#wading into rising waters

[yupuffin]

So Yao is apparently so good with a pistol he's held the Moon Shooter record for several Moonchase festivals in a row??

What if. What if Mortefi wields pistols specifically to spite Yao??

Just a speculation/headcanon, but it would be so ridiculously funny.

[turtleblogatlast]

Every day I’m haunted by the fact the boys happily swim in sewer water

Even if it’s filtered somehow there’s no way it’s not still nasty 😭 Bet they can defeat any of their villains just by accidentally giving them diseases I swear

[each-uisge]

I have a genuinely poor memory, like so bad I wonder sometimes if it’s diagnosable short term memory loss if not for the fact long term memories fade just as badly.

It’s normal for me, but sometimes I tell the same story to the same person for the third time, genuinely convinced I’ve never told them before, and I remember oh wow. No one else lives like this. Other people can recall things really well!

I can’t imagine what that’s like.

If I remember important things it’s literally because I repeated it in my head over and over and over so I couldn’t drop it.

Maybe I’m like super early Alzheimer’s or something 😭

[sca-nerd]

My friends who have never experienced flooding, and who are about to deal with it from this storm, please remember:

1. NO. YOU CANNOT MAKE IT THROUGH THAT WATER ON THE ROAD. I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'RE DRIVING. TURN. AROUND.

2. DO NOT GO WADING THROUGH THE WATER. EVEN IF YOU JUST WANT TO SEE HOW DEEP IT IS. THAT. WATER. IS. CONTAMINATED.

3. IT IS CALLED FLASH FLOODING FOR A REASON. THE WATER RISES AND SURGES IN A FLASH. STAY. HOME.

4. If you're at risk of flooding, raise up any of your belongings now. Put the legs of tall things in buckets. Know where your important documents are.

5. Stay safe.

[in-my-loki-feels]

A lot of the creators I would've listed have already been named so I'll add @raynecreates and @ghostly-lee for their gorgeous artwork! And @meep-meep-richie for all their Owen Wilson gifs and many, many delicious Lokius AU ideas! 🫶

tag your favorite fandom content creators / gif makers whose works make you think ❝ this fandom is so lucky to have them in it. my ship / my blorbo is so lucky to have beautiful gif sets / fanarts made about them by these talented creators who share the same hyperfixation with me ❞

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ rising action ] | sylus

— summary: you’ve convinced yourself that this is normal. routine. that you’re used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun before you. so why does it still hurt? — cw: reader is not mc, reader implied to be femme, assassin!reader, unrequited feelings, mentions of blood & injuries, jealousy, profanity, sexual content, fade-to-black, self-destructive behavior, somewhat of a slow burn, mdni — notes: thank you so much for reading! [ part 1 | part 2 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 ] — now playing: bmf - sza

Breakfast is uncharacteristically quiet. 

At least, for the three of you, it is. The silence makes way for the lazy swish of cars on the road, the clatter of cutlery against plates, and the idle chatter of the cafe’s other patrons. 

It’s balmy outside. The type of weather that pastes your blouse to your skin and creates a fine film of sweat on the back of your neck. The kind that welcomes mosquitos and makes showering beforehand pointless. And it’s so obnoxiously bright out, nary a cloud in the sky. But you figure you're being unreasonably antsy because you’re hungover and still a little tired. 

Despite the climate, your ragtag team is seated beneath a cafe’s awning, scarfing down food to battle the effects of your collective hangovers before jetting back to Linkon.

Typically, Ms. Hunter would be on about something, filling the space with her animated talk, with you and Sylus occasionally chiming in to tease her or exchange covert words concerning upcoming missions. But she’s still a little worse for wear, with dark lenses perched on her nose and a wrinkle between her brows as she pushes food around her plate.

You snort around a mouthful of eggs at her plight, tucking your amusement behind your hand. Decide to incite a little mischief to distract yourself from the weather and the creeping feeling of unease brewing in your gut. 

“Someone had a rough night,” you tease, reaching for your orange juice.

She glowers at you. Sticks out her tongue, flipping you the bird. You snort into your drink, nearly sending pulp flying every which way.

“Not my fault you have the tolerance of a three-year-old.”

Your eyes crease at the corners whilst you watch her work up to a retort, mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. But before she can get a word out—

“Ladies,” Sylus interjects like a distant clap of thunder pushing across a dark horizon. He’s seated between you at the round, iron-wrought table, arms crossed over a broad chest. Sunglasses shroud scarlet intentions, but you don’t miss the twitch of a silver brow nor the humor meddling with his voice. “Play nice.” 

There’s finality there. He speaks to you like a referee. Like a father who’s caught his children roughhousing, and you both shrink beneath his mock disappointment. 

“Besides,” Sylus continues, casting his amused gaze on you. “You weren’t in the best of shape yourself last night. Are you really in any position to talk?” 

A hot rush of mortification wades over you. You're unsure of its source, whether at your memories of last night or how quickly he came to her defense. 

And so what if you stumbled a bit down the hall, searching for your room? 

You didn’t think he noticed after your exchange. Figured he retreated into his room, or worse—slipped across the hall to keep his hunter friend company into the wee hours of the morning while you tossed and turned, driven to hell by thoughts of them doing everything besides sleeping. 

The recollection makes you bristle, and you turn a scowl down to your food. Grumbling, you plop a slice of toast onto the hunter’s plate. She glances at you, confusion pulling her lips down. 

“Eat,” you order. “Feed a hangover, starve a cold.”

“I don’t think that’s how that goes,” she counters, a pout evident in her voice. But she doesn’t protest, sitting up in her seat to nibble on your peace offering.

You resist an impulse to pat her head, your ire sloughing off, traded for something like fondness. You want to ruffle locks of silken ebony because she’s effortlessly adorable, pulling at those little heartstrings you’d worked so hard to conceal. 

Sylus beats you to the punch, leaning forward to mold long fingers around the round of her head. The world slows, casting a special spotlight on the pair of them. 

You ignore how your chest tightens at the scene. At the affectionate little tug of his lips as Ms. Hunter cants her face towards him, cheeks full and expression doe-like. You try to pretend like it doesn’t make you sick with resentment. Once upon a time, he used to look at you like that. 

Fuck. 

What are you thinking? He is your boss, and she is your charge—your friend. There’s no reason to feel like this, especially considering you practically shoved Sylus into her arms, reasoning you never stood a chance in hell with him. 

You snap back to the present, and suddenly, breakfast isn’t so appetizing. You push around your cold eggs as Sylus and Ms. Hunter slide into easy conversation. You feel like a husk of yourself amid them. Like you’re impeding on something intimate, and your stomach lurches when they draw you into their chat every so often as if pitying you.

You’ve convinced yourself that this is normal. Routine. That you’re used to this, sitting like a fly on the wall while their relationship blossoms like a flower turned towards the sun. And yet, you’ve never been more eager to return to the N109 Zone. To leave these green-eyed thoughts on this island and get back to your distracting life, luring terrible people to their demise and wiping the scourge of man off the face of the planet. 

You suddenly straighten, clearing the phlegm from your throat. Your silverware clatters against your plate as you shove it away, eyes regretfully shifting between them.

“So, what time do we leave?” There’s a whisper of exasperation in your tone, but you quickly conceal it with that playful arrogance you’re known for. 

Sylus and the hunter trade looks of confusion and humor, blind to the turmoil of your mind slowly creeping through the folds and staining your pride like ink spilled into water.

“Eager to get back to work, aren’t you?”

You scoff, taking up your fork, clueless to scarlet eyes studying the crown of your head, narrowing at the apprehensive slope of your voice. “You have no idea.”

—

It’s a pleasure to dance. Of course, it always is. It’s one of the few times you feel desired. Wanted. Useful when your hands aren’t speckled with blood and your knuckles aren’t purpling from bashing someone’s face in for taunting The Devil. 

Dancing is a versatile skill you’ve acquired with time and practice. It's one of the few pleasures you’ve drawn from this fickle life. One of the few things you kept from a past veiled in darkness, the rest tucked away in the hulls of your psyche.  

