#these needed a permanent spot on my feed

[inspiredsimmerx]

laundromat\boba tea + thrift store

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[ayumip]

𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮…𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬?

boyfriend!rin x reader

word count: 0.6k

rin, your boyfriend, is jealous of the stray cat you recently adopted. so what's he going to do? get it away of course!

recently, rin's been wearing a permanent scowl on his face, not that he didn't scowl at everyone before, but now it was wayyy more obvious.

you, on the other hand, were living your best life. for the past month, you've been feeding this stray cat in your neighborhood, bringing it milk, cat food and water from the nearby connivence story everyday. it took you a while to confirm that it was indeed a stray, and not a cat roaming around using its cuteness to lure passersby to give it more food. nevertheless, you begged rin to allow you to adopt it into your shared apartment. using your puppy dog eyes, and some other forms of convincing, he relented with a "i don't care as long as it doesn't bother me"

little did he know, that cat would be the death of him.

"here kitty kitty~!" you would coo at your new pet with that bright smile of yours, showering it with love and affection. you cuddled with it on your chest every morning, every afternoon, every evening; even when your were working late at night, it was either on your lap or on your desk. (that was his privilege! though he would never admit it, he thrived off your touch. if he could, he would glue himself next to you, never letting go)

rin wasn't the best at voicing his emotions. this past week, you've been all over your cat! gushing about it, playing with it, taking care of it...how about him! he was itching for you to cuddle with him again, or lay his head on your lap as you gave him his head scratches that he oh so adored; even a quick touch would mean heaven for him at this point!

deprived of your touch, rin has begun to utterly despise your cat. oh, to him it was the definition of the devil itself —nuzzling up to you all the time, taking your attention away from him, your boyfriend, squishing itself in the middle of you two in the middle of your horror movie nights, or even worse, evicting him away from his spot in your arms. he was getting crankier, but he wouldn't say anything! he just gave you fleeting touches hoping you'd get the hint, which of course, you didn't.

tonight, it was the night. he wanted your touch back, no, he needed it back! it's been a week, a week away from you (not really, rin's exaggerating here.) the three of you were sitting on the shared couch, watching yet another horror movie. instead of you cuddling up to him, you were instead petting your cat! softly stroking it's fur and scratching just behind it's ears. it let out a content purr, satisfied with your ministrations. rin, could not focus on the movie at all, despite horror being his favorite genre.

when you momentarily left to grab some water. rin pounced on the chance to give your cat his signature death stare, it hissing back in response to rin's hostility. rin didn't falter, he cupped the cat's cheeks 'gently', glaring into it's eyes:

"get away from my girlfriend, you lukewarm creature." he muttered, only to be met with your cat's sharp paws smacking his face.

you were watching from afar, biting back your laughter at the hilarious exchange between your cat and your boyfriend. joining them back at the couch, you picked up your cat, prying it away from rin, who was moments away from god knows what, nuzzling into your arms as it glared rin down.

"...rin- are you picking a fight with my baby?"

"i'm your baby."

authors note: god i wish i had a cat too :( there may be some mischaracterization here but i had this idea and wrote it in like 30 mins...might write a pt 2 where rin gets along w ur cat at last!

[solar-wing]

⚣ Puppy Love: Sweet and Romantic, but also somehow Murderous ❤️‍🔥

⚣❤️‍🔥 A/N → something I started writing while finishing up Shadowing Nightwing. Is this what I imagine my relationship to be like with Jason on a regular basis...absolutely. Absolutely. Am I somewhat delusional and living in a fantasy world? Also, absolutely, but also, mind your fucking business. anyways...! This was inspired from multiple posts and authors, who I have tagged and hyperlinked. @allllium @maj-b-s Thank you for feeding my obsession—ahem—my therapist will be sending you a bill. tee hee... WARNINGS: 18 + MDNI | College Male Reader | Fluff & Humor | Minor Violence (Implied) | Swearing/Crude Language | Smut | Breathplay | Possessiveness/Jealousy | Everyone wants Y/N's man |

⚣❤️‍🔥 Summary → Meet Jason and Y/N: Gotham’s answer to the ultimate “relationship goals”—if your relationship goals involve an overly protective vigilante with a slight obsession for tearing apart his boyfriend’s scandalous wardrobe (and sometimes his coworkers). Their love story? Equal parts intense, adorable, and absolutely chaotic. Jason’s the growling, brooding protector who’d burn the world for Y/N, while Y/N is the sunshine with just enough sass to keep him in check… well, sometimes.

⚣❤️‍🔥 Word Count → 14.5K

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY ❤️‍🔥

If you asked anyone, they might hesitate to admit it outright, but the truth was hard to ignore: people envied Jason and Y/N’s relationship—and who could blame them? From the day those two started dating, they’d been like high-school sweethearts stuck in the honeymoon phase, but with ten times the intensity and none of the restraint. Not to sound bitter or envious—it was just a fact.

They were a painfully adorable couple. Jason was the doting, protective lover, almost to a fault. Sure, it’s a bit of a cliché, but he didn’t exactly help himself with the stark difference in how he treated others versus Y/N. Around everyone else, Jason looked permanently grouchy, as though every conversation he endured was a test of patience he barely passed. His eye-rolls, heavy sighs, and palpable disinterest didn’t go unnoticed; in fact, he made it pretty clear he couldn’t wait to walk away from anyone who wasn’t Y/N.

But the moment Y/N entered the room? Suddenly, Jason had nothing more important in the world. It was almost comical to watch this towering vigilante hang onto every word Y/N said like an overly attached puppy. Actually, that was the perfect way to describe their dynamic: Jason was a huge, lethal teddy bear with a soft spot, and Y/N was the unassuming boyfriend who had no clue how much sway he held over this giant who’d kill for him without hesitation.

Honestly, the best way to describe Y/N was as Jason’s polar opposite. He was social—well, social enough—and that sometimes got on his boyfriend’s nerves, who would’ve preferred to keep Y/N all to himself. It was partly jealousy, partly a possessive urge to monopolize his lover’s attention, but mostly it was Jason’s instinct to shield him from a world that had never been kind to the vigilante. Jason had been hardened by a lifetime of darkness, and he’d go to ridiculous lengths to keep Y/N’s light from dimming.

Not that Jason’s methods were exactly…practical.

“Jason, I get that you want to protect me, but you can’t shield me from everything,” Y/N said, finally sitting his boyfriend down for a much-needed conversation after yet another of Jason’s over-the-top protective stunts. “The only way you could do that would be to wrap me in bubble wrap and lock me away in a cave or something.”

“Trust me, I’ve considered it,” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?” Y/N blinked, raising a brow.

“Nothing.”

Despite Y/N’s more social nature, he was everything Jason felt he was missing in life. He was the humor, the hope, the optimism Jason rarely allowed himself. And sure, his optimism came with a sprinkle of sarcasm when he was annoyed, but Jason loved that too. In fact, he was so taken by Y/N that it was nearly an obsession—though, to be fair, obsession was kind of expected from someone like him.

Would a therapist call it codependency or maybe some kind of unhealthy dynamic? Probably. But good luck telling Jason that. He’d likely see it as a personal attack—and let’s just say that if you value your life, you might want to avoid bringing it up. You’ve been warned.

But back to the point: Y/N and Jason’s relationship quickly became the kind that made even Y/N’s friends—most of whom were floundering in the love department—wonder just how he’d managed to snag such a devoted and caring guy. It especially made Jason feel appreciated, loved, and genuinely important to someone the way Y/N would never miss a chance to gush about his vigilante boyfriend to anyone willing to listen, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly loved every second of it.

Though, do exercise a bit (lot) of caution, because once the topic turns to Jason, everyone’s in for a long haul—Y/N could and would talk anyone’s ear off that was willing to listen about how amazing his boyfriend is. Just as Jason was obsessed with Y/N, Y/N was equally smitten with Jason, and honestly? Jason wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright, Y/N, spill it! I need every detail about how you landed this guy. Don’t hold out on me—give me the exact prayer, word-for-word, quickly!”

“I—uh—well, I—”

“Come on, Y/N! My pen is drying up, and I’m not getting any younger!” His friend slapped a notepad and pen down in front of him, staring him down like he was about to write out a love spell straight from a witch’s spellbook.

“Girl, I don’t even know. The guy just kinda showed up in my life one day and never left,” Y/N shrugged, half-joking, though it was pretty much the truth.

It had all been by chance—well, kind of. If you could call Jason keeping an eye on Y/N “chance.” In reality, he’d been sort of… lurking, for good reasons (or at least reasons he’d justified to himself). It started one night when Y/N was finishing up his work-study shift at Gotham University. Now, calling an Uber would’ve been the smart, safe choice, especially in a city like Gotham. But he lived just 15 minutes away, and spending money on a five-minute ride? Please. He had a budget to consider.

That was before he found himself cornered in a dark alley by three oversized thugs who smelled like the embodiment of an ashtray mixed with cheap beer, a scent so thick it made his eyes water. The kind of men Gotham bred like weeds—rough, desperate, dangerous. Y/N barely had time to process the situation before one of them shoved him against a cold, brick wall, a knife pressing against his throat. His backpack was snatched and dumped unceremoniously onto the wet alley floor, its contents spilling out for their inspection.

His mind raced, paralyzed with fear and regret. He could practically hear his parents' voices reminding him to be cautious, to make smart choices, to avoid walking alone at night in places like this. Irony stung almost as much as the cold steel against his neck—the “responsible” choice would have been to spend that $15 on an Uber, not gamble his safety for a free walk. 

And was the money he’d save really worth risking his life for? Probably not. But hey, that was Gotham for you—always teaching life lessons the hard way. He braced himself, feeling the icy dread of not knowing if he’d make it out alive. Stories like these didn’t usually end well on the news in this city.

But fate, or something like it, had other plans.

Out of nowhere, a low, gravelly voice sliced through the night. “I’d drop the knife if I were you.”

Y/N didn’t dare turn his head, but he felt the tension shift as the thugs looked up, startled. Standing at the mouth of the alley was a figure who seemed to materialize from the shadows—a tall, broad man clad in black and deep red, with a sleeveless hoodie that revealed muscular arms wrapped in red bandages. A mask and hood concealed majority of his face, glowing red eyes staring down the thugs with an intensity that froze them in place. Strapped across his back were two long katanas, and a utility belt around his waist held holsters that almost certainly contained a pair of guns, adding to his already intimidating presence.

Red Hood.

Y/N had heard of him, of course. Gotham’s resident anti-hero, rumored to have a thing for…creative violence. The vigilante’s imposing size was enough to make anyone feel small; he towered over Y/N, his form carved out of muscle and something darker, something hardened. Even the thugs looked ready to wet themselves, and Y/N could feel the goosebumps rise on his skin as he finally dared to look up.

In less time than it took him to blink, Red Hood had closed the distance, dispatching the thugs with an efficiency that would’ve been impressive if it weren’t so, well, terrifying. Knives clattered to the ground, grunts and thuds filled the air, and Y/N just stood there, frozen like a deer in headlights, half expecting to wake up from a weird stress-induced nightmare.

But this was very real, as proven when Red Hood finally turned to him, and Y/N felt his breath hitch. Up close, the vigilante was even more intimidating—a wall of muscle wrapped in dark red and black, those red eyes glowing with an intensity that made Y/N’s knees wobble. There was no denying it; the guy was terrifying. Yet, for some reason, there was a weird, traitorous voice in the back of his mind whispering, He’s kind of hot, though.

“You alright?” The voice was rough, like gravel scraping across metal, but there was an undertone of concern. Red Hood’s gaze softened just a fraction, almost imperceptible, yet Y/N caught it.

“I—I think so,” he managed, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes were wide, and he forced himself not to flinch as Red Hood stepped even closer, the hulking vigilante now looming over him. Up close, he could see the muscles tense beneath the suit, the power radiating off him like heat.

Red Hood’s head tilted slightly, as if assessing him, and Y/N swore he felt like he was being scanned. Which, honestly, was fair. He was some college kid wearing a sweatshirt that said “Gotham U” in block letters, and this guy looked like he wrestled criminals for fun. But instead of feeling like prey, he felt this strange pull, like something was drawing him toward the vigilante. It was probably just adrenaline… or at least, that’s what he told himself.

Red Hood gave a grunt, a sound that could have meant anything from “good to hear” to “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, punk.” But then he leaned down, his helmet casting an ominous shadow over Y/N’s face. “Next time, take the Uber.”

Y/N blinked, the absurdity of the situation hitting him all at once. “Noted,” he replied, deadpan, because honestly, what else could he say?

He should have been scared—terrified, even. But instead, he found himself lingering on every detail: the way Red Hood’s chest rose and fell, the glint of his weapons, the sense of barely restrained danger that rolled off him in waves. And underneath all of that, a strange, quiet thrill that he didn’t quite understand.

Satisfied, Red Hood gave him one last look before he started to turn away, blending back into the shadows. But in a flash of impulsiveness, Y/N called out, “Wait!”

Red Hood stopped, glancing over his shoulder, clearly not used to random civilians asking for an encore. Y/N hesitated, realizing how ridiculous he must have sounded, but the words were already out there, so he figured he might as well keep going.

“Uh… thanks. For, you know, saving me. And also for the life advice,” he added, his voice dripping with awkward humor.

There was a pause—a long, silent pause where Y/N briefly wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake. But then, to his surprise, he thought he saw the faintest tilt of amusement in the way Red Hood shifted his stance. Was that… a chuckle? No, probably not. But he’d like to think so.

Red Hood nodded—a subtle acknowledgment—before disappearing into the night, leaving Y/N alone in the alley with nothing but his scattered belongings and a heart that felt like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest. As he knelt down to gather his things, he couldn’t help but survey the carnage of his soggy notebooks and papers, along with his now-broken laptop and tangled, half-shattered headphones.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he picked up a notebook that was more mush than paper. “Well, this is fine,” he muttered, trying to keep his spirits up. “Just a little water damage. Adds character, right?”

Then he spotted his laptop, the screen shattered and a piece of it barely hanging on by a hinge. He laughed, a bitter chuckle that held more disbelief than humor. “Guess it’s one way to force an upgrade,” he murmured, stuffing it back in his backpack like a defeated soldier gathering his gear after a lost battle.

And the headphones? Well, they’d been cheap anyway, held together by more wishful thinking than actual quality. “You were too good for this world,” he whispered dramatically, dropping them into the bag with a resigned sigh.

Despite the state of his belongings, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just survived something surreal, something that would haunt his dreams and maybe even—dare he say it?—excite him a little.

Unbeknownst to him, from the shadows a few blocks away, Jason eyed him from his hiding spot, a curiosity nagging at him, as if he’d found something worth watching over. He could see Y/N still crouched on the grimy ground, gathering his belongings—soggy notebooks, torn papers, a laptop with a shattered screen. He’d felt a pang of guilt as he watched, a flicker of sympathy mingling with a less-than-pleasant feeling of familiarity knowing all too well what it was like to lose the few things you relied on—to feel like the world had kicked you when you were down.

And while he’d never admit it, maybe a part of him liked that the kid seemed more amused than scared. After all, it wasn’t every day that someone didn’t scream when they saw Red Hood.

Of course, now that they were dating, Y/N was not surprised by the vigilante’s actions after their encounter when he’d come out of his apartment a week later to find a large box sitting on his doorstep with a plain label reading simply, “For You.” 

Inside was an assortment of brand-new school supplies including pristine notebooks in varying colors, a handful of smooth, high-quality pens and highlighters, and even a sleek, expensive laptop that he definitely could not afford on a student budget. Nestled beside it was a pair of high-quality Bluetooth headphones—the kind he’d ogled online but never dreamed of buying. And to top it all off, there was a sturdy, stylish bag to carry everything in.

And while most other people would’ve been slightly concerned at the fact that a random vigilante just happened to know their address after only one meeting where they didn’t even give their name, Y/N on the other hand, was processing the contents of the box with a mix of gratitude, amusement, and a new crush.

And so, their love story began, marked by Jason’s continued (and slightly overprotective) habit of rescuing Y/N from Gotham’s mean streets—even if the college student didn’t always realize he needed saving. Hence the “stalking” mentioned earlier.

Of course, was it technically stalking if it was done out of love and devotion for some random stranger you’d developed a massive crush on but couldn’t quite work up the nerve to talk to directly? Well… yes. Experts would say it’s still stalking. But hey, if those experts ever found themselves in a tight spot, Jason would be conveniently “unavailable” to save them.

Naturally, Y/N couldn’t exactly share the full story of his and Jason’s introduction. For one, his friends would roast him to the ends of the earth for being dumb enough to walk home alone in Gotham at night. He could practically hear their voices now: “Really, Y/N? Alone? At night? In Gotham? Do you not value your own life?” And frankly, he wasn’t about to give them that much material.

Oh, and there was also the tiny detail of Red Hood’s whole secret vigilante identity thing.

