation.

“I know.”

“Want me to check?”

“No. Yes... Maybe…” You took a deep, calming breath, closing your eyes briefly before looking at him with a determined nod. “Yes. Go ahead.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, Bucky picked up the test, his face unreadable as he stared at the small screen.

The silence was thick, each heartbeat feeling like a lifetime, and you watched his face with bated breath, trying to glean anything from his expression. His brows knit together, and he tilted his head, squinting at the tiny symbols.

A long moment passed before he finally spoke, his voice hesitant and slightly confused. “Uh…I don’t know what this means, Doll…”

Your heart stuttered, and you blinked, feeling your breath hitch. “What? Am I knocked up or not?”

Bucky held the test closer to his face, his lips pressing into a thin line as he scrutinized it. “I don’t know! What does two blue stripes mean?” His bewildered expression was enough to break through your anxiety, a giggle escaping your lips despite yourself.

“Bucky, that means…that I’m pregnant.” The words left you breathlessly, the enormity of them hanging in the air between you.

Bucky’s eyes widened, the dawning realization transforming his face from confusion to awe. “You’re…we…we’re having a baby?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, his blue eyes shining as he looked at you, a flicker of joy lighting up his face.

You nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you laughed, the sound giddy and full of wonder. “Yes, Bucky. We’re having a baby.”

Without a second’s hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in the warmth of his embrace and he was bouncing excitedly on his heels.

You felt him bury his face in your hair, his breath hitching against you as he held you tight, like he never wanted to let go. The two of you stood there, locked together in this perfect, fragile moment, neither of you daring to move.

Bucky pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face as he looked at you, his gaze filled with so much love it made your heart ache. His eyes shimmered, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You’re really pregnant? I put a baby in you..?” he whispered, as if saying it aloud would make it more real.

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he brushed them away gently, his thumb lingering on your skin. “Yeah, Bucky. Guess you really do have strong swimmers...”

A quiet, joy-filled laugh bubbled up from him, and he pulled you close again, his arms wrapping around you with a fierce protectiveness that felt like a promise. You could feel the gentle, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek, grounding you, reminding you that this was real.

After a moment, Bucky’s hand drifted down, resting on your stomach with a reverence that brought a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you. “Hey there, little one,” he murmured softly, his voice a low, awestruck whisper. “It’s your dad.”

The words settled over you like a soft blanket, the reality of it sinking in. He was already looking at you with such pride, as if you’d done something extraordinary just by being here with him, by letting this miracle happen.

“Are you…happy?” you asked, voice thick with emotion, feeling the weight of his hand against your stomach, grounding you in this new, incredible reality.

Bucky’s answer was immediate. “Happy? I’m fucking- oh, Sorry. Small ears. I’m elated, Doll. I didn’t think I’d ever get to have something like this. Like you. I thought…” His voice trailed off, his expression tender, a vulnerability there that made your heart swell. “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to get a family.”

You reached up, cupping his face and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, pouring every unspoken word into the touch. “You deserve this, Bucky. You deserve every bit of happiness.”

He smiled against your lips, his gaze warm and overflowing with affection. “Guess we’re gonna be parents, huh?”

A bubble of laughter burst from you, and he joined in, the sound filling the bathroom, echoing in the tiny space and making it feel larger, warmer, like it held all the love in the world. He pulled you close again, resting his forehead against yours, both of you breathing in the joy of the moment.

After a few minutes, Bucky pulled back slightly, his expression shifting to a playful grin. “So…when can we go shopping?”

You blinked, laughing softly at the eagerness in his voice. “Already thinking about shopping? I haven’t even had a chance to process this.”

He shrugged, looking a little sheepish but still grinning. “Well, we gotta be prepared, right? Besides…” He placed a hand over your stomach again, his eyes shining with adoration. “I want our little one to have everything.”

Your heart melted at the words, and you leaned into him, feeling a deep, grounding sense of love and security. “Alright, but only if you promise we can take things slow. I think we have plenty of time.”

He grinned, a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen in ages. “Deal, Doll. But I’m not waiting too long—I’m already imagining them in a little Captain America onesie.” He chuckled, and you rolled your eyes, smiling as you let yourself get lost in his joy.

…………………………….………………………………………………..…………….………..

Part 5 is out now, lovelies!

[blckbrrybasket]

Last Call for Love

Vander x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5k

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Vander and you have been dancing around each other for far too long for it to still be considered friendly banter. Is there any better start to a relationship then fucking on a random weekday?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: unprotected sex, friends to lovers, one use of good girl, size kink, daddy kink, belly bulge, sex on a table

The heavy wooden door gave way to The Last Drop, the familiar warmth of the tavern enveloping you from the night's chill. Low amber lighting splashed across the establishment, illuminating the broad figure behind the counter. The jukebox mutes your footsteps falling along the well worn wooden flooring; a layer of alcoholic stickiness clinging to the soles of your shoes as you walk.

Despite the long missing crowd, the air still reeks of cigars smoked throughout the day and shared drinks that had sloshed over their rims. Vander stands at the center of it all, his hand covered in a rag as he cleans glasses after the day. Sorry to say we’ve closed up shop.” His eyes flicker up to spot you standing in the middle of the room, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

A moment passes between the two of you before you simultaneously burst into laughter.

You smile, ignoring his faked complaint and walk over to the bar. Not wanting a barrier between the two of you, you saunter around the counter to welcome yourself behind the bar. It was one of those nights where Vander wasn’t tired after his shift, some energy leftover from the long day. He’d tell you that it was a lucky chance that he didn’t feel like such an old man. He has always been dramatic like that.

“Go on, make yourself at home,” Vander drawls sarcastically, acting as if your presence was a chore. You knew he didn’t mean it though; if not for the mirthful lilt to his voice, for the fact that he was currently selecting two clean glasses and your favorite bottle of liquor.

“Oh I will. Vander, you aren’t as intimidating as you like to think.” He shakes his head, “The Hound of The Underground isn’t scary enough for ya?”

