#the tear in the back of his hood is worse too

[kadextra]

omg…………..

[bunny-1111]

Whoopsie - Theo Nott x clumsy!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Fluff + slight angst

Description: You can't help your clumsiness, but when you land with a bruise on your face, you're reminded that your boyfriend Theo really hates to see you hurt.

...

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridors of the Slytherin dungeons, each step clumsy and uneven. You weren’t exactly the most graceful of creatures, but today had reached new heights of disaster. It was one of those days when the universe seemed to be playing tricks on you—making every doorframe, stair step, and corridor seem like an obstacle course designed specifically for you to fail.

And fail, you did.

It had started innocently enough. You had forgotten your Charms textbook in the dormitory, and in your haste to retrieve it before your next class. The last thing you needed was detention from McGonagall for being late or forgetting your book, and you were sprinting down the corridor. Too fast, too distracted, and—

BAM.

Your face met the hard, unyielding brass of the doorknob. Pain radiated through your skull, and you stumbled back, clutching your nose. "Ow, ow, ow," you hissed under your breath, blinking back the sudden tears that sprang to your eyes.

By the time you had made it to the mirror in the girls’ bathroom, a glorious bruise was already blossoming across your cheekbone and the area around your eye, swelling quickly and turning an alarming shade of purple. You groaned. Great. How were you going to explain this to anyone? Even worse, how the hell are you going to explain this to Theo?

You decided to skip class altogether and carefully make your way to Madam Pomfrey.

You managed to slip into the common room unnoticed at first, pulling your hood up in a futile attempt to hide the evidence of your clumsiness. But, of course, it didn’t take long for someone to notice. It was Theo, he always noticed everything about you, no matter how much you tried to downplay it.

“Baby, why weren’t you in class, Enzo ended up taking the seat I saved for you and Merlin he chewed my ear off about Quidditch being fixed last Saturday,” he rambled on.

Don’t reply, don’t look up, you thought to yourself. It was impossible; this was happening right now.

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, voice low and alarmed as he crossed the room in quick strides, his hand gently lifting your chin. You felt the warmth of his fingertips against your skin, but his expression was anything but warm. His brow furrowed in concern, soft brown eyes locking on the bruise that marred your face.

"I’m fine!" you blurted, though the words came out far too high-pitched to be convincing. You tried to pull away, but Theo wasn’t having it. His grip on your chin tightened ever so slightly, his thumb brushing against the edge of the bruise with a gentleness that made your chest tighten.

“Who hurt you?” His voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but the intensity in his tone made your stomach flip. His eyes searched yours, dark and stormy. Theo wasn’t the type to raise his voice in anger. No, his was the kind of quiet fury that built up slowly, seeping into the air like a cold, creeping fog.

"I did," you confessed, trying to laugh it off, but the tension in the room was suffocating. You could feel his anger brewing, and you knew what was coming next.

“I’m fucking serious, don’t lie to me!” Theo snapped, taking a step back as if putting some distance between the two of you would help him calm down. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he began pacing, his jaw tight. “There’s no way you did that to yourself.”

“I did!” you repeated, trying to sound more convincing this time. Rubbing your hand quickly against your bruise. Not a good idea, as you instinctively winced at the touch. “I ran into a door. A doorknob, to be exact. It’s not that serious, Theo,” you try convincing.

Theo froze mid-step, staring at you like you had just said something utterly ridiculous. Which, to be fair, you probably had.

“A doorknob?” he repeated slowly, his eyes narrowing as if he was waiting for you to take it back, like it was some kind of joke. But when you just nodded, Theo let out a long, frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. He shook his head as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re telling me… you smashed your face into a doorknob?”

“Yes,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment. God, you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

“It's embarrassing already, alright? Leave me alone,” you huff.

Theo stared at you for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to believe you. Eventually, he sighed and dragged a hand down his face, turning away abruptly. “Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath before storming off, leaving you standing there with a gnawing pit in your stomach.

Theo didn’t go far. He was in the common room, pacing like a caged animal, still visibly agitated. His eyes flickered over the other Slytherins lounging nearby, most of whom had noticed his outburst but said nothing. That didn’t last long.

“Oi, what’s got you in a twist, Nott?” Blaise called from the couch, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. Beside him, Draco looked equally intrigued, lounging back with his arms crossed.

Theo glared at them but didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to look at you again, his jaw still set in that hard, unyielding way. The others followed his gaze, and it wasn’t long before the topic of conversation turned toward your rapidly bruising face.

“Wha- what the hell happened to her eye?” Blaise was the first to ask, looking genuinely confused as he gestured toward you.

“She said she ran into a door,” Theo growled, clearly still not convinced.

Draco, who had been staring at you with a mixture of concern and amusement, furrowed his brows. “Wait, what happened to who’s ey-?”

Before he could finish his question, Mattheo, who had just entered the common room, cut in with a dramatic, “Holy shit! What happened to your eye?” His tone was a mix of shock and humour, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of your injury.

You could feel everyone’s eyes on you now. Heat rushed to your face as you tried to explain yourself once again. “I fell,” you say quickly, raising your hands in a placating gesture, as if that would make everyone drop it and move on.

But of course, they didn’t.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You fell? Into what, a troll?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “I ran into a doorknob, okay? I wasn’t paying attention, and it just… happened.”

Blaise let out a low whistle, his smirk widening. “You really need to work on your coordination, love.”

You rolled your eyes, though the action hurt more than you expected, causing you to wince. Theo, noticing the movement, shot Blaise a glare that could have frozen over the entire Black Lake. “It’s not funny, Zabini.”

“Hey, I’m just saying…” Blaise shrugged, holding up his hands in mock defence. “You know, we could get you a helmet or something, just to be safe.”

"We should wrap you in bubble wrap", Pansy joins in laughing

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I’m fine, really.”

But the conversation was far from over. Despite your protests, the teasing continued—though most of it was good-natured. Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Theo’s eyes on you, watching every movement, every wince. He hadn’t said much since his initial outburst, but you could feel his worry like a tangible weight in the air.

Eventually, the others got bored of the topic, and the common room returned to its usual low buzz of chatter. You took a deep breath, thankful for the reprieve, but when you glanced toward Theo, you saw that he was still tense, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he watched you.

“I’m going for a smoke,” he stated as he stormed out of the common room. Well, we’ve done it, stressed him to the point of smoking. You thought he’ll be back soon, sinking deeper into the couch.

Later that night, when everyone had dispersed to their dorms, Theo found you sitting by the fire, absentmindedly poking at the flames with a poker. He sat down beside you without a word, the warmth of his presence instantly comforting. For a while, neither of you spoke, the crackling of the fire filling the silence between you.

Finally, Theo broke the quiet, his voice low and careful. “You really need to be more careful.”

You looked at him, your heart giving a small, traitorous flutter at the concern etched into his features. “I know.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair again. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

There was something in his voice that made your chest tighten. You smiled softly, nudging him with your shoulder. “It’s not that serious, Theo. It was just a stupid accident.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the fire. Then, after what felt like forever, he turned to look at you, his expression softening. “Promise me you��ll be more careful next time.”

You chuckled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I promise.”

Theo wrapped an arm around you, pulling you

closer. “Good. Because I don’t think I could handle seeing you like that again, seriously.”

You gently kiss him, as you make your way towards his dorm, he wraps an arm around your shoulder, everything seeming good again.

That is until you tumble over your own feet, almost meeting the floor, but this time, Theo was there, tightening his grip on you, catching you before disaster could strike for the second time today.

You laugh as he stares at you, eyes widening. He cannot believe you actually fall over your own feet. He softens with a deep sigh.

“What am I going to do with you, my clumsy girl?” he laughs himself, kissing your head.

Author note: um like 4 theo fics posted in the last 24 hours.... getting that grind LMFAO

[alvojake]

SIM JAEYUN HARD THOUGHT

「warning」 : 18+ MINORS DNI!!

「notes」 : this is for all my girlies with an oral fixation and a tongue ring... I am also girlies... I have had this thought stuck in my head for the longest time imaginable so I've finally brought it to life. might make a full fic based off this in the future, idk yet.

「word count」 : 0.7k

you knew jake had an oral fixation, always needing to have something in his mouth, whether that be his lips, yours, or a piece of candy. however, as your relationship grew, he would find any reason to have his lips on your skin.

though during your time with Jake, you, yourself, had started to form an oral fixation. it even got to the point that you had gotten a tongue piercing in hopes of quelling the urge to stick random things in your mouth.

and it did... for a short amount of time.

until you realized the effect it had on your boyfriend whenever you would give him head. the whines and whimpers that would fall from his kiss-swollen lips every time you would press the piece of jewelry against his swollen cock.

"f-fuck baby." he groaned once more, his fingers lacing through your hair, tugging softly as you moved further down his shaft. his eyes rolling to the back of his head when the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat.

when it came to moments like this, when you have him cumming in your mouth within minutes of wrapping your pretty lips around his hard dick, you knew that the piercing was a good idea. just maybe not for the original reason that you had gotten it. if anything, it just made your oral fixation worse because now you wanted to take any chance you could to use your new 'toy' on your sensitive boyfriend.

"c-cummimg. fuck I'm cumming!" jake let out what you would call a mixture of a whine and a groan. his hips buck up into your mouth as he paints the walls of your throat white with his seed.

you hummed at the taste causing his grip to tighten on your hair in hopes of pulling you off of his overestimated dick, but you stayed put for a few moments longer before slowly pulling off. your thighs rubbed together underneath you as whimpers fell from jake's pretty lips.

pulling off of him, you give him a few kitten licks to his tip, making sure to drag your piercing along his slit, relishing in the way his whole body shivered at the feeling.

you continue to tease him with your tongue and hands, licking up all of the cum and spit that coated his length. not stopping until he was rock hard in your hands once more.

"baby, p-please... n- fuck. no more, please." jake hissed through his teeth as you traced along his slit once more, hands tugging at your hair.

with one last lick, you pulled away from jake's throbbing dick resulting in a deep groan to tear from his lungs at the sudden loss of touch. however, you didn't stray too far for too long, kissing up his toned tummy and chest, nipping at his collarbone, neck, and jaw before sealing his lips with yours.

he groaned against your lips at the taste of himself on your tongue, hands finding your hips to pull you into his lap. your tongue runs along the inside of his teeth; a soft rattling comes from how your ring hit his teeth.

pulling away to catch your breath, you watched in amusement as jake chased after your lips, his eyes hooded as they bore into yours. his grip on your hips tight as you shifted to allow his tip to prod at your entrance.

"think you can handle another one, jakey?" you asked teasingly as he leaned forward to latch his lips to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin until dark purple and red splotches were left behind.

he didn't give you any response except for the harsh thrust of his ups upward to fully encase himself in your heat, resulting in a strangled cry to leave your lips at the sudden intrusion.

"f-fuck, jake!" you cried out as he started to piston his hips up into yours, stars dancing across your vision as his tip rammed into your cervix mercilessly.

"wanna be such a fucking tease?" he growled against your skin before biting down harshly, making your body tremble, "then you're gonna have to reap what you sow, princess."

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[sanguineterrain]

angel of small death | jason todd

Summary: You can't remember what it was like to be human. Until Jason returns. Now, he's the only thing tethering you to this world. And you won't let anything happen to him.

Pairing: Jason Todd x shadow monster!gn!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings/tags: monster!reader, canon-typical violence, codependency, reader attacks Batman, reader accidentally hurts Jason, stalking, suicidal thoughts, crying, hurt/comfort, somewhat happy ending.

A/N: I wrote this in a day so if there are any grammar mistakes please feel free to lmk!

the divider

You feel it when Jason returns. 

No one else seems to. The Bat (his… family?) doesn’t sense anything is different, but you do. 

And just as quickly as you feel him, he’s lost. His grave is empty. You scour Gotham for him, his body, anything. But he’s gone. Stolen. 

If you were more powerful, free from this wretched body, you would find him. Hunt down whoever took him, then bring him back to Gotham, so he might rest. 

For a short day, your limbs had felt like flesh. The void that is your mouth had smiled. You were human again. 

Jason is lost. You scream in mourning. 

He’s back. 

You’re awake.

“Go through the side!”

Hood’s men scramble to obey, armed and ready. They’ve planned this ambush for three and a half weeks. Black Mask made himself scarce after Hood made it clear he wouldn’t leave him alone. You watched in pride and worry as Jason threw himself into his revenge. 

He’s stronger than in your memory. He’s big, bigger than most opponents. Bigger than the Bat. He’s good with a weapon. Good in combat. Scarred all over. Brutal. 

But he’s angry and hurt, and he’s human. He may have the Pit inside of him, but he is no monster. You would know.

The Bat is hunting him. You will tear him apart, if necessary. You will tear apart anyone who hurts Jason. 

You slip through the shadows, letting your limbs stretch as long as they can. They make awful shrieking noises when you stretch too far, and it makes the men below nervous. 

One of Jason’s men looks right at you. You look back. He gasps and runs back to the van.

These men are loyal but they’re nowhere near strong enough to protect Jason. You’d prefer to eat them all, but Jason seems to trust them. So you gut a lackey in a clown mask and silently remain on the highest balcony across the street from Black Mask’s lair.

Once, you permitted yourself to watch Jason in his apartment, in his bed, while he slept. He cried through a nightmare. You tried to chase the nightmare away, but you’d only made it worse. He awakened, sweating and gasping, and screamed as soon as he saw you.

You haven’t revealed yourself since. 

You are lonely. You want to die. You’ve wanted to die for a long time. 

But you won’t. Not before you see Jason home safe.

Automatic gunfire echoes from the lair. You rush to the unlit side of the building. You peer in through the window. 

It’s mostly Black Mask’s men on the floor, bleeding. You slip inside to eat the death. 

“The fuck is that?!”

You look up just as three bullets pass through you. You scowl at the offending gunman, who drops his gun and runs. Rude. 

You wouldn’t normally enter like this, make your presence so obvious. If someone were looking for you, they could easily track you after tonight.

But nothing matters except Jason. 

There’s shouting outside. You soar to the ceiling and through the skylight. 

“Shit, shit, fuck! Boss! Boss, you alright?”

“Shut the fuck up, Garett,” Jason says, helmeted head lolling against the brick. Three of his men crowd him.

You speed to the shadow, carefully avoiding the light casted by the overhead streetlight. You’ve stepped in one before and the fluorescent lights sting.

Jason is bleeding from his gut, where his armor separates to allow movement. 

You creep closer. If you still had a heart, it would beat fast. You remember how it felt. You don’t feel fear often these days, but now you know for sure that it was never gone.

You scream.

The streetlight shatters. Jason and his men cover their ears, shouting in pain. His men start to bleed from their ears. It doesn’t take much for you to strike them down, knock them into a fitful slumber.

“Who’s there?”

Jason immediately pulls out his gun, despite his injury. You try to stay on his side, so he won’t have to see your yellow, bottomless eyes. You’d close your eyes if you weren’t so afraid of hurting Jason further.

“I ain’t scared of you!” he says, and you’d be inclined to believe him if your teeth weren’t peeking out at the scent of his fear.

You swallow and focus on his injury. You stretch your fingers to two thin points. Then you reach into his stomach and pull out the bullet.