So, he went with a slightly edited version of the story, painting Jason as a “helpful stranger” who just happened to show up when Y/N “got lost” and had his bag stolen. And when his friends inevitably asked about the shiny new gear—a nearly $500 bag, top-of-the-line laptop, high-quality headphones, the works—he explained it all as a result of some extra scholarship money and financial aid he’d “saved up.” Sure, splurging on luxury tech and accessories might seem a tad unrealistic, but he’d throw in a line about a “really good sale” and call it a day.

Because as much as Jason’s habit of going overboard with gifts could be a little, well, extra, Y/N wasn’t about to complain. The man was thoughtful in a way few would ever believe, though his affection tended to be wrapped in thick layers of leather, weaponry, and a no-nonsense glare.

Jason loved hard, though he wasn’t quick to show it to just anyone. The guy kept his feelings locked up tighter than a Gotham vault, hardened by a lifetime of broken trust and betrayal. He wasn’t exactly the “wear your heart on your sleeve” type. But every so often, with the right person, he’d crack that tough exterior. And Y/N? Somehow, he’d slipped right through, without even trying.

And okay, could Jason be a little intense? Sure (absolutely). But when a vigilante with a borderline obsessive streak decides he cares about you, well… let’s just say things are bound to get a little out of hand. That’s just the price of having Gotham’s resident anti-hero as your personal guard dog.

Not that Y/N thinks of him quite like that, but it’s kind of funny, considering Jason really does act like a lovesick puppy when it’s just the two of them, his tough exterior melting away—it gave the energy of a Golden Retriever, maybe, or a Siberian Husky with an attitude problem. But the moment anyone else entered the room, his whole vibe transformed. If Y/N was his safe haven, the rest of the world was an enemy camp. He’d switch from doting boyfriend to a blend of German Shepherd, Rottweiler, and Doberman with the attitude and aggressiveness of a Chihuahua on an espresso shot. It was a little terrifying for others but to Y/N? It was just… Jason.

Part of what made their dynamic so unique was how Jason let himself be vulnerable around Y/N, something few people ever got to see. Y/N was his safe space, the person he could trust to see the parts of him he usually kept hidden—the softness, the care, the insecurities he guarded as fiercely as he guarded Gotham’s streets.

Funny enough, Y/N quickly discovered just a few months into dating that Jason’s love language was, without a doubt, physical touch. Why was that funny—and possibly the most ironic thing he’d ever experienced? Because when they first started dating, Jason avoided touch like it was the plague.

It took Y/N a while to notice it, but once he did, it was painfully obvious. Jason had this way of keeping just enough distance, as if he’d drawn a line no one was allowed to cross. At first, Y/N thought it was just Jason’s natural intensity, but over time, he began to see the pattern. Jason was hyper-aware of any physical contact—quick to dodge, tense when someone brushed against him accidentally, even flinching at touches he saw coming. It was like he’d trained himself to see any sort of physical contact as a potential threat.

And it made sense, really, considering Jason’s past and the double life he led—something Y/N only found out about a few months after they started dating. Jason’s body told a story all on its own, each scar and faded bruise marking a chapter of battles fought and enemies conquered. The scars weren’t just skin-deep; they were reminders of a life filled with danger, betrayal, and loss. And Y/N began to understand why Jason had always kept his distance, why he seemed wary of even the gentlest touch. To Jason, vulnerability had always come with a price.

Also, talking about his family was a rare event, and when he did, there was a hesitance, a guarded tone. Y/N knew bits and pieces—enough to understand that while Jason loved his family, there were wounds there too, emotional scars that ran just as deep as the ones on his body. He avoided talking about them, save for the occasional mention of Alfred, the family’s butler. Alfred was the exception, the one person Jason spoke of with nothing but respect and a rare softness. In time, Y/N came to love and appreciate Alfred just as much, seeing how deeply he’d cared for Jason when others hadn’t.

But even with Alfred, Jason’s life had taught him that letting people in, letting people close, meant risking pain. So he’d built walls, high and impenetrable, where touch was a luxury and distance was safety. Yet again, somehow, Y/N had slipped through those walls. Slowly, patiently, he’d helped Jason find comfort in a gentle touch, a warm embrace, and the knowledge that here, with him, there was no danger. Just love.

At first, it was subtle—the occasional shoulder touch, the brief brush of his hand, like Jason was testing the waters. But as he grew more comfortable, his affection started to show in quiet, gentle ways: a hand resting at the small of Y/N’s back, an arm draped protectively around his shoulders, or the way he’d pull Y/N close, as if his presence alone could shield him from the world. Sure, his protectiveness sometimes bordered on overbearing, but Y/N didn’t mind one bit. He’d come to cherish those moments, knowing that each touch, each fierce little act of devotion, was Jason’s own way of saying, I love you.

And before Y/N even realized it, Jason had practically become his shadow, glued to his side like some overly affectionate—albeit slightly brooding—puppy. It was like a switch had flipped, and suddenly, Jason couldn’t go a full five minutes without reaching out to touch him, craving the comfort and reassurance of Y/N’s presence. Jason was always there, one way or another: a hand resting on his neck, fingers tracing along his arm, a warm weight on his thigh, or just… hovering in his orbit like a bodyguard who happened to look at him like he was the best thing in Gotham.

Rarely did a moment pass when they weren’t connected in some physical way. More often than not, Jason would find any excuse to pull Y/N into a full-on cuddle, whether they were on the couch or in bed, as if he was storing up warmth like a battery. And his favorite spot? Laying his head on Y/N’s chest, listening to his heartbeat with his eyes closed, completely at peace as Y/N’s hands ran gently through his hair. For Jason, it was the ultimate comfort, a reminder that he was loved and safe—a rare feeling in his life.

It was endearing, really. Jason might’ve been Gotham’s big bad vigilante, but to Y/N, he was a full-grown man with the energy of a giant, needy puppy, demanding his attention with that silent, intense stare of his. And honestly? Y/N wouldn’t have it any other way.

Of course, Y/N would be lying if he said he didn’t get a kick out of the way Jason would pout and glare at him whenever he stopped rubbing his head or, heaven forbid, dared to refuse his touch. Imagine this six-foot-plus tower of muscle—a guy who could make dudes on steroids look like scrawny sidekicks—staring down his boyfriend with an actual pout because he wasn’t getting his cuddle fix. It was a sight that never failed to make Y/N laugh (not that he’d do it out loud; he valued his life, after all).

Jason could—and would—throw his ire at just about anyone else, often for the smallest of reasons. Anyone not named Y/N was fair game for his mood swings, his infamous scowl, and even the occasional growl. But with Y/N? Well, let’s just say he was spared from the wrath of Gotham’s most intimidating vigilante… unless he denied Jason cuddles or the sacred privilege of his bodily embrace. That, apparently, was the one line Y/N couldn’t cross.

The “punishment” usually lasted, at most, ten minutes. Jason would start by sulking, grumbling under his breath like a child denied dessert, and shooting Y/N the kind of glare usually reserved for Gotham’s worst criminals. Y/N, of course, would hold out as long as he could, but eventually, one of two things would happen. Either he’d cave, sighing as he finally opened his arms to let Jason claim his cuddle rights, listening as Jason mumbled dramatically about how he “should never be denied cuddles” because it was his god-given right, or—if Y/N took too long—Jason would take matters into his own hands.

And by that, it meant Jason would simply scoop him up, plop himself down, and drape his entire, solid weight on top of Y/N like some overgrown cat claiming it's human. There was no escape—Jason’s big arms wrapped around him like an anaconda, pulling him close until Y/N was completely enveloped, pinned down with zero chance of getting away.

Y/N didn’t mind, though. Quite the opposite, actually—it was hot. Sue him.

"Y/N, don’t take this the wrong way but… is your man single?” one of his coworkers asked, giving him a sly grin.

OOP—

GIRL. For your own sake—and for the sake of anyone within a mile radius—tread carefully. That man is as jealous and territorial as his possessive ass vigilante boyfriend, who’s on a level that’s practically legendary. No, seriously; Jason’s jealousy was on a scale that was insane.

Case in point: family game night. Tim had everyone playing this game where you had to come up with a word for each category starting with a randomly chosen letter. Simple enough, right? Well, when “J” was the letter of the round, let’s just say Y/N’s answers weren’t exactly… satisfying to a certain overprotective vigilante.

“Y/N,” Jason hissed, narrowing his eyes, “you’ve got two seconds to explain to me who the hell Jackson is.”

“I had to think of something!” Y/N replied, holding up his hands defensively.

Jason crossed his arms, staring him down. “And what does my name start with, hmm?”

“I—okay, listen, I panicked! I was thinking about Percy Jackson!”

Jason didn’t see it as jealousy—he was just protective, okay? But if his definition of protective happened to mean glaring down anyone who so much as glanced at Y/N, then so be it.

Y/N on the other hand…

Funny enough, Jason actually started complaining because every time he and Y/N went out together, people would give him looks, like they thought Y/N was in mortal danger. And okay, Jason got it—he wasn’t exactly small, or subtle. With his build, his perpetual scowl, and the way he seemed ready to throw down at any given moment, he could understand slightly why people would think the way they’d think. Shit, he’d do the same. But still.

When it got to the point of the cops getting called because the neighbors heard loud noises, grunts, and what they thought were sounds of pain and struggle after seeing a large and intimidating man drag Y/N into his apartment—when, in reality, they were just doing the dirty tango against the kitchen wall—it gets a bit annoying.

But that wasn’t even the real issue Jason had been complaining about. No, what had actually gotten under his skin was how everyone always assumed he was the threat, when in reality, it was Y/N they should’ve been worried about. People just didn’t see it, but Y/N had a dangerous side all his own. Just ask the kid who was dumb enough to try and pull a fast one on Jason by touching and caressing him in public when Y/N had stepped away for a moment.

The moment the college student came back… well, let’s just say things got ugly. Legally, however, Jason couldn’t speak about it. Not because he didn’t want to—oh, he’d love to relive the whole glorious scene—but because Y/N had made him, and his brothers, sign an NDA afterward. Yep, Dick, Tim, Damian, and Jason had to put pen to paper, bound to secrecy about The Incident.

Y/N had handled it with a level of ruthless efficiency that left the whole Bat family in awe. He’d dealt with that poor, clueless kid in a way that was so subtly devastating that even Bruce raised an eyebrow when he found out. Although, truth be told, Bruce wasn’t exactly shocked; he just hadn’t expected someone as sweet as Y/N to be quite so… resourceful.

After that, the whole family understood that, sure, Jason might look like the scary one—but when it came to those he loved, especially when it involved Jason, Y/N was a force to be reckoned with.

Y/N glanced back at his coworker with a slightly distant look before letting out a laugh, shaking his head. “Girl, don’t play.”

Girl—seriously, don’t do it.

Thankfully, she chose common sense and life at that moment, laughing along with him. “You know I’m just kidding! But seriously, where did you find him? The things I’d do just to get a man who looks at me with even half the love as he does with you.”

It was in Y/N’s honest opinion that Jason had to be an angel or some divine gift sent to him from the heavens above. Or God, the Universe, Santa Claus, took mercy on him knowing that kind of unserious trouble he could get himself into. Seriously, it was like his life was written by some dude who strove to put him in the most unthinkable scenarios ever thought of by man.

…

Hold up.

…

Nah…unless?

“But seriously, where do you even find a man like that? ‘Cause the ones out here? Girl, they’re giving ‘bare minimum’ and vibes. God really needs to start restocking the good ones.”

“Where did I find him?” Y/N repeated, smirking as he wiped down the counter. “I don’t know. One day he just showed up, brooding and scary-looking, and now he refuses to leave.”

His coworker rolled her eyes, leaning closer like she was trying to decode some deep secret. “You’re dodging the question. Men like that don’t just show up. Spill the tea.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. “Honestly? If I told you the real story, you wouldn’t believe me.”

And wasn’t that the truth? If he started explaining how Gotham’s most terrifying vigilante had saved him from a mugging, delivered new school supplies like some twisted fairy godmother, and then proceeded to burrow into his life like an oversized, territorial puppy, she’d probably think he was delusional. Or worse, that he was into some bizarre fanfiction-level nonsense. Which, fair.

Before Y/N could add anything else, his phone buzzed on the counter. He glanced at the screen and couldn’t stop the small smile that crept across his face.

Jason: Did you eat yet?

Y/N sighed, typing back a quick Yes, Dad, even though it was a blatant lie. He didn’t need Jason going full hover-boyfriend just because he skipped breakfast.

Fifteen minutes later, though, Jason strolled into the shop like he owned the place, a brown paper bag in hand. Y/N barely had time to react before Jason plopped the bag on the counter, his expression hovering between annoyed and smug.

“Didn’t I just tell you I ate?” Y/N asked, arching an eyebrow.

Jason crossed his arms, his biceps straining his jacket in a way that made his coworker openly gape. “And I didn’t believe you. So here.” He gestured at the bag like it was some great offering, clearly unbothered by the audience they had. “You’re not skipping meals.”

Y/N sighed, opening the bag to find his favorite sandwich neatly packed alongside a container of fruit and—of course—a bottle of water. His coworker, meanwhile, was staring like she was witnessing a rom-com play out in real life.

“You know,” she whispered as Jason stepped back to lean casually against the counter, his watchful gaze flicking between Y/N and the shop’s door, “if you don’t marry this man, I will.”

Y/N snorted, shoving a grape in his mouth. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

In all honesty, Y/N knew the kind of love Jason offered wasn’t for the faint of heart. As previously mentioned, when that man loved, he loved hard—like all-in, no-holds-barred, borderline territorial levels of hard. And he wasn’t just protective—oh no, he was possessive with a capital P when it came to the things he cared about.

What did that mean?

Well...

Considering the kind of life Jason had lived—where the things he loved or that brought him joy were often ripped away in the most brutal, gut-wrenching ways imaginable—it wasn’t exactly a shocker. Jason had become fiercely devoted to guarding what was his, with a vigilance that often toed the line between endearing and slightly terrifying.

It was like an aggressive dog who decided one day that a random shoe was its favorite thing in the world. The kind of resource-guarding where even looking at the shoe too long earned you a deep, guttural growl of warning. Ignore the warning? Well, congratulations, you just donated a finger—or maybe two—to the cause.

If it’s not clear by now, Y/N was the shoe, and Jason was the dog. And when it came to Y/N, anything—or anyone—that so much as hinted at upsetting him, threatening him, or even mildly inconveniencing him would quickly find themselves on the wrong end of Jason’s wrath. It wasn’t a matter of if there’d be hell to pay, but how much. Spoiler: it was always a lot.

So, picture this: Y/N comes home after a long day of morning classes and an equally draining evening shift. On the surface, he looks fine. Totally normal. But what no one knows is that he spent the last twenty minutes sitting in his car, quietly sobbing into a handful of fast-food napkins.

He knew better than to bring those emotions into the apartment, though. Because while most boyfriends would give you a hug and let you vent, Jason would go full vigilante mode. If he even sensed that someone had made Y/N upset, it wouldn’t just be hell to pay—it’d be Gotham-wide carnage. And Y/N, being the thoughtful boyfriend he was, liked to minimize unnecessary casualties.

Armed with tissues, eyedrops, and a firm I’m fine, just tired mantra, Y/N stepped through the door, hoping to slide under Jason’s radar.

Nope. Not happening.

The moment Jason saw him, his expression shifted. Y/N had no clue what gave him away—was it the puffiness? His voice? The way he stood?—but Jason immediately clocked something.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asked, his voice calm, but laced with that dangerous edge that said he was already running through a mental list of suspects who might need a "visit."

Y/N froze, debating his options. He knew better than to lie. Jason would sniff it out in seconds. But he also knew that the moment he opened his mouth, Jason wouldn’t rest until he figured out who—or what—was responsible.

And honestly? That was the kind of energy Y/N both feared and loved about him.

“I just had a stressful day at work, Jason. I’ll be fine,” Y/N said, sidestepping as he tried to make his way past the towering vigilante and towards the bathroom.

But trying to get past Jason when he was in that mode? Easier said than done. It was like trying to walk through a solid brick wall—one that was armed, brooding, and ridiculously muscled. Jason was locked into full protective-boyfriend mode, which meant Y/N wasn’t going anywhere until Jason had the name, address, and probably the social security number of the person who dared to upset him.

Why he needed the social security number? Well, Bruce did teach him to be thorough when handling "cases." And in Jason’s mind, this was no different.

In one smooth move, Jason’s arm shot out, stopping Y/N’s attempt to breeze past him. With two quick steps, Y/N found himself backed against the wall—well, Jason’s chest first, and then the wall behind him. Jason leaned in, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible, his dark, piercing gaze locking onto Y/N’s like a laser. That intense look he gave—the one that said I have no problem keeping you right here until I get answers—made Y/N’s knees weak.

Not that he minded. Let’s be real: Jason’s body, his sheer presence, had always been Y/N’s favorite place to decompress, even if it came with the added pressure of being metaphorically (and sometimes literally) pinned to the hot seat. And honestly? Who could complain about being wrapped up in the arms of a man like Jason. If you wouldn’t feel the same, take your judgment elsewhere.

Jason tilted his head, his voice low and commanding as he leaned in closer. “Talk to me, baby. What happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Y/N muttered, looking away, though his traitorous heart betrayed him by picking up speed. He could feel Jason’s gaze on him, heavy and unwavering. “Just a bad day.”

“That’s not nothing,” Jason replied firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His arm caged Y/N in further, his body so close that Y/N could feel the heat radiating off him. “Bad days don’t make you cry in your car before coming home.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. Damn it. How does he always know?

Jason leaned even closer, his lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he whispered, “I’ll ask again. Who made you cry?”

That commanding tone, combined with Jason’s overwhelming presence, had Y/N’s walls crumbling faster than he’d like to admit. “Jason, it’s nothing you need to get involved in. It’s my boss—he’s just been... making things harder than they need to be,” he said, his voice faltering as he tried to downplay the situation.

Jason’s jaw ticked, and his free hand gently cupped Y/N’s chin, tilting his head back so their eyes met. “Details. Now.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before the frustration, hurt, and exhaustion bubbled over. “He’s cutting my hours—again. And I need those hours, Jason. For rent, for groceries, for school. I’ve tried talking to him, emailing HR, even bringing in a neutral third party, but nothing changes. And today…” He swallowed hard, his voice cracking. “Today, he reduced my schedule to the point where I’ll barely be able to afford ramen next week. And then he called me into his office to give me some bullshit ‘coaching moment’ that was really just him tearing me down in front of everyone.”

Jason’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as Y/N’s words sank in. “What did he say?” His tone was dangerously calm, the kind of calm that meant bad things were about to happen to someone.

Y/N shook his head, his voice breaking as he tried to get the words out. “I—I don’t want to repeat it. It was nasty, Jason. Just nasty.”

Jason’s grip softened immediately, his hand moving to the back of Y/N’s neck as he pulled him into his chest. “Baby, come here,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. Y/N didn’t resist, letting himself melt into Jason’s arms as the tears he’d been holding back all day finally spilled over.

Jason held him tightly, his strong arms a fortress of safety and comfort as he whispered, “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it out.”

They stayed like that for a while, Jason eventually guiding Y/N to the couch so they could sit down. He pulled Y/N into his lap, holding him as if to shield him from the world. Y/N buried his face in Jason’s chest, the warmth and strength of his boyfriend grounding him as Jason’s hand gently stroked his back.

After a while, Y/N’s voice broke the silence. “Promise me you won’t do anything rash, Jason. Please.”

Jason’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded. “I promise.”

The next day, Y/N found himself questioning that promise when Jason showed up at his workplace. The vigilante didn’t cause a scene—he didn’t need to. A quiet, private “conversation” with Y/N’s manager in the backroom was all it took. Whatever Jason said, it worked. By the time he left, Y/N’s hours had mysteriously been restored, and his manager couldn’t look him in the eye without stammering.

When Y/N confronted him later, Jason just smirked, pulling him into a kiss. “I didn’t do anything rash,” he said innocently. “I just... clarified some things.”

And honestly? Y/N didn’t even want to know what “clarified” meant.

It was that incident—the one where Jason paid a visit to Y/N’s workplace—when Y/N’s coworkers finally met the infamous boyfriend they’d only ever heard about in passing. Well, passing might’ve been an understatement, considering Y/N used any and every opportunity to talk about his man. At first, the constant mentions of “Jason this” and “Jason that” had been met with teasing eyerolls and mock groans. But after seeing Jason in action, shutting down their tyrant of a manager with one calm but devastating conversation, everyone got it. Completely.

Jason and Y/N quickly became what the group lovingly referred to as the “template” for relationship goals. Y/N didn’t mind the label; he liked that people saw the best parts of their dynamic. What they didn’t see—or couldn’t fully grasp—was the effort and balance behind it all. Jason wasn’t just the tall, brooding vigilante who swooped in to save the day, and Y/N wasn’t just the sweet, supportive boyfriend standing in his shadow. Their relationship was a partnership in every sense of the word, built on mutual protection and care for one another.

It was that incident—the one where Jason paid a visit to Y/N’s workplace—when Y/N’s coworkers finally met the infamous boyfriend they’d only ever heard about in passing. Well, passing might’ve been an understatement, considering Y/N used any and every opportunity to talk about his man. At first, the constant mentions of “Jason this” and “Jason that” had been met with teasing eyerolls and mock groans. But after seeing Jason in action, shutting down their tyrant of a manager with one calm but devastating conversation, everyone got it. Completely.

Jason and Y/N quickly became what the group lovingly referred to as the “template” for relationship goals. Y/N didn’t mind the label; he liked that people saw the best parts of their dynamic. What they didn’t see—or couldn’t fully grasp—was the effort and balance behind it all. Jason wasn’t just the tall, brooding vigilante who swooped in to save the day, and Y/N wasn’t just the sweet, supportive boyfriend standing in his shadow. Their relationship was a partnership in every sense of the word, built on mutual protection and care for one another.

“Y/N, how much is your rent for this place? It’s really nice, and I’m looking for something closer to campus,” his friend asked one day during a study session at his and Jason’s apartment. A few of their classmates had joined, and the group was sprawled out in the living room, surrounded by open textbooks, laptops, and half-empty mugs and cups.

Y/N was about to answer—he really was—but then paused, his face twisting into a look of genuine confusion as he stared off into the distance, like he was searching the recesses of his brain for an answer that just wasn’t there. “Uh… I think $1,100? Maybe? Don’t quote me on that, though. I’m not 100% sure.”

His friends all exchanged baffled looks. “Wait, what do you mean you’re not sure?” one of them asked, narrowing their eyes. “How do you not know your own rent?”

“I do! I just… forgot,” Y/N said with a shrug, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Now they were all staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Y/N, literally what the fuck? How do you just forget how much you pay in rent? Who forgets that?”

“I don’t know, okay? I knew it when I signed the lease, but every time I try to pay it at the beginning of the month, Jason’s already paid it. Sometimes months in advance! And, I don’t know, after a while, it just stopped being something I thought about.” Y/N gestured vaguely, as if this explanation somehow made perfect sense.

That didn’t stop the dumbfounded stares—or the flicker of envy in more than a few pairs of eyes.

“Wait, wait, wait.” One of his friends held up a hand. “So your boyfriend just pays your rent for you every month—without even asking—and you just… let him?”

Y/N snorted, sitting back on the couch. “First of all, rude. It’s not like I just let him. Trust me, if you were in my shoes, you’d understand that trying to stop Jason from taking care of me is like… I don’t know, trying to explain to someone in a MAGA hat what a cult is and that they’re in one. You’re not winning that battle.”

Can the church get an amen?

Y/N wasn’t lying—not even a little—when he said that trying to stop Jason from taking care of him was an exercise in futility. If anyone dared to tell Jason he was “doing too much” for his boyfriend, congratulations, they’d now joined the prestigious ranks of those “experts” Jason would gladly let fend for themselves in a crisis. When it came to Y/N, Jason handled it all: physically, emotionally, financially—you name it, he was on it like white on rice. And no amount of protesting from Y/N could change that.

And oh, did Y/N protest.

“Jason, did you pay my rent again?” Y/N asked, stepping into the apartment with his wallet still in hand and a clearly exasperated look on his face. He’d just come back from the leasing office, only to find out his balance was already cleared with a sex month advance payment. Again.

His frustration hit a slight pause, though, as he spotted Jason lounging shirtless on the couch—pause for an aroused deep breath—engrossed in what appeared to be an intense game of Mario Kart on his Nintendo Switch. A book Jason had been reading earlier was tossed haphazardly to the side, forgotten in the heat of the Rainbow Road battle.

Jason didn’t even glance up as he responded, “Yeah, I did. Why?” His thumbs moved quickly over the buttons, his face set in that annoyingly sexy, hyper-focused expression that made Y/N momentarily forget why he was upset in the first place.

“Why?” Y/N snapped, pulling himself out of that temporary daze. “Because I told you not to! That’s why!” He stormed over, planting himself squarely in front of the couch, arms crossed and glare locked on his boyfriend. “Jason, we’ve talked about this. I can handle my own rent.”

Jason sighed, finally pausing his game. He leaned back against the couch with an air of deliberate calm, setting the joy-con controllers aside. “I know you can,” he said, his voice smooth and measured in a way that made Y/N’s resolve falter. Jason’s eyes flicked up to meet his, dark and steady, pinning Y/N in place. “But here’s the thing, babe—you don’t have to.”

“That’s not the point,” Y/N shot back, his voice wavering slightly as Jason stretched lazily, his arms going behind his head in a way that made the muscles in his chest and shoulders flex. Unfair. He was doing this on purpose.

“Isn’t it, though?” Jason’s lips curved into a slow, smug smirk. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and Y/N’s breath hitched as the intensity of his gaze locked onto him. “Taking care of you isn’t optional for me. It’s my job. Whether it’s paying the rent, making sure you eat, or keeping your gorgeous ass out of trouble, that’s mine to handle.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned as he tried to maintain his glare, but it was a losing battle. “Jason,” he said firmly, though the quiver in his voice betrayed him, “you can’t just decide these things without asking me.”

Jason tilted his head, studying him in a way that felt equal parts tender and possessive. “Sure I can,” he said smoothly, reaching out to hook his fingers lightly around Y/N’s wrist, tugging him forward until he was standing between Jason’s knees. “You can handle yourself—I know that. But you don’t need to. Not when I’m here.”

Y/N opened his mouth to protest, but Jason tugged him down into his lap, wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him close. His free hand slid to the back of Y/N’s neck, his thumb brushing against the skin there in a way that made Y/N’s heart race.

“Tell me,” Jason murmured, his voice low and commanding, “why should I let you stress over something I can fix? Hmm?”

Y/N bit his lip, trying to muster the strength to argue, but Jason’s tone, his touch, the sheer weight of his presence—it all left him scrambling for words. He hated how easily Jason could reduce him to this flustered mess, and he really hated how much he secretly loved it.

“You’re impossible,” he finally muttered, dropping his head against Jason’s shoulder, his voice soft and defeated.

“And you love me for it,” Jason murmured against his ear, his smirk practically audible.

Y/N groaned but didn’t pull away, his fingers curling against Jason’s chest. “This conversation isn’t over,” he mumbled, though even he didn’t sound convinced.

“Sure, babe. Whatever you say,” Jason replied, leaning back with Y/N still in his lap, his grip firm and unyielding. He reached for his Switch with his free hand, resuming his game like he hadn’t just completely derailed the argument and walked away victorious.

And as much as Y/N wanted to be mad, he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. Damn it. He really did love him for it. The student didn’t need to say how much he appreciated the weight of Jason’s steady presence; Jason didn’t need to hear it to know. And while Y/N would keep fighting to hold his own ground, there was a part of him—an unspoken, undeniable part—that found comfort in letting Jason hold the world at bay for him.

Their domestic life was a careful dance of their unspoken dynamic, with Jason ensuring their world was secure and steady, while Y/N kept their home—and Jason—centered and whole. Their roles played out naturally, shaped by who they were as individuals. Jason made sure the outside world couldn’t touch Y/N, taking care of the big things, the dangerous things that he’d never let his boyfriend come within a mile of. His presence was a shield, and his devotion ran so deep that sometimes it felt like he’d lay the world at Y/N’s feet if it meant seeing him happy.

Y/N swears there was one time he cracked a joke about wanting to live out his “soft boi” aesthetic—because, obviously, the ‘i’ made it edgier—and Jason, without missing a beat, ran with it without ever looking back.

But Y/N? He was the one who kept their world turning smoothly, the quiet, grounding presence that made sure Jason had a place to fall apart when life became too much. Whether it was stocking the kitchen with Jason’s favorite snacks or simply sitting with him on the couch after a rough patrol, Y/N created the kind of space Jason didn’t even realize he needed—safe, steady, and entirely his.

That balance extended to the little things too. Jason liked to cook when he had the time, his meals always hearty, protein-packed “fuel” designed to keep them going. Y/N, on the other hand, was the one who brought warmth to the table, sneaking in something sweet or comforting—even if it meant slipping vegetables into Jason’s plate, much to his dramatic protests.

“Because it’s pesto,” Y/N replied innocently, grinning as he leaned against the counter. “Don’t act like you’re too good for spinach.”

Jason grumbled something under his breath—something about how spinach was a lie—but ate every bite, proving once again that Y/N knew exactly how to play him.

And then there were the quieter moments—the ones that reminded them both why they worked so well together. Nights spent curled up on the couch, Jason sprawled out with his head resting in Y/N’s lap, his fingers absently tracing patterns along Y/N’s thigh. Y/N would run his fingers through Jason’s hair, the simple, soothing gesture melting away the tension that Jason carried like a second skin. Sometimes they’d talk—about Jason’s patrols, Y/N’s classes, or random nonsense that didn’t matter. Other times, they simply existed together, the quiet hum of their apartment a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the world outside.

But even Y/N, the softer half of their partnership, had his limits when it came to anyone crossing a line with Jason. Like the time a journalist ambushed Jason at a charity event, spouting thinly veiled accusations about his past. Jason had been moments away from snapping, his fists clenching at his sides, when Y/N calmly stepped in.

“If you don’t have something constructive to say,” Y/N said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “then I suggest you find someone else to bother.”

The journalist, thrown off by Y/N’s tone—gentle but edged like a blade—backed off almost immediately. Jason hadn’t said a word about it afterward, but later that night, when they were home, he’d kissed Y/N’s temple and murmured a quiet, “Thank you.”

Y/N was never afraid to step in for Jason when he needed him to, even if Jason wouldn’t—or couldn’t—outwardly ask for it. And the fact that Jason didn’t have to ask made it all the more meaningful for the vigilante. Y/N always seemed to know when to intervene, especially in moments when Jason couldn’t advocate for himself—particularly when it came to Bruce.

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Jason had come home late that night, his steps heavy, his shoulders slumped in a way that told Y/N everything he needed to know before Jason even said a word. Gotham’s chaos could wear Jason down, but this kind of defeated air? That was Bruce’s handiwork.

Y/N didn’t push right away. He let Jason slip into the apartment, kick off his boots, and collapse onto the couch without a word. Jason sat there, his hands hanging limply between his knees, staring blankly at the floor like he was stuck in some internal tug-of-war. Y/N sat beside him, his hand lightly brushing Jason’s shoulder before resting on his thigh—a grounding touch.

“What happened?” Y/N asked softly.

Jason’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled sharply through his nose. “It’s Bruce,” he said after a long pause, his voice raw. “We were handling this case—a trafficking ring. I had it handled, Y/N. I had it. But he pulled the plug on the whole thing because it didn’t fit his goddamn code.” His fists clenched, his knuckles turning white. “There were kids involved, and he still chose the ‘moral high ground’ over what needed to be done. And then—” Jason’s voice broke, and he shook his head, his frustration giving way to something more fragile. “He looked at me like I was the problem. Like I was… too much again. Like I’m always too much.”

Y/N’s heart clenched as he took in the words, the quiet ache that laced Jason’s tone. It wasn’t just the case or Bruce’s stubbornness that hurt him—it was the way Bruce always seemed to find a way to make Jason feel like he’d never be enough, no matter what he did.

Y/N leaned in, his hand sliding up to the back of Jason’s neck, fingers gently massaging the tension there. “You’re not too much, Jay,” he murmured, his voice steady. “Not for me. Not for anyone who actually knows you.”

Jason didn’t respond, but the way he leaned into Y/N’s touch, his head bowing slightly, said more than words ever could.

An hour later, when a knock came at the door, Y/N didn’t need to guess who it was. He stood, sighing as Jason stayed where he was on the couch, visibly tensing at the sound. Y/N opened the door to find Bruce standing there, in some more casual wear (if you could ever call Bruce’s “old money” aesthetic casual), his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Y/N,” Bruce greeted, his tone clipped. “I need to speak with Jason.”

Y/N didn’t move, his hand braced casually against the doorframe. “No, you don’t.”

Bruce blinked, clearly unused to being told no—and even less accustomed to hearing it so decisively. “It’s important.”

“Is someone dead or currently dying?”

The blunt, and sarcastic tone of his words, while it didn’t visually throw the billionaire off, Y/N could see Bruce was surprised by his tone. He didn’t know how, but he clocked the shift in his demeanor. Maybe he was picking up some skills from his boyfriend after all.

“No, but–”

“Then, it can wait,” Y/N said, his tone edge with a finality that left no room for question or pushback.  “He just came home, and I don’t think he needs you piling on more stress right now. Whatever you’ve got to say can wait.”

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line. “This isn’t about stress. It’s about his actions tonight. He—”

“—did what he thought was right,” Y/N interrupted, his voice sharpening just slightly. “And from what he told me, he was right. You’re the one who undermined him and made him feel like he was a problem.”