Beaming, you amble up to his side, grabbing the drink from him. “Thank you,” you hum and clink it against the rim of his own filled glass. Vander smiles, pausing until your lips part over the glass. When you tip your head back to take a large swig he mirrors your movements, drinking half of his glass in one go.

The burn slides down your throat as you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe through your nose. The resulting chuckle from Vander makes you roll your eyes as you set the alcohol back down.

“Is that hilarious?” You question and reopen your eyes to glance at him. “Quite.” The sarcasm came naturally as Vander found his pipe and matches, always needing them to pair with his liquor. Vander hums lowly, swiping a match across the side of the counter.

“Say, is there a reason you’re pestering me so much tonight? Somebody pissed in your cereal, eh?” The lit match lowers to the mix packed into his pipe, Vander promptly shaking the flame out.

Tossing the burned match to the side, he takes a long drag from the pipe, exhaling a plume of smoke after the count of five. You slowly blink up at him, gaze focusing on the hair that covered his moving jaw. The soft curve under his chin slopes down into his neck that flexes with the exertion of his sigh. He’s so handsome to watch.

It wasn’t your fault when your hand found its way to the side of his neck, tracing the tendons that jump under your cautious touch.

Vander knew you wouldn’t answer him, not when you’re mapping out his structure like this, curious and wanting. Besides, there was no need to answer, he was just messing with you. Vander hands you the pipe, raising an eyebrow in silent question. It wasn’t often that you smoked with him, but he can sense the tension that rested between your shoulder blades. He faintly wonders if your day has been as tiring as his. Maybe even moreso. Your fingertips left his neck to lightly dig into his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt giving little resistance.

When your lips part obediently, he places the lip of his pipe on the plush of yours. Letting your mouth fall shut, you take a tentative puff. The thick smoke rolls over your tongue, choking your saliva glands mercilessly. You expectedly jerk back, coughing with an exaggerated gag, “I seriously don’t understand how you smoke that shit.”

“It’s smooth,” Vander lies, knowing it was anything but. His rough palm finds your back, rubbing up and down, dragging your shirt up by an inch. “Shut the fuck up,” you rasp as he laughs quietly. Your hand thumps his shoulder at his lack of overwhelming sympathy and unceremoniously falls away.

Vander did feel bad for you choking on the fumes, but he didn't feel horrible when he saw the way your face had scrunched up. The heat rising to your cheeks, the tears stinging your eyes…fuck if it didn’t get him thinking.

Before Vander has the chance to stress himself out, his heavy hand creeps further up your back. His thick fingers swallow the width of the base of your neck as he cradles it. The heat from his hand tingles down your spine, leaving you staring owlishly up at him. “Here,” he guides you, his thumb pressing just below your jaw.

Vander tilts your head up as he puffs on his pipe. Taking a small drag, he jerks his head to the side, signaling for you to open your mouth again. Understanding his hint, you follow his silent order. The rough pad of his thumb sinks into your skin a little harder and he dips down to your height, breathing the smoke into your mouth.

The slight brush of your lips feels like static electricity instantaneously zapping across your skin. The smoke overflows your waiting mouth, creating a fog between you and him. Inhaling it back in was an impossible feat with you frozen at his boldness. And the warmth from his pipe was no match for the warmth radiating from his body wedged against yours, wrapping itself around you and pulling you in.

Vander, on the other hand, found himself equally as entranced by the expression on your face. The knit to your brow made you look like you were silently pleading for him to break the moment with his mouth on yours. It was downright indecent and yet he can’t possibly deny that look.

The silence stretched on between the two of you. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was certainly tense—brimming with possibility. Neither of you could decipher when the tension between both of you had started; maybe it had festered for weeks or longer. Either way, ending up so close together was no longer a jarring occurrence.

The tether continues to tug you closer and closer together until your chests press against each other, beating hearts speaking in turn. “Vander,” you snip impatiently, making the larger man flash a cheeky smile. Your brain reels with the hope of finally giving into your desire for each other. The dance between you was a fickle thing, one that you have enjoyed for a long time, but loathed more every second that Vander didn’t kiss you.

If there was ever a chance to feel him on you, even for a sharp second, it seemed that now was the time to have him. Who knew if he would ever get this close again if the moment slipped by? Right before the pressure becomes unbearable and you open your eyes, Vander heeds your warning and leans forward fully to slot his mouth onto yours.

Your heart skips a beat, blood roaring in your ears and throbbing between your thighs. The thought of anything else evaporates from your brain leaving you unable to focus on anything but Vander’s mouth on yours. The curve of your lips closes with his, sealing the two of you together.

The following kiss is a frenzied mess of teeth and tongue. There was nothing soft about the hungry kiss, heat blossoming deep within Vander’s gut as he tugs you closer. Your gasps were easily silenced by his tongue massaging yours, a soothing balm that made you crave him everywhere.

Yet, Vander abruptly pulls back, acting on autopilot. He found a new journey, gripping the fat of your ass and yanking you closer. The sides of his hands cup the curve of each cheek, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. When you oblige, he silently follows through and holds you to his body.

One of his heavy hands pushes into the middle of your back to curve your body into him, wanting you as close as possible. Instead of dropping you onto the counter, or even going up against the wall, Vander sharply turns and treks out from behind the counter. He beelines for one of the cleaner tables he had wiped down before cleaning glasses. When you glance over your shoulder at the table that he set you down on, a small worry fills you.

“Will this hold?”

“Only one way to know,” Vander rumbles, towering over you once you swivel back to him.

Swallowing thickly, you nod, “Yeah, guess so.” His eyes search yours and then he’s solidifying the position, directing you to fully lie back on the table. Your legs spread easily to accommodate for the expanse of Vander’s hips as he steps up to you. Unignorable arousal pulses in your core at the bulge that nudges at the junction of your thigh.

The hot outline of Vander’s swelling cock seeps heat through your clothes as he marvels at your laid out figure. This is what he has wanted for so long, what he needed. You. “Are you going to stare at me or fuck me?” Vander instantly laughs at your question, not condescendingly, but not exactly comfortingly.