Jason yells in pain and fires. You ignore it and keep going. 

“Sssssss-sssor–ry,” you rasp.

Jason turns his head and looks right at you. He panics, trying to squirm away. You quickly hold him down so your fingers won’t rip through his intestine.

“Let go a’me! Let go!” 

He fires until the cartridge is empty. You are crying. 

“Sss-sssor-sssorry.” Then you sear Jason’s wound closed. 

That’s when he passes out, the pain overwhelming him. Black tears run down your face and join the dark. 

As soon as the wound is cauterized, you slink to the darkest corner of the city, inside an abandoned warehouse. 

You let yourself grow into your full form, showing your claws and exposed tendons and the hole in your chest.

Then you cry, cry, cry. The windows explode, the bricks become dust, and still, you cry into the rubble. You cry until morning.

You can’t stop.

You should. You’re fearsome and ugly and Jason is already entrenched in grief. You’ll only make him worse.

But after the ambush, you can’t rest. You have tried to return to the dirt, to where you had lain for so long. You swim to the bottom of the ocean and try to sleep with the creatures there. That doesn’t work either. 

So you follow Jason instead. You follow him every night on patrol. You snipe anyone who gets too close, intending to harm. Jason returns home with a full magazine, most nights. You know he should take care of his adversaries on his own to keep in practice, but you throw up iridescent black oil when you try to let go and not protect him. 

“I know you’re there.”

You’re crouched on an apartment’s fire escape two stories above. Jason has stopped. He’s been frozen for several minutes. 

You look around, trying to find who Jason sees. But the alley is empty. 

“I know…” Jason takes a shaky breath. “I know you’re there. I feel ya watchin’ me.”

Then he takes off his helmet and tosses it aside. He takes off his holsters and removes his knives and tasers and drops those next to his helmet.

You crawl on all fours down the apartment building, claws scraping the brick. You can smell his fear from here. 

You rattle a loose screw at the end of your climb. Jason turns in your direction. He gasps, eyes wide. 

You freeze. Neither of you move for a long minute.

“You’ve been followin’ me,” he says. 

You nod. You’re not sure if he can see you in the dark.

“Who—what are you?”

You crawl closer. Jason wants to move away, you can tell, but he doesn’t.

On your hands, you come up to his head. You wish you could make yourself smaller.

Jason swallows hard, chest rising and falling quickly.

You’re not good at speaking. You used to be. Used to have all the words. Now they’re gone. Your tongue is too big for your mouth.

“I feel… shit, I feel like I know ya,” he says. “You know me?”

“Rrrrrrrob–rrobiiii—robiiiiin.”

He inhales sharply. “Yeah. You knew me then?”

You reach for him. Careful. So careful. You use the blunt side of your claw to touch Jason’s scarred cheek. He’s so warm. So full of light. 

He steps back. Your hand falls. 

You start to cry. You can’t help it. 

Your claws dig into the pavement, tearing through asphalt. 

“Waaaan–wantttttt. Tttt. Jaaaayy. WAN—TTTT. WA—JAY. WANNN—”

You try to speak softly, but it comes out like a shriek. Jason grunts in pain, covering his ears. Red seeps through his fingers. 

You stumble backwards at the sight. You must go. You must try again and see if the ocean will take you.

“Wait! Wait, wait!”

Jason runs around, holding up his hands in front of you. You stop, black tears pooling into a puddle at his feet.

“It’s okay. It’s alright. I know you.”

You want to speak but you’ll hurt him if you do. So you cry in silence. Jason waits.

“‘S okay,” he says again. “You didn’t do it on purpose. Shh, shh. Don’t cry.”

His fear is lessened. Not gone, but not grown. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Hey, honey.”

The tears keep falling. Jason keeps waiting. 

“‘Course I remember ya,” he says, and pets you where your cheek should be. “How could I forget you?”

You moan quietly. It doesn’t hurt Jason this time.

The night that the Bat finds Jason brings a thunderstorm with it.

You’ve followed Jason for weeks now. He’s no longer afraid when he catches glimpses of your endless mouth and shapeless eyes. Sometimes, on patrol, you get nervous. When you’re too close to people, to noise, you get restless. You want to run, but you can’t, because Jason will be alone. And so will you. 

Jason has begun to hum when you get nervous. You get closer when he does, looming over him, but he no longer smells like fear.

“Y’smell like peaches, y’know that?” he’d said a few weeks ago. 

You’d just pitched your head lower to show you were listening. 

“Yeah,” Jason had said. “Like peach pie. I was so confused the night you removed the bullet. Craved peach pie for days. Ain’t that the weirdest shit you’ve ever heard?”

Honestly, yes. After everything, that is definitely the weird part.

“Gooo—g-g…” You’d swallowed, frustrated. Jason had hummed.

“‘S okay,” he’d said. “‘M listening. Take your time.”

So you’d tried again. “G-good?” 

“Yeah, honey. Oh, yeah. So good. You’re so good.”

That hadn’t been what you meant. But you’d gotten the feeling Jason knew what you were asking and decided to answer another question anyway.

It’s pouring tonight. The rain doesn’t bother you, but if lightning starts, you may have to retire for tonight. 

That’s only in an extreme circumstance, however. For now, you’re right there with Jason. 

“Shit, ‘s really comin’ down, huh!” Jason shouts over the rain. 

He swings to a rooftop and almost slips on water. You rush to him, but he holds up a hand, laughing.

“‘M fine, ‘m fine. I gotta finish the southside. You can dip if you want.”

You don’t respond. Jason sighs.

“Alright, fine. C’mon.”

You’re two blocks into the southside when a dark blob lands in front of Jason. You stay hidden, eyes sharp. 

The blob is a man. The Bat. 

“Jason,” Batman says. Jason stiffens.

You feel a screech working its way out, but you stop it for Jason’s sake. You will intervene if he needs help.

Both of their fear levels have shot up. 

The Bat steps forward. “You lied to me, Jason. I can’t believe it’s you going around Gotham killing—”

“Oh, you can’t?” Jason spits. “You can’t believe your little bird that’s back from the dead is angry that no one fuckin’ cleaned up this city? The clown is still alive, Bruce!”

Thunder cracks the sky. You stay silent, keeping your grip on the side of the building light. You’d offered to kill the Joker for Jason. Ki–lllll clo–own? K–ill?

But Jason had told you no. Had said that it wasn’t your responsibility. So you’d refrained. 

The Bat is quiet for a moment. Then, “I’m sorry, Jason. I know you’re upset, but—”

“Fuck you. I don’t wanna hear your attempts at peacemaking. I’m not gonna stop no matter what you say.”

“Jason,” the Bat says. “You have to stop killing.”

“The only way I’m gonna stop is if you kill me.”

You scramble down as soon as you hear armor clash. A batarang strikes Jason’s chestplate. Jason’s increasingly aggressive, forcing the Bat to defend himself harder. 

Thunder strikes again. Jason knows all of the Bat’s weak points. And while the Bat is distracted, it doesn’t stop him from fighting well.

The moment the Bat draws blood, you stalk out of hiding and howl.

Three streetlights explode as you grow to your full, terrifying size. Both the Bat and Jason cover their ears. You slam the Bat down on the ground, claws shredding his cape and suit. You’re furious. You will kill.

One of your claws punctures the Bat’s thigh. He shouts in pain. You’ll tear him apart for making Jason bleed.

Rain beats down on you. You heave over the Bat, shaking with fury. 

“Stop! Fuck, fuck. Stop it!”

Jason pulls at your arm, which is nearly the size of his entire body. His helmet is cracked, his exposed eye bloodshot. That rekindles your anger, but Jason quickly intercepts. 

“Stop, please. It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t kill him, please. Don’t kill.”

“Miiiiii—m—miiii-ine. Mine.”

Jason nods. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it. 

“Yeah, yeah, I am. I’m yours. He’s not gonna take me away from ya. He wouldn’t kill me.”

The Bat coughs, spitting blood. “N-never.”

"Mine," you say, tremulous, blood under your claws. "My Robin."

Jason shakes you. "Yours. I'm yours. C’mon, peach. C’mon, love.”

It would be so easy to end it now. End you and the Bat. And you would do it if you didn’t think it would end Jason too.

His fear is high. You pull your claw out of the Bat, who groans. You let Jason lead you away. He holds your darkness.

“Scaaaar—sc-ared. Scare-d?”

“Yeah,” Jason admits. “Little bit.”

You close your eyes. “Ba-ad.”

“No, honey. You’re not bad. You’re scared.”

You dig your claws into the roof, cracking the concrete. You let yourself shrink, so Jason can wrap his arms around your neck. You don’t trust yourself enough to touch him back. 

He’s crying. Jason is crying.

You pull back a little, so you can see his face. 

“Cr-y,” you say, feeling like weeping yourself. “Cry cr-y c-ry.”

You want to say so much more, but you can’t. Your words are gone. You know Jason doesn’t judge you for that, but you need to tell him. Tell him how you feel.

You lick Jason’s cheeks. They taste like salt and rainwater. You lick more. Lick until he stops crying.

“Son,” the Bat says behind you. 

“‘S okay, B,” Jason says. 

Rain drips down his face and suit. He’s beginning to shiver. You try to shield him as best as you can. 

“We’re okay,” Jason says, this time just to you.

“Sc-scaare—”

“No, no. Hey, peach. ‘M not scared. Y’hear me?”

You slowly drape your arms over Jason’s back. He strokes your wrist that droops and stretches unnaturally. 

“Yeah. You know me. I’ve never been afraid of the dark.”

[euno11a]

i just saw your post about reader who can’t make themselves cum and ugh i love it, especially because i feel like no one ever talks about or includes it. anyways i would love to hear your thoughts on reader who has a hard time cumming, especially during sex no matter how good it feels

I fell that it’s honestly really important to talk about it to let people know that they aren’t alone. And I’m so glad you liked it :)

It is scientifically proven that men can cum easier during sex than women. It’s mostly because women have complex bodies, what works for one person might not work for the other. So when figuring out your own body, it’s important to keep in mind that your body is unique compared to others.

this wasn’t the first time that you’d been sprawled out in bed with Simon pleasing you. He kissed up and down your body, caressed every inch of you, even stopped for a little to rest his head on your chest and make sure you were nice and relaxed. You two had been on this journey together for a little while now, trying to figure out what you like and how he can make his pretty cum. He had tried many things, using his tongue, light pressure on your clit, firmer pressure, no pressure and just stimulating your g-spot, stimulating your g-spot and your clit, adding nipple play to see if that made you more sensitive; but even if it felt good, your body wouldn’t let yourself go.

at first, Simon thought it was because he wasn’t good enough. That he just lost his touch and that he wasn’t doing enough for you. But when you comforted him and explained how you’d been like this since you could remember, it made him feel better and worse. Alright, he wasn’t a complete failure and could still make you cum…but why hasn’t he? Every time you two had sex or just did foreplay, he would make sure to take all the time in the world to get you really nice and wet for him. He would use his fingers to curl inside you and touch that spot to make you mewl and arch your back off the mattress. But you still couldn’t cum. You were in the middle of him thrusting into you, feeling how his cock would twitch gently inside you, his fingers working your clit. Left side, right side, hood of it, right on it, pinching it gently, but all it would do is make you feel more pleasure that lead to nothing but a dead end.

you buried your head into his neck and let out small whimpers as he kept his movements steady. After another 15 minutes, that’s when the whimpers turned into silent sobs. Your body jerked a little as you cried, tears gliding down your cheeks and onto his bare shoulder. His head leaned down against yours and held you tightly, gently sliding your of you to hold you in his lap. You cried softly, neither of you talking, but both knowing what was wrong. “I don’t like being broken…” you said through little cries, voice soft and hoarse. But you were cut off by Simon shaking his head and cupping your face to press small kisses against the apples of your cheeks.

“Yer not broken, love. Y’just different. Just because we don’t know how t’make you cum just yet doesn’t mean my sweet girl is broken.” His words were soft against your ear as he caressed your head, another time failed.

as time passed, you began losing hope. It’s fair, thinking you just can’t do it because something inside is wrong or maybe you just weren’t cut out to be able to feel that pleasure everyone talks about. You started to notice how Simon even began refusing any type of pleasure. Handjob? No thanks, love. Maybe a blowjob cause you had a stressful day? Nope, but I do need cuddles, sweet girl. He was refusing your love. While he sat in his home office finishing some paperwork, you walked in quietly, staring at him as he stared down at the paper, pushing up his glasses. The glasses that you finally got him to buy because he kept complaining about the television being too hard to see and the news on his phone is too small. Thank god you did though, he looked bloody hot in them. Scooting your way into his office, you stood in front of his desk, catching his attention. “Somethin’ ya need, love?”

your cheeks burned as he looked at you, but you couldn’t get distracted! “Why are you refusing my love?”

it was clear the question caught him off guard by the way he paused, mouth slightly agape as he looked at you. “I’m not refusin’ your love. What makes you say that?”

“Wha-…? Yes you are! Every time I offer you a blowjob or a handjob, you say no. Am I doing something wrong? Does it not feel good? Do you…do you not like me anymore?”

he could hear your little heart shatter in that last question, standing up from his chair and walking over to you. He grabs you hands and sits on his desk, pulling you towards him. “I fucking love you. Neve think for a minute that I stopped loving you. I’m refusing to let you do any of tha’ because I don’t think it’s fair to ye. Not fair that my sweet girl has to endure not bein’ able to cum, so m’not gonna either.” He says while looking straight into your eyes, his thick and calloused fingers pushing some hair behind your ear. “Won’t cum until you can.”

while you thought he was refusing your live, he was actually doing it because he didn’t want you to feel left out? This man looked like a scary man, but he was the most thoughtful and caring teddy bear ever. “What if I never do, though?”

“Then neither will I.” He spoke seriously. “Understand?”

the small nod you give him is enough acknowledgement for him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Now, I was doin’ some research, and I found that most women can’t reach an orgasm without some help. So, what do ya think ‘bout lookin’ for some toys with me, eh?”

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 8

WC: 897, Masterpost

Danny plucked at the hem on the sleeve of the too large hoodie that he was wearing. He would make a hole in it if he wasn’t careful, he knew that. He knew that he should stop, but he felt as if he stopped he might vibrate out of his skin instead.

Or, worse, change back to his human form.

It was just that… he felt good. He was rested. He could have slept more, it was like he always wanted to sleep these days, but the need to sleep just wasn’t pulling endlessly at him. He was full, too. He didn’t expect it to last long, Hood and Nightwing were talking about make him eat every hour, as if eating every day wasn’t already unheard of. Danny had almost broken down in grateful tears as they were explaining things to him. Maybe best of all he was clean. He had been able to take a real shower for as long as he needed and he had cried then, but at least it was in the shower so no one noticed.

He was good at crying silently these days.

Now they were in a nondescript car headed somewhere else. Danny felt he should be nervous at that; he was pretty sure that the two heroes had expected him to be, but Danny couldn’t find it in himself to worry. They given him somewhere to sleep and shower and fed him— were talking about feeding him again even as they drove. Wherever they were talking him, Danny was pretty it was going to be better than the lab. They kept trying to reassure him though.