All eyes are on you. Gazes burning with assorted degrees of desire, envy, and awe beneath the tawny glow of the stage lights. The attention makes you warm and tingly, and your lips salaciously curve as you move your body in time with the music, casting an inadvertent spell on all who dare to watch. 

You’re the center of attention without trying to be and without the influence of your Evol. Of course, you usually are. He’s even told you so. Customers often flock to Sylus’ nightclubs to see you dance, hoping to one day have your affections. 

Or to fuck you. 

You rarely entertain these people. Not unless you have to. Not unless Sylus sicks you on them to further his goals or take down his competition. You’re ever the faithful lapdog, tuned to your boss’ every command, and it makes you sick with how loyal you are to him sometimes. A part of you feels you owe him for this life you lead. He’d snatched you from an impenetrable darkness. Renewed your sense of purpose and redirected your desire for revenge. 

For now, you have this. The recognition of others despite how misplaced it is. They want you for your body, for the promise of what your facade offers. Deep down, you crave something more, something real. But you tamp down those feelings as you bite your lip, putting on a good show, hands smoothing over the surge of your hips. And you’re spurred by the whoops and whistles and shouts of your name as the lights dim, signaling the conclusion of your performance.

Your chest heaves with the effort of breathing, and your cheeks ache with a smile as you pose. The crowd's cheers dampen the violent thrum of your heartbeat—chase away the cacophony of your mind, adrenaline spuming through you like an erupting geyser. 

You look over your shoulder towards the ceiling, catching scarlet-spun eyes from the upper floor’s rail, and your grin twitches the slightest bit. It’s a rush, having the attention of strangers. Having their desire, their yearning. But his attention is much more addicting like Nicotine furling between your teeth. For a moment, you feel seen. Like you’re the center of his universe, and not the pretty, bright-eyed damsel with enough room in her heart to house the galaxy.

Something flashes in his eyes, and the world fades. You mistake it for tenderness. Just wishful thinking. He would never choose you. He’s had four years to make you his. 

Why would he suddenly choose to acknowledge you now?

—

Once the adrenaline ebbs and clubbers flood the dance floor, you’re nestled behind the crowd, leaning against the sticky countertop of the bar, clutching a glass of something acrid and glacial between your fingers—something to take the edge off. To mute the insistent pulse of your nerves.

The music thumps beneath your feet, accompanied by the sparkling chatter of the club’s other clients. Yet you still hear him amid the chaos—the familiar curl of a voice around the vowels of your name. You fix him with an amused, sultry look beneath Lux’s customary red hue. 

“When are you gonna let me take you out on a date?” he asks, worn knuckles easing down the slope of your arm. You track his audacity with your eyes, jerking away from his unwarranted attention, ignoring the goosebumps igniting across your skin.

This, too, is routine—one of Lux’s regulars throwing himself at your feet, begging for an opportunity to court you.  He’s been on like this for months, entertaining your game of cat and mouse. Maybe you’ve given him a false sense of hope because he’s yet to let up. In fact, he’s grown bolder with his advances lately, often popping up when you least expect him, vying for your heart.

It’s endearing, really, having someone who genuinely wants you. Or maybe he doesn’t, but you convince yourself otherwise. Play a sick little game with yourself, fooling yourself into thinking that maybe there’s more to you than your reputation builds you up to be.

You turn towards him, crossing your legs, the leather barstool sticky beneath your thighs. You lean into your knuckles, studying dark brows, whiskey-infused eyes, and full lips. You end your excursion at the thick of his throat, excitement prickling like static in your chest. He’s easy on the eyes, tone velvet smooth. Had you not been a femme fatale, you might’ve given him the time of day.

But for now—

“You couldn’t handle me,” you counter, reveling in how the smugness melts from his face.

He chuckles at your cheekiness, sweeping the tails of his blazer back and stuffing his hands into his pockets. Squares his shoulders, standing akimbo like he’s preparing for a fight, though he might as well be, stepping to you like this.

“Still holding out for that old man, I see.”

It is your turn to wear a wavering smile. Your turn to look silly, the proverbial knife driven into your stomach and twisted. 

You scoff with a sneer, dumping the last vestiges of your drink down your throat. You tear yourself from your seat, reaching past the gentleman to snatch your coat from the counter, pinning him with a haughty look. 

“I’m not holding out for anyone, fucker. And even if I were, it wouldn't be your slow ass.”

With a huff, you brush past him, wending through the crowd gathered on the dance floor to retreat into your dressing room. 

You try vainly to contain a scowl, knowing you’ve been read like the deckled pages of a book deep down. 

Maybe you refuse to move on because you feel like you’d betray Sylus if you did. How, exactly, you’re unsure. He’s had no problem betraying you, quietly shoving you out of the picture in favor of someone who’s hardly seen him bleed. 

—

“Do you like anybody?” Ms. Hunter asks above the steady purr of the SUV’s engine.

Her question nearly floors you. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly, and you almost choke on your spittle. 

You’re stuck in traffic together. 

Knowing the holidays loomed around the bend, someone decided it would be an ideal day to go to the mall. Of course, you weren’t the only people out on the road. 

So naturally, she’s bored, unused to the silence stretching between you. The low croon of the music spilling from the speakers does nothing to ease the tension.

You glance at her, and she’s wearing a Cheshire Cat-like grin, studying you from the passenger seat. You swallow thickly, adjusting your shades on your face, staring at the cars sluggishly easing up beyond the windshield. “I don’t like very many people.”

An exasperated sigh later.

“C’mon! There’s gotta be someone you like. Ya’ know.” She pitches herself closer, her mischievous grin curling in your periphery, and she pokes your side with a pointed finger to get a rise out of you. 

“Someone that gets your heart racing. Someone who makes your face all hot. Makes butterflies swarm in your tummy.” 

You know exactly where this is going. Had you not valued your friendship—or whatever you call this complicated mashup between you—you would reveal the inner workings of your mind. But how insane would you sound, telling the hunter the person who gets your blood racing is the very same man she has tucked in her back pocket?

So, you deflect. With a sardonic smirk, you jest, “You get my heart racing when you fuck up our meetings.”

You squint and flinch away with a laugh in your throat as she swats you, whining at your cruelty. 

“You suck,” pouts Ms. Hunter, falling back into her seat with crossed arms. “Bet it’s that guy who always stalks you at Lux.”

You side-eye her in the rearview, placatingly patting her head. “I like you, stupid. Isn’t that good enough?”

Maybe one day. 

One day, you’ll have the intestinal fortitude to tell her the truth—to tell them both the truth. How you’re falling apart at the stitching, the world you know falling away from beneath your feet.

—

You’re not as strong as you let on. You’re human beneath that flirtatious exterior—still a woman with wants and needs, not immune to the temptations of the flesh. Which is why you find yourself at his doorstep, a glacial, errant breeze ruffling the tails of your coat as the silvery moon haloes your silhouette.

He leans against the doorframe, brown eyes simmering with intrigue as he takes you in. Dark hair sweeps over raised brows. “What made you change your mind?”

You shrug, hands stuffed in your pockets, a quirk to your lips. “Maybe I just need a friend.”

He chuckles low, arms crossed. “A friend, huh?” 

“Yeah.”

There’s no mistaking the pitch of your voice. The air charges with something amorous as he ushers you into his apartment. You brush past him, tamping down your dignity as you disappear into the warm sanctity of his home, his hand reassuring at the small of your back.

Had you taken the time to survey your surroundings, you would’ve noticed a set of beady, crimson eyes peering through the inky night, watching you from their perch atop a powerline.

And had you further investigated, you would’ve heard the familiar whirr of machinery as the iridescent outline of sleek feathers recorded your every move.

conflict | masterlist | climax

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[lvmimis]

cw: smut but softcore. hot spring. too much banter. reader is implied to have textured hair.

“Your hair’s grown long,” you murmur.