His mouth resumes what ended you up here, lips meeting your own. The second kiss wasn’t as frantic, but was equally a push and pull of nips and soothing licks. Your tongues slide together, neither fighting for dominance while you pant against his lips, always diving back in for more. The sound of lips smacking eventually quiets when Vander slowly parts from you.

“Sweetheart, I have to work you up to that.” Vander grinds against your clothed cunt, the seam of your jeans rubbing in time with the rolling of his hips. He eagerly takes in the crease of your brow as the material of your underwear bunches around your clit, pinching it. You can’t help the way you lift your lower half to meet him, the heaving of your chest only growing heavier.

The unyielding barrier of your pants and his were far too thick between you and his cock. You needed more. Finally, Vander flicked the button of your jeans up and tugged your zipper down. Weathered fingers hook under your waistband and yank, working the material off your legs. He backs up to pluck your shoes from your feet, freeing your legs of the suffocating jeans.

“Shit,” you hiss and shiver at the sudden air bathing your heated skin. The wooden tabletop creaks as you idly squirm on it, only stopping when large hands pin your thighs to the table. “Shh,” Vander murmurs and rubs his hands along your skin. “There you go, that’s good,” he praises when you still, captivated by the soothing tone he has taken on. A quiet chuckle bathes your ears as he opens your thighs once more.

Biting the inside of your cheek, your eyes trail down to his fingers eagerly tugging your damp underwear to the side. Vander can be many things, but with you splayed out like this he could no longer act patient. “Ah, there she is.”

The air in your lungs burns, clawing up your throat when you let out a shaky sigh of relief. When did you start holding your breath? You weren’t exactly sure, focusing on one of his fingers sliding up through your puffy lips, parting them.

Hot slick coats his digit, his eyes zeroing in on how your plush skin dents supplely under his guidance. Unable to resist, Vanders thumbs come up to spread you open like an overripe fruit that he gapes at. There were no words to describe the swelling of his heart, and cock, at the sight of you. The warm weight of his dick prods your knee as he sucks in a sharp breath. “Hell, you are…”

Vander trails off, unable to finish his sentence. His thumb sneaks up to your clit, rubbing slow circles over it. You catch the way his eyes snap up to your face to study the reaction you would reward him with. The shade of your cheeks darkens at his curiosity. You might have been silent, but your hips spoke for you when they edge forward, searching for more. It seemed to be enough for him, Vander’s attention returning to your cunt.

A quiet whimper falls from your lips after a minute of withstanding his lazy exploration. “Vander, please.” The plea pulls him out of whatever trance he had been put under, his eyes blinking away the daze in them. His hands slide over your hips and under your ass. Using the angle, he tugs you up the table until you are directly in front of him. “Careful,” he jokes, snickering when you lightly swat the back of his head.

In a silent apology, Vander lays his palm across your mound, softly massaging you. He presses a finger at your entrance, tracing the contours before making up his mind and sliding it in. His free hand trails up your body to flatten against your abdomen as he shallowly fingers you.

The sheer size of his hand took up a substantial portion of your waist, shielding you. And it didn’t take a mind reader to sense Vander’s pride in that–his chest puffing out as he saw how much of you he can cover. Fuck, he could manhandle you anywhere you’d like.

Welcoming the stretch, your cunt easily yields to him, leaking over his finger. “You’re soft,” Vander grumbles without a second thought. The words visibly catch up to him a second later when his face reddens. Ducking his head, Vander bends over to lower his face to your cunt–a successful distraction–and wraps his lips around your clit.

Instantly your back bows off of the table, jaw dropping open as you moan in surprise at the quick shift. His tongue weighs on the bundle of nerves as he hollows his cheeks. Vander’s eyes flick upwards to make eye contact when he thrusts in a second finger.

Your louder groan was almost enough for him to grin against your pussy. His beard scrapes against the inside of your thighs, blending the slight pain with the overwhelming pleasure while two fingers curl against your velvety walls, searching. If it took him all night to find your sweet spot he gladly would map out your body for hours.

But his journey was cut short by the quickening of your breath, hands falling to his head. Short puffs of air exit your perpetually agape mouth as sparks flare in your tightening gut. Absent-mindedly, you grind against his fingers, eager to help him. Your orgasm was mostly a surprise, spurred on by the efforts of his mouth against you. Your body tenses as you come over his fingers, thighs smacking closed. Whining brokenly, you dig your nails into his scalp as he carefully removes his fingers.

With a muted rumble, Vander shoves your thighs back open to drag his tongue up your slit. You gasp sharply, imagining that you would never breathe again with how tight your chest has grown to be. The feeling of him cleaning you was too much and yet not enough. Your struggling fell on deaf ears, or rather the ears of a man that hadn’t yet deciphered your moans, who eagerly drank in your essence when you humped his face with restless hips.

When his swelling lips pull away, arousal thickly coats his mouth and beard. But if the look in his eye was anything to go by though, he doesn’t mind one bit. No, he gratefully licks his lips and hauls himself back up to stand over you. In an instant your hands were back on him, tugging up the hem of his shirt.

Vander answers by yanking the oppressive fabric over his head, throwing it to the floor. His broad shoulders were carved thoughtfully by the gods, dipping down into his somehow bigger chest. Thick hair covers his defined pecs, drawing your eyes to the thatch of hair just above his waistband.

No time was wasted away with how quickly Vander ripped his belt open, the clank sounding like a gunshot through the thick atmosphere. You giggle quietly at his haste, quieting with a coy smile when he playfully glares at you. Vander grants you only a few seconds of ogling him before he’s pantsless and surging forward again. He drags his lips across your collarbone, biting at the top hem of your shirt.

Hot breath hits your skin, raising goosebumps when he grunts at the limited access to you. Weathered fingers creep up under your top to find your chest for a moment until he’s stripping you of your shirt. Vander groans appreciatively, barely separating from you for a second. Now it was his turn to take in your figure, completely naked on his tables in his bar.

Wet, open-mouthed kisses smother your neck, letting you savor the brush of his beard against your warmed skin. It quickly became a struggle to stay still again when you were creating a fucking puddle on the table with Vander only kissing you.