It was a nicer building. He had been in a basement. It would be quieter. The machines and their noises never stopped. Danny got used to the white noise of it. It had two bedrooms. He had lived in a box too small to stretch out his legs in. It had good light. Danny had forgotten how nice it was to just feel the sun on his skin. He leaned over and rested his cheek against the cool glass of the car window.

“It actually has a tv and gaming system. I bet Red would love to play with you, Kid.”

“Danny.”

It was like the air had gone out of the car.

Danny scraped at the ribbed line of fabric with his too long nail. He felt it catch.

Then someone let out a huff of air. “Danny then. Got some books too or we can give you a tablet to read on.”

“Not everyone is a book worm like you, Hood,” Nightwing teased.

Hood flicked the other off in such a casual motion that it made Danny’s lips twitch in the start of a smile. It was nice to see people just interacting like that. To see people just… being people. It was nice to remember that not everyone were like… like them.

“Danny.”

“What?” Danny looked towards the front of the car. They were moving slowly inside of some sort of parking garage.

“You with us?” Nightwing asked. He had turned around in his seat to look at Danny. The skin around the top of his mask was furrowed in concern.

“Yeah. Sorry I just…” Danny shook his head and looked around where they were again. The concrete walls felt too close, too familiar. His finger caught on the hole he had started to pick in the sleeve of the hoodie. “It… are we going to be down here long?”

“Hey, no. I’m going to crawl back there with you, okay?” Nightwing said as he undid his seatbelt. He twisted himself to crawl into the back of the car with ease. Both of the heroes had changed into clothing like what Danny was in that morning. It was an odd contrast with the masks still on, but it was nice. “We’re going to drive into a spot right through there behind those doors and then go up an elevator. We just have to park.”

Nightwing rested his hand over Danny’s fidgeting one. Danny flinched and Nightwing pulled away.

“I’m sorry about the hoodie. I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey, no, it’s alright Danny. It’s just a hoodie. Red pulls at the bottoms of all them and Spoiler chews on the aglets. Hood stretches out any of them that aren’t his.”

“Not my fault you’re all so damn small,” Hood said smugly as he waited for the metal door to roll up.

Somehow Danny was sure Nightwing was rolling his eyes. “I just thought you might… I thought touch might help? If you ever want a hug or anything—”

The rest of Nightwing’s words were knocked out of him as Danny basically flung himself into into the hero’s arms. Danny felt himself start to shake as Nightwing held him back. “It’s okay, Danny. I have you. You can have hugs whenever you need them.”

-

Bruce’s tablet chimed with back to back notifications and he switched over to the family chat immediately.

The first message was from Jason: a picture of Dick lounging on the couch of the new safe house. Draped across him was the newest Wayne, white hair wild but his face more at peace than Bruce had seen in any of the other photos.

The next message was from Dick: his name is Danny.

Danny. His son’s name was Danny.

---

AN: A shorter part, but such great progress for Danny! They know his name! He got hugs!

I no longer tag but you can subscribe to the masterpost!

[tacticalprincess]

cw: angst, emotional manipulation, dry humping until completion

being the poor little hostage könig is in charge of looking after… he feels annoyed and helpless, listening to you sob for hours. he’s sympathetic; he can see how cohabitating with someone of his caliber might be distressing after what you’ve gone through. even after years of experience he still isn’t quite sure how to deal with this part of his job— the emotion and human interaction part. he avoids making direct eye contact with you and speaks to you as little as possible, figuring you just need space to process. little does he know that everything he does, down to the way his eyes shift uncomfortably in his hood, makes you feel even worse, self conscious and isolated, just like you’d felt when you were kidnapped. you longed to be close to the man that saved you from the situation you thought you wouldn’t make it out alive from, and the rejection you felt from him was only making the crave worse. you’d do anything to get his attention…

he returns back to your guys’ temporary hideaway to find you in the same spot he left you, curled up in the corner of the bed. his heart hurts at the image you make. he stands awkwardly in the middle of the room holding a paper bag. "i brought food and… more tissues."

you break down at the sound of his voice, the first voice that hasn’t evoked a deep sense of dread and fear into you in weeks. you can’t see through the fog of tears in your eyes, but you hear the sound of heavy footsteps inching toward you, the crinkling of the bag being set on the creaky wooden table. a large, tentative hand is placed on your shoulder, and you can’t help but lean into the touch you’ve been craving.

“don’t… don’t leave again.” you plead brokenly.

“okay…” könig sounds startled. “what do i…?”

“can you just sit with me? hold me?”

he hasn’t held anyone the way he holds you since before he can remember. it’s hesitant and stiff at first, you leaning up against his broad chest, his strong arms wrapped gingerly around you. he softens up the longer you sit there, your face buried in his neck as your crying turns into sniffling, and eventually his warm embrace feels indistinguishable from that of someone you’ve known forever— a lover, even. he just makes you feel so safe and protected. it’s not your fault that your confused, touch-starved brain reads the situation as something that it’s not.

könig’s supposed to be the clear headed one. he should stop you when you start crawling further on top of him, he shouldn’t let you sit yourself in his lap. it’s inappropriate and he knows it, only a sick man would take advantage of a young girl in such a vulnerable state. but it’s not like he isn’t also in dire need of physical affection. if he just sits back and lets you take what you need from him to be comfortable, he isn’t doing anything wrong. right?

“i’ve been so scared, so lonely.” you reason with him as your hands feel around his broad biceps through his tactical gear. the more you discover about him, the more your admiration for him grows. your breathing has turned heavy, the warmth of könig’s body paired with the feeling of having a man so close to you for reasons that aren’t to hurt you, has your cunt aching between your thighs. you’re so screwed up. “i never thanked you for saving me.”

“it’s my job.” you can hear that he’s effected too, his accent thick and deep and strained underneath his mask. you bite your lip at the sound, your little hips growing a mind of their own as they start to rut against his crotch. the sensation of your sweet heat rubbing snugly against his is enough to lower any inhibitions könig has left. fuck, he hasn’t felt anything like it in so long. “we shouldn’t–”

“it’s your job to take care of me.” hot tears start to well up in your eyes at the mere thought of stopping. you lock your arms together behind könig’s head, clamping your thighs tighter around him so he has no choice but to let you continue. “please, i need this, sir. i know you want it too.”

he could easily fight you back if he wanted to. he’s much bigger, much stronger… but he doesn’t. his hands find your hips, and you make eye contact for the first time since he rescued you, only now his eyelids are heavy with desire. he’s just as desperate as you. you got what you wanted, his full attention on you. he uses his strength to guide your movements until what youre doing can’t be described as anything else but riding his clothed erection, the friction against your sensitive clit all too much for you too quickly.

you grind against him to the point of overstimulation, too fucked-out to decide wether you want to pull him closer or push him away. he ends up deciding for you, though, hugging you until you’re pressed chest to chest, succumbing to desire. you can feel the way his bigger body dwarfs yours as you use each other to get off. tears stain your soft, flushed cheeks as you cum, pushed over the edge by the sounds of his low pants and grunts, his pulsing cock underneath you. warm with the knowledge that you made him feel as good as you. you thanked him properly.

“i’m here, engelchen. ride it out.”

the feeling of you convulsing on his dick is enough to milk könig’s orgasm out of him soon after, dirtying his pants with hot, thick cum. he strokes your head and whispers soothing words in your ear, and it’s not until you’re fast asleep on his lap that the gravity of what he’d done settles in, shame washing over him in waves…

[victoria-grimesss]

locked on target

masterlist

->Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

->Words: 4.7k

->Warning: MDNI! unprotected sex, rough sex, fingering, mask stays partially on, dirty talk.

->Summary: Working alongside the 141 for a year now, you’ve grown closer to the infamous ghost. Confiding in Soap about your crush, confession is the only way to rid yourself of the gnawing infatuation. 

->A/N: Despite all my writing being about König, ghost is my all time favorite baby girl, writing for him always intimidated me but I’ll give it my best shot, hope he’s not too OOC.

It’s been a full year on the 141 and you couldn't be happier, well not happy at the moment since you’re ankle deep in sludge. This mission is going as well as any other despite the evac being miles away through humid weather and wet ground. 

“Good thing I packed extra socks.” You muttered, readjusting your gun and pack and unsticking your boot from a deep pocket of mud.

“Oh come on lass it could be worse right? We could be treading through anaconda infested waters huh? Lighten up.” Soap is next to you. He's having an easier time removing his boots from the muck. 

Price is in the front with Gaz next to him talking about the evac and rations, you admire their relationship. Price has slowly morphed into some kind of a father figure to you as you assume he did for Gaz too or at least a mentor. Gaz and Soap are like brothers to you, you bicker like such. You pick on Soap when he gets too drunk to form correct sentences and starts singing songs from his childhood, and you get Gaz too when he laughs so hard you have to remind him to breathe. Like a dynamic triangle the three of you.

Then there’s Ghost.

He stands at the back of the group behind you and Soap, no evident trouble for him when it comes to the mud. He’s sturdy and observant, keeping a close eye on the treeline and behind the group. He's a great soldier and you admire his skills… and him. Ever since you met him you’ve had your eyes trained. 

I mean who wouldn’t.

From his expressive eyes which sometimes you feel look through you, to his broad shoulders where he holds the world on top of them, his strong arms that deal with enemies swifty, to…his… lower extremities that you certainly have only thought of once or twice. Maybe more. 

You should be ashamed of your feelings, and you lock them down deep the only time they have slipped past your lips is when too much alcohol loosens them. 

—

You confessed one night to soap, the rest were asleep and your insomnia was kicking your ass so you went to the parking lot where soap was nursing a bottle on the hood of his car, and you sat down and shared it.

“Something on your mind bonnie?” He hands the bottle to you, concern brewing in him.

“I don’t know, it’s just, Ghost.”

He laughs.

“Yea, I know about him, but what about him?” 

You take a couple large gulps of the amber liquid, it burns its way down and soothes your aching wanting heart, burying the hopeless romantic in you. Tears brew in your eyes and you always forget you either become a laughing drunk or a sappy drunk, seems the latter had won tonight.

“Aye- lass, what's wrong.” His hand is placed on your shoulder offering a comforting touch.

You sob and laugh at the same time, looking up at Soap.

“I think I’m in love with him.” You say quietly through a stream of tears that make their way into your mouth, making a weird cocktail of salty liquor.

“Oh bonnie…” Soap rubs your back, his voice is soft.

“I just, everything about him Johnny! I can’t get him out of my head, and he probably doesn't even look at me that way, he could get any girl he wanted!” You sob.

“Woah there calm down, gonna throw yourself into a spell talking like this. Look. LT cares about ya, truly. He thinks you’re a valued member of the team and I’ve caught him starin’ a few times so don’t be daft now ya hear. You’re a pretty girl and LT would be lucky to have ya.”

You sniff, wiping the tears and snot with a sleeve.

“Really? You think so?”

“Cross my heart and hope ta die. You’ll be alright.”

—

“It’s in my shoes.” You deadpan.

You hear Gaz laugh and Price looks back, checking on the team.

“Don’t worry Y/N, just imagine it’s a mud bath! Your skin will be smooth and shiny before you know it!” Soap laughs at Gaz’s antics, it’s nice when you can all joke around and relax. The hard part is over and now it’s simple evac.

“Right… how soothing.” Your eyes roll and you look back to check on Ghost, your eyes meet and a flash of electric lightning shoots to your heart, it feels good. 

He gives a quick nod and you return to your trudging. You wait till after the mission to pass any other signals, he’s too focused to register any flirting right now. Or that's the advice Soap gave you after that night.

“Right. Keep close by, chopper is land down in 5, need to evac quickly to avoid any unwanted looks.” Price alerts to the rest of the team once you’ve covered ground and are nearing sweet release. Your back and knees ache just at the thought of sitting. You nurse the last of your water and keep walking, you tip your bottle back along with your head to get the remaining drops and you trip over a protruding root.

Other foot trying to catch yourself a hand catches on your upper arm, righting you up.

“Alright there?” Ghost’s dark eyes are steady on you, maybe a bit amused, or maybe his eye paint is creasing.

“Yea, sorry just tryna finish off the bottle, didn't see that there.”

“Careful next time yea?” He releases your arm and waits for you to start walking again to pick up behind you.

“Yea, for sure LT.”

You feel his hand on your arm even after he released you and you want to untie the knot that Ghost has tied there and you know you’re royally fucked.

You’re all on the chopper and your legs just about give out, you always love the euphoric feeling of sitting down after a mission like this, the lactic acid in your muscles making them burn like no other. You sit across from Ghost and he visibly relaxes once the chopped takes off, the breeze from the open doors cooling everyone immensely.

“Good work everyone, I know evac was shit but you all hustled and we got the intel we needed. I think we all deserve a good ol drink when we get back right?” 

Price brings a smile to everyone's face, as tired as the lot of us are. You glance over at Ghost and his eyes look away from you, looking over his gear.

Your heart pains for some kind of acknowledgment that he feels the same, it’s like trying to hold the same fistful of sand no matter how hard you try it seeps through your fingers, you want him so badly you’d tape your fist shut if that meant keeping the sand in.

—

Back to base, ‘same day different shit’ you heard Ghost say one time. You often hold on to everything he says, hoarding each little piece he feeds you and storing it away somewhere special. Like you’re hoarding food for the winter, as if the winter is him falling in love with a woman that isn't you, when that happens you’ll open your little box of his sayings and advice and eat them slowly, savor them until all that’s left to drink is the tears you drown yourself in as consolation. 

A pity party is what you throw yourself that night, showering and getting a once over by the medic then making your way back to your room, Price wants to get everyone together tomorrow night for a drink, wouldn't hurt you think. You sit on the edge of your bed, the silence is deafening after a mission, tinnitus ringing your ears. The bed is cold, you want someone to warm it, you want Ghost to warm it.

The nightmares come to you quickly that night, visions of your team, your friends being ripped apart by bullets as you try to fire back into mist. You hold Ghost’s hand as he fades and you wake up coated in cold sweat and adrenaline.

3:18 a.m.

You toss and turn for a minute before huffing and leaving the bed, you need air. Adorned in sweatpants and a shirt you got on recruitment day you leave your room the sound of your door is loud and you wince as it closes. You go to the parking lot once more, maybe there will be more stars out tonight. 

The air is crisp and cool, you round the corner of the building where a bench sits, a lone figure is sitting and smoking there, you can tell it’s him by his silhouette. He’s broad and his legs spread wide as he sits alone.

“This seat taken?” You ask, scared if you talk too loud he’ll leave.

“All yours” No inflection is evident in his tone.

Silence sits between you two and you take a harsh breath to break it. It makes you uncomfortable. 

“Trouble sleeping?” His voice is deep and low.

“The usual, nightmares again. You?” 

“Not tired, too soon after the mission to sleep.”

“I understand.” 

You watch him carefully as he brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales, you inhale with him. You imagine him inhaling your perfume as his lips touch your neck. You stare, unabashedly, like you’re not scared if he catches you.

He adjusts where he sits, hips rolling to get more comfortable.

“Bloody bench feels like it’s made of spikes.” He mutters, quietly.

You breathe out a laugh as he exhales the smoke.

His eyes look to the side at you and then forward again.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” 

“Like you want something from me.”

“What if I do?” 

Your heart is racing now, faster than it had on any given mission.