With the observation, your right hand wades gently in the steamy surface of the hot spring to rise to Tanjiro's damp cheek and pats it coquettishly before your fingers glide gently through the strands of his water-slicked burgundy locks. You’ve been submerged together, you to your collarbones and him just to the base of his pectoral muscles for the past thirty minutes, chatting idly with a short pause in conversation just moments before this to rest and relax, really letting the soothing waters seep into your skin. Traveling together has weighed heavy on you both and the few minutes to catch your breath have been welcome, but now that you're rejuvenated, you’re right back to teasing. 

“You think so?” he asks. He looks a bit surprised, his own rough fingers closing around a couple looser strands. The remainder stick close to his skin, framing his handsome face, his neck, and the slope of his broad shoulders, and you continue to run your hand through them at the forehead, gently scratching his scalp with your nails as you do so. 

“Yeah, not that I don’t like it,” you practically wink, and he smiles, pulling you into his arms so that you’re back pressed to chest again. You inhale softly and he sighs as if you were sharing one breath. 

“I must have not been paying attention,” he murmurs, kissing your ear. You laugh to yourself, a trickle of heat running down your spine with the nibble of his teeth..

“That’s why you have me,” you remind him, brightly. "To pay attention to you, that is." Your own hair is in a high bun, avoiding the water but reveling in the wafting steam to nurture your coils and he lets himself breathe deeply of the scent, then presses his lips to your neck. 

“Cut it for me?” he asks, tentatively. His hands wander again, gliding from your shoulders to your wrists, and the soft splash of the water parting accentuates the drop of your heart into your loins as he kisses the soft underside.

“I don’t know how to cut wavy hair,” you immediately answer, but he’s turning you to face him again in the water and his eyes look at you hungrily now, as if you’re having a conversation a lot more licentious than the simple act of snipping away with scissors.

“I don’t mind as long as you try your best.”

Tanjiro’s voice is coming out breathy and lower as he leans in, and he’s clearly asking for something more from you rather than this simple future act of service. Eyes darkening as you press your palm against his chest, right above the jagged scars, he asks if you think you’re up to it, and it’s clear he’s not talking about an impromptu haircut.

“And if I do a bad job?”

His hands are on your hips now, cupping the curve of your ass before they lift up, your legs reflexively finding their way in a hold around his waist. The warmth of the hard length pressed soft against your belly stands out so much more than anything in the world right now, enough to make your breath hold tightly in your throat.

“I won’t hold anything against you,” he teases.

You snort, but his bad joke has made him crack a smile. Pulling you with him through the water, he lets himself lean on the rocky wall as he supports you. 

“You’ll let me do whatever I want then?” you ask. He nods, biting his lower lip as you attempt to ease yourself around his cock. He’s good at flustering you, but easily forgets how quickly you can turn the tables on him, at a loss for words as you descend.

But then once you sink in, and take all of him inside, your arms reflexively wrapping around his neck, the temporary gain is lost as you adjust to his length, moaning as he stretches out your insides. Again. Just moments ago, you were like this, letting him slip in and out of you, fluid resistance meaning so little to him with every thrust.

“Of course,” he practically croons.

The push and pull between the two of you is always an endless wave of emotion, where even something as simple as telling your boyfriend he’s looking kind of shaggy ends up in being awash in emotion, but that’s the ebb and flow of your relationship and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,331 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Era: S9, after Rick's "death" when Daryl is living in the woods (No Leah) Reader pronouns: she/her Warnings: language, sexual content (this one contains some spice babies!)

Daryl was just coming back from his morning snare check when he heard Dog barking excitedly down by the water. "Dog! The hell ya doin'?" he growled, stomping toward the noise. "Yer gonna bring the dead in! Quiet! No bark!" He rounded the shelter and strode toward the dock but quickly froze.

He was stunned to see you wading out into the water tentatively, your bare back exposed to him and steam rising off you in the cold morning air. His eyes traveled down the graceful curve of your spine to the dimples in your low back. He gulped thickly. The surface of the water lapped at your hips. Dog danced back and forth on his front paws on the shore.

"Y/N!" Daryl yelled. You looked back at him over your shoulder, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as armor against the cold of the morning air. You kept walking deeper into the river. "What the hell are ya doin'?!" He stormed forward, wetting his boots in the water. "Have ya lost yer damn mind?!" He was bewildered.

"I'm getting clean!" you yelled back, shivering slightly as your toes sunk into the cold mud on the bottom.

Daryl swore under his breath. He could see the goosebumps all over your skin. "It's freezin'! Yer gonna catch yer death out there!" he roared.

You were finally in up to your collarbone, treading water, and you turned to look at him standing on the bank. "It's not that bad!" you yelled back. "It's—it's invigorating!"

"Yer shiverin’! Get back here!" He swore under his breath again and rushed to his makeshift shelter to pull all the blankets off his cot before hurrying back to the water's edge again. "Y/N—C'mon! I ain't jokin'! I'll—I'll close my eyes. C'mon out and wrap these around ya."

You were simply treading water, trying to pull in deep breaths. "I'll c-come out once you come in!" you announced.

"What?" he spat, looking at you like you truly had gone completely mad.

"You're not taking care of yourself out here, Daryl! When is the last time you washed up?"

He dropped the blanket he had stretched out in front of himself to hang toward the ground. He chewed on his bottom lip and stared at you.

You smiled broadly at the expression on his face. He looked about ready to throttle you. You took a few lazy strokes backwards, into deeper water. "Alright. I'll j-just stay out here until you c come get me then!"

Your nose and cheeks were kissed red with cold and Daryl heaved a frustrated breath. "Have ya lost yer damn mind?!" he roared. "I ain't playin'! Get back here! Yer gonna get hypothermia!"

"Only if you l leave me out here t-too l-long," you said, shaking with the cold. It was starting to work its way in deep. You could feel your muscles growing tense as they tried to retain heat in your core.

Daryl flicked his hand in your direction. "Is this why ya came out here?! To give me all this damn grief?!" he growled.

"I can't f-feel my toes anymore, Daryl! Are my l-lips turning blue yet?" You smiled as you saw the frustration and worry on his face growing. You did feel a little bad, but you’d already told him what the solution was... and it was an easy one.

He swore under his breath and paced back and forth on the bank before tossing the pile of blankets he’d dragged off his cot down on the dock. He shot a deadly glare in your direction and you knew you'd won.

You submerged for a moment and came up blinking the water away from your eyes. You grinned at him and then spun in the water so you were facing the other bank. “I won’t look!” you announced. “Tell m-me when I can t-turn around!” Your shivering was getting worse.

Daryl was muttering to himself under his breath as he pulled layer after layer of his clothing off and piled them on the bank. “Ya best swim to the other side ‘cuz if I catch ya, ‘m gonna—”

Your laughter interrupted him. “You’re gonna w-what, Daryl?”

Dog seemed to think this was all a game as well and dashed back and forth in the shallow water, panting and smiling his Malinois smile.

Daryl’s hands landed on the hem of his final top layer, a waffle-knit thermal shirt, and he hesitated. He looked out at you bobbing in the water, your hair wet and clinging to the nape of your neck. He swore one more time and swept his shirt off. The cold morning air bit at his bare skin.

Then he was a blur of movement, trying to shed the last of his bottom layers before he lost his nerve. He felt sheepish as he discarded his pants and underthings, tugging his socks and boots off in one motion and kicking them aside. The mud was freezing on his bare feet and he swore again before hurrying to get into the cover of the water, not that it was going to be warmer at all.

You heard the splash of Daryl entering and bit your bottom lip. You tried to stop yourself from shivering so violently, but the fingers of cold were working their way in deeply. The next thing you heard was a murmur of expletives as Daryl immersed himself in the water and then what sounded like him walking and swimming toward you. Daryl was hurriedly scrubbing at the dirt on his skin while your back was turned. Taking his clothes off had revealed the striking demarcations around his sleeves and neckline and more where the dirt had clung to his skin instead of his clothing. Living out of a patched together shelter in the woods was hard and you were of course correct—he wasn’t taking care of himself. He had buried all his feelings in combing the banks for Rick and hiding from things past and he certainly wasn’t thinking about more than the basic necessities of survival. Bare minimum, that’s how he was living.