Through the haze Vander makes out your need, the weight of his warm cock nestling between your thighs. He subconsciously ruts against you, pressing as close as he can to you until you can feel the shape of his heavy balls through his boxers.

“M’gonna fuck you now, ‘right sweetheart?” The words register after a slow second crept by. “Mhm,” you mumble and nod your head. That wasn’t enough though, with Vander responding by shaking his head. “No, you have to tell me what I’m gonna do. Come on honey, use your words.” If that wasn’t enough to make your head swim you didn’t know what was.

“You’re going to fuck me.” “And…?” “And I’m going to like it?”

“Good enough,” Vander says heartily, chuckling to himself at how out of it you were after one orgasm and some heated kissing. “Are you normally this…distracted?” You shake your head, observing shamelessly when he works his boxers off. Not many men could work you up like this, but it was Vander. The sweet Vander who always had your back…also the Vander who constantly teased you, and now the Vander who’s standing naked in front of you.

The thought itself wasn’t a major turn on, but actually seeing him? Dusty red at the tip and already leaking, he’s…thick. Surprisingly so.

How had the gods even made a man with a cock that thick? What he didn’t make up for in size, he certainly did in girth–so weighted that even when he was achingly hard his cock still hung between his muscular thighs. His pubes, dark and only somewhat trimmed, decorated the base of him. “How is that going to fit?” you blurt out.

Looking at you watching him, Vander smirks and wraps a hand around his dick. Maybe it was to tease you, though it was more than likely that he needed a break after having little to no stimulation for this long. “We’ll make it fit, yeah?” He groans when he curls back over you, his pre-cum smearing across your inner thigh. “S’ppose you’re ready enough now, eh?” Without a flicker of hesitation you rapidly nod along. “Fucking finally. I thought I’d grow a beard in the time before you fucked me.”

Sharing a laugh, Vander shakes the teasing off when he braces himself on his thick forearm, next to your head. His knee nudges your legs open wider to allow him to lower himself down more. The fat of his tip slides between your folds and presses gently at your entrance. Glancing back up at you, Vander smiles.

“Are you gonna let daddy take care of you?” Janna.

It was like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on you at the same time you were submerged into lava. All you could manage was a pitiful squeak as you look up at him.

Honestly, Vander had meant it to be a jest at you. He didn’t expect you to react like this. “Oh you like that? You’ve been thinkin’ about me being your daddy?” He was only met with wide eyes, you staccato breathing filling the air. Vander didn’t need a verbal response to know he was dead on. Dipping down, Vander drug the tip of his nose up the side of yours. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you, stretch you out, give you what you need. Daddy’s here now.”

“Shit,” you whisper quietly, whimpering when the head of his cock kisses your entrance again, just barely pushing in. Vander grits his teeth together to resist thrusting in, in one go, murmuring reassurances to you. “I know…gonna stretch you out nice and slow…” A groan sits on the back of his tongue as he slowly sinks into your cunt, his hands moving to hold your thighs up and apart.

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Just a little more.” You had assumed Vander would start quickly—having been dead wrong with how he took his sweet time. His tip is already making you ache for more, his girth pushing your walls to stretch obscenely around him. “Shit, honey,” Vander curses at the sight of your body accommodating him, puffy folds straining around his length.

He cautiously rocks his hips forward, each little movement drawing him deeper than you thought possible. Each second that you think he couldn’t possibly give more, he did so dutifully. When his hips are definitively flush with yours, your back arches off the table again to hover, a low moan tearing through your throat at the fullness in your gut.

Vander waits for you to adjust, attentively watching your face for any signs of discomfort. The pad of his thumb plays with your clit, his head ducking to follow your view. “I want you to look at me,” he rumbles, placing his other hand back on your tummy.

“I want to see you when I fuck you.” Pressing down lightly, he feels the bulge of himself under your soft skin. You whine at the feeling, relaxing into his hold and letting your head roll back against the tabletop. “Look at me in you.” His hand resting on your abdomen tightens into a fist. “Fuuuck.”

God damn, was all your muddled brain musters up when you clench at his words. Vander grunts quietly, “I won’t last long if you keep doing that.” The truth was that he was just as affected by this as you were. The thought of his struggle alone dissolves any pain into a sweet pressure as his cock moves against your walls. You yearn with a hunger that has festered for years because of Vander’s heedless teasing. Fucking years you have hungered for this. You wouldn’t back down in the face of it.

His hips rut into you with no sense of urgency, the two of you enjoying the slow grind of his cock. The smell of your arousal hangs heavy in the air, the slipperiness mixing at the base of his cock until his pubes are soaked with your need. Vander’s hand on your stomach wanders up your leg, transferring it to rest on his shoulder.

“You’re taking me so well,” he huffs, turning his head to kiss your ankle. The drag of his cock against your walls is intoxicating, setting off sparks with each lazy thrust.

“Uh huh?” you answer weakly, stretching your arms above you. “Can you–I want more. I want it harder.” Vander closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Okay.” He braces himself and looks back down at you, holding your hips. “Okay, hold onto the table, honey.” Listening, your fingers curl around the edge of the round table, eyes trained on him. “Good girl.” Any response was cut off when he pulled back, driving back in with a sharp snap of his hips.

Air rushes out your lungs as you wail at the fire lighting up your nerves. Your nails bite into the wood in an attempt to ground yourself. If anyone could rearrange your guts with their size, Vander would be able to and you could feel it. Vander groans between deep thrusts and digs his fingers into the fat of your hips. It’ll bruise tomorrow but neither of you worry about it.

The pace he set is electrifying, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming his hips forward again. Each ram sends you sliding up the table, his cock filling you up over and over again. Your moans are uncontrollable, wanton and loud as they spill from your lips in your haze.

Vander picks up on the quick difference of your keening under him when his tip bumps your sweet spot. Twisting your hips just to the side, Vander thrusts forward to meet it again, stars blurring in your vision. “Right there?” Vander goads you as if he isn’t struggling in the same boat as you. His teeth grind at the tightness of his balls, ready to release at any moment. He couldn’t help that your warmth enveloped him so invitingly.