He stands, throwing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his boot, he slips his mask down again and his eyes are locked on you.

“I’d say you’d better fuckin’ find it elsewhere, we both know I can’t give you what you want.”

“What do I want Simon?” 

His lips grow sealed when you say his name.

“Things I’m incapable of providing, best leave it at that. Night sergeant.”

His tone meant business, you know better than to chase after him. You sit on the bench, staring at the cigarette on the ground. It’s beaten and crushed like you feel right now.

You wonder if you can still taste his lips on it.

The walk of shame back to your room is humiliating, you pass some others that can’t sleep, nightmares aren't anything special around here and you wish you could pluck the worries from their heads.

Sleep is easy after that, maybe your body wants to make you forget the encounter with him but even so you dream of him. He’s an inescapable phantom.

—

“Aye there she is!!” Soap hollers from across the pub, it’s a quaint place, quiet enough to not be annoying but lively enough to not feel desolate.

A large corner booth is what they occupy and you wave as you make your way over, A few empty glasses scatter the table already you arrived ‘fashionably late’.

“Hey bonnie I gotta take a leak you can have my seat yea?” He nudges Ghost so he can be let out of the booth, Ghost stands towering over you. Soap shuffles over to the bathroom and Ghost  lets you slide into the booth before he follows, trapped between the wall and him. You’d rather be under him…

You greet them all and Gaz slides you a tall glass of something mind numbing, Ghost has his mask down but he’s nearly finished with his glass same with the rest of them.

“You got some catching up to do, miss fashionably late.” Gaz shoots a smile and you clink your glasses together.

Soap meanders back and pulls a chair to sit at the end of the table, you all squabble over what a better drink is and down rounds after rounds. The conversation somehow gravitates to relationships at some point and Soap is going on and on about this woman he met at the pub down the street.

“Oh she’s a real sweetheart, thinking about asking her out later this week when I get the balls to do it.”

You smile at the way Soap talks about her, you’d love to be admired like that, treasured.

“I think you should go for it Johnny! You're a nice guy, I can go in there and talk you up if you want, say you fought off ten men to save my life.”

He laughs, nearly tipping off his chair, 

“You’re a real wingman Y/N, if you can secure a date by all means.”

You smile and the air is joyous, little is heard from Ghost but you know he likes seeing the team happy, he sips his drink and observes, smiles hidden by his mask.

“Have you had any luck on the dating scene Y/N?” 

Gaz questions, eyebrows rising.

“Yea bonnie, never hear a peep out of you when we talk about lovey dovey shit.”

You shrug, taking strong sips of your drink.

“I went on a date a while back, he got me flowers, a real nice guy. Found out he was sleeping with my friend behind my back around the fourth date. Don’t really want to try anymore, end of story.”

You can feel Ghost’s eyes burning into you as you finish the sentence. His gaze is addicting and you feel sweaty locked in his stare.

“Well he’s a proper twat for messing it up with you then yea?” 

Price offers a tip of his head, sympathy in his eyes.

“Ah it’s alright, I’ll just wait for my prince charming to come sweep me off my feet.” You bat your lashes dramatically and fake a swoon, soothing the old memory with jokes. It turns the tide of the table ambiance to a lighter one.

“I need to piss.” Ghost says quickly, you scoot out of the seat and Ghost hurries off to where Johnny has gone to earlier.

“What’s up his arse?” Gaz says confused.

Price downs the last of his drink and slams it back onto the table.

“What do you all say to a game of pool?”

“I’ll watch, cheer ya’ll on.” You still nurse your drink and you start to buzz, worries slipping away like papers, but one it left, weighted down with a large paperweight.

“I’ll be right there, gonna finish this drink off.” Soap says, sloshing the leftover liquid that's in his glass.

“Very well, see you momentarily.”

Soap watched the two walk off, leaving the two of you left alone.

He turns back quickly, you get secondhand whiplash.

“Ghost has had his eyes on you the whole night please tell me you told him and he confesses his secret love for you!” Soaps eyes are huge and he’s pleading for the right answer.

“Not exactly.” He delfates.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“I told him that I kinda wanted him and he said he wouldn't be able to give me what I want.”

“That's bollocks and you know it! He’s always watching you, never seen him doing that for any other lass. Now is the time, he’s all alone. Go on and chat him up, I’ll tell the boys you’ve gone home sick alright.” 

Soap winks and leaves before you can utter another word. You even your breathing and gulp down the rest of the liquid courage before strolling over to the bathroom hallway. It does not take guys that long to pee weird he's not around.

You walk outside, feeling deja vu from last night the breeze hits the same way.

“You should go inside, it’s cold out.” Ghost is standing leaned up against the brick wall next to the door.

“I was looking for you actually.”

He stands up straighter, shoulders held further.

“Lads looking? Not really in the mood to lose another game. Last time was enough.”

You laugh, the alcohol making it easier to relax around him. You're tipsy enough to have fake confidence for the time being but sober enough to make deductions wisely.

“No Simon, I’m looking. For you.”

“And I told you to stop, you don’t know what you’re thinking. You’re a nice girl yea? Find a nice young guy that can take you on dates and buy you flowers-

“I don’t want anyone else Simon. I want you because I’m in love with you!”

It seems like the whole world went silent after you said that. You’re steaming and don’t move your eyes away from him.

“Y/N.”

“I’m tired of pretending. I just had to tell you I couldn't hold it in any longer it was making me sick. I don’t care about fancy stuff, you should know that by now. I just want to be next to you.”

He approaches you, your neck craning to maintain contact.

“Y/N, I’m proper fucked up you know that? You’re too kind, too perfect to be ruined by a man like me.”

You sniff, the cold getting to you.

“I think you’re wonderful Simon really. You look out for everyone and make sure everyone is alright before looking after yourself. Let me please show you you’re worth loving in return.”

Your heart spills to him, spewing it’s contents violently.

“I’m not joking, I'm not ‘prince charming’ like you referenced earlier.”

“Even better.” You smile.

“Fuck it.”

Before you know it, he lifted the small portion of his mask to kiss you and you erupt, wrapping your arms securely around his neck as though you’ll fall if you don’t. His hands hover over your waist and you grab them and push them down onto your body and he pulls you close. He kisses you like it’s the last time, he makes up for all the times he should have, all the time he desperately wanted to.

He’s watched from afar for so long, your laugh creates sparks in his heart, seeing you make it back from another mission safely spurs him on. He would lay down his life for you and you don’t even know it.

He pulled back, mouth in the crook of your neck.

“Your place is nearby right?” You ask, rubbing his neck and down his back.

“Yea, yea it is.”

He leads you back, back to his den where he’ll draw you in with those eyes and that voice, calloused hands exposed from his gloves that will trace over your skin. The walk is in silence but you both are buzzing, the team won’t miss you, probably happy this chasing game is over with so peace can be established once more. He takes your hand as he leads you up the steps to his apartment, you grope his arm and he shoots you a sultry side-eye.

“Have I ever told you I love your arms?”

“You did just now love.”

Love, love, love. You want him to keep saying it.

He leads you in you’re caged in by his arms on the inside of the door. He looks you over head to toe.

“You look fuckin lovely tonight you know that? All I’ve been thinking about is tearing this top off of you and stripping you down.”

You shiver and bring your hands to run carefully from his abdomen up to his chest.

“You think of ripping my clothes off frequently?”

“Very.”

Stunned by his words and your head swimming he places his hands on your waist and lowers his head to your ear.

“Now if you’d allow me, I’d like to fuck you now.”

Hypnotized you speak.

“Yes please.”

His home is lowly lit and sparsely decorated, you assume he’s not here often or for long.

The bedroom is simple, a bed, two side tables, two lamps, and a dresser. An adjacent bathroom you can’t see.

“You have a nice place.”

“Well now I know you’re lying.”

You stand at the edge of the bed and he stands before you and his hands are on you again pushing you onto the bed you are surrounded by the smell of him, the deep umber and woodsy scent. 

“You know how many times I’ve pictured you in my bed?”

He’s inching your pants down your hips agonizingly slow as he speaks.

“How many times I fucked myself picturing you instead?”

“Ghost.”

“Nah none of that here, you’re gonna say my real name from now on and you’re gonna scream it alright?”

“Fuck Simon.”

“Yea. Just. Like. That.” Your pants are off and his hands move from your ankles up to your knees and caress to your inner thighs. His fingers skate your pantyline and your eyes are locked on his hand and he doesn't stop. His hands move over your hips and grip your waist before moving right below your breasts, he checks you with his eyes and you plead silently.

He cups you fully with both hands and you roll your head savoring his feelings.

“So fucking good love fuck.”

He strips you of your shirt and bra and you’re left exposed on his bed. He stands back to stare down upon you and you feel like a spread of food sitting on a stark white table ready to be consumed and ogled. He strips himself of his leather jacket leaving his quite form fitting black tee on.

You adjust under his gaze, his mask hides any expression but his eyes say so much. Raking over your body heavily and his chest rising and falling fast as though he had run a marathon.

“Simon.”

“Yea?”

“Do something.”

“Like what?” His voice is lighter now.

“Anything Simon!”

He laughs and places a knee in between your legs, spreading them wide to accommodate his other leg and hips.

“There we go, fuck all spread out underneath me.”

His hand is placed on your breast and rolls your nipples in his fingers, it moves down never leaving your skin until he reaches your core it’s hot and wet and he collects it on his fingers and when he finally touches you it’s like you’ve reached Valhalla. 

He slips a finger inside and it faces no resistance, you form around him and he slips in another starting a smooth rhythm.

“So tight, you think you’ll be able to take me huh love?” 

He’s pumping in you and you can hear how wet he’s made you, his eyes darting from his fingers to your face, thrown into pleasure.

He brings you to your peak so quickly you’re stunned and you grip his arm as you clench around him, his name being pulled from you like a mantra.

 You regain your mind and look at him as he slips from you and his fingers make their way under his mask, his eyes on your as he licks them clean tasting you on him.

“Sweetest fucking thing I ever tasted.”

He’s unbuckling his belt next, unzips his pants and pulls himself free. He's thick as all hell and a thick vein runs down the underside. It looks heavy and you pocket an idea for next time.

You're staring for a long time and his two fingers that just did unspeakable things to you tip your chin to look at him.

“Think you can handle it?”

“I can take it, just hurry up.”

“You’re always so impatient you know that.”

He places the tip at your entrance collecting your wetness to help with the initial push.

The stretch is delicious and you grip his arm and shoulder gasping at the feeling of being full of him.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so fucking tight, squeezing me so fucking good.”

His one arm is braced at the side of your head, forearm spattered with tattoos burning your peripheral vision. The other holds himself, leading himself into you.

He’s seated fully inside and you feel split down the middle in the best way. Burning fire deep within you and you moan for him to move, creating the friction you need.

He starts moving and you both moan, he tips his head forward to watch where he enters you repeatedly.

“So good, fuck so big Simon.”

“You take it so well, love.”

His hand that once gripped himself holds your hip and moves himself like the ocean, fluid and rhythmic.

“Always dreamt about fucking you, you spread out of my bed while I fuck my cock deep into you.”

You throw your head back and he leans back, the warm air that was between you two leaving for the cold air of the room bringing your nipples to hard peaks which his eyes gravitate to.

“Alright c’mon love.”

He takes your ankles and your legs are on his shoulders. He thrusts that much deeper and hits the right spot to make you see spots.

“You like that, fuck I can see how deep I’m going in you.” 

His hand finds your and puts it on your lower stomach and pushes down so you can feel the way he thrusts within you and how deep he reaches, you clench around him.

“Yea you like that.” He's cocky like this, dominant and all controlling. You’re putty in his hand.

“Simon I’m close don't stop please, fuck please.”

He lifts his mask up over his lips and kisses your ankle, biting your calf when he growls and that's all you need to be pushed over the edge.

“Fuck, yea cum on my cock good fucking girl.”

He fucks you through it and leans down to be face to face again. Your legs draped over his shoulders and he hits the right spot with each thrust now, he’s battering you into the mattress and his growling with each thrust muttering about how good you feel and how nicely you wrap about him.

You claw at his chest through his shirt sobbing and babbling and moaning.

“Can’t even form a proper sentence, so drunk on my cock yea? You gonna be a good girl and cum again for me?”

The graphic noises from where the two of you are joining echos through the room and you hope his neighbors aren't home.

“Yes, yes Simon please please please.”

The bed is an orchestra of noises and he shoots a hand up to the headboard, his knuckles gone white from gripping it so hard. Your abdomen is tight, so tight and your so fucking close you just want to cum at the same time as him.

“Fuck fuck fuck, so tight and wet where do you want me to cum, fucking tell me.”

“Inside me, inside me it���s safe.”

Not a beat after that leaves your mouth he’s seating himself so deep within you, you feel him throbbing deep within you and your vision goes blurry, ears gone fuzzy as you both are thrown into the abyss at the same time. 

You hear a crack from above you but you pay no mind as your neck deep in pure white hot bliss.

“Fuckin hell love, really. Fuck.” He's panting, you’re panting.

You stroke his chest lovingly as he kisses your ankle as he slowly lowers your legs from his shoulders. He lowers his mask once more.

You glace up to where his hand still grips the headboard and a deep crack is ingrained in the wood.

You laugh.

“Jesus Simon, you fucked me so hard you broke your bed.” 

He removes his hand observing the wood and shrugging.

“Well worth it I’d say, I’ll invest in a sturdier one.”

“Are you saying you’ll invite me to your place more often?”

“Your place works too.”

You both banter as you both clean up, you shower and he washes the sheets and hangs around the kitchen, letting you some time to refresh.

You come out of the bathroom smelling like him, drowned in one of his shirts and he's leaned up against his kitchen island gazing blindly at the random rugby channel he turned on.

He slides you a beer and you take it gratefully, bumping your glasses together.

“I mean it Y/N, I’m not the kind of man you might be thinking.”

“No Simon, you’re exactly the man I’m looking for, you’re stuck with me now.”

There's a beat of silence before Simon speaks up again.

“I should probably thank Johnny for tonight right?”

“Yea, he pretty much told me to quit my bitching and confront you.”

He sips his beer, 

“Well, for once I can say thank fuck for Soap and his matchmaking skills.”

You laugh and stare at him in adoration, this is the start of something wonderful.

---

Tag list: @theredviolets

[daycourtofficial]

Worms, worms, worms!

Pairing: Modern!Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 1.2k | warnings: none

Summary: Eris's son Atlas is finally asking the important questions about life and how far his dad’s love extends

Author’s note: and that’s a wrap on @erisweekofficial for me!!! Had to end it with this idea from @pit-and-the-pen. I had a lot of fun. I posted 32.7k worth of words about this ginger man who won’t leave me alone (and probably have 10k worth of words sitting in my drafts that I didn’t finish).

It had been raining for three days in Autumn. Eris woke up to a small body tackling him, giggles filling his ears as a tiny but loud voice screamed in his ear, “worms!”

Eris quickly clamped a hand over the toddler’s mouth, looking over to find his mate still snoring lightly. He looked back at his son, hand still clamped to his mouth but he felt the grin beneath it.

“Let me get dressed and I’ll find you in your room.”