“C—can I turn around?” you asked, breaking him out of his musing.

There was a little more splashing and then his voice came from quite close right behind you. “Yeah,” he growled.

You turned and saw that he was only a couple feet away. His bright blue eyes were narrowed at you in a glare that could have curdled milk. You found yourself nervously chewing on your bottom lip and blushing as you realized how closed the two of you were, and how entirely naked you both were too. Though, the tea-colored water was a sufficient cloak to hide your bodies. Your eyes flickered down to the scars visible near his collarbones and on his shoulders and you felt a deep tug behind your navel, a pang of empathy and pain. “S-see? It’s not so b-bad,” you said, meeting his bright blue eyes again.

“Yer teeth are chatterin’,” he said. “I came in. Will ya get out now before ya freeze to death? This is the most ridiculous shit ya’ve ever pulled.” Your eyes flickered over his face and Daryl felt something shift in the air between the two of you and he thought he could read it on your face. He gulped nervously. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you breathed. But you swam a little closer to him. Then closer, within a foot. He could feel the currents whirling away from your legs and arms keeping you afloat, buffeting his bare skin below the surface. Water droplets were clinging all over your shoulders, running over your goosebumps and then rejoining the river winding around you. He was keenly aware that if he looked down, he’d be able to see much more of the shape of you than ever before, but it felt like an imposition despite the fact that you’d undressed yourself and created this whole ridiculous scenario. He kept his eyes fixed on your face instead, but that didn’t stop the thought of it, the very idea of you so bare so close to him from setting his heart racing and tugging up some bubble of feeling between his lungs that wouldn’t be ignored or shoved back down.

You reached up suddenly and your fingertips brushed gently into his hair and trailed down to the wet ends. From there, your fingertips dropped down and alighted on his bare chest for just a moment. Daryl felt as if an electric current suddenly zipped through his entire body and he found himself gulping thickly again.

“W-wash up, Daryl,” you whispered, another shiver wracking through you. “You d-deserve to be c-clean and cared for.” You gave him a tight smile that was touched with a mark of sadness and then paddled backwards away from him for a few strokes before you turned completely and swam toward shore. Your feet touched the soggy bottom and you were soon rising up out of the water, hugging your arms around yourself and shaking with the cold.

Daryl allowed himself to drink in the shape of your bare back, trace your shoulder blades, to watch you until the water dipped in against your waist, and then he turned away again. He cupped the water in his hands and splashed it over his face. He scrubbed over his body with his rough palms, wiping away the layers of sweat and dust and dirt and ash. His fingertips snagged in snarls and frazzled locks in his hair. He dunked himself below the surface and held his breath, let the cold pressure press against his ear drums, dampen his senses for a long moment as he ran his fingers over his hair. He surfaced again and shook the excess water from himself.

The cold was quickly working its hooks into him and he swore under his breath again, marveling at the sheer absurdity of this whole sequence of events and furthermore at the fact that it had worked. You’d gotten him into the damn frigid river. Of course you did. If you threw yourself into a fire, he’d follow after you.

He chanced a glance over his shoulder at the bank. Dog was sitting there dutifully, but you were nowhere in sight. He took that as his cue that it was safe to come ashore again. He hated to admit that though he was now shaking with the cold as he planted his feet back on the makeshift dock, he did feel clean, new, and somewhat restored. He hastily grabbed one of the heavy blankets still left behind beside your now drying footprints and wrapped it around himself.

Dog trotted up and down the dock happily as Daryl made his way toward his shelter. He cleared his throat loudly. “Hey, Y/N?”

“In here. C-come in, Daryl,” your voice answered.

Daryl stepped around the tarp and saw that you were standing in the middle of the space, still clutching a heavy, gray blanket around yourself, and positively shaking from head to toe with the cold. Your clothes were piled on the floor by your feet where you must have discarded them before your foray into the river. He sighed heavily and shook his head, moving past you to dig into a leather duffel bag that had piles of clean clothes in it that he never wore. “The hell’s wrong with ya? Look at ya. Yer whole body is shakin’,” he said in a low voice. He had planned to grab some clothes and go change into them outside the shelter to give you some privacy, but your voice soon stopped him dead. “Yer freezin’ to death over there...” he growled.

“S-so warm me up,” you said in a low voice.

Daryl gulped thickly. He heard your soft footsteps moving toward him and again was sharply aware of his nakedness beneath the blanket he was holding about himself. And of yours. “Lemme just grab some clothes and I’ll get dressed and get the fire built up.”

“That’s not w-what I mean.” Your voice was soft behind him.

Daryl turned, his heart jumping into his throat. “...what?”

You padded toward him across the dried pine needles he’d spread as a makeshift floor. You were still clutching the wool blanket around yourself. Water kept dripping down from the ends of your hair and running down the fabric like dew drops rolling off a blade of grass. “W-why d-did you st-stay outside last night?” you asked him in a low voice, unable to keep the shivering out of your voice despite trying hard to. Your eyes were questioning.

Daryl couldn’t tear his eyes from you. Something was happening. He could feel it like a tingle in his fingertips and the top of his head. And that bubble in between his lungs seemed to be growing, upwelling like the coldest, deepest layer of water in the river when his feet has disturbed it. You held his eyes steadily as he tried to come up with an answer to your question. “...I was keepin’ watch. And—I wanted ya to have the cot.”

Your lips tugged down into a pout that had his chest aching. God, and that furrow you got between your brows as you were puzzling over him. He couldn’t stand that pout on your face. It made him feel instantly guilty but he didn’t know why and as he would reverse the spin of the earth if that was the only thing that would fix it. It didn’t matter; he’d figure out how to do it if that was the cure. You took a couple more steps toward him, stopping within a foot of him now. The blanket slipped off your right shoulder and his eyes were drawn to that expanse of bare skin like a moth to a flame. He gulped again and tore his eyes away and back up to yours. Your voice broke through his jumbled, racing thoughts. “Daryl—I w-wanted you. Couldn’t you tell?”

He was paralyzed, dumbfounded. He felt like an idiot staring back at you, wondering how long he’d been talking himself out of what was apparently right in his face.

Your eyes flickered between his as you tried to read what was going on in his mind. “Why do you think I came out here? I was p-practically b-begging you to kiss me last night, by the fire. But you didn’t. And then I couldn’t s-sleep on your damn cot all night, alone. And you were just sitting out there...” You were searching his face for an explanation.

His lips parted as if to say something, but no sound came out. You were standing there just in front of him, shivering, telling him that he hadn’t imagined the charge in the air the night before, the heavy tension, the thickness between you like an approaching storm. He hadn’t imagined the way you’d been looking at him with that dewy softness in your eyes. He hadn’t been imagining your hesitation to disappear into his shelter completely. Anything he could come up with in response to that, to this, sounded stupid. Finally, he closed his mouth again and sighed, shutting his eyes briefly, drawing in a slow breath. “Just tell me—what ya want from me. Tell me, righ’ now, what ya want and I’ll give it to ya.”

Your eyes searched his face before you answered. “I already told you. I want you.” Daryl watched with bated breath as you backed up toward his cot and sat down on the edge. Though you kept the wool blanket clutched to your chest, it slipped completely from your other shoulder now and pooled on the cot behind you. “Do you want me in the s-same way? If you don’t, tell me now before I further em-embarrass myself.” Another shiver wracked through you. “I mean, I’m s-sitting on your bed basically naked right now, Daryl.”

Daryl pulled in a bracing breath and walked to you, sinking down beside you on the cot, his own blanket falling down around his hips. His bare chest and stomach were scattered with scars and goosebumps rose at the cold kiss of the air. His body was angled toward you and after hesitating only one nervous moment, he reached to cup your face tenderly in his hands, so gently it was as if he was worried you would crumble into ash under his fingertips. “Course I want ya. I’ve—I’ve always wanted ya.”