“Fuck, shit, ah Vander!” You uncoordinated babbles echo in the bar, the loud slapping of his hips meeting your thighs ringing in your ears. You could feel your walls mold to every vein and curve in his cock. Scrabbling for better purchase, your head bounces on the table at a fervid thrust. Before your head can meet the tabletop again, Vander’s hand has left your hip to catch the back of your skull.

“Careful,” he looks down into your bleary eyes, his own sparkling with desire. From here you can see the lights shining in his blown out pupils.

His gaze roams your features furiously as he drives deeper into you, smirking when your face screws up in pleasure. Unable to help himself, Vander tucks his face to your neck, scattering sloppy kisses. The noise he releases into the curves of your shoulder borders on a growl, his sweat wetting your skin.

The weight of his body keeps you utterly pinned to the table, his cock grinding against all that it can reach. He’s practically humping you, lost in the snug feeling of your slick cunt, never once faltering in his determination to make every inch of your body tremble.

Moans cut from your vocal cords, your fingers burning with how hard they grip the table. Vander’s rough hand on your hip moves to hike your leg higher up your shoulder to position himself to piston harder into you. Arousal coats both of you, adding an extra slipperiness to his movements now. His heavy balls slap against your ass, the muscle rippling in response.

“Sweet, fucking, pretty thing.” The sounds of your cunt only fuels his mounting desire, his groans of approval mingling with yours.

Vander’s gaze burns with a mix of determination and possessiveness when your eyes lock with his. You weren’t dumb enough to miss his usual watchful gaze, but this felt different. In this moment, you didn’t just feel him physically–but emotionally, intrinsically. No words held value right now, your gaze holding a thousand unsaid words.

You didn’t want to spill those three words, but they seemed to jump out anyways.

Your lips part as Vander nods knowingly. “I know,” he rasps, “I know sweetheart.” At the confirmation, his pace accelerates impossibly. “I’ve known for too long. Janna, I couldn’t hurt you.” It’s almost too much. His words overlap clumsily in a way that has your cunt throbbing. “But I need you. You’re gonna be mine. I’m gonna do right by you, huh?” Your moans only increase in volume at his rewarding thrusts, head turning to dig your teeth into his forearm.

He groans long and loud, cock jumping at the sudden pain. With each slam of his hips, Vander aimed to take you completely, drowning in the knowledge that you were finally his. On the precipice of release, your mouth releases him as you writhe.

“Vander! I can’t–” “You can, honey. You will. Come on, sweetheart.” Your thighs trembled from the exertion while your cunt spasmed around his length.

It only took a handful of powerful thrusts until your orgasm was crashing over you. Legs twisting, you whined brokenly at the feeling. Your eyes squeezed shut, pleasure blinding you and keeping you alight. The increased tightness of your walls spurs Vander’s own climax. In only a few seconds he was following you over the edge with a grunt.

Trying to keep his dignity intact, Vander swallows the rest of his moans and buries his face into the side of your neck, burying deep within you. His weight is nearly crushing you when he halfway collapses onto your spent body, the warmth of his cum filling you up.

The thick mixture of your release threatens to leak out and splatter on the table when he shifts to keep from flattening you. Vander’s hips unconsciously grind into you as he rides out his orgasm, groaning into your ear. After a few long moments of his heavy breathing tapering off, you speak up,

“We really need to learn to talk to each other.” He chuckles.

[pukefactory]

Astro x Reader headcanons please :]

Thank you!!

Certainly! I hope all you Astro fans enjoy these.

──✩₊⁺⋆ LATE NIGHT DELIGHT ⋆⁺₊✧──

⏾⋆.˚ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring Astro as your boyfriend

⏾⋆.˚ Character(s): Astro Novalite (Dandy’s World)

⏾⋆.˚ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

⏾⋆.˚ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

✦ Astro is naturally a solitary toon, but after meeting you, he gradually started to open up, especially in your presence. Even if you’re not particularly outgoing yourself, you bring him a sense of comfort that makes him more willing to be honest and expressive. When you’re around, his anxiety feels less overwhelming, and the world becomes a little less daunting. For that, he is endlessly grateful, even if you never realize just how much of a difference you make. Your presence alone allows him to feel more at ease, making conversations with others feel less intimidating.

✦ If you struggle with insomnia, Astro has an almost magical ability to help you fall asleep effortlessly and stay asleep for hours. He insists he doesn’t have any special talents in this regard, but you strongly disagree. On restless nights, he will lay beside you, humming gentle lullabies that lull you into a deep, peaceful sleep. His voice is soothing, and combined with his countless soft blankets and the cozy atmosphere of his room, it doesn’t take long before you drift off. Once he knows you’re asleep, he isn’t opposed to pressing a light kiss to your forehead, a quiet gesture of affection.

✦ Since being with Astro, your dreams have become significantly more pleasant, and you have no doubt that he’s the reason. Your nights are filled with warmth, love, and familiarity—most of your dreams consist of simple yet meaningful adventures with him, sometimes even mundane, but that’s exactly what makes them so special. For Astro, joy is found in the little things, and with dreams like these, sleep no longer feels like an obstacle but rather a comforting escape.

✦ One day, Tegan casually mentions that Astro loves iced tea, and that’s all the encouragement you need. You eagerly ask Tegan to teach you how to make it, determined to surprise Astro with his favorite drink. It takes a few attempts to perfect the recipe, but learning from the best (and doing it for someone you love) keeps you motivated. When you finally get it right, you present the drink to Astro, who looks both surprised and touched. The moment he takes a sip, his expression softens in pure delight. As you recount your efforts—how you learned of his taste, how Tegan guided you—you swear you catch the faintest hint of a deep blue blush behind his shy smile. It’s clear that this will become a new tradition.

✦ Iced tea isn’t his only favorite drink. On occasion, you’ve noticed him sitting alone, quietly sipping a cup of hot cocoa, lost in thought. Inspired, you decide to make some for both of you, and thanks to your training with Tegan, the result is nothing short of perfection. This quickly turns into a cherished ritual—sitting together under a shared blanket, sipping hot chocolate, and gazing at the stars through Gardenview’s glass ceiling. You don’t speak much during these moments, but words aren’t necessary. The comfortable silence says everything.