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Y/N stepped out into the hallway, lowering his voice but not his resolve. “Look, Mr. Wayne, I get that you care about him in your own… specific way. But if you want to keep him in your life, maybe stop treating him like he’s the black sheep who’ll never measure up to your perfect little code. Because right now? You’re the only one who can make him feel like this, and that’s not the kind of impact someone who ‘cares’ should have.”

Bruce’s face didn’t betray much, but Y/N caught the faint flicker of something—guilt, maybe—in his eyes. Still, he didn’t budge. “This conversation isn’t over.”

“No,” Y/N said calmly, stepping back into the apartment and beginning to close the door. “But it is for tonight. Goodnight, Mr. Wayne.”

With that, he shut the door, turning back to see Jason watching him from the couch, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief.

“Did you really just tell Bruce Wayne to go home?” Jason asked, his lips twitching like he couldn’t decide whether to smirk or shake his head.

“Damn right I did,” Y/N replied, crossing his arms with a small, satisfied huff. “And I’d do it again.”

Jason let out a low chuckle, his hand brushing through his hair as he leaned back against the couch. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?”

“Please,” Y/N shot back with a roll of his eyes. “You act like it’s a big deal. Someone had to say it, and we both know you weren’t going to.” He paused, watching Jason closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And speaking of things you aren’t doing…”

Jason raised an eyebrow, his interest visibly piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”

Y/N leaned forward, tapping Jason’s knee with mock seriousness. “First, you’re going to get off this couch, because moping is not a good look for you. Then, you’re going to help me put away the laundry because I’ve been doing it all day while you were out being Mr. Broody Vigilante. And after that? You’re going to make us both something to eat, because I’m starving and I’m not lifting a finger tonight. You’ve got work to do, big guy.”

Jason blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before his expression shifted into something darker, sharper. He cocked his head, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, really?” he drawled, his tone low and deliberate as he sat up straighter. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Y/N’s pulse quickened, but he held his ground, leveling Jason with his best faux-bossy glare. “That’s exactly how it’s gonna be. So, get moving, Todd.”

Jason was on his feet before Y/N could blink, towering over him with that quiet, commanding energy that always sent a thrill down his spine. He didn’t say a word at first, just leaned down slightly, his eyes locked on Y/N’s like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You think you’re in charge now?” Jason asked softly, his voice deceptively calm. His hand brushed against Y/N’s jaw, his thumb tracing the curve of his cheek with deliberate slowness. “That’s cute.”

Y/N swallowed hard, refusing to back down even as Jason’s presence enveloped him. “Not cute,” he retorted, his voice wavering just slightly. “Efficient.”

Jason’s smirk widened, and in one swift motion, he scooped Y/N up from the couch, earning a startled yelp that quickly turned into laughter. “Efficient, huh?” Jason murmured, his lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he carried him toward the bedroom. “Let’s see how efficient you are at following orders, then. Because we both know who calls the shots here, don’t we?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, his breath hitching as Jason pinned him with that intense, unrelenting gaze. “Jason…” he started, but his boyfriend was already laying him down on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore.

“You wanted me to focus on something else,” Jason murmured, leaning over him, his hands braced on either side of Y/N’s head. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You’ve got my full attention now.”

And just like that, Y/N’s carefully constructed plan to distract Jason had backfired spectacularly—not that he was complaining. If there was one thing Jason was good at, it was reminding him exactly who was in charge.

“Alright, Y/N. Truth or Dare,” his best friend asked, a mischievous glint in his eye as the group sat around in a circle during their weekly de-stresser game night. Of course, their version of game night had taken a more explicit turn—totally par for the course with this group.

“Um… truth,” Y/N said hesitantly, already sensing trouble.

“Oh, perfect,” Seth said, rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. “Alright, Mr. L/N, the time has come for you to reveal your truth. Are you a bossy power bottom or a slutty, submissive one?”

The room erupted into a mix of laughter and gasps, with a couple of dramatic “oh my God” reactions thrown in for good measure. Y/N’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he tried to form words. Before he could even start to defend himself, someone else chimed in.

“Bro, seriously? What kind of question is that?”

Y/N immediately felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you—finally, someone gets it—”

But then came the follow-up.

“We all know there’s not a dominant bone in his body. If anything, it’s giving brat who likes to be put in his place.”

The room fell silent for half a beat before laughter exploded all around him, punctuated by a few dramatic “damn”s and someone nearly choking on their drink.

Y/N blinked, his brain short-circuiting as the betrayal sank in. “Excuse me?!” he finally managed, his voice high-pitched and offended as he pointed an accusing finger at the culprit.

“I dare you to try and tell me I’m lying,” His friend challenged him with a raised eyebrow. And when Y/N couldn’t formulate a defense for himself, his friend nodded his head knowingly, “Exactly as I thought.”

Because was he actually lying?

“I dare you to tell me I’m wrong,” his friend challenged, one eyebrow arched and a smug smirk tugging at their lips.

Y/N opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out—just the faintest stutter of indignation as his brain scrambled for a defense that simply didn’t exist.

His friend nodded knowingly, leaning back with a triumphant grin. “Exactly what I thought.”

Because, honestly… were they even wrong?

Frankly, if you looked at their relationship as a whole, was it really that surprising?

Jason, in a nutshell, was all rough edges and a protective streak that could rival Fort Knox, but with a kind of intimacy that Y/N never saw coming. It was whiplash in the best way possible. One minute, he was Gotham’s most intimidating vigilante, and the next, he was softly murmuring sweet nothings while holding Y/N like he was the most fragile, precious thing on the planet. Y/N had once joked that Jason was like a human light switch—rough and dominant one moment, soft and needy the next. Now? It was just something he accepted… and secretly loved.

Because the roughness Jason brought into their bed was never just about dominance—it was about claiming. There were nights when Jason would grip Y/N’s hips like he was staking his territory, growling low in his ear as he worked Y/N’s body to the point of trembling. If Jason was feeling particularly territorial—or, as Y/N liked to put it, “possessive alpha wolf mode”—restraints were almost a guarantee. Y/N would be left tied up, squirming and gasping as Jason moved with a kind of intensity that left no room for doubt about who was in control.

And then, like clockwork, came the switch.

Imagine this: a six-foot-something mass of pure muscle and testosterone, who’d just spent the last hour absolutely wrecking Y/N—legs shaking, throat raw from moans that could probably be heard two apartments over—suddenly curling up beside him like the world’s biggest teddy bear. Jason would go from rough, grunting dominance, a man on a mission to leave Y/N marked and molded for days, to nuzzling into Y/N’s neck with soft kisses and quietly demanding to be held like he was the one who’d been put through the wringer.

It was absurd. Completely and utterly absurd. And Y/N? He let it happen every single time. No wonder Jason was so spoiled in their relationship.

What else was he supposed to do when Jason left him in a post-fuck haze so blissed out he couldn’t even remember what year it was? By the time Jason would return from cleaning him up, soft praise slipping from his lips as he gently wiped Y/N down, the fight had already left him. And honestly? Who was Y/N kidding—he didn’t want to fight it. Not when Jason would tuck him against his broad chest like they hadn’t just committed sins the mattress might never recover from.

But here was the kicker: for all the dominance Jason brought into their dynamic, Y/N knew the man craved the quiet moments afterward just as much—if not more. Those moments when Y/N’s hands would slide up into Jason’s hair, gently massaging his scalp, or trace over the faded scars on his chest like they were the most fascinating pieces of art. Jason wouldn’t say much—he didn’t need to. The way he sighed into Y/N’s touch, letting himself completely relax, said everything.

It was a ridiculous dance of give and take: Jason would obliterate Y/N’s body with enough intensity to leave him rethinking all his life choices, only to turn into the world’s biggest cuddle bug immediately after, soaking up every ounce of affection Y/N could give him. And as much as Y/N liked to complain about the whiplash, the truth was that he wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

Because as much as Jason loved being the one in control, Y/N had him wrapped around his finger the moment his fingers slid into Jason’s hair, soothing away the world like only he could. It was a balance only they understood, and it worked in ways no one else could ever pull off.

But it wasn’t just in the bedroom where Jason’s attention shined. Y/N would often catch Jason’s gaze lingering at the most random moments, his blue-green eyes shamelessly raking over him like he was a five-course meal and Jason hadn’t eaten in weeks. Whether it was Y/N lounging around in a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, running errands in shorts that rode up just a little too high, or even bundled up in the most unflattering hoodie he owned, Jason’s carnal desire never wavered. If anything, it intensified as their relationship deepened.

Jason didn’t even bother hiding it anymore. Y/N had long stopped being surprised by the firm smack on his ass whenever Jason walked by, followed by the satisfied grin his boyfriend would flash as if to say, Mine.

“Jason!” Y/N would shriek every time, a startled jump or yelp accompanying his protests. But the man never looked the least bit guilty. If anything, he’d double down, grabbing a handful and muttering something along the lines of, “Couldn’t help it,” or, “You’re teasing me.”

The truth? Jason had rules—categories, if you will—when it came to Y/N’s wardrobe. There were outfits Y/N could wear in public, outfits strictly for lounging at home, and then there were the "home only" outfits. And no, "home only" didn’t mean cute loungewear. It was a polite way of saying, for Jason’s eyes only.

“Babe, you’re not wearing that outside,” Jason had said once, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway as Y/N attempted to leave for the gym.

“It’s just a pair of shorts!” Y/N protested, gesturing down at the admittedly form-fitting gym wear that showcased his thighs just a little too well.

“Exactly,” Jason replied, his eyes narrowing. “Those are home shorts. You’re not walking into a gym full of thirsty people in that.”

“Jason, you’re being ridiculous,” Y/N huffed, crossing his arms.

“Maybe,” Jason said with a shrug, stepping forward to wrap his arms around Y/N’s waist. He leaned in, lips brushing against Y/N’s ear as he added in a low voice, “But that doesn’t change anything, now go change..”

And that was that. Jason had an uncanny ability to make his tone very rigid and unyielding, leaving no room for argument which would have Y/N’s protests dying on his lips every time.

Then, there were the outfits Y/N didn’t even get to leave the house in—because they didn’t survive Jason. It had become a running joke between them, the sheer number of shirts, pants, and underwear Jason had destroyed in fits of possessive frustration. If something hugged Y/N’s figure a little too well, Jason didn’t bother holding back. Many an innocent shirt had been ripped clean down the middle, casualties of Jason giving in to his urges.

“Do you have any idea how much you cost me in clothes?” Y/N had grumbled once as Jason stood over him, shirtless and smirking like the devil himself.

Jason had only shrugged, pulling Y/N into his lap. “Then stop wearing stuff that teases me,” he murmured, his lips trailing along Y/N’s neck. “Or don’t. Gives me an excuse to buy you more.”

And buy he did. But let’s be real—certain clothes never lasted long in their relationship. Case in point? The time Y/N ordered a pair of shorts he’d been eyeing for weeks, fully aware that Jason would raise an eyebrow so high it’d disappear into his hairline. Still, in a moment of fuck it impulse, Y/N clicked "add to cart," setting the stage for the chaos to follow.

When the package arrived, Y/N pushed the door open with a huff, struggling to balance the various bags and boxes in his arms as he shuffled into the apartment. “Jason, can you help me?” he called, his voice slightly muffled as he tried not to drop anything.

Jason, sprawled on the couch and scrolling through his phone, glanced up. His eyebrows rose at the sight of his boyfriend buried beneath a mountain of shopping bags. “More clothes?” he asked, standing up and strolling over with a teasing smirk.

“Yes, more clothes,” Y/N shot back, setting his haul down on the kitchen counter. “You know, since someone has a habit of destroying half my wardrobe.”

Jason shrugged, entirely unbothered. “What can I say? Some of them deserved it.”

Rolling his eyes, Y/N began unpacking his bags, pulling out folded shirts, joggers, and a few items that were more… adventurous. As Jason retreated back to the couch, Y/N grabbed one of his new purchases and headed to the bathroom to try it on.

A few minutes later, Y/N emerged, ready to test the waters. He stepped into the living room, his expression smug as he strolled in wearing a pair of black shorts that barely qualified as clothing. The sheer mesh fabric, paired with slits running up the sides, left little—if anything—to the imagination.

Jason glanced up, and his relaxed posture evaporated. His gaze sharpened, his smirk vanishing as his eyes darkened with a possessive glint. “Those,” he said, his voice dropping to a low rumble, “are not leaving this apartment.”

Y/N paused, glancing at Jason’s expression before looking down to examine the shorts. “What? These? Oh, come on, they’re gym shorts,” he said, smoothing the fabric over his thighs. “I can’t wait to test them out during leg day.”

Jason’s jaw ticked, his gaze locked on Y/N like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re not wearing those to the gym.”

“Jason, don’t start,” Y/N said, stepping closer to the couch—his first mistake. Paired with the loose, cropped tank he was wearing, the look was downright scandalous. He twirled around playfully, flashing a cheeky grin. “See? They’re nice. Functional.”

Jason didn’t reply. He just sat there, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing as Y/N paraded around, pushing the limits. The tension between them was palpable, thickening with every second that Jason didn’t speak. And when Y/N cocked a hip and teased, “What? Don’t like them?”—that was the final straw.

Jason moved so fast Y/N barely registered it. In one fluid motion, he reached out, grabbing the shorts by one of the side slits and yanking hard. The fabric tore with a sharp rip, leaving Y/N stumbling forward with a gasp.

“Jason!” Y/N yelped, his voice equal parts indignation and shock. But before he could gather himself, Jason leaned back on the couch, effortlessly pulling Y/N into his lap. His hands gripped Y/N’s waist, holding him firmly in place as his legs were spread across Jason’s thighs.

“These,” Jason growled, his hands sliding down to Y/N’s exposed skin, “are home-only shorts. Got it?”

Y/N squirmed, pressing his hands against Jason’s chest in a weak attempt to push away. “Jason, you can’t just—”

Another sharp rip interrupted him as Jason’s rough fingers tore at the other slit, leaving the shorts hanging on by mere threads. Y/N gasped, heat rushing to his face as Jason’s hands roamed possessively, smoothing over his bare thighs with deliberate, firm strokes.

“What did I say?” Jason questioned, his voice a dangerous whisper that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. “These are for my eyes only.”

Y/N’s protests dissolved into breathy whines as Jason’s hands tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. A sharp smack landed on Y/N’s rear, drawing a startled yelp, followed by another that left him gripping Jason’s shoulders for balance.

“Stop squirming,” Jason ordered, his tone firm and commanding as he leaned in, his face inches from Y/N’s. His dark gaze pinned Y/N in place as one hand slid to the back of his neck. “You know how this works, sweetheart. You push, I push back.”

Y/N bit his lip, his glare faltering under Jason’s intense stare. At some point, the defiance melted into submission, and their lips collided in a heated, desperate kiss. Jason’s hands never left Y/N’s body, gripping, claiming, and asserting dominance with every touch.

Before Y/N knew it, he was on his knees, Jason standing over him with his pants tugged low enough to reveal just how demanding he was. Y/N didn’t fight it—instead, he leaned into Jason’s command, eager to please the man who had thoroughly dismantled every ounce of his bravado.

By the end of it, Y/N was back on Jason’s lap, legs spread on either side as his body trembled with it being moved roughly up and down on the vigilante’s manhood, his own throbbing hardness rubbing against his boyfriend’s abs as Jason held him close. The only piece of clothing left between them were the shredded remains of the mesh shorts clinging to Y/N’s hips—barely.

Of course, Jason had to replace them with not one, but three new pairs after the fact. But he made it very clear they’d all meet the same fate if Y/N ever dared to wear them outside the apartment.

Did Y/N listen? Absolutely not. Because, let’s be real—he loved pissing Jason off. And honestly? Maybe the whole “brat who likes to be put in his place” thing wasn’t so far off after all.

And, of course, Jason wasn’t the only one who knew how to push buttons. He had his own arsenal of outfits that drove Y/N wild, and he wielded them with precision. Whether it was his compression gear that clung to his chest and arms in ways that made Y/N’s mouth go dry, or his Red Hood attire that practically screamed dominance, Jason loved to see the effect his clothing—or lack thereof—had on Y/N.

“You’re staring,” Jason had teased once, pulling his hoodie over his compression top in the middle of the gym.

Y/N, flustered and blatantly ogling, had tried to recover with a weak, “No, I wasn’t.”

Jason had chuckled, leaning in just enough to murmur, “You were. And I liked it.”

But the real chaos came in the bedroom. Jason, ever the tease, would sometimes refuse to take off his compression shirt or Red Hood pants during sex, fully aware of the primal side it brought out in Y/N.

“Stop, don’t take it off,” Y/N had panted once, his fingers gripping the slick, tight material as Jason tried to pull it over his head. “Leave it on.”

Jason had smirked, leaning down to kiss Y/N’s neck as he growled, “Anything you want, sweetheart.” He knew exactly what he was doing, letting Y/N’s hands wander over the material, the added friction driving him crazy in the best way.

Jason loved pulling that raw, uninhibited side out of Y/N. It was a side only he got to see, and he relished every second of it. Because while Jason loved being the one in control, he also loved seeing Y/N completely undone, lost in the moment with him.

It was, perhaps, a side effect of Jason’s deeply ingrained dominant nature—his unrelenting need to maintain a sense of control over his surroundings and the people within them. Did that mean he saw Y/N as something to control? Absolutely not. But Jason would be the first to admit that the urge to assert himself surfaced now and then. Fortunately, he had found a way to channel it into something far more productive, releasing it in moments of intimacy where it was not only welcomed but eagerly reciprocated.

And those moments of intimacy? They weren’t confined to the bedroom. Jason’s possessiveness bled into every aspect of their lives, a steady undercurrent to the way he loved. His need for control stemmed from a life filled with chaos, and Y/N understood that better than anyone. Whether it was the firm weight of Jason’s hand resting on the back of his neck during a particularly heated moment, or the low, growling reminders of exactly who Y/N belonged to, Jason’s message was always clear: he didn’t just love Y/N—he claimed him, body and soul.

Jason didn’t say much when Y/N walked into their apartment wearing the oversized hoodie. It was one of Jason’s, slightly frayed at the cuffs and just loose enough to drown Y/N’s smaller frame. The sight alone had Jason's lips twitching upward, his ego swelling with unspoken pride. There was something about Y/N wearing his clothes, especially in public, that hit Jason in a way he couldn’t describe. It wasn’t just the visual—it was the claim it represented, the quiet acknowledgment that Y/N was his, and he didn’t even need to say it out loud for the world to know.

“Isn’t this your hoodie?” Y/N asked casually, dropping his bag onto the floor as he walked past Jason toward the kitchen. He sounded innocent, completely unaware of the fire he’d just stoked. “I borrowed it to wear on campus today. It’s so comfy.”

Jason didn’t respond right away, his gaze trailing after Y/N like a predator tracking its prey. He could see how the fabric clung to Y/N’s shoulders and chest, the way the hem barely grazed the tops of his thighs. It was maddening. He let out a slow, measured breath, leaning back into the couch. “Yeah, sweetheart. It’s mine,” Jason finally said, his voice low but even.

Y/N hummed a little as he rummaged through the fridge. “Well, don’t expect to see it for a while. I’m keeping it.”

Jason’s jaw ticked, his fingers tapping against the armrest of the couch. You’re keeping it, huh? The possessive part of his brain whispered promises of retribution, even as he outwardly played it cool. He waited, biding his time.

Later that night, Jason made his move.

Y/N barely had a chance to react before he found himself pinned beneath Jason on the mattress, the hoodie in question already shoved halfway up his torso. Jason’s massive frame hovered over him, his green-blue eyes blazing with a mix of heat and unrestrained hunger.

“You wore my hoodie,” Jason murmured, his voice husky and low, each word dripping with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine.

“Yeah,” Y/N managed to reply, his voice breathless as Jason’s hands slid beneath the fabric, rough palms grazing over his bare skin. “I… I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Jason smirked, leaning down until his lips brushed against Y/N’s ear. “I don’t mind, sweetheart,” he whispered. “In fact, I like it. But you should’ve known what that would do to me.”

Before Y/N could respond, Jason’s lips captured his in a searing kiss, stealing the air from his lungs. The hoodie bunched awkwardly around Y/N’s chest as Jason adjusted their positions, one hand pinning Y/N’s wrists above his head while the other roamed freely, kneading his thighs and gripping his waist.

Jason moved slowly at first, rocking his hips in a deliberate rhythm that had Y/N arching up into him. The friction of the hoodie’s fabric against their heated skin was intoxicating, Jason’s voice dropping into a growl as he murmured filthy words into Y/N’s ear.

“You wore this out in public,” Jason said, his voice dark and possessive as his hand slid up to gently grip Y/N’s throat. “Let everyone see you in my clothes. Do you know what that does to me? Huh? Knowing they all saw you like this, wearing something that smells like me?”

Y/N whimpered, his eyes glassy as he gazed up at Jason. His thighs trembled where they were pressed against Jason’s hips, every sharp thrust pulling more desperate sounds from his lips.

Jason tightened his grip slightly, just enough to send a jolt of adrenaline through Y/N without ever crossing the line. “Next time,” Jason growled, his pace rough and demanding now, “ask me first. Or better yet, let me put it on you myself. Because when you wear this, it’s not just a hoodie—it’s a mark. A reminder to everyone who you belong to.”

Y/N’s head lolled back against the pillow, his hands twisting beneath Jason’s unyielding grip. His voice was barely above a whisper as he replied, “Yours, Jason. I’m yours.”

That was all Jason needed. He buried himself deeper, his hand slipping from Y/N’s throat to cup his jaw as he captured his lips again. By the time they were both spent, the hoodie had become an even bigger mess—damp with sweat and stretched beyond repair. Jason lay beside Y/N, his chest rising and falling as he dragged a hand over the faint marks he’d left on Y/N’s neck.

“You’re not wearing this hoodie out again,” Jason murmured, his tone soft now, though no less firm.

Y/N let out a sleepy laugh, snuggling closer to Jason’s side. “Good thing you’ve got plenty more for me to borrow.”

Jason chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Y/N smirked, his eyes fluttering shut. “Not a chance.”

Jason let out a soft laugh, wrapping his arms around Y/N and pulling him closer. Because for all his possessiveness, all his need to dominate and claim, it was moments like this—holding Y/N close, feeling the steady beat of his heart—that reminded him what all of it was really for. Y/N couldn’t help but smile to, because no matter how overwhelming Jason’s love could be, it was also the safest place Y/N had ever known.

Yeah, their love really was like no other. Y/N could absolutely understand why people envied and praised their relationship—it was intense, chaotic, and tender all at once, the kind of connection that made rom-coms look bland by comparison. If he were in their shoes, he’d probably be gushing about it too. Hell, he already did, and he was living it.

But honestly? The next person who came up to him with the audacity to ask if Jason was single was about to catch hands. Y/N normally wasn’t the jealous one in their relationship as it’s been made clear—normally—but there were limits. And some people clearly didn’t know what those limits were.

Just ask that bitch, Xavion…

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[tallulah477]

Forbidden Late Night Rendezvous

Neteyam x Fem!Metkayina!Reader

Word Count: 974

A/N: For more about how I picture alien genitalia, see here.

CW:// AgedUp!Neteyam, P in V, Ass Smacking, Sorta Cheating (Reader is promised to another person), Creampie, Alien Genitalia, Knotting

It’s forbidden. You can’t do this with him. 

“Neteyam,” You whimper as he shoves you down harder, your cheek pressing into the rough sand. 

If your mother found out that this is where you come during your late night walks, she would skin you alive and feed you to one of the tsuraks. Your father would be heartbroken, his precious daughter sullied by a Sully - one of the very people he allowed refuge to in their time of need out of the goodness of his own heart. 

Your father’s pained expression and your mother’s angry eyes flash in your mind, threatening to roost there and coil guilt around your heart for betraying them like this. They have a mate picked out for you already. 

Kahoke - a fine hunter. Strong and noble and an invaluable member of the Metkayina. He would make a good mate. He’d be kind and take care of you. Be loyal.

And here you are betraying him. 

Your parents and Kahoke fly out of your mind as fast as the gasp rips from your throat. Neteyam’s hand lands on your ass, the sharp smack of bare skin on bare skin echoing down the empty shoreline. Your hips push back against him harder, ass shaking and begging for another smack that he happily delivers and the sting makes your cunt clench greedily around his cock. 

“Be loud for me, y/n,” He tells you through his grunts, hips snapping against your tender ass. “No one is here. You can moan all you want.”

His demanding tone makes your neglected clit throb even harder and his hands feel like scorching fire on your skin where he has you pinned down, one hand on your hip and the other curled around the back of your neck. His tail curls around his body to wrap around your thigh - yet another action to keep you in your place underneath him. 

Your hands fist into the cold sand, searching for security but finding none when all of the tiny grains just slip right through your fingers. You can’t find any leverage as Neteyam thrusts into you with powerful strokes, grunting and groaning from behind you as he fucks you against the shore of the small secluded beach that had once been your safe haven. 

Neteyam takes it over now and makes it your place - together. You can’t find it in your heart to mind. 

He fills you up so perfectly, stretching you out on his cock and bullying your insides with the barbs on his shaft. The feeling of him inside you makes your brain melt, your arms limp at your sides as your mouth hangs open in a permanent silent scream. You know your drool is making wet spots on the sand. 

“You feel so good wrapped around me,” He moans, cock throbbing between your slick walls. “So perfect for me, yawne.”

You whine. “We shouldn’t–AH!” 

He cuts off your protest with another sharp smack to your ass, the skin under his hand tingling and warm against his palm. 

“Shut up,” He growls. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

You can feel the large ball of his knot bumping against your entrance and a whimper claws at your throat as you subconsciously press back against it. You shouldn’t let him knot you. The meaning of it is too intense. The risk it poses to everything  - everything that you’ve built for yourself and the life you're supposed to have is too much to allow. 

“That’s it, paskalin. Gonna take my knot like a good girl?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You whine, but it’s all in vain. You know it and he knows it. 

You’re going to take his knot because you both want you to - betrayals, forbidden rendezvous, and right and wrong be damned. 

Your words still make him angry though, jealousy evident, and he punishes you by grabbing a handful of your loose hair, dragging your head back as far as you can take it as he pushes his knot inside your greedy cunt. You cry out as he shoves his hips against your ass, the knot slipping inside your dripping hole as it clenches around him, desperate to keep him inside your warmth as if pushing him out was even an option. 

“Fuck, Neteyam!” You scream.

Neteyam hisses at you in warning, his tail tightening into a death grip around your thigh as his hand sneaks down to rub quick circles on your swollen clit. “Shut the fuck up and cum for me,”

The feel of him stretching you out, locked and held hostage on his knot, and the skilled pressure of his long fingers on your sensitive clit are your undoing. Your eyes roll back into your head as you cum, moaning and body shaking as it tries to jerk away in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. But Neteyam keeps you still, pinning you against the sand as he drags every ounce of your orgasm out of you. 

Distantly, through your pleasured haze, you can hear Neteyam’s own groans of satisfaction. His cock throbs, the knot just locked inside the rim of your entrance swelling and growing even more as he cums inside you. The warmth of his release coats your insides, and it feels both just as damning and satisfying as it truly is. 

It’s only then that Neteyam releases you from your pinned place underneath him. Carefully, he maneuvers you until you’re both on your side and he wraps his arms around your shaking form, holding you close in his protective embrace. 

“You did so good, yawne,” He tells you. 

You don’t respond, the guilt already crawling back like it always does despite how good it feels to be in his arms. 

It’s forbidden. You shouldn’t do it. But you know you’re going to keep doing it anyway. 

[poppadom0912]

FBI

Characters: Kelly Severide x Reader, half of firehouse 51

Warnings: Brief mentions of a crime idk.

Summary: This wasn't exactly what they were thinking when an fbi agent strolled into their firehouse.

A/N: I had such a nice plan for this little beauty but then I messed up and then I remembered I had homework due tomorrow that I haven't done so please enjoy this ugly piece of writing. Kinda don't want to publish this but I need to feed you lot before I get swamped in holiday homework.

"Hey, I'm looking for a Kelly Severide."

You said, asking the first person you found. It was your first time in the firehouse and this definitely wasn't how you planned it to be but you could make this work.

"Lieutenant Kelly Severide?" The woman rose her brow, her voice coming across as soft as she looked. You couldn't deny she was pretty and taking into account her blonde hair and the word paramedic on her uniform caused your brows to rise ever so slightly.

"Oh! You must be Sylvie Brett." You smiled, holding out your hand for the paramedic to shake which she did with much confusion and slight fear. "Agent Y/N Y/L/N."

"You work for the fbi." She stated, fidgeting with her fingers once your hands were released. It was clear she was shocked and you could understand why; your gun in its holster, your shiny golden badge and the bold yellow letters printed on the back of your government issued jacket.

"Yes I do." You replied with a tight lipped smile, annoyed that your job was the first impression everyone at the firehouse would be getting from you; these men and women were family to Kelly and greeting them for the first time ever in your uniform wasn't what you wanted.

Before Sylvie could fully shake off her shock, someone butted into the conversation, having spotted and recognising you.

"Y/N, you're back." Matt smiled, his arms wide inviting your for a hug which you immediately accepted. The captain was the one person in Kelly's life that knew of your existence since there was no hiding you from his roomate, especially since your stay became more permanent.

The hug was what caught everyone's attention. Sylvie talking to someone was normal but Matt hugging a stranger wasn't, hence all the heads turning and when all their eyes widened, you weren't surprised.

"Feds." Two men whispered in sync upon laying eyes on you, the others stood out of their seats and came around to you in the middle of the common room.

"What do the feds want with us now?" One man asked, crossing his arms with an attitude that you could smell from a mile away. Maybe it was his accent or it could've been his snarky tone which got him a quick reprimand from the captain but you knew his name.

"Christopher Herrmann, right?" You pointed at him, your smile brightening when he did a double take at the name you guessed correct.

"It's probably creepy that I know all your names and I really wished that we could've met under better circumstances but I will explain everything." You said, sheepishly smiling at the very confused group of firefighters.

"Y/N! What are you doing here?" Kelly noticed you from afar, it was hard not to recognise the three yellow letter the second he turned the corner.

Within seconds, Kelly enveloped you into his arms and despite the reputation that you wanted to maintain, you folded and accepted the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist, contently inhaling the comforting scent that always followed your boyfriend.

"Okay I'm sorry but who are you?"

"Agent Y/N Y/L/N." You replied automatically, not even thinking about leaving out the agent. Biting the inside of your lip, you internally cursed at yourself.

"She's my girlfriend." Kelly smirked, his arm happily resting across your shoulders where he could keep you close to him. "Whose actually supposed to be in Texas right about now, what happened?"

"Everything's fine. We apprehended our guy earlier than expected and there might've been a gunfight and there's a small possibility I was in the middle but a graze is nothing." You said with ease since it was your job and you loved everything it entailed but to your crowd, you seemed like a lunatic and a hero combined in one.

"You're kidding." Kelly looked down at you in concern, his heart rate picking up at the mere thought of you getting hurt, even if you brushed it off as a papercut.

Before you could explain further that a graze inflicted zero pain, a man you could name purely based off the aura that surrounded him entered the common room.

"Agent, what can we do for you?" The tallest man came forward and asked, his hands shaking yours before they were on his hips. From his stance and the way his voice was so gentle but commandeering made it easy for you to deduce his position in the firehouse; it also helped that Kelly continuously boasted about the men and women of 51.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your day chief." You firstly apologised, sheepishly smiling at the firefighters who were shocked at Kelly's arm still wrapped around your waist. "I need nothing but a few minutes with lieutenant Severide and I'll be out your hair."

"Don't be silly." Kelly shook his head, looking down at you with a slight frown. "Why don't you stay for lunch, you can't just appear out of nowhere and not eat with us."

"I have so much paperwork I left behind. My boss will have my throat if they're not done." You tried fighting Kelly but he looked at you with such big eyes that you wanted to drown yourself in and a slight pout was making itself known and before you knew it, you were caving in.

"Alright, just a few bites and then I have to go."

It was safe to say, some feds were okay.

[butchreg]

cg ! caitlyn kiramman with a baby boy regressor headcanons !!

requested by 🦁 anon. hai new anon ~ヾ(＾∇＾) . i've been cooking up a storm in the past few days hehe. 1 more request after this one then i will likely turn anons back on if any of my lovely anons would like to chat / request some more or if anyone else is itching to do so but shy. i'm also getting pretty close to 100 followers ! wowowowow :O thank you all sm ! i'm wondering if there's something i should do to celebrate? lmk if there's anything special you'd like to see from me to celebrate that milestone. okay yap over thanks for listening ! arcane masterlist here , upcoming list here

caitlyn loves to play peekabo with her baby boy, getting really into it. babies aren't good with object permanence though so if you're to get fussy she drops it right away. "shh, baby. no need to cry, mummy's right here !"

she's so attentive to your babbles, nodding along as if you're speaking coherently, encouraging you. "uh huh, is that right my love? you're so smart, who's mama's smart little boy?"

caitlyn loves seeing you smile, often tickling your tummy or chucking your chin to hear your little giggle. she always kisses your dimples which makes you giggle as well.

she's taller than you and is able to lift you onto her hip which you love. you're always making grabby hands at her, wanting her to pick you up. you love being carried so much, it makes you feel so tiny and loved.

caitlyn picking out your outfits, telling you how handsome you look. she loves shopping for you buying more clothes than you'll ever need.

she also buys you so many toys. she knows a lot of facts, telling you all about each of your dinosaur figurines and animal toys. she doesn't know much about cars but she looks up facts about the ones you like the best.

she buys you special patterned diapers with dinosaurs and jungle animals on them. if you're feeling fussy about needing a change, she'll talk you through it having you pick which diaper you want and praising you when you're done. "there, all done ! you're such a good boy, feeling better now?"

caitlyn is one of those mamas who soothes their baby by bouncing them on her hip, or carrying them around. she boops your nose, or rubs your back until you doze off in your mama's arms.

caitlyn bottle feeding you because you're too small to eat solid foods. :( she's got you on one hip while you fuss as she warms your bottle. "shhh shhh, it's coming silly boy," she chuckles, testing the temperature before sitting down in a comfy spot with you so you can nurse it. "is that yummy, hmm?" she smiles, holding your head up with one arm and the bottle with the other. your eyes slowly begin to flutter sleepily and she coos. "there we go, all done?"

caitlyn bathing you oh so gently, getting fishy bath toys for you to play with. you love baths with mama, sometimes if you're feeling especially tiny and clingy you'll bathe together, not wanting to break contact with your mama. caitlyn letting you soap up her hair and play with it, laughing at the silly styles you come up with. caitlyn giving you a soap beard and being so careful when she's washing you, checking in periodically to make sure you're still comfortable. you never want to get out, crying when the water gets cold and mama makes you get out. you have a bunch of animal head towels, which she wraps you up in immediately. she wipes your tears away, soothing you verbally as she gently dries you off. "i know buddy bathtime's fun, huh? don't cry my love, we'll have another bath soon."

[humming-fly]

North Carolina Relief Masterlist

One of my close friends is currently living in North Carolina and took the time to put together this really nicely organized list of organizations currently taking donations after Hurricane Helene, and I thought it'd be nice to share it on tumblr as well since I know some folks like these kinds of organized lists! All links and descriptions come from her and her experiences with the orgs below. 👍

Foundation

The Community Foundation of WNC - Read no further if you want a catch-all, one stop donation spot for WNC long-term Helene response. CFWNC is a permanent pool of charitable capital for the 18 counties of Western North Carolina including the Qualla Boundary (land of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians). They are an amazing source of consistent support to many WNC nonprofits via grant opportunities. They have financially supported so many of the non-profits I have encountered or worked with. Donate to the cause of your choice via CFWNC (including the Helene response specifically) here.

Food Security, Farm Support & More

Bounty & Soul (Swannanoa Valley, Black Mountain, and Asheville) - decade-old non-profit currently typically focused on health and food insecurity now working in partnership with World Central Kitchen, MANNA, Hearts with Hands, and many others to distribute food, hot meals, and supplies. They are also working to resume purchasing and distributing fresh produce from farmers in WNC who still have crops to harvest and sell. Donate to their disaster relief here.

Annie’s Culinary Garden - I often frequent this small but mighty Black Mountain restaurant, which is closely partnered with Bounty & Soul. Annie’s was already embedded in health and food justice work pre-Helene but the last 2 weeks, Annie and her team have been working around the clock (using a generator to power their restaurant) to provide free vegan, vegetarian, and other diet-specific hot meals to retirement homes, distribution hubs, and also to feed the staff and volunteers at these hubs. This has been a huge need expressed to me by community members because much of the food available at distribution sites is not able to be eaten by those requiring special diets. Donate to their effort here.

Haywood Christian Ministry (Waynesville) - WNC’s largest food pantry has partnered with MANNA (WNC's largest food bank?) and is distributing food on the ground and requesting donations to help with the emergency disaster response. They are also directly purchasing from WNC farms to distribute fresh foods for folks cooking bulk hot meals and for families who can cook at home. For info and to donate, go here. 

Food Connection(Asheville-based) - I first encountered this org at a food waste solutions summit and thought their concept was brilliant. They rescue high-quality, chef-prepared meals and deliver them to neighbors in need (often those who can’t afford to participate regularly in Asheville’s expensive foodie culture). I have since seen them out in Asheville and beyond to rural communities doing exactly what they do best and delivering delicious, no-cost hot meals to Helene victims. Donate to them here.

Foothills Food Hub (McDowell County) - McDowell was hit really hard and this hub is working to source water and shelf-stable goods to distribute. They will continue to feed vulnerable populations and to support farmers with direct purchasing and a reliable market. Requesting monetary donations, which can be made online here.

TRACTOR Food & Farms (Spruce Pine*, Mitchell County) - In another hard-hit county, this hub is also working, much like the Foothills Food Hub, on connecting local farmers with folks in a system of equitable healthy food access in rural communities. Donate to this local food hub here.

*Interesting aside: Spruce Pine and its quartz mines were extremely damaged by flooding and this threatens the global tech industry. This rural town is home to one of the world’s only sources of high-purity quartz. The mines are currently trying to re-open.

MANNA FoodBank (Asheville) - This very large organization is still doing what they do best and distributing food, water, and more, despite having their warehouse/headquarters were destroyed in the flooding along the Swannanoa River. Donate online here.

Farmer Support & Advocacy

Appalachian Sustainable Agriculture Project (ASAP) (WNC) - this wide-reaching farmer advocacy org is currently reestablishing communications with WNC farmers and getting aid to them. They also have healthy food programs that, once operating again, will serve tangentially in the relief effort. I have worked adjacent to this org for the last year and am a dogged cheerleader of them and their work. Donations can be made here.

Center for Environmental Farming Systems (Qualla Boundry and WNC) -  CEFS works closely with the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, NC State, extension services and more to support food and farm initiatives across WNC. I previously worked adjacent to this org and was extremely impressed by their commitment and effectiveness. Donate (ideally to “Friends of CEFS” for more flexible funding) here. 

Tierra Fértil Coop (Hendersonville) - social and economic farmer cooperative formed by a group of Hispanic community members living in Henderson County that grows and provides culturally-specific foods but also has community programs to support the Latinx community in Henderson county. I have attended some of their educational events and have worked adjacent to them. I am ever impressed by their work. Donate to them by emailing tierrafertilcoophv@gmail.com.

Economic Justice & More

Pisgah Legal Services (all over WNC) - these folks do just about everything “life admin” for WNC's most vulnerable populations and have done so for over forty years. They provide pro bono civil legal aid, health insurance enrollment, and more. I have worked adjacent to them over the last year and could not be more impressed by their broad scope of bi-lingual legal work that maintains incredible efficiency and effectiveness. Donate to them here. 

Just Economics (WNC) - JE works on shaping the economic development of WNC in a way that benefits everyone and promotes a sustainable future. I have attended some of their workshops and found them to be powerfully educational. I am also grateful for their political advocacy for living wages for all in WNC. They are not directly working on the Helene response (as far as I know), but the road to recovery is long and their economic justice advocacy will be especially crucial as WNC rebuilds. Donate to JE here. 

BeLoved (Asheville) - Org working on improving the well-being and quality of life for individuals, families, and communities through our focus areas of Home, Health, Equity, and Opportunity. On-the-ground volunteers are currently collecting and distributing a wide array of supplies and BeLoved will continue to play a significant long-term role in housing and more. Donate to BeLoved here.

Health Services & Equity

Blue Ridge Health (WNC) - Blue Ridge Health is a federally qualified health center that is continuing to provide accessible & affordable medical care and mental health care to vulnerable populations (now including Helene victims) with their sites around the region and mobile clinics. Donate here.

Vecinos (WNC) - This rapidly growing org provides direct healthcare services to underserved, uninsured communities with a focus on WNC's farmworkers at their clinics and with mobile clinics on site at farms. Donate to their continuing services here. 

Asheville Buncombe Community Christian Ministry (Asheville based) - The ABCCM helps run and provide shelter in Asheville and is partnered with the Red Cross. Donations help pay for motel and food vouchers for local residents and long-term support for those displaced. A personal aside: ABCCM also has an awesome medical clinic serving uninsured folks and they were the only medical service I could find that would treat a tick born illness that I had when I first arrived in the US from Canada (I did not yet have health insurance). To donate to their Helene response, go here.

Schools & Youth

FernLeaf Community Charter School (Fletcher) - FernLeaf was partially destroyed by Helene (one of the school buildings was entirely lifted off of its foundation then dropped several feet away in a truly remarkable display of the power of water from a small nearby creek). Donate to FernLeaf here. 

United Way of Asheville and Buncombe County - The local United Way typically works on youth/child food security, educational support, and physical and mental health care services. The org is helping with immediate natural disaster response and long-term support for flood victims. Donations can be made online here.

Other

Blue Ridge Public Radio - obviously these NPR folks have been working around the clock to keep people informed in the old-fashioned way, over the airwaves. You can support them here.

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 18: Never forget you /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N attend one last event before she returns to her home permanently.

Word Count: 3,6K

Warnings: SMUT and angst...

Notes: This chapter was hard to write heheeh and in my head they're dancing to Por Una Cabeza at that scene hahahaha

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

Y/N sighed, her hand high in the air, unsure if she should knock on his door or not. It was almost a week since they defeated Mantyx, Azriel’s injuries took longer to heal this time, and despite wanting to see him the second they departed, she gave space for him and his family.

She wanted to see him, feeding on the crumbles of information that Nesta gave her everyday. The oldest Archeron, alongside Elain, tried to convince her to go see him sooner, but she didn’t want to bother, and some alone time was what she needed after opening her heart like that for him.

50 years had passed since she allowed a male to have a hold of her heart and now she was scared, she had given it to him without even noticing, she was his but they couldn’t stay together, would life always be so unfair to her? She had to go back and keep Asterin’s legacy, she would do her duty. 

“He’s been asking for you every day.” A voice startled her and she turned to see Cassian leaning on the wall behind her, his eyes scanning her up and down. “Why’d you never come?” 

“He needed time to heal.” She shyly replied, like she had been caught doing something she shouldn't.

“He needed you.” Cassian simply said and she felt her heart squeeze in her chest, guilty spreading like poison and making her guts twist. “Don’t make him wait any longer.” He tipped his chin in the direction of the door and she nodded, raising her hand and knocking three times. 

At the sound of Azriel’s raspy voice allowing her in, she stepped inside, being greeted by a wave of his shadows eagerly assessing her, travelling up and down her body, leaving goosebumps in their trace. She giggled at the feeling, her eyes meeting him as she did it.

“I thought you had left without saying goodbye.” He joked but she could see the pain reflected in his hazel orbs. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you needed space.” Azriel patted the empty spot by his side and she quickly sat, basking in the smell of him that filled her senses, warmth irradiated from his body and she almost melted in it, she had missed him. 

“From their constant worry and not even letting me lift a fork, maybe. But never from you.” His scarred hand slides over the soft fabric of the blankets that covered him, finding their resting spot on top of hers.

“I didn’t realise you wanted me here.” She admitted and Azriel laughed a little.

“After you just told me you loved me? There’s no other place that I would rather be than by your side.” She felt the blood heating her cheeks and Azriel marvelled at the sight of her odd blush, blue suited her so well. “Did you really mean it?” 

He had to ask, he had to know. Despite understanding that she needed time to face her feelings towards him, an insecure part of him wondered if he had imagined it, if she wasn’t saying out of pity, he had sunken in those thoughts everyday, but seeing her right now, made all of his worries vanish. 

“Of course I mean it.” She spoke so quickly, like thinking otherwise was such an outrageous thought. “You have my heart.”

“Then I'll gladly keep it.” He said and pulled her to lean on his chest, she rested her head above his heart, hearing the soft beats of it, trying to focus on anything else other than the sound of her heart breaking even further. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

After visiting him for the first time, she couldn't find it in herself to be away from him. As he got better, they strolled through the gardens, sparred in the training ring in the House of Wind and sat together by the Rainbow. 

But as much as she wanted to stay in his arms forever, there was a gnawing feeling in her gut, telling her that she was failing and that she didn't belong there. That he would eventually get sick of her and she would be alone again, those thoughts coming late at night when she couldn't sleep, her eyes scanning his soft features, trying to commit everything to memory while she still could. 

Every night she would pretend to be asleep, trying to keep her frantic thoughts calm, but to no avail. As Nesta had mastered the art of opening the gate in Ramiel, the day of her departure was getting closer, making her uneasy. 

There was still one more thing that she needed to do before going back, and that was to attend the coronation of Eris. As soon as the Vanserras went back to their court, Eris finally gathered the courage to challenge his father, the old fae had lost everything to his son, and was exiled to Mother knows where, so he could never harm anyone again. 

The invite included the whole inner circle of Rhysand, and Lucien made it extra clear that he wanted her there, and Y/N couldn't say no to him, she could never say no to him. So a day after the celebrations, they would all gather one last time, to say their goodbyes to her. 

She didn't know if she would ever find a way back, the thought of leaving everything behind was something she tried not thinking about often, cuz it hurt her deeply. Never seeing Azriel again, not being able to join the Valkyries in training, not learning from Elain as she had promised she would. All of those things chirped away bits of her heart, and she would never recover them. She would miss this place. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The winds of the Autumn Court carried a soft smell of leaves and maple. The soft hustling of the trees mixed with the melody the band was playing made the whole atmosphere feel warm and magical. 

The guests dressed in orange and earthy tones, she wore a terracotta dress, with a tight corset and a flowy tulle skirt. Her hair was pinned away from her face with silver accessories in the shape of leaves and little makeup painted her face. 

Y/N gripped Azriel's arm tighter as a cold breeze made her shiver, his hazel eyes turning towards her to check if she was okay, she gave him a big smile, one he would guard in his heart forever, she looked beautiful like that, with the faelights making her skin glow. 

Something in his chest sparked with life when he saw her approaching him back at the Night Court as they got ready to leave. Since he woke up after the battle against Mantyx, it was like something was missing from his mind, blurry moments where he couldn't remember for sure what had happened and he was still trying to get those memories back. 

They sat beside Nesta and Cassian, Rhys and Feyre were among the other High Lords and Elain sat with Lucien in the part reserved for family only. A priest had introduced Eris, the male walking in the corridor towards his throne. He knelt in front of the priest, professing his vows of putting the people first and being the best High Lord he could for his Court. 

The guests stood and bowed their heads towards the male as the crown rested atop his head and he sat on his throne, a proud smile gracing his features as he thanked everyone for coming and gave them a speech. 

Eris crossed the corridor again, each row of guests followed him outside where a feast was waiting for them. Around the whole Court, similar feasts were being held so everyone could celebrate the coronation as one. 

“Who would've thought that the Autumn Court could be so nice?” Nesta spoke, sipping on her  champagne. 

“With that fucker away to the confines of hell, it's certainly a decent place now.” Cassian replied, lifting his glass in a toast. “To never having to deal with Beron again.”

The four of them raised their glasses and giggled as it touched, the glasses clinking together. Food started to be served and they started to eat.

“Do you think we can dance after?” Azriel shyly asked and Y/N turned to him, those beautiful eyes looking at him with curiosity. 

“Yeah, of course.” She replied and saw how he blushed. 

“After I saw you with Lucien at the Hewn City, I knew I had to learn how to dance with you.” He told her and winked towards Nesta who had a grin on her face as she silently watched their exchange.

“You learned how to dance for me?” She breathed out and Azriel nodded. 

She didn't even give him time to think, dropping her fork and removing the napkin from her lap, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the dancefloor. 

His hand circled her waist and the other grabbed hers, and as a more slow, passionate rhythm started to play, they danced along with it. The violin guided their movements, their eyes never leaving each other as they moved around. Their feet slid along the floor as Azriel spun her around. It was like the rest of the party didn't exist and they were the only two in the world. 

For someone as tall and strong as Azriel, his movements were like a river, and he moved graciously around, Nesta certainly had done a very great job in teaching him. The other couple soon joined them as Nesta couldn't hold herself back any longer, the only two couples on the dancefloor as the other guests watched. 

His grip on her was firm as he guided them. The four of them doing their moves, Nesta's and Y/N’s skirts brushing as the females spun really close but never touching, not ruining the other's dance. The song came to an end, and Azriel was panting as he leaned over her arched form, like a bow ready to snap. Her scent filled his nose and messed with his head.

His nose slowly slid along her exposed neck and she shivered at the touch. It took everything in him to remember they weren't alone as he helped her to her feet and the guests applauded them, some getting up to join the dance as a new song started. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She took a deep breath, holding her hair in a bun atop her head, her back against the railing as she eyed the stars.

“Do you really have to leave?” Lucien asked as he sipped from a cup of whiskey. The two had sneaked out while Elain danced with Azriel and Nesta. 

She looked down on the balcony, those tiny figures dancing in the distance. And she turned back to her friend and the concerned filling his gaze.

“I have to…” Lucien nodded his head in understanding.

“I will miss you.” The male said, pulling her towards him for a tight hug. She wrapped him in her arms, feeling the tears clouding her vision as she felt his warmth, his golden heart thrumming against her chest. 

���You have no idea how I'm glad we met, I'll miss you too, Luci.” The male smiled at the nickname. 