One of your palms landed flush in the center of his chest, and that was the last thing he needed before he crashed his lips against yours. Your hand drifted down to his side and rested there, exhilarating and grounding and electric. His palm came to rest on the side of your neck, his fingertips tickling around to the nape, and he kissed you with an urgency that suggested he expected you to dissolve into the air and vanish at any moment. He’d been hiding from so much out there for so long—and you were pulling him back to plant his feet on the earth again, to grab hold of something true and concrete and real right in front of him. He wasn’t a shapeless shade condemned to comb the banks of the river alone until he found what he’d lost... He was making a conscious choice in being there and he’d made a conscious choice to leave other things behind... You. He’d left you behind.

He kissed you more desperately, more hungrily.

A small hum of pleasure escaped you and Daryl deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down from your face over the curve of your neck and onto your bare shoulders. Your skin was chilled and damp still from the river. Droplets rained down from your hair. They did the same from his. They ran over the landscape of his scars and met your fingertips where they were pressed to him. They navigated his landscape and crossed onto yours in this way, where the two of you met and melded.

You pulled back from him slightly, just the tiniest bit, out of breath. “Daryl,” you breathed.

His heart was racing as his hands settled on your waist. He gripped to the folds of the wool blanket hard. Had you changed your mind? “Are ya okay?” he asked, his blue eyes opening and searching your face.

But a smile grew on your lips. “Y-yeah. Just cold.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Some mad woman went out into the damn river. I had to go after her.”

“She does sound mad,” you breathed.

“Little bit,” Daryl agreed. He straightened up slightly and looked at how you were shivering. “Ya should get some clothes on. Yer gonna get sick,” he said, turning away to stand, but your hand landed on his arm and arrested all movement.

“Wait—”

He glanced over at you again and settled more deeply into the cot again. Your simply touch had done that.

You were biting your bottom lip, your top teeth dented into the fullness of it. “I—I meant what I said. I want you to warm me up. If—if you’re okay with—”

Daryl’s brow furrowed. He was unwilling to make any kind of leap here as far as your meaning. You’d need to make it clear, exactly what you wanted from him, with him. He hadn’t even dared to hope for anything like this with you, and most of him was still doubting that this was anything other than some crazy whim of yours... though he’d never known you to be flighty or capricious in this way. But his whole life he’d been taught that he was worth nothing, undesirable, unlovable... and that gets into a person’s soul deep, like a splinter that works inward instead of out, year after year. But you had been always determined to show him his worth, to care for him even when he didn’t care for himself, to make him feel safe and home. He just didn’t dare to hope for more...

But now you made it clear to him by letting the blanket fall from your hands, baring more of than he’d ever seen, and reaching for him again. You pressed your soft lips to his and kissed him gently this time, but with the same intensity of feeling and desire. One of your hands landed on the side of his neck and the other alighted on his side. Daryl kissed you back with a growing heat, his hands drawn to your newly revealed skin like a magnet. He moved over you and you laid out beneath him on his cot, your fingers traveling over the tensed muscles in his back and pushing his damp hair away from his face. Your fingernails raked gently across his skin and heat flared in Daryl’s chest. He tugged the blanket that was still swirled around his hips and used it to cover the two of you. You felt a flush burning in your face and chest as you looked at the broadness of him leaning over you and the strength of his chest and stomach. Daryl’s eyes and hands wandered over your edges like he was trying to memorize every crest and curve by touch and new waves of goosebumps rose on your skin as the roughness of his palms grazed the insides of your bare thighs and the roundness of your hips and buttocks.

His lips crashed down onto yours again and the heat of his skin met yours. He bit gently at the plumpness of your bottom lip and heat flared in your core. His fingertips dimpled into your hip and the curve of your ribs. You let out a breathy sound as his mouth departed yours and kissed down your neck to your collarbone. “Daryl—”

The way you had just said his name was enough to drive him insane. It was at that moment that he was totally lost—whatever nagging doubts that had been still rattling around in his head were silenced and you were both completely immersed in each other. He pulled more sinful noises from you with his fingers and his mouth until your back was arching and your toes were curling and you were begging him in the prettiest voice for more, your fingernails raking down his back or tangling into his hair. Neither of you could bear to wait a moment longer by the time he finally pushed into you, drawing a gasp and breathy sigh from your lips, his teeth biting down lightly on your shoulder at the overwhelming sensations rippling through him. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck and breathed you in as you began to move together as one. Your hand stayed splayed on his lower back, pressing into him as if you were afraid he would suddenly put space between you again, but there was no risk of that.

Daryl’s breath was hot against your neck, but when both of you were nearing the peak of your bliss, his lips captured you in a desperate kiss before he withdrew and pressed his forehead to yours as the two of you crashed over your highs together. Your ragged breathing was the only sound to be heard in the early morning air. You pushed the sweaty strands of Daryl’s wavy brown hair out of his face and met his blue eyes. He seemed to be searching yours, trying to read what you were thinking.

You leaned up and kissed him again, but this one was soft and full of the yearning of all the long years you had wanted him but been too afraid of ruining the bond you already had. He settled down beside you and drew you in to press you against his heated skin, adjusting the wool blankets and skins over the two of you to keep out the cold morning.

You felt his eyes on your face even as you were still trying to catch your breath and you turned to look over at him. “Hmm?” you hummed in a question.

“I just—I can’t—I can’t believe yer here. I can’t believe ya came out here and now we’re—we—” he broke off, his eyes flickering over your face as if he expected you to disappear as soon as he stopped looking at you.

“I guess I got tired of waiting,” you breathed. “And I was afraid you were going to disappear out here completely.” Your expression was sad as you traced a finger lightly along his jawline.

“I think—I wanted to.”

You rolled onto your side to face him. “Do you still want to?”

He shook his head. “Nah. I want this,” he said, ducking his eyes, still feeling nervous about what had happened and was happening.

“Good,” you said. “Me too.”

There was a long silence as you tucked yourself in against him. Beneath the blankets, his arm draped over you and he pressed his palm to your soft skin.

“I still can’t believe ya went into the damn river like that,” he drawled suddenly.

You laughed lightly. “But look where it led us.”

“Yeah... but I think we coulda still got here without the near-hypothermia. Mad woman,” he said. You gave him a smile brimming with light. Daryl pressed a kiss to your forehead and then another soft one to your lips. The two of you were content to fall back asleep together and not wake until the sun was warmer and the day was half spent.

[benevolentbones]

beach day | spencer reid x fem!reader part 2

part 1

warnings: heated kissing!!! slightly suggestive.

word count: 1.2k

a/n: here is part 2!! hope you all enjoy, thank you for the support and 200+ followers!! reblogs & comments appreciated !!

the sun was at its highest point, casting burning rays down onto the white sand. you and garcia were splashing around, emily and jj had run off to look for seashells and derek was building a mega sandcastle with jack while hotch and spencer were sat by everyone’s bags.

“i’m getting a little cold now y/n, im getting out to warm up.” garcia announced as she began to wade back out of the water, you decided that it would probably be a good idea to take a break maybe get a drink to rehydrate, so you followed the blonde back to the towels.

“honestly hotch the water is perfect are you sure you don’t want to come for a swim?” you grinned as you walked back.

“i think i’m good here.” he mumbled, smoothing down the hawaiian print shirt that adorned his tall figure.

“well in that case- lets get ice cream.” penelope chirped, as he dried herself off putting on a violently floral beach coverup over her swimsuit.

“ice cream!” jack came running back, practically leaping onto his dad, covering them both in sand.

“well that’s one way to summon a five year old.” you laughed.

hotch sent you a joking glare before picking jack up. “yeah lets get some ice cream.” he agreed passively.

“morgan, ice cream lets go hotch is buying!” penelope yelled to derek who was now two feet deep in a hole he was digging.

“wh- i never said…fine.” hotch shook his head in disapproval as he walked away, jack still in his arms, with penelope and derek in tow.

“get me my favourite!” you yelled out as they left, earning a dismissive wave from hotch.

you turned to face spencer, who had now picked up your towel and was using it to block his legs from the sun. his face was buried in his book, with only a few pages remaining.