✦ Astro has an aversion to being photographed, and you respect that boundary without question. Still, you find yourself wishing for keepsakes—memories you can revisit in a tangible way. So, you get creative. Regardless of your artistic skill, you begin drawing moments you’ve shared together in place of traditional photos. When Astro discovers what you’re doing, he chuckles softly, clearly flustered but also deeply touched by your effort to preserve your time together. Before long, he joins in, helping you color and decorate the sketches, occasionally even drawing a few himself. Eventually, your collection of drawings grows too large to keep in one place, but Brightney comes to the rescue, gifting you a photo album to store them in. You often find yourself flipping through it alone, reminiscing on the countless memories with both love and amusement. However, what you don’t expect is to stumble upon a hidden drawing tucked inside—one that you didn’t make. It’s a picture of the two of you, surrounded by crudely drawn hearts, in what appears to be a marriage ceremony. The realization sends your heart racing. It seems Astro has been thinking about your future together more than he lets on.

[lieran03]

When You Shatter A Glass

Love and Deepspace Fanfic

When you broke a glass by accident, what would be his reaction? And when he sees you scared, what will he say to you as a response?

Genre: fluff, comfort/no hurt Pairing: Caleb x fem!reader (usage of Pip-squeak as nickname) Words: 937 Warning: none!

Writing commission || Ko-fi || AO3 acc

Xavier's || Zayne's || Rafayel's || Sylus'

ENJOY~!

A promise was a promise for Caleb. It didn’t matter how busy he was, he was in Linkon and postponed any work he could just to answer the call from her. As a result, to pay for his promise, Caleb was there, at her house, to cook breakfast. When he was already preparing the food, the person he was cooking was finally awake, moving at her own pace in the kitchen.

Sizzling sound and the smell of the food he was cooking filled the entire house. Yet, the sudden sound coming from a shattered glass earns Caleb’s attention. It’s not usual for her to be clumsy, and at the same time, he was so used to her acting clumsy. Thinking it was just another day of being clumsy, a light chuckle can be heard from Caleb.

“What is it? Another day of a clumsy day, Pip-squeak?” Turning off the stove, Caleb turned his back to see the girl didn’t move from her spot. From where he was standing, Caleb could see how both of her hands trembled, as if something bad just happened. “Pip-squeak, hey? Do you hear me?”

“I’m … I’m sorry,” she suddenly mumbled. Without thinking much, she squatted down, hand ready to take each of the shards.

Before she could get close, nor her fingers could touch it, Caleb used his evol, making her float a little higher than the counter. Caleb’s tone was firm the next he was talking, telling her how dangerous it was for her to carelessly touch the glass. Even if she wanted to clean it up, she could have used a small broom and not touch it directly.

A string of sorry can be heard from her while Caleb cleans everything, still holding his evol to make sure she won’t hurt herself. Once he was sure there were no more shards around, even the smallest one, Caleb finally let her down, bringing her in his arms towards the sofa and letting her sit comfortably. He was squatting down for a moment, noticing how she always avoided his gaze with her slightly trembled hands.

Knowing that she wouldn’t stare at him, he decided to sit beside her, lifting her so she would sit on his lap, straddling him comfortably. However, in that position, her stares still wander around, anyone or anywhere except Caleb. A stifled sigh can be heard, it’s not because he was disappointed by her, but it was his own lack of attention towards her.

“You didn’t want to tell me anything, right?” Caleb asked, sounding soft and gentle. “It’s okay, Pip-squeak. I wouldn’t be mad at you, I’m not angry at you too. Instead … I was ashamed of myself. How long did I know that you started to develop something like this? You shouldn’t have to say sorry, it’s not your fault. You also didn’t need to feel guilty. I do mess up a lot too, remember?”

Caleb’s tone slowly becomes lower and lower attracting her attention. Although there were still doubts, she finally stared into his eyes. It was dark, the usual hue as he had been lately. Yet, his eyes filled with regret and pain, as if everything that happened to her was his fault. There was no rage, anger, or anything to make her feel scared.

As if he was telling her subtly she was not wrong, she didn’t need to be scared, and he was not going to shout at her for doing something.

“I should have accompanied you, helping you whenever you need. I should have watched you grow ….”

“Stop ….” A whisper came out from her before she put both of her hands toward Caleb’s lips, not allowing him to say anything else. “Why are you saying that? I was the one who broke the glass, I should have been more responsible.”

Still with his mouth covered, Caleb was trying to say something. “Pip-squeak, you almost killed me,” was the first thing Caleb said when she took off her hands. “And no, being an adult didn’t mean you have to be responsible all the time. You can, and you are allowed to, make mistakes.”

“But you didn’t,” she mumbled, once again looking away from Caleb’s intense gaze. A low chuckle could be heard before she felt his hand creeps to her waist, holding her tightly but not hurting. “You didn’t make a mistake, you never do so.”

“I did, you just didn’t see it. How come … how do I let you see me making a mistake? Besides, you always see most of my worst moments too, no? Breaking a glass is normal. We can buy it again. What’s important is that you’re not hurt.”

By the end of his words, Caleb’s right hand took her fingers in his, pulling it gently towards his lips. He hesitated for a few seconds, wondering if he should kiss it or not. After a moment of thinking, he decided to turn his hand, kissing his own hand instead. It was his way to show his love.

“Pip-squeak, you’re allowed to make mistakes, being clumsy, and being a child with me. But, please, make sure to be safe. I didn’t want to see you hurt. You didn’t need to be scared someone would get mad at you, shout at you, or blame you. It’s never your fault. I won’t get mad at you.” Ending his speech, Caleb left another kiss on the back of his hand, cradling her fingers in his for a moment to give warmth to her.

She’s too important for him to let her get hurt while he is there.

[solacefish]

✎ File contents - Sebastian Solace x Reader ( 1.3k )

⎙ Examination Results - Sebastian can't handle company, the very thought of another's affection or gaze upon him could make him throw up. So he takes it out on you, by mistake.