“Me too, witchling, me too.” The balcony door opened and a smiling Elain entered followed by Azriel. Her hands smoothed over the fabric of her dress and she looked at Y/N, her kind brown eyes filled with sadness. 

“We'll leave you two alone.” She said, grabbing Lucien by the arm and dragging the male with her.

“Are you feeling better?” Azriel asked and she nodded. 

“I just needed some fresh air.” The male nodded, joining her against the stones that formed the balcony. “You put up quite a show down there.” She smiled at him.

“Did you enjoy my dancing skills?” He leaned towards her, his hands caging her hips against the balcony. 

“Very much.” Her breath got caught in her throat as his lips started to kiss the skin of her neck, sucking and biting gently. 

“How much?” He asked against her neck and she shivered. 

“To the point that all I could think was riding you right in the middle of the dancefloor.” Azriel grinned with that and stood again to look at her. 

“Then hold on tight.” He warned and she held the collar of his attire, the Shadowsinger just told Rhys that they would leave and winnowed them back to his room in the House of Wind. 

Her mouth was on his in a second, exploring hungrily as her hands roamed around, removing the coat and bursting the buttons out of their confinement to expose his chest to her. 

His shadows went to work, unlacing the corset that held her dress in place, eagerly working to strip her out of it as quickly as they could. Their tongues clashed against each other, making it hard to breathe as they fought for dominance. 

Her iron claws sliding up and down his abs, making him twitch with anticipation. As soon as her dress pooled at her feet, she stepped out of it. Her kisses trailing down to his neck and down his body, until she was kneeling at eye level with his crotch, her hands working to remove his belt and pants. 

Azriel shivered as he stood, her velvety mouth wrapped around his cock as it spring free from his breeches. He closed his eyes as he felt her taking him inch by inch, until she couldn't fit it anymore. Bobbing her head and cupping his balls, making him groan as pleasure builded up on his body. 

She licked the vein on the side, her tongue playing with the slip of his tip as she masturbated the rest with her hand. Drool leaked from the corners of her mouth as she took him again, fastening her movements until Azriel was a moaning mess, his hand clutched tightly to her scalp, guiding her movements until his cock twitched, hot jets of cum down her throat, she licked him clean, releasing it with a loud pop.

Azriel cupped her cheek, as she batted her lashes at him. He helped her up again, pulling her in for a kiss, feeling his taste on her tongue. He wanted to taste her so bad, but she pushed him to the bed. She removed her pants, her glorious breasts already exposed as she wore no bra underneath the dress. And as she sank down on him, taking him in her warm cunt, Azriel swore he had reached paradise. 

He sat as she rode him, his mouth attached to her breasts, switching from one to the other as he sucked and played with her hard nipples. Her arms caged him against her as she threw her head back in pleasure, feeling her orgasm building in her belly. 

She rolled her hips, angling her body so he would hit deeper inside her. Her lips were open and she moaned loudly, feeling Azriel hit her g spot every damn time, she was so stuffed of his cock that she could die there and she would do it happily. 

“I love you.” She said in between heavy breaths, Azriel looked at her, his heart beating fast in his chest..

“Say it again.” He demanded and she more than happily obligated. 

“I love you, Azriel.” The male lost his composure. 

He pushed his thumb into her mouth and she wrapped her tongue around it, wetting it for him. Azriel slid a hand in between them, finding her bundle of nerves on the apex of her thighs, rubbing circles until she couldn't hold any longer, her movements becoming sloppy as she came with a loud cry of his name. 

Azriel held her fragile body, snapping his hips up until he was spilling inside her, his hot cum dripping from her cunt and on his thighs, making her pant and wince as her sensitive walls tried to go back to normal. 

That night, they loved each other until the sun rose, lost In each other's body until they couldn't even lift a finger, tiredness weighing their bodies down as they laid to finally sleep. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

It was midday when they woke up, getting lost in each other again as they showered. Azriel silently helped her into her leathers, strapping her cloak and her sword for her as she adjusted her hair in a braid. 

The whole family waited for them, and as they sat to have a meal together, she could feel the sadness lingering around, she didn't want to leave but she had to, and by the looks of it, none of them wanted her to go back to. If things weren't so complicated.

Azriel didn't say a thing as he sat behind her on Meraxes, the wyvern silently flying towards Ramiel where the rest of them would winnow. She watched Velaris, the beautiful city getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from her sight. She would miss it so much. 

Meraxes landed on the side of the mountain, his claws digging on the stone like they did on their first time at the House of Wind, that felt like a distant memory now. 

“I hate having to do it.” Nesta said as they approached. She held the wyrd keys in between trembling fingers, she didn't want to see her friend leave but no one would force her to stay. 

“It's what she decided, Nes.” Feyre said. 

“As the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court we thank you for helping us to get rid of a great threat for us. Your name will never be forgotten. As your friends, we will miss you.” Rhysand said, pulling her for a hug, being joined by Feyre. 

“You're strong and you have a great heart, never forget that.” Feyre whispered in her ear and she felt the tears getting harder to contain. 

“We're going to miss you in training.” Gwyn said and Emerie embraced the two females.

“Thank you for sharing what you knew with us, you would be a great Valkyrie.” The Illyrian female said and Y/N hugged them tightly. 

“It's going to be weird not buying him sheeps every day. Be safe out there.” Cassian said, pulling her for a hug as well. Tears now streamed freely on her face. 

“I never got the chance to teach you how to garden.” Elain said sadly, wiping her tears from her brown eyes. “Thank you for putting some sense in me, I couldn't be happier and with the right person.”

“Take care of him, Elain.” She held the middle Archeron sister's hand. 

“I promise.” The female said, and as in true Night Court style, the two felt their skin prick and Y/N looked at Elain's arm, where a fox carrying a rose in its mouth appeared, a matching one on herself, sealing their promise. 

“You still can stay with us, I'm sure Jurian and Vassa don't mind.” Lucien said, holding her so tight that she couldn't breath. 

“Tell them that I'll miss them too. Be happy Lucien, don't let anyone take anything from you ever again.” Lucien nodded.

“Never.” She smiled at him and he kissed her forehead. 

Nesta inserted the key into the slit, energising the gate with her power. A light appeared, like a beacon in the darkness. She had shown them what Erilea looked like, so Nesta kept that in mind and as Y/N looked up, she could see a bright sunny day on the other side. 

“If you ever need us, I will get you back.” Nesta said, pulling her for one last hug, she hated this, she wished they could have convinced her to stay. 

“Thank you Nes, you're a true friend.” She wiped the female's tears and Nesta laughed in between her cry. She loved Y/N.

The female lastly approached a quiet Azriel, he dreaded this moment but he would never do anything to make her unhappy, so he pulled her for a hug. Cupping her face in between his hands, he would never forget her. His shadows caressed her cheek and she giggled. 

“I love you, thank you for loving me too.” She said and he leaned his forehead against hers, kissing her passionately before he let her go.

“Even though this was all the time we had, I'm glad we had it at all. I love you, Y/N Blackbeak, and I always will.” And then she knew, she could never love anyone ever again because her heart would be here, with him, as long as she lived. 

He watched her climb Meraxes, flying towards the gap in the world. His head started to pound as the memories from that day with Mantyx filled his head, the missing pieces from the puzzle he was trying to complete. Clear as the day on the other side, he remembered. 

Mantyx said he would break the bond, the bond that tied the two together for the rest of their lives, and it was in pure agony that Azriel watched his mate disappear in that gate, his knees collapsing on the floor as he sobbed. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

As Y/N fell through the worlds, once again landing upside down, she groaned, feeling her empty chest and that bond alongside her soul. She looked around, for some reason she was sent to Terrasen, Orynth glowing in the distance. 

And as she took in the sight of that familiar place, breathed the air of her own world, she wished that Azriel had been selfish enough to beg her to stay.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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[lowcosmic]

its me again! i feel like calling myself wet dream kokichi anon would be awkward so my sign off is 💫 from now on!

can i request vampire kokichi feeding on reader? suggestive but no smut.

reader is used to it. but to make things interesting, he makes it a little spicy this time. also some fluff at the end (kokichi teasing reader for their reactions). thank youuu <3

—— lovebites . ; kokichi ouma

“ it was like a masochist’s dream — a line of blood running down your skin , only for kokichi to lap it all up. ”

— 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : vampire kokichi feeding on his favorite life source.

— 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : fluff

— 𝐜𝐰 : some suggestive hints & mentions of blood

— 𝐚/𝐧 : eeeEEEEEEE oh btw i ain’t a vampire connoisseur so don’t attack me pls

“ y’know , if you keep taking my blood , someday i’ll end up looking like a prune. ” you informed kokichi as he stared at you with a form of puppy eyes.

“ you woooon’t , i promise!! ” kokichi latched onto your arm. “ i marked you , remember? that’s basically a signed contract saying that unless i die , you can’t die because you’re my number one life support!! jeez , how many times do i have to tell you this?! ”

it was true. once you’d found out his secret , you’d let him feed off you without the marking or “ contract, ” as he’d like to call it. then , your health started deteriorating , leading him to tell you about how he could still have you and keep you alive at the same time.

and so , you let him permanently mark you — it hurt like heck since it’d been engraved into your skin , but you were all for not dying by his sharp fangs.

so you couldn’t die unless he died. then you’d become mortal again and go on to live normally. you were stuck with him , wether you liked it or not.

you could definitely feel pain , though. you always felt a slight pinch every time kokichi's teeth broke through , but he’d always physically comfort you and make sure you’re okay.

and soon enough , you got used to it . it started becoming sort of alluring.

“ fine , fine. go ahead. ” you pulled him in , feeling his mouth hover over your soft , enticing flesh. the smell was almost enough for kokichi to ravage you fully , but lucky for you , he had self control. only took what he needed , never too gluttonous.

“ hey , hey. i was thinking we could do something … a bit different this time. ” he whispered in your ear , a bit sultry.

“ what do y —? ”

“ just something to … excite this more. we’re dating after all! and couples have fun with each other , right?? ”

“ what … did you have in mind? ”

you felt him lick at your skin.

“ koki — ?! ” he cut you off by smashing his lips onto yours , muffling a small yelp from you. he swiftly pinned you to the nearby wall , licking your bottom lip seductively. you moved your hand to grip at the back of his hair. you pulled him in closer.

he pushed his tongue against your lips, taking your other hand and squeezing it. he then pinned that to the wall as well, forcing his tongue in your mouth.

you could practically smell the aggressiveness on him , his rough handling making you wonder if he’d wanted this for a while now.

meanwhile , kokichi was going crazy over your scent. over the proximity. over you. he wanted to just mark you over and over again with no stopping, sinking his fangs in your neck to show everyone else that you were taken.

he lowered his head to your jaw , softly nipping there before going to your neck.

he immediately bit down , sinking his teeth in to replenish his thirst. you tasted so wonderful to him , better than the blood of his enemies or any animal organism.

he sucked on the spot to numb it a bit , saving you little from the incoming sharp shot of pain — his tongue making sure it turned into a better feeling.

it was like a masochist’s dream — a line of blood running down your skin , only for kokichi to lap it all up. he kissed the wound before moving to another spot , repeating the procedure.

indents of his teeth were left in your flesh , your fluids daring to come out under kokichi’s watchful eye.

“ k - kokichi … sheesh , my whole neck’s going to — ” you stuttered out.

“ shh , don’t worry — i'll help disinfect and bandage these later.~ ” he said back.

kissing the identical blotch , he made a few others down the line of the front side of your throat.

you were used to his love markings ; but usually they were light and not too deep into your skin. but this time, they were set deep enough for you to feel the carvings without touching them — his signs of affection.

he made sure not to leave any excess blood after adding a couple more marks on , running off suddenly to go get the “ feeding session first aid kit ”.

you stood there against the wall , breathing heavily from the session. heck , what noises were you making during that?

he came back a few moments later , taking out the ointment and the roll and unraveling it to go around your neck.

leaving a big smooch on your lips, he hugged you tightly for a brief moment.

“ i heard a moan!!~ ” he smugly teased.

“ your ears are broken!!! ” you shouted back.

“ my ears are NEVER wrong! come ooooon , just admiiiit it!! you liked it! you liked it , you liked it , you liked it!!! ”

“ … whatever. ” you looked away , flustered and not meeting his perked up eyes.

“ heyyy!!!! don’t look away from me , (s/o)!! ” kokichi pouted , wrapping his arms around your neck to try to get you to turn your head.

eventually , you gave in and looked at his curly hair tips. kokichi stared at you innocently , as if he wasn’t responsible for your newly wrapped neck and aching muscles.

kissing your jawline delicately , he uttered a thank you.

how could someone so devious be so sweet at the same time?

please don’t repost , translate , or claim my works as your own.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Okay have read “tides of fate” now.

First: obligatory fave quote: “No sooner had he breathed the air into his new lungs than he had claimed your mouth, fell with you to the ground on the very spot where his new feet had first touched it, and begged to have his wife.”

Like yes, babe, and it was hot as fuck.

Second: that it was evil!reader that persuaded Sauron back on track instead of maybe considering going home with his tail between his legs makes “Defied” so much spicier. Now it has an undercurrent of “you wouldn’t even be here without me, why won’t you listen? Why won’t you yield just a little?” It calls attention to the fact that Sauron thinks of her as a part of him, not just in the cutesy way but also (subconsciously and probably buried deep in his mind) as a part of him to serve his purposes. A beloved vital organ, barred from going against him in anyway.

My longstanding conspiracy theory is that Sauron (esp as you write him but generally) has a need to be Adored, (in canon in the sense of being worshipped, in fanfic land in both worship and the romantic relationship sense). I think your evil reader series couples really well with that, in the sense that your Sauron both needs to be adored and to adore. That he has a SO so intertwined with his story, his plots and schemes satisfies both needs.

I think he feeds on evil!reader’s desire of him in a very real way. I do wonder how he’d fare given the “it’s me or the rings” ultimatum but for real. I also lowkey wonder if his proposal to form The Two, by mixing their blood together, might have something to do with potentially binding her to him even more permanently, so no matter how angry or disappointed or abandoned she felt she would never be able to forsake him. He’d have to be banking on his maiar blood overpowering hers and keeping her from having a similar impact on him, I guess.

Anyways, these are the ramblings I have to offer today. Thanks for the great fic 💜

Oh they are excellent ramblings👀 I perfectly agree that Sauron wants to be admired, and I think that’s also why when someone tries to call him Sauron aka “the Abhorred” he kind of deflects with his go-to line ‘I’ve had many names’.

As for their relationship, in my mind, the more involved they get with the Rings, the more things spiral out of control. I did have the fight in Defied on my mind while I was writing this, cause in that one reader is the one backtracking a little while Sauron just goes full-speed ahead and that’s partially because at that point he especially is more and more blinded by his greed for the Rings, since they are literally made of him. There is a hope on both their parts that The Two will help put them back on the same track and make their union even stronger, but tbh at the moment I don’t see it going that well😅 Like, there might be such a thing as ‘too close’. I was listening to Over each other by Linkin Park, and it made me think of a potential period of decline between them where their thoughts are so intertwined by the influence of The Two that it feels like ‘all they are is talking over each other’:

Reaching for satellites, but all along/Under your breath, you're sayin' that I was wrong, oh/The skyscrapers we created are comin' down/And free-fallin' to the pavement/Cause you won't let me breathe/And I'm not ever right/All we are is talkin'/Over each other

And that drives them insane and brings out the worst in them, making them blame each other for the mess as the peoples of Middle-Earth keep fighting back and their goal seems forever out of reach and ugh. It’s messy af and idk how (if) that’s gonna be fixed.

But I like to go hand in hand with canon so you guys don’t have to worry about that kind of angst any time soon. Good thing season 3 isn’t here yet😅

[mxomo]

kinktober: breeding ♡︎ featuring hades

Hades enjoys seeing you rounded and messy for him. c/w: record of ragnarok, female reader, breeding, pregnancy, daddy kinks a/n: hades isn't really known for his kiddos, so lets say it feeds into his kink when he sees it realised. soft filth posted 18 months late. sorry! ♡

You’d popped for the first time.

Almost overnight, your stomach had grown a light curve to it, warm and firm beneath his hands. Hades almost salivated at the sight, pride at all of his efforts filling you up finally paying off, only furthering his appetite for you.

For years he’d waited for this, to see you round and full; first with his cock, then with his baby. And it turned him feral seeing you that way. It always struck him as unfair that being the God of Death meant fertility was not his strong suit. But that didn’t stop him from filling you up every chance he got, and doing so whilst enjoying the sight of his efforts bearing fruit was divine.

Whilst noticeable, your belly was not yet swollen enough to get in the way, though with how quickly it had grown recently you were certain it wouldn’t be long until you were a whale. Your breasts were constantly aching and heavy, an almost permanent blush on them as your shape changed with your moods and your desire for your husband grew tenfold.

“That’s good, my Queen,” Hades murmured his praise, lifting your hips onto his legs so you were angled upwards. Wrapping his arms around your hips, he kept your weeping pussy in his direct line of sight, gravity stopping too much of his seed from dripping out of you as he admired his handiwork. With your legs basically spread completely wide, he leaned down and kissed the crease that joined your thighs to your core before dragging his tongue hotly against your swollen clit, making sure to avoid the white pool he’d deposited in the centre entirely. Taking his index and middle finger, he caught one stray stream of dribbling seed with them before stuffing his cum right back in your hole as you gasped at his thick fingers plugging you up. Lapping at your clit with a feather light touch, he twisted his fingers in your messy cunny so he could graze your g-spot, immediately bringing stars to your eyes.

“O-oh, f- please, oh!” You couldn’t speak. It was too much, and you swore you’d black out if you came once more, but you were just so fucking horny. Even as your legs ached and your core got puffy and fingerprint bruises collected on your hips in multiple stages, you couldn’t stop your constant, desperate need to be filled by your husband.

And what kind of partner would he have been if he didn’t oblige?

“Look at what being filled with my baby does to you. Put your hands on your tits. Don’t be shy, you know what to do,” he murmured, pushing that tiniest amount of escaping cum back into you, alongside another finger. “Now, how does my little dove want to be satisfied?”

Your head rolled as you tried to focus on the question, not the sensation of his hands massaging your legs and your torso or his breath between your legs which turned into a brain-numbing suction just right on your bud. You must have taken too long to answer, because you were yanked from your fog of pleasure, a slap landing across your cunny and you gasped in surprise at the bolt of electricity shooting down to your fingertips.

“D-daddy..” you said shyly, tiredly, reaching your hands up towards the man whose gaze had darkened at your little nickname. His hand gripped his dribbling member and tugged roughly, the sight of you bringing him closer to the brink. “I just.. I just want you, Daddy. please.”

“You want me to do what?” he pushed, his grip on you tightening. “Use your words, my Queen.”

Your cheeks flamed. He always made you do this, he always made you tell him exactly what you wanted, out loud, because he knew you didn’t like it. Hiding your face in your hands, you wailed your response as he sucked harder with every passing second. “Fill me up, Daddy please!” you said quickly, as if to get it over with. Hades, with a small smile, pulled your hands from your face, letting your legs down gently and showering kisses all over you, moving down to lavish attention on your chest and to relax you before he carried on. A few skilled twists of the fingers and tongue on your aching tits soothed you, his warm hands allowing you to relax despite your maddening arousal.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” he said gently, a sparkle in his eye as his engorged girth swelled in his palm, his breath unsteady as bolts of pleasure shot through him. You held your breath, excited, as he started to poke at your hole and clit with his member, enjoying the lewd squelching as your pussy began dripping from his previous ministrations. A puddle had soaked into the sheets beneath you and hades tutted at the mess. With trembling fingers, you reached out and took his swollen balls into your palm, the gentle pressure ripping a gasp from your husband as he rammed the unexpected sensation pushed him over the edge. he rutted his hips slowly, and just barely, as your pussy overflowed with his seed, as if he was massaging his gift into you.

“I told you to try not to waste anything,” Hades suddenly chided, his gaze fixed on the bead of cum squeezing out past his cock, dripping down your crack. Flipping you over, he dragged your ass up towards him, supporting your belly in his hands as he plugged you right back up with his cock, groaning into your neck as your warmth moulded around him seamlessly. Hades’ thick girth throbbed at the sight of your profile, the smile that bloomed on your face as he hilted you. He leaned down, nipping the back of your neck hard as he fought to keep himself together.  “it isn’t easy keeping you full, is it, darling?”

prompt list • kinktober masterlist • masterlist

[crystal-va]

What are some of the differences between original William and your William, both before and after destruction?

Thank you for your curiosity!

(technically this kind of ask should have gone to @ask-voidverse but it's not too big of a deal)

This is more of an info dump than a comparison, but this'll still get the idea across (hopefully)

Before Destruction:

William is largely the same. The most notable difference is the fact that he's more shy in the beginning.

I suppose he's also a little more friendly than his original variant too.

After Destruction: (I have not reached this point in writing [VOID]!Alphatale, so things might change when I do)

I decided to also cover relationships, because yes.

William is closed off and quiet. Unlike his original variant, William is actually quite sympathetic and emotional, but tries to hide it

404 isn't nearly as busted in my variant. I've limited his power from being able to destroy entire universes, or even hyper verses, to now being a planet buster, or at his most powerful, being able to destroy a universe. Still incredibly broken, but not as bonkers as original 404.

Skipping to the beginning of New Puppet Book 1, William has fully lost who he was. William is a name he only ever hears in his nightmares. As 404, William tries to build business relationships with others. Treating Error and Root (my own character) as more of assistants than underlings (Root acts more like his child than an assistant tho). Seraphim and King Multiverse are treated closer to slaves with no purpose other than serving him, which is pretty similar to normal.

At some point, 404 will also recruit Fatal_Error, using Fatal's immense desire to bring his Papyrus back as leverage to call on him when needed. Feeding him small amounts of Papyrus code every time they work together, but he knows Fatal won't be happy with any Papyrus he makes, so he considers Fatal a semi permanent member of the crew with little chance of leaving. He'd be willing to take control of Fatal like he did with Seraphim if the need arose.

Bill!Sans is kind of like a convenient nuisance for 404. 404 does hate him, but he appreciates the times Bill has helped him out of a weird spot and pays him back on occasion.

404 keeps a more public appearance as opposed to his more secretive nature in cannon. He constantly keeps people like Nightmare, Ink, Core, and Shattered Dream aware of his existence in an attempt to either keep them from getting in his way, or even have them consider assisting him in some endeavors.

[ladylooch]

How does Nico celebrate anniversaries?

Are you ready for this? 18+ content below

Nico Hischier wakes you up in the morning with his weight over your sleeping body. He gently brushes your hair back from your face, dusting kisses all along your features.

When you're awake, he stops, admiring the squinting of your eyes at the morning light. You're so cute and grumpy in the morning.

"Today is another day that I wake up as the luckiest person on earth." He whispers to you.

Then, word for word, he recites the vows he made to you on your wedding day a year ago. The ones he agonized over for weeks to perfectly sum up the way that he feels about you.

When he is done, he disappears beneath the covers, devouring you with his mouth until you grip his brown locks into a fist.

"Stay here." He tells you as he bops out of bed.

He comes back with breakfast - a chocolate croissant from your favorite bakery along with an iced coffee, perfectly blended with cream and vanilla. A single pink rose slants in a makeshift vase on the tray.

"Where is your breakfast?" You ask him, munching on your first bite of pastry. "I already ate." He grins. Heat engulfs your face at your husband's suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

You do end up sharing the croissant together licking off the flakey pieces that fall onto Nico's chest. He is careful of the tray as he rolls you onto your back to make love.

Unfortunately, off-season training doesn't take a day off even for your anniversary. So Nico leaves you tangled, naked, in the sheets with a final kiss. "Be ready to go out when I get back."

You dress up for him, curling your hair in soft, effortless waves and put on his favorite sundress of yours- a light blue, linen fabric that accents your natural curves. Nico can't keep his hands to himself when he gets home. He has to have you again.

"You're smudging my lipstick." You tell him as his tongue slides into your mouth with his next thrust. "Forgive me?" He hits the right spot inside of you and you moan a yes.

Though his afterglow, Nico changes into nicer clothes and you two head out into Bern.

The day is spent shopping, drinking, eating, and playing a few card games at a winery before dinner.

Nico holds your hand on the walk to the restaurant, playing with your large wedding rings as you talk about your impending return to New Jersey.

At dinner, you sit at a little cafe table, your legs plastered to one another. Nico's fingers play with your calf, carving at the lines of your muscle and savoring your smooth skin. For dessert, you have a chocolate cake that Nico feeds your bites of. His eyes are wanting with each stroke of your tongue on the metal fork.

"We gotta go." He whispers to you as he puts another bite into your mouth. You look down, laughing at his obvious arousal. "You can't yet."

"I have something for you." He says on your walk home, reaching into his pocket. You're buzzed on wine and gripping his bicep tightly with each step. He pulls out a box. It's a dainty, gold necklace with his number on it. "You said you wouldn't wear my number permanently until we were married." You hide your blushing face, remember the rude, drunk comment you made early in your relationship. Nico took it all in stride. "and it matters to me that you do now." He puckers his lips for yours again. "I love it.. and you. I'm so lucky to do life with you, Neeks."

Your hands are on him as he unlocks the front door. He holds the door open for you to walk in. You head straight to the bedroom, turning to catch his hands and lips and need.

"I love you Mrs. Hischier." Nico tells you as you're both falling asleep in your bed. "I love you more, Mr. Hischier." You nuzzle your nose into his chest, smiling softly as he rubs his fingers along your hair.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Yandere! Romantic! KNY Uzui Tengen Headcanons

This one with Tengen is honestly a bit rough and was a little hard to write for, but I hope it’s okay. Enjoy my glass angels!

Tengen as a romantic Yandere has the Yandere traits of; Delusional, Lovesick, Obsessive, Possessive, Overprotective, Romantic, Manipulative and Dramatic

If I’m being honest. Tengen would never be a “only you” Yandere since he has Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma, and him treating one new wife differently over his original three is unrealistic to his character so I made a compromise to make it better:

This is a very unique circumstance with the Sound Hashira himself. He is already married, not only married but married to three women. Why would he need a fourth wife? He doesn’t need four, but he wants four as he has eyes for the Ice Hashira, otherwise, you. You’re so bedazzling and jaw-dropping, it would be impossible to not fall for you on the spot

Tengen is a straightforward man with no insecurity and lots of confidence to back it up. He doesn’t fear to straight up tell you how he feels for you and insist you come over to his Estate for “training”

Tengen’s Yandere Traits begin very early, just like for his three wives and work in a pattern that extends to you as well; befriending, tricking, proposal, marriage then everything else and that everything else includes stealing away rights and preventing his love of choice from walking away from their marriage. He keeps his wives trapped under his thumb in hopes they’ll love him back eventually

Tengen is very lovesick over his new love interest, just like Giyuu. You cloud over his head as much as Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma do and he can’t function properly without seeing you everyday. He becomes overwhelmingly emotional if you’re not by his side 24/7 and he would probably go berserk so just keep him under control. He needs to feed his lovesickness

Why are you ignoring him today? You were enjoying your visit yesterday! Did he do something wrong? No, he couldn’t have! He only has been loving you, he’s the most perfect husband! What is the problem?

In a matching style to Shinobu, Tengen is a trickster and manipulates you into visiting his Estate a lot more then one should. Forces you with witty wordplay to befriend his wives and prays that you’ll like the both the friendly faces and luxurious life enough to want to stay permanently. Tengen is a chronic manipulator that plays with your decisions and drags you wherever he wants, it’s not like you can fight back…

Tengen is the least aggressive and murderous Yandere of the Hashira Nonad as he is 1) very confident in his abilities to woo and keep you as his and 2) he values his loves’ happiness and positive view of him severely. Why ruin that by killing when it’s unnecessary? His threats will run away with their tail inbetween their legs just at the sight of him. Tengen can easily get whatever woman he wants but he doesn’t mind getting a bit scary to shoo away those annoying pigeons

His wives, Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma aren’t Yanderes but he is obsessed with them in the same way he is obsessed with you. Due to his extreme care for his wives, Tengen can’t do the lot that the other Yandere Hashira can; the main being kidnapping. Even though, his three spouses are scared of him, they’d be desperate to escape if they caught him kidnapping you. Tengen doesn’t want to lose all three of his wives for one, no matter how obsessed he is

Tengen regularly proposes to you and the phrase “regularly” means EVERY. SINGLE. DAY and each of your rejections just flow past his head. You’re rejecting him because you’re not ready for that type of commitment and that’s okay! He can wait! He knows you like him, you’re just nervous about getting married.

He just can’t see that you’re not interested in him because he frightens you with how needy-pushy he is. Even if his wives are very kind and all, you don’t want to be around Tengen

Though, he won’t keep waiting as overtime, he eventually forces you to accept his proposal through emotion manipulation and subtle bribery. You have no choice, you’re gonna become the fourth Uzui wife against your will in front of Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma in the Sound Estate

Tengen is the most romantic Yandere ever. He gifts you the prettiest roses, the shiniest jewellery, the silkiest kimonos all the time to express his intense affection. He embraces you, gives loving kisses, tends to your injuries as much as he can. He doesn’t think it’s over-the-top or unnecessary as to him, you deserve being spoiled with all the most beautiful luxury

Like how he is with his wives, Tengen is overprotective over you. In all means; during conversation, during battle. You don’t need to talk to anybody but him and his wives, they are your true friends, the only people you should ever rely on. You don’t need to battle demons anymore, Tengen can provide enough money and protection for you, just stay with him!

Tengen is extremely dramatic in his temper fits. He wants your love, your attention, your affection and he throws a massive flashy hissy fit over you giving it to anybody else. He mainly uses guilt and emotion-means to manipulate you into averting your affections to him

“How could you, Dokusha?! Aren’t we the closest?! I can’t believe you’d pick a floozy over me, I’m the best catch! Do you even like me?! You have torn out my heart and stomped on it! I will forever be in pain for this stunt! You’re giving other people the attention they don’t deserve! Look at me! I’m so much better!”

Tengen is hella delusional like goddamn! You aren’t frightened nor disturbed by his obsessive nature, you’re flattered by how much he cares for you! He doesn’t let any insults, begging for freedom or outrages you throw at him process, you’re just moody from that injury you got recently. You could straight-up punch Tengen for trying to hug you and he would happily go back for a second hug, his brain scrambling to explain to him that you don’t mean anything harmful

Tengen is possessive and obsessive over his three wives and his fourth soon-to-be-wife. You have his last name, it means you now belong to him and only him. You don’t need your friends, you don’t need your old family, you just need him and the girls, you’re safe from those vile demons and he’ll confide to all the needs he knows about to make you happy as every Yandere Hashira will do.

He loves decorating your Kimono in the flashiest gemstones as he forcefully cradles you in his big lap and gives you kisses all over as you hold in your disgust. You don’t want this manipulative monster anywhere near you

He lured you into his trap by acting like a confident, playful ally-to-dear friend and then his little choppers snapped. He kept twisting your head until you said yes to his aggressive requests. All he does is hurt you but he won’t recognise it as he is blinded by his unhealthy passion for you

Even though you’re stuck in this garbage situation, just having the caring Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma there makes you feel so much more safer as they will defend you from Tengen as much as they can. Rather you, as a Hashira, be stronger than all three of them, they are fellow manipulated victims of Tengen’s twisted love circle and will help you through it so maybe, this new life won’t be so bad

Really, Yandere Tengen is somewhat the most like usual Tengen, he just spams the manipulation like crazy so he make sure you’ll stay in his Estate then he can love you to drown away everything nasty he did to your head

“A-Ah, look, Lord Tengen. She is quite pleased with her kimono”

“See that smile, Lord Tengen! Our lovely Dokusha is thrilled for the wedding!”

“She looks so pretty! Don’t you like what we did, Lord Tengen? We made sure it’s perfect!”

“You’re so beautiful, my love! Words aren’t enough to show you how happy I am for you to be mine. My gorgeous ladies, you have done such a wonderful job! Our Dokusha is as flashy as us and I’m so proud of your hard work! Do enjoy this day, it’s gonna be the best of your life and everything beyond will be so flamboyant, it’ll outdo every firework out there”

[husbandograveyard]

Helloooo Hazel!

Thank you so much for writing my last request, I've been swooning so much over it and all the other things you're feeding us with (´⌣`ʃƪ)

Could I humbly ask for another one, unless you're completely flooded by them? If you feel like writing him, could I get K (Kisses) with Obito from the smutty alphabet, please?

Thank you so much! ♡

Providing some Uchiha love while I wait for an Uchiha to be permanently inked into my skin seems like such a fitting way to spend the time. Thank you Lale for your kind words, I hope you enjoy this! <3

2nd person. GN reader. Minors DNI.

K - Kisses - What do their kisses taste like, how passionate are they? Do they build up? How do they kiss you to set the mood? 

Obito’s kisses are warm, and taste comforting, like homemade food that reminds you of your childhood. They are surprisingly tender, especially at first, and make you weak in the knees, no matter how often you have kissed before. The buildup is pretty fast whenever he is in the mood. Passionate open-mouthed kisses with a certain tenderness, that increase in pressure as he places his hands on your back and pulls your body into his. He gets needy, almost clingy, needing as much of his body as possible to press into yours. It’s pretty clear early on what his intentions are.

If you respond in kind, he’ll move to your cheek, briefly, slowing down for a second to place some softer kisses there, before moving onto your jawline and neck, continuing the same kisses from your lips all over your sensitive spots. He knows your body very well and knows exactly where to kiss to get you going. By the time he reaches your collarbones, and his teeth have been grazing your skin on multiple spots, you’re already well on your way to the bedroom.

This is part of my AB(C)-Day event! Click here to join!