“can i use my towel, spence.” you smiled sweetly once his doe eyes met yours.

your two piece clung to your body, saturated in sea water. little droplets of water trickled down your bare skin, spencer’s intense stare watching as they connected to each other and fell from your figure.

he cleared his throat before speaking, “i-uh yeah here.” he quickly pass your towel to you, your finger briefly skimming over his causing heat to rise in your cheeks.

you towel dried your hair, wringing your salty locks out.

spencer closed his book, setting it down on the blue cooler to his right. he eyed you, as you began to pat your torso dry, wrapping the towel around yourself, over your two piece, like you had just stepped out of the shower.

“when did you last put suncream on?” you questioned, flicking your hair off of your shoulders.

“i don’t know- maybe four hours ago.” spencer pondered.

you gasped loudly in a playful manner, immediately diving into your beach bag and pulling out your trusted factor 30 suncream.

“i- y/n i think i’m fine.”

“you’re supposed to reapply every two hours- you should know this.” you muttered, shuffling towards spencer’s seated figure.

spencer let out a small groan, although secretly he thought it was cute how concerned you were.

“stand up please.”

“i’m not moving.” a smug smile resting on his face, he wanted to test how serious you were about the application of suncream, surely you’d give up.

you let out a prolonged exhale, dispensing suncream onto your hand.

“you gave me no choice!” you exclaimed, climbing onto the beach chair. spencer’s eyes widened as you practically straddled the man, one leg resting over either side of his lap.

you pushed back his hair with one hand, gently applying the cream to his face with the other. his face burning at your close proximity, he was staring directly and your towel clad form.

once you finished applying it to his face, you reached for the bottle again, you moved down to his neck, then to his arms. at this stage spencer was compliant, doing whatever you needed of him.

“give me your arm.” you muttered, taking his forearm and rubbing in the cream on any visible skin. spencer stirred as you shifted your weight to one side, getting comfortable on his lap.

spencer knew you were a confident person, it reflected in your work on the field, but he never expected you to go this far.

“i know you’re enjoying this.” you joked, your small laugh ringing in his ears.

“s-shut up. i say you couldn’t wait to get your hands on me.” he rebutted your remark, and now it was your turn for your face to flush.

“so what if i did…” you mumbled, taking his other arm in your hand. spencer’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to read your expression, he wasn’t certain if you meant it. so he decided to find out.

“is that why you wanted my hands all over you?” he questioned. it was a bold move, even for spencer, he couldn’t quite believe those words came from him.

this caught you off guard, you dropped spencer’s arm and stared at him, his hazel eyes stared back with intensity.

“and what if i said yes, dr.reid?” you replied, chewing your bottom lip waiting for his reply.

spencer lifted his dominant hand, slipping it under your towel to rest on your waist. you breath hitched in your throat as his warm hand came in contact with your chilled skin.

“maybe you need a top up.” he mumbled, his grasp on you not faltering.

you studied him, the fresh layer of suncream on his facing causing his skin to glow from the few rays of sun that managed to shine through the gaps of the umbrella.

your hold on the bottle of suncream loosened causing it to fall into the sand below. you brought your right hand up to his face, resting it against jaw as you smoothed your thumb over cheek.

he gave you a small smile, embracing your hold. you reluctantly leaned closer, shifting your position on him. spencer could tell what you were doing, quickly closing the gap between you and pressing his lips to yours.

it was gentle at first, a soft brush that sent shivers down spencer’s spine. you immediately brought your other hand up, running in through his hair. spencer’s grip on your waist tightened, as he brought his other to rest on your thigh.

you shuddered at his touch, your beach towel slipping away from your torso and pooling by your hips. spencer deepened the kiss, as you leaned forward, pressing your body against his. you kissed back hungrily, trailing your hands to cup his face.

spencer pulled away, taking in your features. your eyelids were heavy, your lips slightly swollen. a grin spread across his face as you leaned back in pressing a kiss to your jaw, then to below your ear.

“spence?-“ you breathed out, resting your arms around his shoulders as he continued peppering kisses along your neck before returning to your lips. spencer had wanted to kiss you for months, and now it was finally happening, he wanted to savour every moment.

his lips were soft, his kiss much more tentative this time, spencer’s hands tracing over your figure.

you both pulled back to gaze at one another, heavy breaths slipping from your lips. you could practically feel the heat radiating off of spencer. you both sat for a moment, in silence, taking in what had just happened.

“will you go for a swim with me now?” you questioned.

“i think i’ll need to after that..”

taglist!! @0108s22m @rainoftearss @potatovoyager @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @luvmia222 @shardsofmarxx @silver138 @lover-of-books-and-tea

[yupuffin]

This man looks dangerously kissable.

[h4venpha]

⸺ midnight serenity

✦ sylus x reader contents: fluff, sylus being playfully mean wc: 979 notes: i said i wasnt gonna write bcs im on vacation, but i was having Sylus Thoughts while at the pool today. maybe trying something new w my writing format..? enjoy anyway! i love soft, playful sylus!!!

the bustling of the city is quiet at one of the many penthouses owned by sylus scattered throughout the n109. being the peak of one of the higher buildings, there’s nothing to focus on but the dark, night sky above, the quiet sounds of rippling of water around you, and the warm, bare chest pressing against your back.

“you’re the one who wanted to swim.” sylus remarks slyly, smirking as he tugs you through the water, wading away from the stairs. much like his other penthouses, this one too has a private pool. long and rectangular with stairs leading down one end. before the stairs is a large canopy with lounge chairs inside, a pair of towels set aside for them afterwards.

“i do, just on the shallow side!” you protest, laughing and splashing up water as you try to squirm out of the hold of his muscular arms around your bare waist. sylus slowly walks you both over to the deeper side of the pool, the far end going as deep as six feet.

“oh miss hunter, you can’t swim? you’d think linkon city’s finest hunters would have basic survival skills.” sylus says, smirking when your kicking and thrashing quickly turns into your hands desperately grabbing onto his shoulders as your feet lift off the bottom of the pool.

“sy!” you squeal, practically crawling up onto his bare frame. your legs wrap high around his torso as you pull yourself up to his broad shoulders, half your body out of the water. you can barely feel it when the cool night air hits your wet, dripping skin.

“do you have no trust in me?” sylus asks, feigning offense as he readjusts to carry you in one arm, holding you to his bare chest to calm your squirming, still wading deeper in.

“you know that’s not what i…” you frown down at him knowing he adores teasing you over the smallest things.

“don’t like the water? you’re just like a kitten, kitten.” sylus snorts at his own words, finding it even more amusing when you smack his shoulder.

“i just…like to feel the bottom of the pool when i swim, okay?”

“you wound me, sweetie.” sulus looks up, a fake pout plastered over his smug face. “do you really think i’ll drop you?”

before you could speak, sylus suddenly jerks his arm down. you squeal, arms frantically wrapping tightly around his strong neck as he pretends to drop you. he knew he was being a little mean, but he couldn’t help the way he loved seeing you seek him for comfort and aid. he knew you weren’t helpless, of course, just… too adorable for him to resist.

“sylus!” your cute squeal and laughter fills his chest with warmth.

“alright, alright, such a fussy little thing.” sylus chuckles deeply, imagining you hissing at him like a kitty. anymore teasing and you’d be getting out of the pool in record rime. with two firm hands, he guides you down, letting you rest your thighs around his hips as he holds you securely to him. “there, how’s this?”

“you’re mean.” you grumble at him, winding down as you drape your arms over his shoulders.

“just testing those hunter reflexes… though it seems clinging to me like a scared kitten doesn’t exactly fit into the neither the flight or fight category.” sylus hums, as if truly pondering the nature of her actions. either way, he wasn’t complaining at all, the feeling your warm, wet skin on his and the way you clung onto him had his blood rushing hot in his body.

you roll your eyes, ignoring the obvious warmth rising to your face, “do you want me to drown?”