That was not a suitable answer for Atlas, who was currently in a phase where being away from either of his parents was considered cruel and unusual punishment. His little lip wobbled, tears quickly springing to his eyes before Eris realized his error.

“You can stay as I dress if you are quiet and do not disturb your mother.”

His whispered words were stern, but Atlas nodded and Eris removed his hand from the toddler’s mouth. He walked backwards, watching Atlas cuddle up in his spot on the bed, his little body wanting to cuddle up to his mother.

Unfortunately for Atlas, you had spent the night throwing up, and in a hormonal fit banned Eris from the bathroom. He couldn’t decide what was worse - comforting you while having to watch you vomit or having to listen to you throw up in the comfort of his bed.

The two of you were still trying to figure out when to tell Atlas his reign as the youngest Vanserra was coming to an end, but there was still time before you began showing. You hardly showed at all while pregnant with Atlas - maybe Eris would be lucky and not have to tell Atlas until the babe arrived and then his son would be so enamored with the thing he wouldn’t have time to be upset. Atlas loved his cousin, Nyx, but there was no telling how he’d respond to another child around permanently.

Eris pushed away his doubts and scooped Atlas into his arms. He carried him through the door and down the hall back into Atlas’s room before setting him down on his bed. The miniature version of himself looked up at him, a tiny furrow in his brow.

“Worms are outside, Dada.”

“Yes, but if you want to find worms, you have to dress for worms, not wear your pajamas.”

Eris moved through the drawers, finding clothes for Atlas to wear, as well as his raincoat and mud boots. It took several minutes of wrangling and holding him down to get his son dressed, but he looked adorable in the bright yellow raincoat. The hood of it even had tiny eyes and a bill sewn into it, courtesy of his Aunt Elain. 

The day Atlas grew out of loving ducks would be a very sad day for Prythian. 

The two walked down the hall, or at least they attempted to. Atlas’s boots made him waddle ever so slightly when he got too fast, which was very often as they got closer and closer to being outside. They went to the back of the house, Atlas’s boots squelching with each step in the wet ground. Beyond the house, just before the trees, was a clearing that Atlas has figured out is the perfect spot to go hunting for worms. The land was full of mud - occasional hoof marks and carriage tracks, but the air smelled of fresh rain and dirt.

Eris turned his head just in time to hear a plop as he watched Atlas sit in the largest puddle he could find, sticking his tiny fingers into the mud, squishing the mud in his fist as he giggled in happiness. Eris hiked up his pants before crouching down next Atlas, balancing on his heels as he helped Atlas dig in the dirt. A short silence overtook the pair interrupted only by a soft squeal and wet dirt being flung into the air, thankfully in the direction away from Eris. 

“Atlas.” Eris’s voice was stern, a sheepish look on his son’s face. “We’ve talked about this.”

“No throwing dirt.”

Atlas was an easily excited child. He loved all things in nature and oftentimes was not wholly aware of his surroundings, leading to several people having what is now commonly known as ‘Atlas dirt incidents’. Whenever they would complain to Eris, he would look down his nose at them and ask, “why were you standing so close to a boy playing in the mud?”

Eris continued helping Atlas dig through the mud, his soft squeals of excitement reminding him of Clover’s new litter of pups that happened to coincide with this newest babe. The pup will be six months older than this new addition, plenty of time for Eris to train them a good bit. 

Atlas’s own dog, Pumpkin, had remained inside - usually as rambunctious as Atlas, it was a funny sight how the rain caused him to cease all interest in expending any energy. He was likely sprawled across Atlas’s bed, the wetness in the air outside keeping him asleep.

Atlas's small hand had formed a fist in the mud, the ends of a few worms wriggling, attempting to escape his clutches. Eris lightly grabbed his son’s hand, trying to get him to relax his grasp. He often got so excited over the worms he found, he would inadvertently squeeze them to death. The tears that formed from that seemed to last for a week, his son’s voice trembling as he asked over and over again if he was getting banished to Illyria for being a worm slayer.

It would be funny if Eris didn’t have to be the one consoling Atlas.

“You love me, right Dada?”

“More than you know.”

Eris held onto a few of the worms so his son could look at each worm individually. As if he were inspecting them, his eyes assessed each worm with intense focus, before he would proudly proclaim the worm’s name. Last time they did this, Atlas named seven worms - three were named Pumpkin, two were named Mama, and two were named Dada. Despite his many talents, Atlas wasn’t very creative with worm names.

“What if I was a worm?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue, the resolute what a silly question, why would you be a worm? But Atlas’s big eyes looked up at him, dulling his sharp tongue. He kept Atlas’s gaze, trying to soften his own and smiled.

“Very much.”

Atlas would tell you later on about this and you would spend all week teasing Eris by asking, “would you love me if I were a tea kettle?” and “what if I were a cow, hmm?” You would tease, despite the fact that Eris was sure you had asked him your own fair share of silly questions. 

That’s okay. He’d take the teasing. He’d carry you and Atlas around in his pockets, providing fresh dirt every day if he had to. He’d do anything to make the two of you happy, including indulging his toddler’s questions about life as a worm.

He would love a worm if it would spare his son a moment of heartache.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Thanks for reading❣️

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Slug? No, it’s a Slut.

Requested: Yes! [could i request 141+ konig reacting to reader who's not a native english speaker and asked for their help getting a slug out of their shower, but calls it a slut accidentally? Like that one meme, if you have time i'd love to see ale and rudy because i feel bad when they get left out but only if you have time! thank you <3]

Warnings: Uhhhhhh, some playful teasing. Reader gets laughed at. Second hand embarrassment.

Price

Blinks at you. Once, twice, three times before he just shakes his head, trying to think of what the hell you could actually mean because he’s pretty sure you don’t have a real life slut in your shower. That sure would be a weird situation though. He decides to just follow you, shaking his head again when he sees the slimy friend crawling around at the bottom of the tub. He’ll correct you later, after he gets this thing outside.

Gaz

Gaz laughs immediately but tries to hide it by covering his mouth with the palm of his hand, biting into his lip and taking deep breaths through his nose. It takes him a good minute to compose himself, looking at your distressed expression only sending him back into more fits of giggles. Eventually he just has to make his way to your shower, his laughter when he sees the slug being heard all throughout the base that day. But he does get rid of the slug for you!

Ghost

“A what now?” He asked you, the patience of a god while you were crying about a Slag in your shower. He’s pretty sure this is his own fault for saying that so often but he knows you’d probably confuse words anyways so he doesn’t feel too bad about it. He just pats your head, trying not to laugh at you when he enters the bathroom and sees what the problem is. Gently escorts the lost friend out the front door and has to fight down a chuckle everytime he sees a slug from then on.

Soap

Much like Gaz, Soap has a hard time not laughing at you. The problem is that he’s somehow much worse at hiding it. It doesn’t even seem like he’s making much of an effort at all when he ends up curled up on the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutches his stomach. He’ll apologize if you get upset with him over it but it’s just so funny to him! Everytime he sees a slug from now on he’ll smirk at you then point at it and call it a slut right to your face, much to the confusion of everyone around you.

König

Very confused. As a non native English speaker himself he understands confusing words. But your confusion only drives his own as he mutters a soft “Schlampe?” to himself, brows furrowed beneath his hood as he follows you to your bathrooms, his confusion only skyrocketing as he picks up the little slug and takes it outside. He just assumes that he’s pronouncing it wrong even though he’s sure that he isn’t. Gets very embarrassed when he calls a slug a slut in front of the other KorTac members and gets laughed at mercilessly.

[jasmines-library]

This might be a weird request, but can you take your favorite song and make a batfam story with it? I saw the “Kristy, Are You Doing Okay?” fic and immediately folded I loved it so much <3 <3 <3

The Ghost of You.

YES YES YES! It's really hard for me to just pick one song, but this came to mind so i thought i'd give it a go. Also this probably wasn't what you were after anon, so i'm sorry. You're all going to hate me after this :(

Summary: After your death, the batfam struggle to navigate their lives without you.

Warnings: This fic deals with death (mildly graphic) and the aftermath, contains suicidal thoughts, grief, unhealthy ways of processing grief and some other heavy content so please be advised.

Word Count: 2k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

I never said I'd lie and wait forever

If I died, we'd be together

I can't always just forget her

But she could try

Tim was the first to arrive too late.

Your body had already careened over to the side, collapsing into a puddle of your own blood. Tim faltered as he made his way over to you, gawping at the arrows that protruded gruesomely from your stomach, your shoulder and the back of your knee. That was what had taken you down: a well placed shot to the back of the joint. The other two followed as insurance. To ensure that you would bleed out. 

And even though Tim was right there, he faltered. Even though he could see the way your chest spluttered as you fought for air, he couldn’t bring himself to move. His hands shook. His lips trembled. And if anyone was focusing hard enough they would have been able to see the glint as water collected in his eyes. 

Then came Jason, grappling down from the building. He had heard it before he saw it. Grimacing at the way your cry was followed by two more, he was gripped tight by a fit of rage. Mercilessly he took out the two crooks in front of him so he could dash to your side. He should have been helping Nightwing and Batman, but at that moment all he could focus on was your safety. 

He managed to gather himself up enough to try and press around the arrows, but your blood pooled through the fabric of your suit and your breathing had slowed to nearly nothing. Tim had finally got himself to move and he was sure that he heard someone call your name. Though he couldn’t remember if it was himself or Jason. Either way he too pressed down harshly around the arrow to try and staunch the blood flow. And it should have hurt. God, you should have been thrashing and screaming. But you just lay there, spluttering as you faded. Tim didn’t know what was worse; but he came to the conclusion that the sound of your agonised scream was better than waiting in this near listless silence. 

“Just hold on, Raven.” Jason. But you would have never guessed it from the way his normally firm voice wavered. “We’re going to get you to help…j-just a little longer. 

Then you moved. Your hands shifted to lay atop of theirs and you strained your head to see them. Tim’s stomach dropped as you looked at him with your hooded eyes and small smile. A gesture of consolidation. You were trying to tell them that it was okay. It made Tim want to hurl. How could you be thinking of them in a time like this?

 “Y/N..?” Tim muttered. He should have used your vigilante name. He didn’t care. 

“s’okay” you slurred as your eyes fluttered at him. You could no longer make out much as your vision became a blur of colour. Jason palled at the sight of the crimson that stained your teeth as a sickening contrast to the paleness of your skin. He wanted to look anywhere else, like to Dick and Damian who were still trying to take down the criminals who just wouldn’t quit, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off of your face. 

“S’gonna b-be ok..” 

“No…” Tim was crying now. They both were. Neither made any effort to try and hide it.

“P-promise you won’t do…any’thn stupid-” you mumbled.

Tim brushed his thumb over your hand. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to but he would. For you. “I promise…”

You wanted to turn your attention to Jason, but your eyes fluttered and you could feel your strength fading.

“ Love you…” Then, your chest rose… and fell as you took your final breath. 

~

At the end of the world or the last thing I see

You are never coming home, never coming home

Could I? Should I?

And all the things that you never ever told me

And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me

The manor was silent. Deathly silent.

And even though the manor was the busiest it had been for a while it still seemed so empty. It was almost like the minute that your heart stopped pumping, so did all of the life in the manor. 

Dick hardly slept. He spent his nights staring blankly at the ceiling, letting his thoughts carry him away because if he didn’t his mind would torture him with pictures of you. He had thought about it. He had thought about it a lot actually. Especially after he had seen your body being lowered into the ground sealing you into nothingness. You were gone.

Dick remembered Jason and Tim uttering something about promising not to do anything stupid. But he wasn’t sure. They didn’t talk much anymore. He thinks he remembered them saying that they had promised you. But he hadn’t. And so the thought crossed his mind often. If he was only brave enough to do it. Oh, what he would jive to see even just a ghost of one of your charismatic grins again. Or to hear your laughter as you sang to your music poorly in your room across the hall. You often used to keep the door open, just a crack as a form of comfort blanket and that let your voice carry through the hall. But now the door was firmly closed. 

Pull yourself together. Dick blinked away the film that formed in his eyes. Though no tears fell; he had cried himself dry a long time ago. You wouldn’t want this. Dick had tried to tell himself. But it seemed everything he did reminded him of you. Reminded him how he was never going to see you again. And it hurt. You were still so young. You had your entire life ahead of you to live and Dick yeared to have seen it. But it was ripped away from you cruelly like candy from a child.

Ever get the feeling that you're never all alone?

And I remember now

Your bloodstained face was burned permanently into Tim’s mind. It was there every time his eyes drifted closed. 

Each time he finally got himself to sleep, there you were. Crying out his name. 

He should have been quicker. Tim scolded himself often for this. He thought that his fumble could have been the difference between you living and dying. But of course, he had frozen. His body had refused to function no matter how much his brain screamed at him to just move! But he was frozen. He remembered watching fearfully as Jason, who was much further away, dropped to his feet from above and tried feebly to help. If only he had been just that little bit quicker. If only he had been paying attention then you wouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place. 

He was sitting in the batcave, staring blankly at the monitors. Not because he wanted to but because someone had to. Though him being there wouldn’t have made much difference. All of the shapes on the screen had blurred into one colour. 

Tim had never felt more lonely sitting in the plush chair because usually you would be there with him. Cracking a joke or two, or reminding him he needed to go to sleep with a gentle touch on the shoulder or his hand. Sometimes Tim thought he could still feel it. A phantom pain: like when someone loses a limb. 

You had become such an important part of his daily life that his body yeared for your touch or the sound of your voice. He yearned for the warmth of your fingers, but then remembered that the last time he felt them, they were ice cold and covered in your own blood. 

At the top of my lungs in my arms, she dies

She dies.

Jason was angry. He had never handled his grief well, even from a young age. And his coping mechanisms were far from healthy. Whilst his brothers spent their time reserved to themselves, Jason was searching for revenge. But he had promised you he wouldn’t do anything stupid. 

So he found his solitude in a punching bag. 

Your scream piercing through the air. A punch to the bag so hard that it swung violently on its bolt. 

The feeling of your blood trickling around his fingers. A right hook.

Your cold and clammy skin against his as he removed his gloves to trail his hands along your face. Another. 

Your last words falling from your tongue. Punch. 

Your chest rising as you spluttered. Punch. punch.

Your last exhale. Punchpunchpuch.

He kept going until his knuckles were a mangled and bloody mess and he felt like his jaw might snap from how much he had been clenching it. 

Jason didn’t bother to wrap his knuckles as he trudged towards the shower, despite how much they burnt and throbbed. But for some sick reason he couldn’t wrap his mind around, he savoured it. Almost as a punishment for not being able to save you. 

When he slipped into the shower, he still couldn’t stop the flood of images ricocheting around his head like a broken record that still somehow managed to play no matter how scratched up it was. He thought he might have found some solace in the feeling of the water trickling over his skin, but all he found was his mind confusing it for the feeling of your blood on his skin. 

Jason let out a cry of anguish, bringing his fists to clench at his hair as he sank to the floor and began to cry. 

And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me

For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

If I fall, if I fall down

Damian had seen a lot of death in his life. That came as part of being a human weapon. But no death tore him up as much as yours.

He would forever remember the cold that gripped him when he saw Jason with your body in his arms. He had never felt so empty as Bruce tried to pull him away. Damian had fought against him, nearly clawing at his father to try and get to you, but Bruce just held him close and pressed Damians face into his chest to shield him from the horrors in front of him. But it was too late. He had already seen your mangled body and he couldn’t help the way his body trembled as he clung to Bruce like a scared little child. 

And Damian would never admit it, but he was scared. 

Scared of how everything would play out now that you were gone. Scared that you were angry at him for being so far away. Scared that because he wasn’t there when it mattered most, that it might happen again. 

He should have been there. Damian cursed to himself. 

He had been on the other side of the building trying to deal with the last of the crooks. Dick was with him for a time, but had finished up much earlier than Damian and had fled as soon as possible. Damian should have picked up then that something was wrong. 

But he didn’t.

And he was so frustrated with himself for not. He should have been better. Should have taken the criminal down with one blow and followed his brother to your side. Surely with all four of them there, you would have made it… right?

He wasn’t so sure. 

He wasn’t sure of much anymore. No one was. And they all felt so betrayed because you being by their sides was one of the things that kept them going everyday. And now…

One thing they did know for certain though was that you were gone. And no matter how much they yearned for you, you were never coming home.

🦇 BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

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I n f a t u a t e d ♦️SEVEN

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN

He's not a patient man, but he's trying his best, giving her some well-deserved cuddles after testing her limits a little too roughly. But in the end, he can't help himself. She's too perfect, perfect enough to take her once again.

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Aftercare! Fingering. Vaginal sex. Oral sex. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 5.1k

SIX 🟥 SEVEN 🟥 EIGHT

He may have overdone it a little.

The girl is this pliant thing in his arms as he carries her into the bathroom, covered in spit and cum and tears, limbs too weak to support herself, too far gone to protest anymore, eyes hooded and unfocused.

He hasn't planned to treat her like that. Well, he has wanted to fuck her ass, that's been on his mind since the last time he's been in there, but the throat fucking afterwards happened on a whim. She's looked so fucked out, so defeated and willing, so pretty, he just wanted to see what she was capable of. He may have overdone it. But once he's felt the tight grip of her throat, he's been a goner.

And she'll live. No harm done. He's treated women way worse before. She'll adjust. She has to. She'll understand that eventually.

He carefully sits her down on the vanity and grabs a wash cloth, pours water on it and starts to wipe at her soiled face. It's a strange, intimate thing to clean her like this, he usually expects his whores to clean themselves or stay dirty for all he cares. But she's different. And not a whore, she's something else he cannot name yet. Innocent, pure, even after everything he's done to her. She needs to be clean.

She's barely present when he moves the cloth over her cheek, just sits there, motionless, blinks from time to time, but there's no other movement. Maybe she's in shock. Surprised and disturbed by his treatment. Overwhelmed by what he expects of her. Lost in her own mind. Poor thing.

Once her face is clean, no more traces of spit or cum or tears, he leans down and presses his lips to her cheek, then scoops her up in his arms again and walks to the living room. Her breaths are soft, barely there against his collarbone as he presses her to his chest. He sits down, positions her on his lap, holds her tightly. She winces when her butt is moved over his hard thigh, but keeps quiet right after, letting him settle her against him.

He exhales loudly, moves her hair. It's hard for him to just sit with her, let her come down from whatever is keeping her holed up in her head, let her come to terms with her new environment, her new life, her new role. He's not a patient man, but he knows that she needs it. The memory of asking her if she wanted this is clear in his mind, the innocent excitement in her eyes, how she said yes, having absolutely no idea what to expect, what he's capable of. It's almost as cute as her admission that she's had a crush on him.

Oh the poor, poor thing, letting silly little feelings cloud her better judgment.

For him, however, that has been the last puzzle piece falling into place. It's been an idea in the back of his head, for a while, and it had never worked out. But since she's stepped into his life, this sweet innocent girl, inexperienced, submissive, blinded by a childish infatuation, ready to be molded into something he wants her to be, he's known it'll work this time. She is perfect for this. Perfect to submit to him and him alone. And she'll learn to love it too, he's sure.

Right now she probably hates him, and he can't blame her. He's been a little unpredictable today. Asking her to cockwarm him (which has been quite the challenge for him too, an exercise in restraint, but no matter how he's felt about it, she's done a good job considering it has been her first time to do so), to rewarding her in a way she hasn't expected (having filled all her holes by now, he really can't decide which is his favorite, but luckily he doesn't have to decide, he can have them all, she is all his, to use and fill, use and fill, over and over again...), to testing her limits (and his, she sure has a way of bringing out the most primal urges in him, he's always had a high sex drive, but filling her up multiple times in a row is quite new to him). It's been an eventful morning.

He shifts slightly beneath her, coaxing a little hum out of her. His hand rubs along her back, soothingly, warm and heavy, and he feels her breathing deeper against him. But she's not asleep yet, no matter how worn out she may feel. His other hand finds her chin, gently pushing it up until he can see her hooded eyes, still a little unfocused, but when she meets his gaze, there's something else burning within them. Something like defiance, he can tell, and it brings a smirk to his lips.

He moves his finger over her jaw, carefully massaging it, and to his surprise the tension in her face lifts a little. She even bites her swollen lip. “Feels good, hm?” he whispers, applying light pressure to her strained jaw. “You've been such a good girl, holding my cock for so long,” he adds, looking at her with warm eyes. “Your little mouth felt so nice, you know that?”

His thumb moves along her bottom lip, gently nudges against it, slips higher, and maybe it's an instinct, maybe it's need, but she parts her lips and allows him to push it into her mouth. He's gentle, just presses it lightly onto her tongue, feels the wet warmth and soft texture. She watches him from under her lashes, while he pumps his thumb slowly in and out, still massaging her jaw with his fingers.

“Relax, it's okay.”

She does, closes her lips around his digit, even hollows her cheeks and sucks on it a little as she breathes deeper through her nose. He tilts his head down, nuzzles her cheek, then pulls his thumb out and presses his lips to hers. Leaning back, he smiles at her.

“Show me your little tongue,” he says, a whispered command, and she complies, blushing heavily as she hesitantly sticks her tongue out, pointed at first, then flat, and he smirks, leans in to close his lips around it, sucks on it, licks it softly. She winces slightly, but then her eyes flutter shut, and she lets out a soft mewl, her tongue moving against his, meeting his motions.

The kiss is soft but messy, his hand closes around her jaw, holds her in place, as he tastes the inside of her mouth, meets her tongue, feels her lips. She's squirming on his lap, her small hands moving against his chest, fingers clawing at the fabric of his shirt. She's slowly coming out of her shell. He shifts her on his thigh, makes her straddle him, and she lets him, his hands moving down her back to cup her rear, hold her, move her against him, kiss her deeper.

When they're both breathless, she's clinging to him, arms around his shoulders, forehead resting against his throat, her chest heaving. He rubs his hands along her sides, into the dip of her waist, over the swell of her hip, until they slip under the skirt of her dress and find her warm ass cheeks, fingers dipping between them. She lets out a little whimper, but he kisses the top of her head, shushing her.

“I don't want to hurt you, you know that, right?” he whispers when she leans her cheek on his shoulder and looks up at him, lips a little bit more swollen than before, cheeks flushed, eyes wandering over his face. “But,” he continues, kneading her rear softly, “you make me so goddamn crazy, it's really hard to hold myself back...”

She blinks at him, chewing on her lip. He moves his hands back up until he cups her face, pulling her closer to him, his eyes boring into hers. His fingers dig into her hair, a little hoarse gasp escapes her. Leaning down, he brushes his nose against hers.

“And you said you wanted this,” he says gravelly. “You wanted me to do these things to you... remember?”

She leans against his hands, tries to move back. He lets her, fingers gliding down her neck, resting on her shoulders as he watches her closely. Her lips move, but no sound comes out. Her tongue darts out, wets her lips, she takes a deep breath, her hand closing around her throat. “N-not... like... that,” she manages to croak out, her voice still raw, a breathy, hoarse whisper.

“No?” he replies, raising his eyebrows. “Did you expect me to make love to you under the covers, in the dark? Boring vanilla sex, in and out and done?” He laughs darkly, shakes his head. “Sweetheart, that's not what I do, and I thought you knew that...”

She furrows her eyebrows, a little pout to her full lips. “Aw, baby girl,” he coos, cupping her face. “Look at you. So fucking cute!” He kisses her small nose, smirking as he leans back and sees her averting her eyes, cheeks even redder than before.

“Be honest,” he then starts, and she yelps breathlessly when his hands quickly move down to grab her waist to shift her on his thighs, putting her sideways again, one hand on her lower back, the other heavy on her legs, spanning over both of her thighs as he holds her. “If I'd tell you how much I want to fuck you, right here on this couch, pressed into the cushions, or bent over the side or the back, your cute little cunt on display or your ass in the air, would you not imagine it too? Would you not be completely soaked by the thought alone?”

He watches her closely as he speaks, his hand slowly prying her legs apart, and when he's done, his fingers slip between her thighs, right against the thin fabric of her thong. A smile grows on his lips as he tilts his head.

“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose against her cheek as she turns her head away in embarrassment. “You're wet, baby, wet for all the vile things I wanna do to you...” She grabs his wrist, but he keeps his hand between her legs, pushing her damp panties between her folds, rubbing up and down. “Wet for me...” She squirms against him, quiet whimpers falling from her lips. “Don't fight it, it's okay. I want you to be wet for me, all the time, it tells me you're enjoying this...”

She hides her face in the crook of his neck, mewling quietly. He holds her side, pulling her against him as he nudges her legs further apart and slips his finger under her thong, dipping into her slick. Shushing her, he rocks her gently on his lap before he slips his fingertip into her dripping pussy, humming in approval at how well she takes him.

“Does it still hurt?” he whispers softly.

She mumbles something against his neck.

“Speak up.”

“N-no,” she mutters a little louder. “F-feels... g-good...”

“Yeah?” he says with a smirk, pumping his finger deeper, massaging her squishy flesh. “Feels good, huh?”

She nods against him, her stomach fluttering, thighs twitching slightly. He continues to rub her insides, slowly adds another finger, keeps the slow and steady pace. Her breaths are warm against his skin, rapid little huffs mixed with cute little cooing sounds. He bites his lip, forces himself not to move faster, not to plunge his fingers deeper, not to add another one or another.

Ugh. To have his whole hand in her tight little cunt, feeling every single clench against his fingertips, his knuckles, her entrance clamping around his wrist, pushing deep into her wet warmth, stretching her, hearing her whines and cries, seeing her tears... His cock twitches angrily against his pants. Fuck.

He leans his head back against the couch, stares at the ceiling, keeps fingering her slow and easy, two fingers, not more, in and out, gentle, soft, carefully. What has she done to him?

Her moans are quiet in his ear, barely there, but they make him move his fingers a little faster, a little deeper, her wetness squelching around them. He can feel the plug pressing against her soft walls from the other side, and she must feel it too with how she twitches against him. His own breaths are rougher, his heart pounding in his chest, his blood pumping into his cock. He turns his hand, adjusts the angle, keeps pumping, fingertips rubbing against her clenching muscles, and when she twitches a little more, he smirks, curling his fingers, pressing hard against her g-spot.

Her wail is hoarse, but louder than he's expected. Her hands grab at him, she squirms on his lap, gasping, whimpering, legs kicking, shoulders shaking. He watches her, head arching back, neck exposed, lips parted, mouth opening wider, eyes rolling back. He can feel her cunt clamping down on his fingers. His other hand grips her waist, holds her in place, as he curls his fingers into a claw and pushes in and out fast, always bullying that special spot, his thumb pushing against her clit with every deep plunge.

“Come for me, darling,” he whispers gravelly.

She cries out, struggling against him, hips bucking into his hand, and when she comes, she presses her thighs together hard, squeezing his hand, body curving and convulsing in sheer ecstasy. He stills his fingers, feels her muscles contracting around them, her wetness coating his skin, seeping out of her, she may even have squirted, but she's clamped her legs together before he could have seen it. Pity. He'll have to try to see that again, another time.

She's breathing heavily, collapsing against him, forehead pressed to his collarbone, hands clawed into his shirt, a little bundle of twitching limbs. “Good girl,” he coos, kissing the top of her head. She hums in response, mumbling something else he can't quite understand. “What was that, baby?”

She inhales sharply, moving her head, chin leaning against his clavicle as she looks up at him, red spots blooming on her cheeks. “Thank you,” she croaks hoarsely, a shy smile on her trembling lips.

He stares down at her, unable to resist smiling back. His cock twitches. He slowly pulls his fingers free from her clenching cunt, nudging her legs. She opens them reluctantly, blushing harder when she turns her head to look down. His hand is completely drenched, just like his pants, her wetness seeping through the fabric onto his thighs. “You made quite the mess, huh?” he says with a smirk.

An embarrassed whimper escapes her. “M'sorry,” she mumbles, burying her face back against his shoulder as she squirms on his leg.

“It's okay, you know what to do, right?” he replies, holding his wet hand up to inspect it, spreading his fingers, watching the thick strands of her cum connecting them.

His other hand moves up her back until he grips her nape, pulling her back so she looks at him. When she does, he brings his wet fingers to her lips, feeling his stomach tightening even more when she gingerly puts her small hands around his wrist and leans in, tongue extended, before she licks along his fingertip, then slowly sucks his digits into her mouth.

A groan escapes him. She looks up at him as she sucks on his fingers, his jaw clenching at the sight. The face of an angel, full lips strained around his knuckles, an innocent blush on her hollowing cheeks, but there's a fire in her eyes, a temptress, something that might ruin him completely. He breathes loudly through his nose. “You're so fucking beautiful,” he mutters through gritted teeth, a low thrum in the air, mirroring the throbbing of his cock.

Her tongue flicks around his fingers, slips between them, before she leans back and releases them with a wet popping sound, licking her lips before a shy smile grazes them. His hand, coated in her saliva, slips into her hair, grabs her face and pulls her up at the same time as he leans in, capturing her mouth for a searing kiss full of fervor. He's desperate to taste her, still fighting the urge to throw her onto her back or stomach and rail her with abandon.

Instead he plunges his tongue into her mouth, a little surprised just how hungry and passionate she responds to his motions. She wants this. She might fight the sensations, fight him, cry and whine and wail, but she's wet for him. She fucking wants this too. And the restraint is slipping...

One hand on her face, the other on her nape, he tilts her backwards, lips still connected, until she's lying beneath him. She's not even squirming when he adjusts on top of her, braced on his elbows, knee pressing between her legs, hovering over her, breathing harder through his nose. Her hands grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He's ready to devour her, his kiss nothing short of animalistic, rough, urgent. She mewls into his mouth, meets his tongue, his lips, his whole frame above her with a need that radiates warm and wet against his knee pressing hard into her sex.

“I know you're sore,” he groans against her, hands digging into her hair, hot breaths mingling. “But I gotta fuck you... right now...”

She looks at him, breathing hard, a glint of panic in her big eyes. He doesn't care. Kissing her cheek, he leans back, moves her legs around his waist as he kneels between them. Her dress is pushed up, balled between his fists as he takes deep, steadying breaths, staring down at her small shaking body in front of him, holding back, trying to, but then he just can't.

With gritted teeth and a loud grunt, he rips the dress from bottom to top, she yelps hoarsely, the fabric tears, until it's torn in half, and he wrestles it out from under her and throws it across the room. The sight of her small tits quivering, her chest heaving, nipples already erect, makes him growl.

His hands roam up her torso, so big on her small body, close around those soft mounds, knead them, rub them, while she mewls quietly, a mixture of shock and anticipation on her pretty face. He keeps groping her with one hand, while the other slips lower and pushes her thong aside; not to rip it as well is almost impossible, but somehow he manages it.

His head is fuzzy, throbbing with a desire that makes him almost blind. He opens his belt and his pants, pushes everything down with a shaking hand before he grabs his angrily throbbing erection and puts it straight against her entrance.

Her whimper causes him to look up, her panicked expression squeezes his heart – and his cock. He leans closer, hand moving from her breasts to her face, caressing it gently. “Shh, it'll be okay,” he rasps. “Be a good girl for me, yeah?”

She shivers, inhaling sharply, but when she nods, he smiles at her, kisses her quivering lips and leans back abruptly, his hand slipping down to her dripping cunt, palm rubbing over her folds before he grips his cock and lathers it in her wetness.

The tension in his stomach is painful. Without prolonging it any further, he prods his tip into her slick, nudges it into her inch by hard inch, ignoring her quiet wails. His grunt is loud and low when he slips in fully, savoring the way she grips him so perfectly.

His hands are on her waist, his eyes on her flushed face, contorted in fear and discomfort. He rolls his hips a few times, slow and steady, but his restraint is non-existent at that point. With a groan and a squeak from her, he lies down on top of her, braced on his forearms, body pinning her down, hands finding her face before he showers it with kisses.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he growls against her. “So tight and warm...”

She lets out an unsteady breath, almost a little whine, but then her hands snake around his waist and grip the fabric of his shirt. He holds her gaze, wide watering eyes staring up at him, as he starts to move his hips, every slow downwards motion pushing her deeper into the cushions of the couch, and the more he moves, the faster he gets, until he's bouncing them steadily up and down.

Each deep plunge makes her gasp and moan, or so he thinks, her voice is still just that croaking sound in the back of her throat that tumbles over her parted lips. He's clearly overdone it. As much as he likes to fuck her throat, deep and hard, he has to be more careful in the future. Hearing her soft noises is something he doesn't want to miss.

He leans down and puts his mouth to hers, a messy kiss while he pounds into her tight heat, her walls clenching around him, squeezing his cock, wet squelches mixing with the squeak of the couch and her soundless little puffs of air. His own sounds are low groans, almost primal growls, predatory noises building inside him as he keeps ramming his hard cock into her soft pussy.

Her fingers claw at his shirt, fingernails digging deeper, her legs twitch, bouncing against his sides with every thrust, the heels of her feet hammering against his lower back. “Wrap your legs around me,” he grunts into her, giving her a moment of reprieve as he slows his motions. She does, crosses her feet, thighs pressed against his waist, holds onto him tightly, causing him to slip a little deeper. “Good... girl...” he huffs, watching her pupils dilate even further as she looks at him, this tiny thing beneath him, submitting to him so completely.

He leans back on his elbows, shoulders tight as he arches his back to move his pelvis against her, up and down, in and out, slowly picking up the pace again, his eyes on her every little twitch. Her face is flushed, mouth hanging open, eyes hooded and glistening, chest rising and falling fast, hair fanned out around her, exposing that delicious column of her neck – and the mark that's slowly fading on her skin. What has been a deep purple, has turned a brighter red mixed with edges of green and yellow, a slowly disappearing sign of his possession.

He can't have that.

So while he keeps snapping his hips against her, plunging deep and fast, he leans down to press his lips to her neck, kisses it, nibbles on it, sucks the blood to the surface, all along her pulse, rough pants against her skin as he marks her up all over again. He's quickly losing track of how many hickeys he's created, his vision starting to blur as his cock starts throbbing angrily inside her, his balls so tight it's almost painful.

To ease the tension, he moves his mouth to the soft flesh between her neck and her shoulder and sinks his teeth into it, biting down hard enough for her to squirm and cry out, her hands drumming on his back to make him stop. He does, licks up the blood that pools on the little indents of his teeth where he broke her skin. Sucking on it, it fills his mouth, turns him even more animalistic.

His thrusts are rapid now, his hips pistoning against her, cock plunging deep, definitely bruising her already battered cervix. She wails beneath him, hoarse little cries of pain, but her arms and legs are tight around him as she clings to him in an almost desperate fashion, and he can feel her hips trying to meet his fast movements. This spurs him on even more, and he shifts on his elbow, leans a little away, angles his pelvis, eyes on her face as he moves a hand between them, quickly finding her throbbing clit.

She gasps breathlessly, eyes widening, sweat clinging to her skin, hair stuck to her slick forehead. He stares at her, his own rapid breaths coming loud through his nose as he clenches his jaw, holding back as he focuses on her. “Come,” he orders. “Come for me...” he presses out through gritted teeth, rubbing her nub harder, rougher, while increasing the snaps of his hips, skin slapping against skin, her wetness squelching out loudly.

Her lips are quivering, breathless sounds slipping from them, a faint “Ah... ah... ah...” that echoes in his ears, and when he pinches her clit between his fingers, she manages a louder “Ahh!”, an almost scream that can't form in her hurting throat but still forces its way out of her. Her eyes roll back, shoulders pressing into the couch, spine curving into a beautiful arc, chest pushed upwards, hips bucking, legs tensing up, her fingernails like claws digging through his shirt into his back.

And her cunt clamps down on him hard, so hard it's his turn to groan louder. She comes with that delicious contortion of her body, a pliant little thing beneath him, convulsing uncontrollably, completely giving in to the pleasure that rushes through her. It's a sight that burns itself into the back of his mind.

He fucks her through her orgasm, panting heavily, hips slamming, cock being milked by the tight grip of her pussy, but before he can follow her over the edge, he leans back, grabs her waist, pushes himself to his knees, slips from her wet depths almost too easily. She's still caught in her release, slowly slumping back down into the cushions, limbs boneless, eyes closed, mouth open, unaware of him climbing over her until he's crouching over her chest, knees on either side of her shoulders.

“Open your mouth,” he grunts, barely able to speak with how hard his cock is throbbing in his tight fist. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused, quickly widening as she notices his new position. There's a deep furrow between her brows, fear in her glistening eyes, panic in the way her lips quiver. But she complies, slowly opens her mouth, tongue out flat, rapid little breaths through her nose as she stares up at him.

He doesn't wait long, can't wait any longer, as he pushes his hard cock into her mouth, holding it at the base, mindful not to push too deep (a restraint that surprises him despite the fuzzy state of his mind), his other hand closes around her throat, pushing her down as she starts to squirm, her hands clawing helplessly at his arms and knees, anywhere they can reach as he pumps his shaft hard and fast until he finally feels the sweet release.

He comes with a deep groan, head rolling back, his stomach tensing, balls twitching as he shoots his load onto her tongue and into her throat, and with how he holds her down, she can only take it, muffled whimpers ringing in his ears, turning into gurgles and panicked attempts to breathe. She's close to hyperventilating when he eventually pulls back, the last spurts of cum hitting her lips and cheeks, one shoots against her eyebrow and she flinches, squeezes her eyes shut, tears rolling down the sides of her face.

He leans back on his knees, cock slowly deflating in his hand as he moves his other hand from her throat to cover her mouth, holding it shut as he stares down at her. “Swallow,” he groans, panting above her like a wild animal.

Her eyelids flutter, her rapid breaths hitting his fingers, but eventually there's a quiet gulp, and another, her throat moving, jaw tensing, and when she stops, he takes his hand away and puts a finger to her bottom lip, prying her mouth open.

She presents her flat tongue to him, mouth wide and empty. A smile crawls onto his lips. “Good girl,” he whispers, wiping at her lips and her wet cheek. She looks at him then, breathing hard, face flushed, eyes burning with what he thought was defiance earlier. A little darkness behind the fear. He only smiles wider, moves his finger along her face and wipes up the glob of cum on her eyebrow before he holds it to her lips.

She may hate him again, or still, but she nevertheless follows the unspoken order and flicks her tongue around his fingertip, licking up his spend. He feeds her more until her face is more or less clean of him, and she takes every single drop. Then he shifts on her chest, hand flat on her cheek and leans down to give her an almost chaste kiss that seems to surprise her as she freezes before her hands close around his wrist, holding him there.

But he leans back, slips from her weak grip easily and climbs off her, putting his spent cock away while he watches her closely. Some would say she looks pathetic how she lies on the couch, a little beetle caught on its back, arms and legs splayed around her, hair messy, face wet, body covered in sweat and her own release, pussy glistening and still exposed, thong carelessly pushed aside. A used body. But for him it's an image he wants to see again and again.

His work. His marks on her. His claim inside her, swimming in her belly.

It would be an even better image if his cum would slowly drip from her clenching hole, but he can't do that until she's settled on birth control. That's the only restraint he's giving himself.

His eyes move down to the bejeweled base of the plug poking out of her ass. Something warm rushes through him. He sits down beside her, his hand running along her bare leg. She stiffens under his touch, dark eyes following his every move. His finger trails towards her wet cunt, but instead of touching it, he fixes her thong in front of it, rubbing softly over the fabric, gathering her wetness in it.

She flinches when he pokes at the plug – and yelps when he gives her inner thigh a playful slap. “Alright,” he says, inhaling deeply as he stands up, looking down at her. “Let's get cleaned up, hm?” Not waiting for any reply, he gathers her in his arms and carries her towards the bathroom.

Despite having just fed the beast within him, he can feel his cock twitching all over again as he thinks about what to do next to his pretty little plaything.

SIX 🟥 SEVEN 🟥 EIGHT

End notes: Can you even call this fluff in a story like this? Well, it was a little softer anyway, right? We all needed that after those last chapters...

Thanks for reading! Next chapter on Monday!

TAG LIST: @qmsvpx @cyan1decandy @bimbos-are-angels @voiceactivated @reader-1290

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST

CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN

ELEVEN TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN

[sentientgolfball]

What if Dew became a fire ghoul because he was trying to save Ifrit?

Once Zephyr disappeared the rest were on edge. Dealing with the loss of Terzo was enough but when the pack started to thin their hackles were raised.

Dew is a light sleeper, always had been, and the anxiety wasn’t helping. He had been awake staring at the dying embers of the fire in the common room of the den when he heard it. Felt it. A guttural roar echoing through the ancient stone halls. He knew deep in his soul it was Ifrit.

He was up and running towards the commotion before he even thought about it. Nobody knew what happened to Zephyr and he’d be damned if he didn’t try to help Ifrit. If he failed at least they’d go together. The sound of claws scraping against stone rang against his ears as he followed the scent of burning flesh. Rage. His heart was pounding against his chest as he got closer and closer to the summoning rooms.

The door had been broken off its hinges, claw marks dug into the stone bricks. What he saw when he rushed in made him feel fear like he’s never felt before. Ifrit was chained on his knees in the center of a circle. Muzzled. There was blood on him and Dew couldn’t tell what was his and what wasn’t. When Ifrit saw him he screamed.

Dew get out of here! Get the others and leave!

The hooded Clergy members rushed for Dew while two of them started the banishment ritual. Instinct took over and Dew lashed out with claw and fang trying to reach him. He had to. He couldn’t do this without Ifrit. He was their strength.

Someone grabbed Dew from behind and Ifrit knew he had to reach him. They’d send Dew back for this. Or worse. He gathered all of what he had left and ripped one arm out of the bindings. The blessed steel hurt like Hell but if he could just reach Dew he knew they could get out together.

Something happened in that moment. One of the ritual Clergy panicked. He began to close the half open circle. The one Ifrit was caught in, fading in and out of existence with each Infernal incantation. The pain zapped through Ifrit and some deep part of him knew he wasn’t making it out of that room alive. Still he reached for Dew.

Dew rammed his head back into the nose of the human who held him. When she let go and rushed to Ifrit. He needed to pull him out, an unstable summoning circle was certain death for anyone trapped inside.

But he was too late. The panicked human closed it when Dew got too close. Even as Ifrit felt his very soul being torn apart, scattered across every plane of existence his last conscious thought was to save Dew. His fire escaped him when he lost his body. The wild energy went staring for the closest vessel. Straight to Dew.

He felt it consume him, evaporating the water in his veins. It didn’t hurt though. All he felt was Ifrit. It reminded him of those cold winter nights when he’d crawl into his bed, searching for his warmth. Dew last thought before the exertion took its toll was how he failed Ifrit.

When woke up in the infirmary he couldn’t remember what happened. Why was he there? Mountain and Aether jumped into the bed with tears in their eyes when they saw he was awake. When their breathing evened out they threw question after question at him, trying to figure out what happened in the dead of night. What happened to you? Where’s Ifrit?

And Dew furrowed his brow.

Who’s Ifrit?

[sanguineterrain]

I'm BEGGING for a continuation of the drabble where Reader breaks up with Jason

Thinking of him injured and alone after almost dying is killing me 😭

this got more serious than i intended lol but i hope you like it anon! finally there is resolution!

jason todd x gn!reader. tw jason almost dies, hints of self destructive behavior, guilt, communication (i am forcing the batboys to be good communicators!!!), injured jason, dick being the bestest goodest big brother.

pt 2 to this

****

It's extremely stupid for you to be out this late, but if you hadn't left tonight, you'd probably never leave. And you needed to leave. You can't sustain whatever you and Jason had.

Asking him to quit would've been unfair, and you know he won't do it. This city pulls him back in every time.

"Where ya headed?" the cab driver asks. He doesn't look too shady. He'll definitely overcharge you, but at this point, you don't care. You just want to go home.

"Gotham Heights." You don't give him the exact address, but someplace close enough.

It's begun to rain. You try not to think about how you just left Jason. You turned off your phone as soon as you closed the door; you know he's probably calling like crazy, but as soon as you answer, you'll go back.

And you can't.

You blink back tears. You can't keep watching him throw himself into worse and worse danger. Jason fights crime like he'd sooner let it kill him. One day, it will.

The car pulls up to a stoplight. You're dozing; it's nearly eleven o'clock after all.

Suddenly, something lands on the hood. You jump, heart dropping.

"What the fuck?!" the driver squawks.

Nightwing perches on the hood of the cab. He lightly taps the windshield.

"Evening. Mind pulling over?" he asks pleasantly. "I'm actually their designated driver tonight."

"Nightwing!" you snap, hot with anger. "Get off the car!"

"You shut off your phone and left," Dick says, those white lenses zeroed in on you. His tone is cutting. "He's losing his mind. You know we don't go dark."

You close your eyes briefly. "We almost lost him, 'Wing," you croak.

"So your instinct was to leave?"

"Alright, that's it! Get outta the car," the driver says, unlocking the doors. "Fuckin' crazies..."

Dick opens the door for you and tosses a roll of twenties on the seat. The cab speeds off. You wrap your arms around yourself as he guides you to the sidewalk.

Several emotions cross Dick's face, before he lands on one. Sympathy.

"What happened?" he asks softly.

Your face crumples. "He died, Dick."

"I know," he says, holding your elbow. "I was scared too. But he's okay. He's the toughest guy I know."

"How am I supposed to keep him alive?" you ask desperately. "I can't."

Dick frowns. "That's not your job. I wouldn't expect that of you, and I know Jason doesn't either. None of us do."

You press your palms to your eyes and start to cry for real.

"I just want him to be okay. Every time he goes out, I think it'll be the last time I see him. I love him too much to lose him, Dick."

Dick hums. "Have you told him this?"

You shrug, wiping your eyes with your hand. "Some of it. I-" You wince. "I yelled before I left. He was being so nonchalant about it, and I know it was so I wouldn't worry, but..."

"I know. He can be a real pinhead about some things, but Jason's on it when it counts. He loves you a lot, and I think he'd want to know you're feeling this way."

You rub your eyes so hard you see shapes. "I don't know, Dick. I don't know if I can tonight."

Dick sighs sadly. "Alright. Look, I'll take you home. But can you at least tell him you're okay? He called me up, terrified. Said he dreamt you were in an accident."

Nightmares. The guilt triples.

You turn on your phone. Ten missed calls and fifteen unread texts pop up.

[10:38pm] Baby please come back

At least text me you're okay

I messed up, and you can leave, but at least tell me you're safe

[10:42pm] I'm calling Dick

Sweetheart don't get into a car

[10:43pm] Please don't I have a bad feeling about it

Call me please

You sniffle and tap on Jason's contact. The phone rings once before he picks up.

"Baby? Hi, hi. God, fuck. Are you okay? Is Dick there?"

Jason sounds wrecked. His voice is raw like he's been crying. Tears start to build up in your own eyes.

"H-hey, Jay. Yeah, I'm okay. Dick is here."

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have scared you. Shouldn't have been reckless. I won't do that again. I won't patrol alone anymore. I'll-I'll work with Batman again. I called him just now. Told him I'd be at the Cave next week."

"Jay, don't force yourself to work with Batman for me," you say, your stomach a pit. "I don't want you to do something that'll make you miserable."

It's been better, lately, Jason's relationship with his family. It's not perfect, but then again, you wouldn't expect a family that dresses up in Halloween costumes every night to fight crime to be perfect.

"It won't!" Jason says. "Look, B and I have our differences. That's for damn sure. But I'm not so mad about it these days. And I should be safer. You were right. I want to come home to you, sweetheart, I do. If that means working in a team, then I'll do it. I'll do whatever will make us both happy and safe."

You squeeze your eyes shut. "I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner, Jay. I should've been."

"Oh." Jason sounds heartbroken. You can imagine him running a rough hand through his hair right now, tearing through the strands. "No, no, no. Baby, my love, listen. I don't blame you for any of this. That's not your responsibility. It's my job to keep myself alive. And Leslie's, once in a while. But I don't expect that from you. Never from you."

It's quiet for several moments. Then Jason speaks again, tone timid.

"Have I... did I make you feel that way?"

"No, you didn't," you say, opening your eyes. "Not directly. But... I don't know, Jay, I've just felt like there's nothing holding you back some days. You fight like you're fighting something inside of you." You bite the inside of your cheek. "I don't want it to burn you out for good."

Not again, you don't say.

Dick bows his head, and suddenly, you're there, watching them lower Jason Todd's body into the ground.

"I won't let it," Jason whispers. "I won't. I'm sorry I did this to you. Made you feel like this. I only ever wanna be good for you. I'm-I'm trying to be good."

Your lip trembles. "I wanna come home, Jay."

Jason makes a desperate sound, like a wounded animal. "Please come home, baby. I don't want you to leave. Wanna hold you so bad."

"Okay." You nod at the phone and look at Dick. "Can you take me home?"

He smiles, small and hopeful. "Of course."

****

Jason nearly tears the door off of its hinges before you can knock. He's probably been listening for your footsteps all evening. Your throat tightens.

"Hi, baby, hi, hi," Jason says, bracing himself against the doorframe as he pulls you into a hug. "Missed you so much. Love you so much. I'll be better, it'll be better. I promise."

You kiss his shoulder and bury your face in his warm chest, listening to his heartbeat. A-live, a-live, a-live, it says.

"Thanks, Dickie," Jason murmurs into your skin.

"Sure thing, Little Wing," Dick says, and you think he might sound a little misty-eyed. Sentimental sap.

"Thanks, D," you say softly, and Dick squeezes your shoulder.

"Get some sleep, both of you."

"You first," Jason says, and Dick laughs on his way out.

You help Jason inside, tucked under his arm, and this time, he lets you guide him to the bed. He allows you removal of your shoes and jeans before tugging you in with him.

"I'll be better," he vows, and rolls you over so you're face-to-face. "I promise."

"I believe you," you say, thumb brushing over his salt-streaked cheek. "I'm sorry I went dark, sweetie."

He shakes his head. "'S okay. Well, I mean, it's not, but I understand. I just want you safe. And here. But only if you wanna be here. I won't force you."

"Of course I want to be here, Jay," you say, kissing his cheek. "There's no place I'd rather be. I just... I want us to live."

Jason swallows and nods.

"I'll live. I will. For both of us."

[agent-sushi-fbi]

NEW POST ON AO3!!

This was a prompt by @kittyfrisk9 from last year that we traded back and forth. I finally got around to finishing editing it and posting! I hope you enjoy!!

Something that Danny never thought he would be agreeing with in his afterlife? Jazz’s trashy romance books that she thought she could hide behind psychology textbooks in high school. They all seemed to have the same message that he didn’t realize was more than trying to reel in single moms at the checkout counter.

Love is complicated.

How did he know? Because Danny had inevitably fallen for his handsome and cool neighbor: Jason Todd. The problem though? His neighbor was dating the equally handsome (rumored at least, since he never takes the helmet off) and badass vigilante: Red Hood.

His heart had broken instantly upon hearing the news. Dramatic response, he knew, but he was dead so he figured he could get away with it. So, to get over his now dramatically broken heart, Danny decides to drink his sorrows away with the millennium-year-old wine that Princess Dorathea had sent him recently.

Unfortunately, he drank too much of it (he was so used to the light buzz of human stuff that he wasn’t prepared) and apparently ghostly alcohol is capable of what human made alcohol isn’t. Actually getting him drunk off his ass.

That’s how a drunken Danny somehow found himself on top of the apartment complex’s roof late at night, finding Red Hood most likely at the end of his patrol. The man himself, Danny’s love rival. His eyes narrowed as the vigilante noticed Danny, freezing like a kid with their hand caught in the proverbial cookie jar. He watched Red Hood stand up straight, arms crossed as he put on an air of intimidation. Observing him up close, it was even worse than he feared, Danny couldn’t even object to Jason’s decision to date the infamous anti-hero. Comparing the two of them, Red Hood is Red Hood and bigger than life–whereas Danny was just…Danny, the scrawny weirdo down the hall.

Oh…

Danny felt the tears building as a pressure flooded his chest. Upset, all he could do was try to hold back the waterworks in front of the other man. Was he doing it? Numbly, Danny reached up a hand to his face and felt his wet cheeks. Oh, Ancients damnit, now he’s crying in front of the crime lord.

The vigilante seemed to panic at his tears, the man's cool intimidation all but forgotten. He tried to calm Danny down by saying whatever nice and nonsensical things tumbled out of his mouth, but it just ended up making Danny cry harder without meaning to.

Jason, on the other hand, officially hated himself for being unable to do anything at the sight of tears before him. How did he manage to make his pretty and tender-hearted neighbor cry?

Suddenly, a drunk Danny screams out, “It’s all your fault!” His tears were finally slowing down, but he was sniffling so loudly it broke Jason’s heart to hear. But once Red Hood processed what Danny said, he froze. What exactly was his fault in this situation?

Danny continues, not paying any mind to the statue of Red Hood standing before him. “Y-you…he loves you! Silly, silly…why did he have to like you ? I love him more!” Danny continues to sniffle, readily ugly crying and not caring how pathetic he looked in front of the Red Hood.

Oh, that’s the problem. Jason feels his body go very still, his mind racing as the other man cries helplessly. His Danny is in love with some fucking bastard that isn’t him, and said fucking bastard is apparently in love with ‘Red Hood’. Which left Jason feeling like a truck ran him over and spun his heart under the wheels.

He absolutely, one-hundred-percent, does not and would not share feelings for anyone else, especially if Danny was crying for said “in love with a crime lord” bastard. He isn't even worth Danny’s tears . Jason briefly lets the thought linger on if it would be right to punch the guy Danny likes in the face. He needs a new punching bag anyway, this douche could be a nice replacement.

Danny’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts, focusing on the man’s ruddy face again, a prominent pout at being ignored making Jason’s heart flutter. God, what was it about this guy that tugged at his heart so much?

Danny stomped his foot, annoyed and drunkenly thinking the vigilante had silently dismissed the conversation. “Jason loves you ,” he felt his lower lip wobble. “You should say those words to him because I can’t! He deserves to know he’s loved!” Danny shook his head at Hood, swaying slightly. Excuse me, what did you just say? “Silly Hood, you’re so lucky, did you know…?”

Jason gaped in shock as Danny’s voice trailed off, the latter obviously losing some of his fire from before as the alcohol started making him tired. But hold on a second, by “Jason” did Danny mean him ? Jason Todd?

“Yes!” Oh, he seemed to have asked the name out loud, because his pretty neighbor responded with a broken voice.

Ha. Fuck.

Jason feels his brain short circuit. He just cannot process this. So, the reason why his neighbor never paid any attention to his flirting wasn’t because he was disinterested in him? It was because Danny thought that he already had a partner and probably thought he was just being friendly? That he (Jason) was dating himself (Red Hood). Oh god, Danny was such a lovable idiot.

Jason knew he should have stopped those rumors from spreading right from the start, that way this misunderstanding wouldn’t have wreaked havoc on his love life. On the other hand, seeing his adorable neighbor looking like a disheveled drunk, declaring his feelings for him made Jason’s heart melt a little bit.

“Do you think that I am dating…Jason Todd?” His voice is serious, but still shocked from this revelation, though it’s probably not noticeable through his mask’s voice modulator.

Danny nods solemnly from a few feet away, lips still twisted in a pout. Jason smirks even though Danny can’t see it and tells him, “It’s just a rumor.”

He’s amused by the way Danny’s head snaps up and surprise fills his bright blue eyes. He’s so adorable while drunk that Jason isn’t sure how he would be coping without a mask covering his expressions. “Just like you, I already have someone I like. But I can promise, it’s not Jason Todd.”

He swore he could see sparkles in the man’s eyes. “So you’re absolutely not dating Jason?” Oh boy. “I can go out with him? I can tell him how much I like him?”

Jason laughs internally, “You should do it, see how it goes.” While he returns to his safe house quickly, after all, it seems he will soon be receiving a very important declaration of love.

This was the best day of his life, goddamn.

Unfortunately, his confession won’t be coming tonight because immediately after he received his ‘go ahead’, Danny trips over his feet and falls to the ground. Harder than expected apparently, since when Jason hurried over to check on him he was delirious and close to passing out. Though, that might have been more the alcohol than anything else.

Jason sighs, resigned to the fact that he’ll have to wait until Danny is sobered up tomorrow. Granted, that's even if he remembers any of this conversation after all. Oh fuck, Jason hoped he remembers otherwise they’ll be back to square one.

Picking up his (now) cute boyfriend, he carefully places the man on his back so his long arms drape over Jason’s shoulders and he had to hold onto Danny’s butt to keep him in place (not that he’s complaining). They were almost to the access to the stairwell when he heard Danny murmuring, so he slowed his steps to keep his heavy boots from drowning out what Danny was saying.

“Jason…marry me please…”

Jason choked. He cleared his throat a couple of times and shifted Danny around a little. He felt the other man’s hot breath and lips on his neck, but focused on safely getting them down the stairs instead.

Projecting a little confidence into his voice, Jason responded, “Haha, how about you ask me on a date first?” He knew there would be no answer, his boyfriend was already in the world of his dreams but he had to get the last word in.

He absolutely will never let Danny ever forget this moment.

[soullessdianthus]

Hi so idk if ur taking requests for König or if u do stories like this but I was wondering if u could do König comforting reader after a miscarriage. Like this is her 2nd one and she's in the bathroom sobbing

A/N: Never thought I would be able of writing such stuff. Thanks Anon for challenging me with such heavy topics. Hope you're doing well. ♡

Warnings: angst, comfort, talks of miscarriage

When he walked down the hallway, next to the bathroom doors, König would never in his lifetime imagine finding you in a state like this.

Head buried in trembling hands as you were sitting on the bathtub's edge. A few trickles of blood running down your thighs from underneath the sweat shorts. His heart ached although not knowing why yet. Seeing you, his beloved wife in a state of despair was worse than a grown up man could ever imagine.

Deep down he knew it wasn't about you bleeding through your pants on your period. No, it couldn't be it.

━ Meine Liebe [ger.: My love]?

━ König ━ you shot your head up, sniffling and looking at the towering figure of your spouse in the door's frame. A muffled sob got stuck in your throat. He wasn't wearing his hood or military gear, there was no need for that in your house. ━ You were supposed to be back next week.

Your sweet and loving voice sounded broken. Devastated. You tried to wipe the tears off your face, but it was already reddened and eyelids swollen from crying. You couldn't hide it from him anymore.

König slowly walked up to you and kneeled on one of his legs. When his face was approximately on the same level as yours, he cupped your cheek, a concern painted in his eyes.

━ What happened? Why are you crying? ━ Your husband's other hand held you by your arm, caressing the skin so softly, with such tenderness it brought you comfort.

━ I... I lost the baby. It was still very early, but...

━ Hey, hey, look at me, schatzi ━ he interrupted you, sadness building up again in your beautiful eyes. The eyes that made him fall in love with you at first sight ━ sometimes it happens.

König's words were well-balanced and spoken peacefully. He wanted to ease down your pain, at least the one that was mental. Now, he was by your side, prepared to support you through this difficult time.

And you were worried of disappointing him.

━ But it wasn't the first time! I had lost one already and you always wanted a family of your own and I'm scared that I cannot give you this...

━ Sometimes it happens ━ he repeated, his brows slightly narrowing in concern. König reached to hold both of your hands in his grasp over your lap ━ and it's never your fault. Never. You know, Meine Liebe, I'm not the youngest, this may also be a reason why this happens. Have you thought about this?

━ But I really want to start family with you. I love you.

━ Ich liebe dich auch, engel [ger.: I love you too, angel]. We can always try again. When you're ready. ━ König leaned forward to get closer to you pretty face. He always felt bad when you were crying, your soul was so pure, you didn't deserve this. Any of this.

━ But what if it happens again?

━ Then you is all I need in this lifetime.

Your husband pressed his forehead to yours and you slowly began to accept the grief of your unborn child. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. And with him by your side, every sorrow was eased by his love.

━ Are you mad at me? ━ You asked after a while of silence, when he detached his forehead from yours.

━ Why should I be angry with you? How could I be mad at my beloved wife, Mein Sonnenschein [ger.: my sunshine], hm?

His warm smile and presence was all your aching heart needed. König loved you more than anything on this planet, in this life. You were the reason he had something to come back to after each day in work. A home and a soulmate.

━ Ich liebe dich.