⌕ Research Gathered - Angst, Yelling and arguments, Unrequited ( suggested requited ) love, Mentions of his experiments + transformation, Mentions of death, Sebastian can't open up ™.

What did it mean to be loved? What did it mean to love?

Was the dull ache at the bottom of his heart - muffled by mutations and a scarring of who he once was. The tales of his childhood, the sounds of a youth he could never return to. Was that what he longed for? What he dreamt of?

Sebastian didn't dream, he didn't recall the last restful night. Memories stirred between azure eyes, eyes that weren't his own. Nightmares seemed a too gentle term to refer, and terrors wouldn't fully commit to the sickness he felt upon awakening.

The night was the same as any other, having passed out by his desk - having never remembered otherwise. Awoken by the sounds of screaming, echoes of his own against those cold damp facility walls. Never a current sound, always a reminiscent of what had happened to get him into this mess. Always.

Had he remembered to take melatonin from the many drawers that littered the science departments, had he bothered to look at all. The feeling of being lulled, forced, to sleep against his will by medication was not something he happened to be fond of. Not at all.

Running a hand through charcoal locks, hearing the footsteps of an expendable from the outer corridors. Not a moment of rest down here, none were allowed. Had you taken time to rest, you'd have to be risking your life. Urbanshade didn't seem too fond of waiting longer then 5 minutes for their prisoners to move, he'd crossed enough corpses and brain paintings to know.

Awfully so, a facility so willing to kill upon the smallest disturbance.

The expendable crawled through the vent, standing unproud with a ripped wetsuit and cracked mask. Lucky your oxygen tank hadn't been chipped, this whole place was filled with water. He smiles, clasping his hands together and gesturing vaguely to the items that adorned his scales.

"Welcome back .. You already know how this goes, hm?"

He'd recognised you. The one who cannot stay gone - a dead man walking as much as he is. Both of you didn't expire when you were supposed to, and for that you suffer in agony every day.

You nodded, wordlessly walking over to pick up a medkit. He'd noticed a few scratches, a limp on your left leg. Perhaps you'd twisted your ankle, there was enough to run from down here. Enough exercise to be had. They could open a gym, it might be a worthy investment. Rather then experimenting, try new yoga...

"How much?" You look up, and he returns the gaze. Thinking for just a moment, enough to act like he hasn't spent the hours and months down here memorising and practicing the exact amounts of data hed request for each thing he scavenged.

"200. No discount services, never have been. You've been here before, haven't you?" His voice is louder then he remembered. After so long without speaking, he'd forgotten how different the services Urbanshade had cost him from who he was.

You nod, opening the box and immediately giving yourself time to tend to your injuries. wrapping it around a wrist, a leg, anyplace with the crimson bleed that ached to be seen. Sebastian didn't mind the company, but the feeling of nausea that came across his chest the longer you remained was hard to ignore.

"Sebastian," A voice, your voice, brings him back for just a moment. You notice the look in his eyes, and he stirrs where he's stationed for just a moment. "You can talk to me, you know? We're friends, aren't we?"

Friends. Was this a comedy setup?

Sebastian's jaw ached for a moment, letting out an exhale as he remembered the bleeding of his teeth upon his own gums. Whilst biting his tongue and gritting his teeth used to work - it happened to be much more painful after the experiments took place. Unfortunate, but with his humanity stripped away, some sass as a defence wouldn't hurt him as much.

"I don't talk, not to you." He responded bitterly, as if he was straining his voice to keep himself in check. "You remember where you're standing." A huff blew some of the locks out from his face. He didn't see you as any worth, the data you served him so happily was enough to satisfy, however the company wasn't something he was interested in.

"It's nice to open up," You begin, "I know where i'm stood, and I don't mind sitting to be here for you. You're a great guy, honestly, and you need a shoulder to cry on like any other person."

He feels his restraint snap, just a moment. A resistance of a rubber band that had been stretched by a child that moment too far - flicking it at somebody else wasn't enough.

"Don't you fucking dare to call me that." He retorted, his voice echoing off the walls. Sebastian swore he could hear those screams again, of a 19 year old with a life ahead of them. A good person? Were you serious? Were you blind?

A man framed of 9 murders, a man who turned it to 50. How to live with the guilt he was what they made him out to be. A living weapon, with a maw for shredding and tearing, and a claw meant to slide across a throat like butter. To look in a puddle of his self reflection and call himself good? He might as well have let the side effects take him.

You'd flinched, he had noticed, but he hadn't cared. He wanted to make himself clear, for the first time in a long time, to be heard. If you were an unfortunate soul who'd be the one to take his frustrations like a sponge, then he can be the ocean to accompany.

"I'm just trying to help!" You state, he growls. Every bone in his body wanted him to lunge, to rip you apart. The human heart caged beneath the ribs that told him to stop, that ached to be sensitive and free. The DNA that told him to attack, to prowl.

His body was at a war with itself, to tear itself apart. He would never have won.

"I don't need anybodies help!" He yelled, the fins in place of his ears were pinned firmly to the sides of his head. You'd shook your head, and he noticed the reflex that had made you take a step back. You were scared of him. Of the monster before you - had you only just realised he was a predator? He was not ever your friend.

"Please-! I love you-!" The words burst through your lips as the same as sebastians breathing worsens. He can't handle it, it's too much. The sickness of bile in his throat, the acid that threatened to release itself. He wasn't lovable, there was nothing to be adored or admired. You were lying to him, you were pitying him.

"Get out!" There's defiance, the rejection to your words. His body ached, his heart hurt. To be loved was a curse, to love was an unknown. With his breathing heavy, a loud crash as he slammed the vent cover back after you'd scrambled out. He could never be in control of a body that wasn't his to begin with.

Sebastian clutched the sides of his head, the serpentine tail curling around his helpless body. The unfamiliar limbs that tore his soul apart. He could never let himself. He could never see himself ever again.

He hated what it meant to be loved. He hated to be seen, to be known. He hated what they'd done to him, what had become of him. To be loved was to be lied to - to love was to deceive.

Seabstian could apologise later. But he hoped you'd never return. He didn't deserve to await you.

taglist ; @fl1ghtl3ssdrag0n

[mayasaurusss]

A touch of summer.

Contents: established relastionship, fluff, sfw breastfeeding, blurb (700 words). A/N: I wanted to desperatley write a somthing based on the lake scene in the lastest episode, so I made a poll and asked you guys what genre you would have liked the most, and the results were pretty telling: while 70% of voters decided on a fluff version, 30% wanted to see angst, so I resolved into making both! This is the fluff version: you can find the pool here and the angst version here. Enjoy!!

The gentle lull of the waves rocks her body left and right, so calm and soothing that sleep comes easy to her. Shauna hasn't had a moment for herself in months, and letting the lake cradle her feels appropriate somehow. The weather is warm, the sky is blue and her heart is finally free from the sadness winter brought to it.

She spent so long in the cold that she didn't remember what summer used to feel like.

Her ears pick up on the sounds beneath her: bubbles of oxygen rising to the surface, currents that collide with each other, and in the distance, an infant's laughs. Her body moves before her brain can process the sound, eyes drawn to the shore, frantically searching for him. She finds him under the sun, merely visible from the middle of the lake, looking like a little fat bundle of you as he absolutely laughs his ass off at your peek-a-boos.

She can see his little arms reaching for your face, stopping as you hide your face behind your hands, then clapping his as you reappear once again.

How old is he by now? Several months, at least, but not old enough for him to walk on his own. Something Shauna has always thought, since he was born, is that if they ever come back, she will never know his birthday.

A warmth that she didn't think she'd ever felt fills Shauna's heart: she can't imagine a world in which he's not by her side. And you, so simple and gentle, so patient with her, so lovely, raising her boy at her side.

Back on the shore, you see Shauna swimming towards you and you stand up from your position, but the pain of spending several minutes crouched on the flat stone where you the boy down his too much for your legs to bear, and you fall comically to the ground, his laugh a soundtrack for your embarrassment.

"Hey! Don't laugh, kid!" you hush him down, going for tickling his little belly.

"You've already got all of your mom's attention, just let me get some!".

"What do you want?" A shiver runs down your spine at the familiar voice, following it to see Shauna smiling at you with a hint of smugness behind her lips. Her locks fall to the sides of her neck, darkened by water.

Shit, she got you.

"N-nothing! Here you go!" you take him in your arms, handling him to Shauna as if he was a bag of potatoes.

In her arms, he looks like the most perfect thing in the world. You can only describe the way Shauna's eyes look at her baby as simple, true and pure love. There has never been a love so deep on this earth.

There is something so simply natural in the way she exposes her chest and angles his neck up so her can drink from her. A summer ago, you would have probably made a snarky comment, would have been weirded out by all of this, crunching your nose in disgust; but as you watch her feed her son with such love that it could make you cry, nothing like that crosses your mind.

But the stillness doesn't last long, and just as she tucks her breast back in the dress, she looks at you, a mixture of interest and smugness in her eyes.

"So, you want my attention?"; when she says that, you feel like a total jerk. What possessed you to say such a thing out loud, right to her baby?

But you do: you do want her attention. You want her to look at you, to kiss you as she did before, to have her as she had you during the winter. Maybe you should tell her, what danger could that be?

"No. It was stupid of me to say that. He's your son, he has to be your top priority" you find yourself staring at the burnt yellow grass below, avoiding Shauna's gaze. How fucking embarrassing... But before your brain can spiral into self-hating, Shauna presses her lips on your skin, between your nose and your cheek. She stops briefly to look you in the eyes, so dark you can see your reflection in the summer's sunlight.

"You're mine" she says, bringing her lips to your cheek now, holding her baby close to her heart, "You are both mine".

[psyzcraze]

𝙇𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪

Pairings: AgedUp!Seishiro x FEM!reader

Sypnosis: After a long week, filled with stress and work, you finally came home to your boyfriend, Nagi Seishiro resulting in him gently fucking your brains out in an attempt to comfort you after a stressful week.

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Wc: 351 words, 1995 characters

Cw: smut, raw/no protection, praise kink, fingering, cumming inside, very subtle mention of BidD!Nagi, missionary position

Author's note: Really short, not proofread 🥹, I'm so sleepyyyy, NSFW under the cut! REBLOGS are appreciated :)

"Hngh- S-sei..!" Soft moans came out of your plush lips as you trembled underneath your boyfriend, Nagi.

Seishiro's fingers continued its relentless thrusting into your tight cunt. "Behave f'me pretty girl." He spoke with that lazy and seemingly-always-tired voice of his. His gaze never leaving your face. Taking pleasure in your fucked out expression.

"B-but-" You tried to protest but was immediately caught off by him gently pressing his lips against yours, giving you a soft kiss. "No buts, you deserved this, angel."

Seishiro kissed your forehead as he continued to pump his fingers into your pussy. He groaned as he suddenly felt your walls tightening up around his digits.

"Fuck, you're just so pretty f'me aren't you?" He whispered into your ear as he kissed your forehead.

You're so close already, so so close! And Nagi's fingers were just making you go insaaane! "I-I'm so close.."

Just as you were about to reach that high you've been craving for, Seishiro suddenly pulled his fingers out of your cunt.

He wasted no time and immediately thrusts his cock in your cunt, stretching you out so suddenly, causing you to moan very loudly.

"S-sei!!" You moaned as he pounded your pussy so slowly and gently yet so deeply. "T-that's right, keep moaning f'me.." Seishiro spoke so sweet to you as he set that agonizingly slow yet deep strokes.

After a few more deep and slow thrusts, You could feel that knot forming in your tummy again. He whimpered as he felt you start to tighten up around his big cock.

"I'm so close, angel.." Seishiro said softly as his thrusts became faster and more frantic, chasing after that high you both crave so much.

Your moans became louder and after a few more thrusts, the both of you came together. His hot cum filling your insides. He gave you a few shallow thrusts to help you get down from your high.

"There we go, angel, you did so well.." Seishiro cuddled you up while keeping you stuffed with his cum.

"Thanks for working so hard all week...Love you.."

Masterlist and Rules here!

©psych0-puppete3r ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.