“you’re fine, sweetie.” sylus snorted, knowing you were somewhat still grumpy at him for messing around. “i’ve got you, don’t i?” sylus quirks an eyebrow at you, his hands squeezing your hips beneath the water to emphasize his point.

and it did. the thick trunk of his body firmly nestled in between your legs while he easily held you steady against him. you have always been safe and you knew that one way or another. there’s nowhere you were safer than in his arms, because no matter how he teased you, he would always be looking out for you.

“…you do.” you admit quietly.

“still mad at me?” sylus pulls his hand up to gently brush away the small droplets of water on your cheek with his thumb. a few strands of his damp, silver hair fall over his forehead, the rest pushed back over the crown of his head. his low, ruby eyes soak you in, from the sheen of your wet skin to the twinkle of water droplets on your eyelashes. the water ripples quietly around your bodies.

when you silently shake your head after a moment of shyness, sylus grins smugly and slides his wet fingers in to cradle your jaw before bringing you close. he slot his lips against yours slowly, languidly slipping and pressing. your hands feel up, threading back his wet hair before sliding down the back of his head and his nape, to rest against his warm, firm chest. your touch had his heart thumping against his ribcage, full of warmth and tenderness for you.

“i’ll make you make up for being mean to me later.” you mumble a little breathlessly as you pull back, feigning nonchalance as your eyes sparkle up at him, lips tingling from the kiss.

“mm, just as soon as you can feel the bottom of the pool, yes?” sylus snorts, before quickly being met with a swift splash of water to the face. when his fingers glide over your sensitive sides, tickling you, the shine in your eyes and the warmth of your laugher makes him forget about every star in the sky above and the chill of the night breeze.

[monster-fluffery]

Body Exploration with Merfolk(18+)

We’re so similar, yet so different. There’s so much to explore.

GN! Merperson x GN! Reader

NSFW WARNING!! MINORS DNI!!

(Sensual touching and sexual situations! Praise/Worship)

Some Backstory..

The first time you saw your partner, you were almost certain they would swallow you whole. They had dark eyes, sharp claws, and even sharper teeth. Their find were strong and they were muscular from swimming against the tides in the ocean. You, as a human, knew merfolk as dangerous and ruthless creatures who would rip sailors off their ships and drown them out of malice. Though, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration as you saw the monster. This monster was strangely beautiful to you.

The two of you were fascinated by one another.. and fascination became infatuation.

The Now

Yourself and your partner were tucked away safely in a secluded cave. You were propped up on a boulder that had been wedged into the ground against the tide. Your partner waded in front of you in the icy ocean waters. You couldn’t help but notice the way they eyed your legs, aimlessly tracing their fingers up and down the soft skin of your limb.

“You’re so soft,” they whispered.

Your hand reached out, fingers grazing one of the fins on the side of their head. Immediately it flared outward, appearing bigger as if to show off the color. This reaction confused and amused you. It almost reminded you of a peacock trying to show off for its mate. A smile graced your lips as you raised an eyebrow at the sea creature in front of you.

“And you’re.. responsive,” you couldn’t help but tease them.

Their fins retracted, now appearing smaller rather than bigger. Hey folded together and drooped downward. This expressed their embarrassment as you pointed out just how much they responded to your touch. They knew very well how much they loved you, how much their body loved you. It was impossible to hide their feelings when their own fins and heart would betray them.

“Fins are sensitive, dearest.” They responded.

“In what way?”

They were quiet after you asked that. You swore the spines on their back even drooped down from their usual strong position. They sank down into the water, which now covered them up to their chin. It was obvious that they were nervous to tell you what that sensation meant to someone of their kind… though that was enough of a hint to you. You knew their body language very well.

“Oh.. it felt really good, didn’t it?”

“It’s impossible to hide things from you.”

“Consider it a good thing… Come here.”

After a small moment of hesitation, they rose up from the water. Droplets slid down their paled grayish flesh as they revealed themselves to you. Your hands reached out, fingertips grazing the edges of their gills. The rising and falling of their breathing stopped, as if your touch startled them. But, they reached out themselves. Their hands found your hips, enveloping them in their palms. Their thumbs brushed against the dips of your hips, causing a warm puff of air to leave your lips.

Both of you knew where this was going. That was more than exhilarating.

You shifted closer to the water, submerging your legs up to your knees as your arms wrapped around your partner’s neck. Their grip on your hips became tighter, pulling you closer against themselves. Though, their hands wandered up your sides, over your ribs, and up your chest. They felt every dip and curve as if wanting to memorize every single detail of your body. They relished in your breathy gasps and sighs. You were eager, your scent grew heavy with arousal. The more their hands explored, the warmer your skin became.

This didn’t stop your exploration, however. If anything, this only fueled your desire to learn what made your partner tick. Your hands ran down the length of their sides, moving from the gills on their neck to the ones on their ribs. Your fingers traced the indentations, feeling the breaths pull in then breathe out. A chill ran up your spine as their back arched into your touch. Their tightening grip told you all you needed to know. It was a silent plea.

Don’t stop. It begged.

You wouldn’t stop. Neither of you would stop. Before you knew it, you were waist down in the water. Your legs had wrapped around the sea creature’s waist. Their scales pressed against you as they used the boulder to press your back against. Their head dipped down, lips meeting your neck. They inhaled deeply, taking in your scent. They could smell just how excited you were to be in this predicament. It excited them more than they thought they could ever be. Kisses reigned down on your neck, particularly your pulse point. I hey could feel your heart raising against your skin. It amazed them how quick your heart could beat.

Your head tilted back, your hands running along their back now. Up and down. The line up and down their spine was covered in sharp talons. Spines that were sharp and dangerous, a natural defense, your hands only grazed them gently. You could feel how sharp they were from only a moment’s touch. A hiss escaped their throat and their hand suddenly gripped your wrists.

“You’ll cut yourself.. Your kind is fragile, my heart.”

A whine bubbled up in your throat, but you refused to release it. Their hands continued to move, now sliding down your wrist and along the inside of your arm. Your partner seemed fascinated by the curve of your arms and how goosebumps rose on your soft skin. Their clawed finger tips trailed up and down, traveling along the skin that made you shiver. Then, they pulled your wrist to their lips, kisses descending down your arm. This caused your breath to hitch and your cheeks to flare. Such a simple touch sent your heart racing. You swore you could pass out at any moment.

Once their head made it to the shoulder, their chin tucked into the crevice between said shoulder and your neck. Their hand revealed the length of your arm until their massive hand swallowed yours in their palm. Their fingers squeezed the indents between each digit, appreciating the lack of webbing that they never understood about your anatomy. They were amazed by you; just like you were amazed by them.

“I always thought human’s fragile bodies were weak… yet I can’t help but find yours beautiful.” They spoke.

They moved forwards, pressing their weight down against you. You back pressed harder into the rock behind you, causing you to gasp slightly. You knew what they wanted. Their lips met your heart beat, traveling down your chest. They left a trail of kisses all the way down to your belly, where they kissed your navel as their fingers counted your ribs, tracing over each one in a tantalizing slow way. They worshipped your body were ease and care. Every kiss and caress solidified their love for you.

“Most of you feels familiar… but, here is where we differ,”

Their lips hovered over the spot between your thighs, causing heat to spread all throughout your body, yet it pooled in your belly. Your body was shaking, fingers digging into the boulder behind you. Their tongue slid out from their mouth, leaving a slow and experimental lick to those ‘oh so different’ parts of you. Ecstasy clouded your mind and all you could think of is how you wanted more of them. You wanted, no, needed them touch to you. You were theirs and they were yours.

“Please..”

“I know, my heart. This is something we must explore.. hang tight for me, won’t you?”

There was a brief moment of pause, tension rising as your patience wore thin.

“It’s only just begun..”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Barter 5

Warnings: dubious and nonconsent, foreplay, I am a dark blog and I write dark things.

Summary: You are bargained to be wife to the witcher if he can slew the beast in the village.

Character: Geralt of Rivia

**note, I am not a Witcher genius or aficionado and so I may get some things wrong.

As usual, I appreciate any and all feedback and enthusiasm. Please reblog and leave a comment. Love! 😍

You bring the cloth to the witcher’s cheek. You wipe gently as you feel his bold eyes on you. You meet them and flinch. You’ve never seen irises like that and his expression is forged in stone. Unbreakable. He doesn’t appear very pleased to have his prize. 

You say your name. His brow tweaks. You swallow and put your focus back to the cut. You wipe it clean as he puffs through his nose. 

“Geralt,” he returns. “You will call me only husband.” 

“Yes, husband,” your voice rises as a wisp. 

He surprises you as he grabs your waist suddenly. You recoil, your hands furled as you hold them loft. He spins you and grips the plain wool at the nape of your neck. He rents it so the laces snap and the dress slackens. You squeak as he pushes the fabric past your shoulders. 

As your dress heaps around your clogs, you shiver beneath the thin sheath of your shift. He stands and clamps your shoulders in his large hands. He guides you from behind and stop you before the tup.  

You stare at the water and shudder. After the day’s ride, its heat is tempting but the presence of this man, a husband you do not know, has you wary. He moves behind you, grunting as he leans on a bed post and rips off one boot then the other. 

He continues to undress around you as you wait for him to direct you. You close your eyes as his last layer falls away. He steps up behind you, nearly flush with you as his thick fingertips brush down your sides. He clutches the side of your shift and raises it up little by little; past your knees, then thighs, then pelvis, up your stomach to your chest. You raise your arms to let him strip it away. 

Naked, quivering, scared, you stand trapped between him and the tub. He pets your head, spreading his long fingers round it as he smooths your hair beneath roughened palms. He angles to drag his knuckles down the back of your neck and traces the length of your spine. He trails from your tailbone to your hips and urges you forward. 

You step into the tub as he acts as your balance. He follows you in, one foot then the other, as you wade through the steaming depth. He turns and lowers himself carefully, drawing you down with him. He sits you between his legs, bending them around you as you brace your knees to keep from crumbling.  

He pulls you to lean against him and sighs. Every bit of fatigue and frustration unwinds in that breath. You stay rigid as you feel all of him. He guides your head to rest on his chest then stretches his burly arms over the brim of the tub.  

You stare at the crux of ceiling and wall, frozen despite the heat roiling over you. You feel him twitch beneath the water. Against you. He is turgid and wanting and you can only wait until he takes what he desires. Until he seals your marriage in that final act of dominance. 

You linger like that for a time. His chest rises and falls. You let the rhythm calm you so much as it can. He groans as he sinks into the soak. 

You wince as he curls and arm forward, his hand dipping beneath the surface. He tickles along your stomach, up over the cushiony flesh and along your sternum. He circles your tits with his thick digit then centers on your nipple. He pinches the beaded bud and swirls his thumb around it. A tingle rolls over you. 

You tense and whimper in fear. You’re not ignorant to what husband and wife do but the gossip of the village women bodes of pain and woe. He hushes you as his other hand crawls over your shoulder and up your throat. He frames your jaw and lifts your head. He nuzzles your crown and plumes hot breath over your scalp. 

His other hand descends and he pokes along your thighs. He grunts and you suck in a sharp gasp. You shake and pry your legs apart. His large body cradles yours as his touch slips along your pelvis and his fingers glide over your cunt. 

He pushes his finger between your folds and pushes on your tender pearl. You squeak at the sensation that blooms inside of you. Unthinking, you latch onto his wrist and moan. 

He tuts and lifts his chin to rest on your head. 

“Be a good wife,” he bids as he rolls his finger, the tendrils creeping up your thighs and stomach with each flick. “Shh, shh, shhh.” 

You close your eyes and melt into him as your chest hammers. He drops his other hand to grope your chest again, as if to feel the tempo of fear and furor growing within. He growls as he plays with you, squeezing your bosom as his finger dances on your clit.  

You clasp onto his knees to keep from slipping down and whine. You might try to enjoy what you may before that last wall is stormed. One last delight before a life of duty begins. 

[dclovesdanny]

DcxDp prompt

I’m feeling angsty, so here’s some angst.

Demon, twins, AU, where Danny did the whole thing where he died for his brother. I think it would be more angsty/dramatic if he died not by Damian’s hand, but by Ra’s for a punishment and just didn’t come out of the Lazarus pit, or if he was poisoned/killed by a traitor of the league, while saving Damian.

Fast-forward to after Damian has joined the bats, They go on a mission to Nanda Parbat. During the fight, Damian ends up being pushed into the water. He braces himself, expecting large amounts of pain.

Instead, he hears his brothers voice telling him that he’ll be OK, and that he is so proud of Damian. Damian can’t open his eyes, but he feels small, pushing him out of the pit. He opens his eyes to a small splash, as everyone is staring at him.

What everyone else sees is Damian falling into the pit, and then the pit stilling, looking like glass. Then a small child with white hair and pit green eyes guides Damian to the surface and then to the side. The farther from the middle of the pit he gets, the more he changes to look older, like Damian. He’s almost completely out of the water, placing Damian on the shore, when a monstrous being rises from the water.Damian is quickly set fully down, and the child wades back into the Lazarus pit, becoming smaller and younger as he gets close to the middle. He takes the other be hand, and they both sink into the water.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: Topographical Elements

Ideas for Naming your Fictional Places

Buildings and stones brough, burton, caster, church, cross, kirk, mill, minster, stain, stone, wark ⚜ Examples: Crossthwaite, Felixkirk, Newminster, Staines, Whitchurch

Coastline features ey, holme, hulme, hythe, naze, ness, port, sea ⚜ Examples: Bardsey, Greenhithe, Sheerness, Southport, Southsea

Dwellings and farms barton, berwick, biggin, bold, by, cote, ham, hampstead, hamton, house, scale, sett, stall, thorpe, toft, ton, wick ⚜ Examples: Fishwick, Newham, Potterton, Westby, Woodthorpe

Fields and clearings combe, croft, den, ergh, field, ham, haugh, hay, ing, land, lease, lock, meadow, rick, ridding, rode, shot, side, thwaite, wardine, worth, worthy ⚜ Examples: Applethwaite, Cowden, Smallworthy, Southworth, Wethersfield

General locations and routes bridge, ford, gate, ing, mark, path, stead, stoke, stow, street, sty, way ⚜ Examples: Epping, Horsepath, Longford, Ridgeway, Stonebridge, Streetly

Hills and slopes bank, barrow, borough, breck, cam, cliff, crook, down, edge, head, hill, how, hurst, ley, ling, lith, mond, over, pen, ridge, side, tor ⚜ Examples: Barrow, Blackdown, Longridge, Redcliff, Thornborough, Windhill

Rivers and streams batch, beck, brook, burn, ey, fleet, font, ford, keld, lade, lake, latch, marsh, mere, mouth, ore, pool, rith, wade, water, well ⚜ Examples: Broadwater, Fishlake, Mersey, Rushbrooke, Saltburn

Woods and groves bear, carr, derry, fen, frith, greave, grove, heath, holt, lea, moor, oak, rise, scough, shaw, tree, well, with, wold, wood ⚜ Examples: Blackheath, Hazlewood, Oakley, Southwold, Staplegrove

Valleys and hollows bottom, clough, combe, dale, den, ditch, glen, grave, hole, hope, slade ⚜ Examples: Cowdale, Denton, Greenslade, Hoole, Longbottom, Thorncombe

NOTE

These elements are all found in many different spellings. Old English beorg ‘hill, mound’, for example, turns up as bar-, berg-, -ber, -berry, -borough, and -burgh. Only one form is given above (Thornborough).

Several items have the same form, but differ in meaning because they come from different words in Old English. For example, -ey has developed in different ways from the two words ea ‘river’ and eg ‘island’. It is not always easy deciding which is the relevant meaning in a given place name.

This resource does not distinguish between forms which appear in different parts of a place name. Old English leah ‘forest, glade’, for example, sometimes appears at the beginning of a name (Lee- or Leigh-), sometimes at the end (-leigh, -ley), and sometimes alone (Leigh) (K. Cameron, 1961).

Source ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Worldbuilding ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs