#with some touch starved (implied) explored

[leighsartworks216]

I Love You More Than I Can Say

Zayne x transmasc!Reader

So you know in Hidden Motives when he goes fuckin feral over MC's chest? Yeah, what if that but for us trans guys? Also had this thought while tagging, you know how Zayne is cursed to fall in love with you in every universe??? Yeah, some gender fuckery isn't gonna stop that

Title from "More Than I Can Say" by Leo Sayer (it's not fully 1:1 but I just loved it too much)

Warnings: making out, nipple/chest worship, grinding, no smut, implied bisexual Zayne

Word Count: 956

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AO3

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Zayne had always been supportive of your transition from the get-go. When you’d struggled to bring it up to him one night after dinner, he was all too eager to research beside you and give you all the medical advice he could. When you’d asked if he was really okay with dating a man now, he said he was happy to be dating you, your gender doesn’t change anything. It’s still you, and he loves you.

That didn’t mean you weren’t still anxious and uncertain. Even when he showed no signs of doubt with your continued relationship, your brain found ways to find any flicker of a hint of regret in everything he did.

That cruelty was never as strong as it was now.

Your heart races painfully in your chest as you kiss him, straddling his lap on the couch after the movie became far less interesting than the man watching it with you. His hands held you to him, one on your back pressing you closer while the other held your hip steady.

He was so impossibly beautiful in these moments. Hair becoming disheveled with your touch, quiet sighs and groans being pulled from his mouth, green-hazel eyes looking up at you so lovestruck when you had to pull away for air. How could you not go in for more? How could you possibly resist the urge to kiss him again and again and again?

Your fingers tangle with the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as you lose yourself against his mouth. His teeth gently nip at your lower lip, swallowing the gasp you let out and greeting you with his tongue. When he pulls away, it’s only because both of you are panting, bodies desperately trying to claim air. But he’s too restless to wait for your lungs to catch up.

His mouth trails its affection down your jaw and to your neck. Effortlessly seeking out your pulse point and every single spot he’d found before that he knew made you whimper and moan and ache for him.

His cool hands move from their positions to slide under your shirt - his shirt, the shirt you stole from him a long time ago to sleep in. You arch your back from the chill that glides purposefully up your overheated back, lifting the offending article over your head.

You can’t help watching his reaction.

It’s not the first time since your surgery that he’s seen you shirtless, but it’s the first time he’s seeing you like this in an intimate moment. Before, it was to check your incision sites, to help apply the creams provided to help with scarring, to help you shower or get dressed for the weeks you couldn’t lift your arms over your head or do anything strenuous. This is the moment, when he used to devour your chest like a man starved, that scares you.

Maybe he feels the way you watch him, or the way your muscles tense as soon as the shirt is tossed aside, or the way your fingers freeze in his hair. Either way, his kisses become slower, reverent, as they trail lower.

Your heart’s rapid beating fills your ears. He leaves several kisses over it, sighing at the intoxicating sensation of your heartbeat against his lips. He subconsciously counts each beat.

You sigh his name and he grins against your skin. His hands slide along your back, resting at the base of your spine and between your shoulder blades. He presses your chest closer to him, further against his mouth as he explores the once-familiar planes of your body.

Your breath hitches as he trails kisses along the scars. They’re delicate, as if he’s worried he’ll be too rough and hurt you. They’ve been healed for several weeks now.

His hot breath sends shivers down your spine as it ghosts over your nipple. The surgeon you went to had painstakingly reconnected the nerves to allow you to feel for exactly this reason. You were mentally singing them praises when you could feel his tongue circle the bud, just before his lips closed around it.

You tug at his hair with a moan, torn between letting him continue his worship or pulling him back to your mouth. He doesn’t let up, though. Instead, he leaves a trail of wet kisses as he travels to the other side of your chest. His hand at your lower back slides up to your ribs, cradling your peck as his thumb circles your sensitive nipple.

He sighs against you through his nose as he closes his mouth around your neglected nipple. You hiss in shock when his teeth brush over it. When he finally pulls away, saliva trails from your chest to his mouth.

You don’t wait a second longer before leaning down and crashing your mouth to his again, digging your fingers in his dark hair to pull him ever closer. He lifts his knee to shift your body further up his lap, until you’re over his aching erection. You roll your hips against him. His fingers dig into your hips as he sighs your name into the kiss.

“Love you,” you mumble. You press your forehead to his, noses brushing and hot air filling the few centimeters between you. “I love you so much.”

He grins as he cups your cheek, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “I love you, too.” He goes in for a longer one, lingering breathlessly as you grind against him again. “I love you.”

You no longer have any anxieties about how he likes your chest when, come morning, you burst out laughing at the sight of your reflection and see it covered in hickeys.

---

Tag List:

@cheesemachine44

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 39

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Welcome back to the Spreadsheet Digest! It's been.... a while. In order to make up for that, I have a nice long list of fics to rec. Also, surprise! I'm posting this on thursdays now.

All tags and summaries provided by the authors unless they didn't provide one, in which case I filled it in.

Wildest Dreams a Dave York series by @janaispunk

You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

explicit smut (18+ only, mdni), dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamic (reader becomes very dependent on Dave), dom/sub dynamics, angst, feelings, daddy issues, secret/forbidden relationship, corruption kink, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, Dave doesn’t kill people in this

the hitman’s guide to getting the girl a Dave York seriesby @kiwisbell

It's just another job, until Dave York decides to kidnap an enemy’s wiseass daughter. It’s just another job, until he falls in love.

kidnapping, murder, violence, the world being horrible to women, reader having a very terrible sense of self-preservation, unprotected piv, oral sex (m and f receiving), dave york finding his second calling as a pussy-eating god, pining, possessive sex, jealousy, daddy issues, (stockholm syndrome?), dirty talk, actually filthy talk, hitmen and politicians, revenge, scary man with a soft spot for his woman, philosophical foreplay, tramp stamp worship (you'll see), a little sprinkle of breeding kink if you look hard enough, obsessive behaviour, anal fingering, anal sex, implied age gap, light dom/sub vibes, light bondage

Obscenery a Dave York/Tim Rockford series by @sin-djarin

Dave is worried about the day ahead and Tim offers him some advice.

M/M, Established D/s dynamics, edging, orgasm delay, these two come with their own warnings - in particular Tim's mouth and how much Dave really likes it.

Heaven is Hell a Dieter one shot by @inept-the-magnificent

Writing prompt: “I don’t get it,” says the demon, “This person’s lived a perfectly good and virtuous life. Why are you sending them to hell?” The angel nervously rubs the back of their head. “Honestly? We’re pretty sure they’d be happier in hell than heaven.”

demon!Dieter, Angel!marcus pike, mild angst, fluff, mention of drugs, alcohol, orgies, etc. The usual dieter rabble.

Scars and All a Din series by plaidamoosette (AO3)

Hidden away in the desert land of Jakku, you are slowly chipping away at the debt that you and your mother had accumulated following the death of your father to the horrible Denga Niima. But, after the recent passing of your mother, the debt has fallen on your shoulders. Using your skills as a mechanical engineer, you accumulate wealth for your slave master in the hopes that one day you will be free. Free to explore and live as your parents had always wished for you. But things change when you meet a certain bounty hunter when he comes to you to repair his ship. But, nothing is as it seems, and as the lies that were built around your life begin to crumble, you find yourself sucked into a journey of truth, betrayal, and... love.

Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst, Drama, Deceased Parents, Indentured Servitude, Soft Din Djarin, Soft Dominant Din Djarin, POV Alternating, Din Djarin Removes the Helmet, Protective Din Djarin, Intimidation, Male Masturbation, Touch-Starved, Loss of Virginity, MC doesn't know how to take care of herself, Female Masturbation, Burried Trauma, Readers knows how to fight back, Mandalorians (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture & Customs (Star Wars), Some Canon material, A whole lot of other made up stuff

Just Can't Say Goodbye a Din one shot by @saradika

a final night is spent in the arms of your bodyguard, before your arranged union the next morning.

sorta medieval vibes, references to antiquated societal expectations, mentions and references to virginity, arranged marriage, technically infidelity because of said arrangement, light angst, sneaking around, first time, fingering, PiV, creampie

Back to You a Din series by @kyberblade

You’ve been friends with Mando for years, and he drops by your hole in the wall bar from time to time to catch up. This time, however, he’s carrying an extra little green passenger with him. They are on the run, which is unsettling because Mando doesn’t run from things. Things run from him. A tracking fob, a dead body, and a confession later, all three of you set out to help the child find it’s kind. (Aka: a really typical Din x Force Sensitive reader plot, but instead of the going from stiff scary Mando to friendly Mando it’s gonna kinda go the opposite way. Not in a bad way but she’s gonna finally get to see what exactly he was running from all those times he came back to see her.)

Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Angst, Humor, Friends to Lovers, Introspection, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Romantic Friendship, Emotions, Grogu | Baby Yoda Being a Little Shit, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Protective Din Djarin, Good Parent Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Force-Sensitive Reader, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Spicy thoughts, but no smut

Familiar Strangers an Ezra one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

When your boyfriend's band opens for Familiar Strangers, you get the chance to meet the lead singer. A man whose work you've long admired. A connection sparks a flame that may change your life forever.

Rockstar!Ezra, Infidelity, reader's boyfriend is a huge asshole and deserves it though, Smut, Mildly Dubious Consent, everyone is consenting but they are impaired by alcohol

Brat a Frankie one shot by @freelancearsonist

You've been torturing Frankie, so he decides to return the favor.

short and filthy lil giflet, unprotected p in v sex, power dynamics kind of

Down the Hall a Frankie one shot by @frannyzooey

Your bedroom, just down the hall from his own, proves too tempting for Frankie to resist - even if he is your mother's boyfriend.

age gap, explicit smut, mom's boyfriend!frankie

All Through the Night a Jack one shot by @baronessvonglitter

after it's made clear that you're not welcome as a Junior Agent for the Statesman organization, Whiskey takes you under his protection for an unforgettable night

18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, mentor/mentee relationship, forbidden relationship, vandalism, nightmares, 'only one bed', first time, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, no use of y/n

Is Joel Okay? a Joel one shot by @djarinmuse

Based on this edit that @/iamasaddie shared, and the tag by @/wannab-urs, thanks Gin for the input "#Joel has a menty b and shaves his head". Reader is there for him. No idea who did the original edit but thanks.

Joel cuts his hair, the utter horror of that alone. No explicit smut but 18+ physical intimacy. Depressed Joel, soft Joel. Established relationship but no background given.

Unearth a Joel one shot by @ezrasbirdie

When your normally strict parents go out of town for two weeks and leave you on your own for the first time with little warning, you're left reeling and afraid of being on your own for so long. Luckily, Joel Miller, your father's best friend, very generously offers to let you stay with him. Your long time crush on him shouldn't be a problem at all.

smut, yearning, Joel is a little manipulative, loss of virginity, dad's best friend, nice big age gap (reader is 21, Joel is 40), liberal use of baby girl, religious trauma of the Christian variety (no denomination noted), reader wears a sundress, shaming of sexuality, bad relationship with reader's parents, insecurity, flirting, trouble orgasming, pussy pronouns (she/her), humping/grinding, masturbation, unprotected PIV, oral sex, references to early 00s media, soft Joel

What it is to grow a Joel one shot by @burntheedges

Joel knows he can't keep running from it – from Her – forever.

angst, hurt/comfort, hope, mentions of the canon depths of Joel’s depression (pills, alcohol, darkness, etc.), canon character death (Sarah), AU with Greek lore/gods & goddesses in the TLOU universe, character study

Birthday Boy a Joel one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Even with a house full of party guests, Joel can't resist when he finds a moment alone with you in the bathroom.

Masturbation, Frottage, light d/s, orgasm denial. Just general Joel Miller filth. There's like a smidge of plot right at the end.

Duality of a Man a Joel series by @wildemaven

A woman shows up at your door looking for your boyfriend

Mentions of food, Mentions of killing, death, birth, birth trauma

Consider it a Favor a Joel one shot by @chaotic-mystery

Your AC breaks in your car and the one person around to help is your neighbor, Mr.Miller.

Age gap (Not specified but I put Sarah in college) DILF Joel mowing his lawn, reader is able-bodied and is wearing a swim suit/coverup, reader has hair Joel can pull, kissing, swearing, (1) blowjob, size kink go brrr, pet names (good girl, sweetheart, baby) facedown ass up, babey, a little manhandling, unprotected penetration (don't look at me okay, the whore in me jumped out), dirty talk, Joel hyping up his ego, pussy ownership, creampie, a little glimpse of aftercare and what really happened to your AC.

Absolution a Joel series by @pedgito

Moving in with your soon-to-be stepfather under the roof of his brother, Joel, ends up being a turning point of change in your life.

DDDNE - stepcest, religious trauma, parental trauma. addition warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel (reader's mom is engaged to marry tommy) age gap (20/late 40s), inappropriate relationships/behavior, slight dubcon (voyeurism), eventual smut (will tag with specific on each chapter), skewed morals, joel using alcohol to cope with life and loss, reader is in the depths of deconstruction.

Imperfect for you a Joel one shot by @joelscruff

you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby.

age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles

rotten a Joel one shot by @alltheirdamn

Sharing land with Joel Miller has always been infuriating, but when your bad attitude finally gets his attention...things get messy

No-Outbreak AU, banter and arguing, explicit language, brat taming, semi dark!joel, dubcon elements, degrading, choking, rough spanking, hair pulling, face slapping, throat fucking, touch of dacryphilia, rope/bondage, rough unprotected piv sex, hint of a subspace moment, orgasm denial, squirting, creampie, no aftercare because joel is an old, grumpy asshole

Lost Cause a Joel one shot by @Joelalorian

Joel thinks you shouldn’t waste your time on him. You disagree.

Explicit MDNI; Jackson-era Joel; canon-ish but also not; drinking; mentions of cigarettes, drugs, dark thoughts, and death; unprotected p in v; oral (m and f receiving); interesting use of red wine; unspecified age gap; despair and hope

rosemary by the garden gate Joel/Tim Rockford/Dio series by @marisferasiop

(set in an approximate late nineties/early aughts timeline) Shane, turned out by his family after being outed, is sleeping rough when he is abducted by a sex trafficking ring. Joel is Tess' lead enforcer in her gang. His twin brother, Tim, is a highly decorated detective in Major Crimes for the NYPD. Together, they help Tess and her investments navigate both sides of the law. When Shane is given to Joel one evening at a truce meeting between Tess' gang and their rivals, a human trafficking syndicate, he calls Tim to initiate a bust on the opposition. His one request: he wants the kid. Problem is, once Tim meets him, so does he. Most importantly: what does Shane want once his freedom is granted? Or does he even want his freedom, if these two are holding the reigns?

dead dove!! Human trafficking, unhoused gay minors/unhoused gay youth, abuse (physical, sexual, mental/emotional), sex trafficking, sex work, homelessness, food insecurity, stealing to survive, abduction, sex slave trade, gagging/choking (later consensual breathplay), rough oral, "painal" kink, non-con drugging, enemas, forced sex work, bondage for sex and for binding/imprisonment, non-con sex/rape, mafia-esque work and associated unpleasantness (gore and violence), mean but soft Joel, face slapping, spanking as foreplay, caning as punishment, orgasm delay/control, spitting in mouth, body modifications, marking, cum play, all the soft life-affirming gay sex after rescue (Joel and Tim are twins and don't fuck e/o but they do fuck Shane together at one point) a mention of the Meat Rack, the gay sex worker alley where serial killer Des Nilsen abducted his victims.

Win a Date With Javi G + Part 2 a Javi G/Jack Daniels/Reader series by @absurdthirst and @wardenparker

You and your best friend are huge fans of Spanish pop star Javi G, and she managed to convince you to enter a contest to win a date with the singer himself. No one is more surprised than you when you actually win. / Going home with Javi and Jack after the Grammys might be the most important decision you've ever made...

Cursing. Food/alcohol. Pure fluff and flirting. A little dirty talk/dirty flirting toward the end./ Dom/sub dynamic. MMF threesome. *This story features an established MM relationship!* Sex toys, collaring, dirty talk, enthusiastic use of 'Daddy', oral sex (f and m receiving), hand job, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, dom!Jack, sub!Javi, cumplay, rimming, light choking, spanking, double penetration, double vaginal penetration, after care, exploration of power dynamics.

Waffles and Cigarettes a Javi P one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

After you are attacked during a night out, your ex boyfriend comes to your rescue

Attempted sexual assault (not Javi), violence, descriptions of blood and injuries, fingering, spit as lube, unprotected PIV, kinda rough sex, creampie, angst. absolutely feral, protective ex boyfriend Javi

Midnight Rainstorms a Javi P one shot by @thundermartini

Javier is coming home late, escaping from a storm. You’re trying hard not to drown in the incessant rain.

no y/n, female reader, reader is not physically described (except she has long hair), javier and reader are married, mentions of anxiety, mentions of trauma, mentions of guilt, mentions of narcos plot but it’s a blur, nightmare so it may be triggering, grief, no beta.

Crawl a Max Phillips one shot by @proxima-writes

Gym owner Max Phillips offers to let you use the sauna. In return, he uses your mouth.

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), no use of y/n, able bodied reader, dirty talk, crawling, oral (m receiving), no aftercare, semi-public sex.

Dancing Phantoms on the Terrace an Oberyn one shot by @janaispunk

You show up to Oberyn's party

(somewhat) modern!Oberyn, able bodied reader, reader has hair that wind is "whipping through", no use of y/n, alcohol consumption, once again it's all aboard the angst train i'm sorry babes

Happy Reading!

[vickyvicarious]

Dracula's actions today were interesting. His attack on Jonathan definitely was not what he intended on going in to his room. I think he wanted to make him jump, yeah, to spook him a little. He wanted to touch him more, continue being creepy in that way also. But I think he intended to spend more time in his company, continue to play the social manipulation game. I wonder if he wanted to be around when Jonathan discovered the locked doors... watching him panic at the realization that he's a prisoner but be forced to try and hide it because Dracula is right there would be absolutely the sort of thing he'd love. (I just can't picture why Jonathan would be trying different doors with Dracula right there. Maybe if he was 'working' in the library and encouraged him to walk around/explore as Dracula was too busy to be good company, then snuck up on him again as he's in the middle of learning how many/which doors are locked? But I dunno.)

Regardless, either Dracula's very thirsty or Jonathan looks very tasty (I suspect both) because he lost all control the second he saw his blood:

When the Count saw my face, his eyes blazed with a sort of demoniac fury, and he suddenly made a grab at my throat. I drew away, and his hand touched the string of beads which held the crucifix. It made an instant change in him, for the fury passed so quickly that I could hardly believe that it was ever there.

I don't even think this means Dracula didn't know about the crucifix. Probably not before now (and probably Jonathan just made some general statement about receiving gifts from the local people rather than naming the innkeeper lady), but not necessarily. After all, if Jonathan was still shaving he probably wasn't fully dressed yet, and anything worn about his neck should probably have been at least somewhat visible. I think Dracula just got tunnel vision at the sight of blood, and that could go whether he knew the crucifix was there or not. The instant he touches it though, he comes back to himself, and puts on the friendly host mask again.

His first instinct is to get rid of the evidence, and he does so in a way that once again is subtly insulting to Jonathan (implying he's vain here, before implying he was stupid) as well as some larger group of other people (men in general here, before it was 'peasants'). But it's also really over the top and I think despite the jolt of the crucifix, he's really struggling to maintain his control over himself. Hence flinging the mirror out the freaking window and then fleeing. Not just the room, either - the entire castle. This becomes apparent when he returns some time later through the front door: "I heard the great door below shut, and knew that the Count had returned." I really wonder where he went, what he did while gone, and exactly how long he was gone... Even after his return, he keeps his distance from Jonathan initially. Jonathan has to seek him out, or maybe waits until mealtime to talk to him.

The goitre in the surrounding area implies Dracula has been feeding, but everything about his actions today really suggests he has been starving himself recently. Based on other stuff in the book, I don't think it can be possible that vampires always lose control of themself so much around the sight of blood. Also, his face immediately becoming angry... maybe part of that is just his hunting expression, but I wonder if a part of it is Dracula's frustration that once again things aren't going to plan with Jonathan. I wouldn't be surprised if he felt angry at him (how dare he bleed at me and ruin my suave game?!) and a little part of the way he throws the mirror away so violently is to punish him for being so 'provoking' or whatever.

[wormconsumer]

Based off a post I saw with the idea that Robert Smirke had fourteen friends, each falling too/representing a different entity, with Smirke himself being the Extinction.

To get the obvious ones out of the way: Jonah Magnus as the Eye, Mordechai Lukas as the Lonely, Maxwell Rayner as the Dark, and George Gilbert Scott as the Buried; these ones are all canon. Not directly canon but a pretty reasonable assumption is Simon Fairchild as the Vast; we know Simon had Maxwell Rayner help him with his Awful Deep ritual in 1853, which was only a few years before Smirke died, and Smirke hung out with Rayner a ton, so it makes sense for Simon to be part of the group (though by a different name; he only started going by “Simon Fairchild” in the 1930s). Another fairly reasonable assumption, in my opinion, is John Franklin for the Hunt. Franklin is canonically a Hunt avatar in The Magnus Archives, his real-life timeline overlaps with Smirke and the rest, and Rayner was canonically interested in his expedition, which was probably because he wanted to use Franklin’s knowledge of arctic exploration for his ritual, but could also imply they knew each other, and therefore, Smirke’s gang.

For the Corruption, my first thought was John Amherst, but he only became an avatar during the Second Boer War, which was about half a century after Smirke’s time. Instead, John Snow is a better fit. He was an English physician who lived during the same time as Smirke, and he had something going on; his descendant Neil Thompson has a syringe that belonged to Snow that had Corruption properties, so Snow fits. For the Slaughter, we could go with Charles Fleming. We know he was in China from at least the beginning of the First Opium War in 1839, and Smirke and Jonah and the rest were up and active on their supernatural studies since at least the 1810s, so it’s theoretical Fleming could have hung out with them, even though he didn’t become touched by the Slaughter until he went to China. Maybe he came back later, though he was in China at least until 1862. Alternatively, William Hall, the actual captain of the Nemesis, could be an option, his lifetime overlaps pretty well with Smirke’s, though there is no evidence he interacted with the Slaughter besides his interactions with Fleming and the Nemesis. Still, he was probably a bit more high-society that Fleming, so I kind of prefer him. Finally, for the more reasonable ones, we have Joey Grimaldi for the Stranger. Grimaldi’s timeline overlaps with Smirke’s, and we know he was affected by the Stranger even before he was turned into Nikola Orsinov. The reason I’m choosing Grimaldi instead of Gregor Orsinov or Nikolai Denikin is that we know for sure he was in England while Smirke was, unlike the other two.

Now for the more out-there guesses. For the Flesh, there are a few options. One is Eustace Wick, the Lutheran priest-turned-cannibal, who did live at the same time as Smirke, but he became an avatar in 1832, died in 1845, and has no evidence that he’d even been to England, considering he’s American. The other options would be Benjamin Carlisle, Benjamin’s unnamed wife, or possibly some other relative or descendant of theirs. I find this one the more likely choice, because Jonathan Sims specifically wonders how Benjamin Carlisle’s wife was able to give her statement to the Magnus Institute, considering she starved to death in a cave on the Oregon Trail in 1845, as well as the fact that an apparent descendant of her, Toby Carlisle, is living in England by the 21st Century and has enough of a connection with the Flesh to be pretty severely affected by the failure of the Last Feast ritual. The unnamed Mrs. Carlisle being the Flesh representative does mean she presumably gave in and cannibalized her husband, and the timeline only gives her about a decade to have hung out with the rest before Smirke’s death, but I think that fits, considering what Smirke said about just coming up with theories about the Flesh in his statement.

The Spiral has similarly not a lot to go on. I would just say the Distortion, seeing as it’s an immortal manifestation of the Spiral itself. We know that Ivo Lenshik’s father was tormented by the Distortion in a human form, and apparently Lenshik’s great-uncle did too, implying that the Distortion did assume a humanoid form sometimes, before it was forced to by the failure of the Great Twisting ritual. Plus, Jonah Magnus clearly knows who the Distortion is, which yes, he could have learned at literally any point from the past two hundred years, but seeing as we’ve got nothing else, I’ll choose to believe. For the Web, the only older avatars of the Web we’re aware of would be the historical owners of the house at Hill Top Road. We don’t know who owned it during Smirke’s time; the closest we have are the unnamed blackmailer who died during the English Civil War in the mid-1600s, and Walter Fielding, who died in 1923. Walter’s son and grandson both owned the house for about thirty years before dying, so with the same amount of time applied, Walter couldn’t be our Web avatar. Honestly, the answer might just have to be “whichever Web avatar was owning the house at Hill Top Road during the first half of the 19th Century.”

For the Desolation, we have even less. Diego Molina founded the Cult of the Lightless Flame at some point prior to World War II, but we have no idea when, and it couldn’t have been that long, considering what Eugene Vanderstock says about the immortality of Desolation avatars having some kind of limit. The same is true of the End. The only known End avatar who was alive during Smirke’s time was Nathaniel Thorp, who was a Death at the time, and didn’t become human again until 1970. It’s unlikely that Deaths got breaks to socialize.

So, in summary, we know for sure about:

* Jonah Magnus — The Eye

* Mordechai Lukas — The Lonely

* Maxwell Rayner — The Dark

* George Gilbert Scott — The Buried

We can make some reasonable assumptions about:

* Simon Fairchild — The Vast

* John Franklin — The Hunt

We can make educated guesses about:

* John Snow — The Corruption

* William Hall — The Slaughter

* Joey Grimaldi — The Stranger

We can make complete guesses about:

* Mrs. Carlisle — The Flesh

* The Distortion — The Spiral

* Owner of the house at Hill Top Road — The Web

And we have nothing for:

* The Desolation

* The End

If anyone has ideas or things I missed, let me know.

[theonlyren]

Public Sylveon Announcement

So. It's Pride Month, and the Sylveon are out in droves, being the icons we all want them to be (they adore the attention). During this time, you may be tempted to catch one of these goobers, or perhaps be chosen by one, to raise and train as your own. That's great! As a trainer of a Sylveon for a whole decade, I'm intimately familiar with the ins and outs of this particular Eeveelution and will be glad to share some advice!

Without further ado, here's how you care for a newly caught Sylveon!

0: Don't.

Get yourself an Eevee, and earn your Sylveon.

Understand I'm not saying this with spite, this is genuinely a word of caution, a warning, if you will. Aside from the fact that catching a Sylveon during Pride is almost certainly an "impulse catch" that you may well not be ready to commit to, stop to consider for a moment just how Sylveon evolve. They require affection. Love. A step above "mere" friendship. They require a genuine connection to another that sparks perhaps one of the most unique and precious evolutions known to all 'mon. Straight up catching/adopting one not only skips that entire, critical step, but also more-than-likely deeply implies that the Sylveon you're catching/adopting had that connection and, one way or another has lost it.

We call this baggage and a lot of people aren't ready to deal with it. You could be inadvertently taking in a 'mon with separation anxiety, depression, nightmares and high stress, imposter syndrome, and more.

Start with an Eevee (A child of a Sylveon if at all possible ;D), and evolve it with a healthy baseline into a Sylveon, you'll both be much happier.

"But what if the Sylveon chose me and isn't leaving?"/"I'm aware of the risks, but want to commit to this anyway."

Well, dear reader, keep reading!

1: Be ready for touch.

Sylveon are titled "The Intertwining Pokemon" for a reason. They adore touch. They're hardwired to seek it. Quite literally my own Sylveon is sitting under my desk as I type this, with his feeler wrapped around my leg. It's his favorite place to be that isn't also in my bed. Their feelers can be off putting to a lot of people, especially after one realizes they're flesh and fur, but do not recoil from it, you'll break the poor bab's heart. Touch is how they explore and how they get a read on you and other pokemon (it's also how they lull prey into a false sense of security before they go for the throat, more on that later). Do not touch starve your Sylveon. For a blessing, their feelers are velvety soft and feel wonderful, at least, to most people. If you have other Pokemon, encourage them to get used to the feelers as well. I have a Zoroark on my team, and, though it took a while, he doesn't recoil at Vivi's feelers and lets him explore.

This all goes double for cuddles. Sylveon are perhaps the absolute worst of the Eeveelutions that still believe they're a lap Eevee once they evolve. A lot of trainers will try and tell you to discourage such behavior, since it will encourage them to pounce on other people, but, in my experience, Sylveon are rather adept at knowing who to not pounce on. As long as you're the primary pounce person, your Sylveon will seldom jump on other people that it doesn't consider a friend and knows not to pounce on.

2: Be ready for high-maintenance.

Sylveon (most of them, at least) are spoiled brats in one way or another. It's a common "trap" most trainers fall into when raising one, a lot of the ways you can show one affection as an eevee is to go above and beyond for it in one way or another, and they will get used to that. My Sylveon, as an example, loves baths, and practically requires one daily. Other Sylveon may require a battle on the weekly, or high quality food, or long, scenic walks, or, Arc-save-you, all of the above. They're a very high-energy, high-maintenance Eeveelution, beaten out only by Jolteon.

3: Be ready for noise.

Oh they YELL. Sylveon are talkative little buggers, and the moment something goes amiss they will cry about it. If they're having fun they will cry about it. If they're bored they will cry about it. If they know Hyper Voice, Lord-in-heaven they will cry about it. You can train one to be quiet on demand, but use such commands sparingly, as frequently telling them to "quiet down" will make one start to question if you're mad at it or appreciate it. Which leads us to-

4: Temper your emotions.

Another aspect about Sylveon is they use their feelers to channel a calming Fairy-type energy that quite literally reads your emotions and dulls hostility. This makes them great therapy Pokemon, as it makes it damn near impossible to be mad if one's around, and great hunters, as it makes it damn near impossible to fear for your life when it goes in for the kill! It also, perhaps frustratingly, makes it damn near impossible to be mad at them if they misbehave. And they're a fairy-type, they will misbehave at some point. All a Sylveon wants to feel is love and joy, understandably, but other emotions exist for a reason, and both you and your Sylveon will have to learn to channel and process those emotions in a healthy, controlled manner, as this will reliably get the both of you back to feeling the love and joy you're likely seeking. This process is different for everyone, and Arc-knows I'm far from a licensed therapist, but it's still important to learn how to figure out anger and sorrow with a Sylveon around, and the both of you will need to train yourselves to work through your feelings.

5: Be ready to play.

I'm lucky, I have other mons that'll be playmates for Vivi at the drop of a hat. But one thing I've observed with Sylveon as a whole is that they all need playtime and playmates, and if you don't have other Pokemon that can be your Sylveon's playmate, guess what, bud - that means you're the playmate! Even if you do have other mons you are still a valid playmate!

Buy toys.

Squeaky toys, tug-ropes, ribbons, balls, feathers, and dolls are all fantastic toys for your Sylveon, and if one brings a toy to you, you'd best engage, unless you want an express example of lesson 3. Thankfully, most Sylveon are happy with short and quick play sessions. My own is happy with maybe three rounds of fetch or a brief tug-o-war session before it'll go back to happily cuddling up next to me, but all Sylveon are different in varous ways. Trust your instincts and you'll be able to easily tell when your Sylveon is content.

6: They are smart.

Sylveon are beat out only by Espeon in the overall intelligence category. Being mostly modern/urban life adapted Pokemon that usually spend all their lives around humans, they pick up pretty quickly on language, social cues, tools, and so on. Intelligence is always a wavering factor among all Pokemon, but, on the whole, expect your Sylveon to be far more clever than your average Growlithe or Yamper, and respect that intelligence. It may not ever speak Galarian to you, but it could very well learn to read, open doors, work a TV remote or even keyboard, steal your phone, visit and buy from stores, and so on.

---

And there we have it! Past all this, all the standard methods for training and caring for Pokemon apply! Sylveon, on the whole, are quite amicable, and most are perfectly content to chill out and cuddle when they aren't being high-chaos gremlins. They're fantastic battlers as well, with great durability, utility, and surprising potential for damage, amplified only by the love and friendship you provide one.

Give a Sylveon love, and - capital L - Love is what you get in return.

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

hello hello! I love your writing, especially for any of the dork squad and Bane- I never knew I loved bane so much until reading your interpretation of him- and I wanted to request Bane?

Maybe the Reader (gn), who is not very physically affectionate to most people, is just extremely so with Bane? Even before their involved romantic wise? Like they're constantly wanting to hold his hand or arm, enjoys resting their head on him, etc.? (Touch starved and very picky, but big man is so very nice to indulge)

"Touchy" General Bane x Reader

EVERYONE IS SO NICE TO ME THANK YOU ;;u;; I really appreciate it. I've really loved coming up with my own interpretations and exploring some... alternate fun easter eggs for people to find. I'm intending on going back to add some to the other background posts at some point but shhh that's a secret.

TW: None

At first, he didn't notice. Really, he doesn't pay a lot of attention to that sort of thing. Rather, he noticed that you were physically affectionate with him and touchy with him. Yet, he assumed you were just like that. Why would he assume he was special in any way?

You know better than to assume this is stupidity. You are a companion, someone he respects- Plus his sense of social cues is a tad warped given his background. What might be obvious socially to someone else slips past his grasp.

It's when someone moved for a hug and he noticed your lukewarm response. The almost annoyance at being pressured into it. He wondered to ask if that person in particular had done something to make you unhappy or feel unsafe. Yet as he made more observations, he realized you distanced yourself from certain gestures. You didn't touch or imply a want for touch from others.

It puzzled him, particularly as you came by to lean your head against him, joking about him making a particularly good pillow. It wasn't his imagination, you had this tendency to be physically affectionate around him. He would rationalize it as him making you feel safe as a companion, at first. Logically, that makes the most sense.

That thought makes him feel... silly, when the true obvious answer became apparent. A little bit of flirting, real conversation and your affections suddenly make a lot more sense. Why would he assume you had romantic feelings for him? It's not his nature.

oh, pobrecita/o... You were so needy that entire time and he wasn't paying attention. Perhaps you should make sure he does this time. How much you only want to touch him! He feels honored. It's a fun little ego boost that he brings that out in you.

Expect the touching to be returned in kind. He's very physically affectionate in his own way. Lots of hands on your waist, fingers brushing over you, small stolen kisses. Only in private, but it adds to the special intimacy of it.

[daebraeksan]

Getting triggered in a (pre)sexual situation with Nagi & he is patient and kind about it

contents 

NSFW elements, vague age, could be seen as college student or adult!Nagi, Reader with DID/PSTD (anxiety/depression/mental illness) who has gone to/is currently in therapy [as always anyone can read this, but i provide this extra info for context :) /], reader with past history of sexual trauma, exploring feelings about sexual, physical, and romantic aspects of relationship, height difference (short reader), reader is triggered during kissing and starts crying; some mental health event happens during kissing i don't know, nagi is very patient and respectful; abandonment issues, reader is certain nagi is going to break up with them (nagi will not)

tags 

Everyone is an adult in an unspecified location AU, nagi has his own apartment AU, the apartment is really the only important physical location that matters so like, i don’t really care lol, go wild, established relationship, reader has never dated before, reader little to no romantic/dating experience, implied past sexual trauma,

word count

3045

!#@!@#!@#!@#!@#!@#

Poor Nagi didn’t get any Valentine's chocolates when he was in school. Times when he felt sexual frustration were so few and far between, and when he did, poor Nagi was often too lazy to do anything about it. There’s nothing sad about being a late bloomer; everyone is different. Having fun in a specific way now versus later are incomparable or equal, but not better or worse than each other. 

For various, and some of those were surprisingly similar, reasons, your relationship with Nagi started slowly. Both of you were uncertain whether the other liked you. Both of you were hesitant to admit to yourselves you liked the other. For both of you, it was too much of a hassle at first. Feelings are complicated and you both didn’t want to get into anything that was going to harm or disturb you. It was Nagi who, by inadvertent accident, finally steeled your resolve, and spurred you to make your move, which started the “romantic” (?) aspect of your relationship.  

Hardly anything in your life is “easy” but for all the struggle you go through to live a “normal” life that other people take for granted, Nagi is an excellent partner to go through it all. Your head spins as you are treated with gentleness, humor, love, and respect. Your paranoid brain questions every act of kindness, moreso now that a “romantic” element throws your body in a tailspin. It’s new territory you don’t know. Your friendship with Nagi brought you so much joy, and those aspects haven’t been removed. You are always grateful to have a person who provides a safe space for you in your life. You cherish these people, few and far between, who you hold tightly to your heart, a dragon guarding less than 10 gems which feels like piles and piles of countless gold coins. 

All the work in your life hasn’t been for nothing. You are aware of how distant your insecurities feel sometimes. Their presence remains, memory cells floating in a busy abyss. You're grateful for your coping strategies that saved you. You are grateful for your new experiences and new strategies that can allow you to live the life you want to live going forward. You aren’t quite stuffing your insecurities to the bottom of your brain, the tartarus of your memory, but only because you don’t want any part of you to feel abandoned, lost, or hated. 

The thought of roadblocks and stumbling stones in the romantic (?) aspect of your relationship causes you worry sometimes, and you accept the newness and confusion with as much grace and compassion as you can.

The physical and sexual aspect of your relationship is going to drive you insane. It already is, and it will continue to do so.

Physical touch is already a stressful thing for you. Always. With anyone. You did not have positive physical touch growing up. You went through your childhood and adolescence touch starved, and have gone through your adulthood thus far incredibly touch starved, as well. You know what you want, you don’t know what you want, you know other people seem to be getting what they want (and what you want), and you don’t know how. Whatever they do won’t work for you anyway. You’ve tried and failed, with results ranging from unfortunate to disastrous. You can’t handle any more worst case scenarios. (You can, and will if they ever emerge. But you will not put yourself in those situations on purpose, and you will always leave a dangerous situation because you are capable of protecting yourself.) 

“Nagi is permissive.” This is one way to describe an aspect of his personality. That word stresses you out. You are so scared of hurting people (the way you were hurt.) You have long isolated yourself because you didn’t think you could get your needs met and keep people safe at the same time. (You were very hard on yourself and when you let people be responsible for their actions instead of taking the blame, you can learn that you were trustworthy all alone, and people, your loved ones, already trust you!)

“Nagi is too lazy to care either way.”  This is another way to describe Nagi in many situations. This also causes you pause, worry, and sends you in a tail spin sometimes. While your communication in other aspects of your life has improved drastically through your dedication and hard work, communication about physical touch causes its own problems because of the subject matter. Mainly, you can’t ask for what you want. You’re too protective of yourself (well, you’re alive, so it worked) and you don’t want to throw yourself in situations where you could be rejected and disappointed if it’s going to cause you so many problems.

Yet, you want emotional and physical intimacy, so you have to accept the fact that you want opposing things at times, sometimes at the same time. And it’s very frustrating and confusing. And, you’re not going to lie, in your worst moments, your insecurities about being too much, and too much trouble, emerge regarding this aspect of your relationship with Nagi. You only have one option, which is to work through it. You’re not giving up, and you’re not giving up on your relationship with Nagi. You're not giving him up for anything. (Unless he wants, but he doesn’t, so you don’t have to go through that qualifier. But you’re you, so you still splatter your disclaimers on anything and everything, because you don’t want to hurt people like how you've been hurt.) 

All of this is to say, with help from your loved ones, you were able to figure out that Nagi is okay with you cuddling with him, and he was okay with that before you started your romantic endeavors with him, too. You can’t hold his hand when he’s gaming, but sometimes he’ll still let you lean up against him. 

All your romantic firsts with Nagi are special to you, and all your first time experiences in general with him (or to be fair, anyone) are special. First time going to the amusement park together, watching a movie, cooking together (he is mostly moral support, but you still count it <3), first “date.” You cherish your first kiss. Your first and every subsequent makeout session excites you. You have days where it’s all you think about. Your sex drive is far higher than Nagi’s, but he’ll play with your pussy almost whenever you ask. Sometimes his full attention is on you, gaze hot and excited, enraptured with your pants and sounds, and sometimes he’ll play with you while he’s watching his shows or streams, something casual enough to where he’ll throw in an occasional deadpan observation of you that flushes you with the kind of humiliation and desperation that is so exciting to feel (the kind you only feel safe enough to feel with Nagi.) You can’t pick a favorite. His attention and praise fills you with white hot pleasure and your brain feels overflown in the present moment with him. The feeling of being carried away safely, because it’s Nagi, allowing you to be solidly grounded in the moment, because you don’t want to be anywhere else except overwhelmed by Nagi. 

Excited at the thought of experiencing these feelings again, you close the door to his bedroom and stand on your tiptoes and you still can’t reach his face. You cling to his shirt, pulling to coax him down to where you can reach. He towers over you, a hand over your head. You stare into his beautiful eyes and let out a tentative whine. 

“No patience at all.” Nagi’s lower, rough voice sends a jolt through you, and then he’s kissing you. Finally. 

There’s no pressure for Nagi to be creative when he touches you. For as bad as you think you are at communicating, you give him just enough to fill in the blanks that your body language leaves. Your body and voice are so expressive, and he doesn’t know how he knows what you want, but he does. You also seem pretty happy with anything he does. It makes him feel so powerful to make you so happy without even trying (that hard). Especially as time goes on and you get to know each other’s likes and tastes more and more, he likes the way you make him feel like in these moments, he is your whole world. He is all you need. Your enraptured expression, completely taken by him, the way your attention can’t be dragged to anything else makes him feel seen, and he likes the feeling. He wants you to see him.

He knows how to make you happy. When he doesn’t feel like putting in effort, but still wants to spend time with you, he knows how to make you feel good. He knows how to get results. 

But the way you motivate him surprises him every time. He knows you like it sometimes, when he pretends he’s more focused on his streams than you. You like it, so he lets you believe he is more focused on his streams than he really is. But making you feel good is like no game he’s ever played. It’s a fun game, an exciting game, riveting, all-consuming, to try and read you, try and figure out what it is you want him to do, what your body language and whines are leading him to do. You’re so easy to read, it feels like you were made for him. When you whine louder and louder, he wants you to feel like he was made for you, too.

He has to let you catch your breath eventually. He uses this time to feel proud of himself, smug at his handiwork, as he looks down at your dazed expression. You look like you miss him already. Your shy, worried expression you get as you feel better and better with the sinful way you move against his body, begging for more.

He feels protective of you and never wants to let you go. He never wants you to feel hurt again and he wants to be the one to make sure of that. He wants to be there to support you through everything and he wants you by his side always, too. 

He crowds you to the bed and you scramble up, and he crawls after you, and looms over you, the only image you want to see. 

He descends, body heavy on yours, kisses you more. You never would have thought you could like the taste of someone’s mouth like you do Nagi’s. You can’t get enough of the way his tongue feels, the strength of his hands when he grips you. You’re so loud, which Nagi loves, and is fun for you, too, but the moments when you’re about to hear his noises, grunts and gasps and exhales, makes your tummy swoop, and you cling to him tighter. You tangle your fingers in his beautiful hair. It calms you to touch it. You like holding his head like that while he kisses your neck. You hate that he has to stop kissing your lips in order to kiss your neck because you love both so much.

Nagi is patient and attentive. He can’t get bored when he sees and hears how much you are enjoying it. 

The silence has dragged on a bit too long, much longer than you need to catch your breath, and he knows you’re impatient. You act like you don’t care about breathing anymore when you kiss him, which makes him feel like king of the world, of course, but also, he wants you to breathe. 

He pulls away to assess the situation. Your fingers are still in his hair, which he loves, but your body is heavy, a lot less pliable than normal, and your gaze is frozen somewhere else, expression not dazed and needy like he likes seeing you. You look like something else. Lost in thought or somewhere else in general. 

“Baby.”

You twitch your fingers in his hair, but don’t look at him or say anything. 

“Angel?”

You remove your hand from his hair and squirm under him. He rolls off you onto his side and watches you.

“Are you okay?”

You curl away from him slightly, so he adjusts his body too, giving you some more space. 

He’s really worried, but he doesn’t want to worry you more, if something really is wrong. He knows and trusts you will tell him eventually, even if you can’t right now. 

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you, too,” you say quickly.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

You look conflicted. 

“I don’t have to. I just want you to know I love you. What do you need right now?”

You’re frozen. You don’t even feel like you can bury your head in the pillow like you want to. Well, actually, what you really want to do is bury your head in Nagi’s chest, but you definitely don’t think or feel like you can do that.

“Do you want me to go? Do you want me to take you home?”

“No,” you choke out. “I want to stay.”

“Okay,” Nagi says. “If there’s something you want me to do, when you can, can you tell me?”

Horrified, you feel tears welling in your eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“Okay,” Nagi says. “I want to help you, and can if you want me to, but I don’t have to do anything, either, if you don’t want.”

As focused as you were when you were kissing him and into it, you are now equally and opposingly scattered. Of the millions thoughts and anxieties and worries freefalling in your head, what a lot of them boil down to are: a) you are horrible; and b) he’s not going to like you anymore.

“I’m here for you,” he says. “It’s okay if you want to cry, if you feel like it.”

The sobs escape your mouth without you feeling like you let them. 

He hands you tissues and stays with you quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, which doesn’t feel good to say. It feels like you are betraying yourself. But there was no way you were going to win the fight to overcome the urge to say it. Not right now. 

“I don’t want you to say that,” Nagi says. “About crying to me ever again.”

“Sorry,” you say, because at this point you’ve given up, and have fully accepted that Nagi will probably most definitely never want to see you ever again.

“You can say sorry, and I’ll tell you it’s okay, but I just want you to know. I want it on record that I don’t want an apology for you sharing your emotions with me. Thank you for trusting me with them. I am honored.”

You cry some more, hiccupping and loud. 

Once you have a tiny pile of tissues, which you push off the bed into the bin Nagi got up and retrieved for you, you feel satisfyingly empty, like how one does, after having a good cry.

“I love you,” Nagi says promptly.

“I love you, too,” you rasp out. 

He gazes at you calmly.

You and him are opposites in some ways. One important way is he is never in a rush and you are always in a rush. So even though you know he would never rush you into anything, whether it’s talking or sex or leaving the house for some event or activity, your own traitorous brain yells at you, guilts you, warns you that he’s going ot leave no matter what anyway, so what are you even doing?

“Can I stay?” you ask in a small voice. 

He blinks at you. “...what?”

“Can I still stay here? Even though we’re not.” You gulp around nothing. Your throat convulses. “Or I can go,” you say quickly because you don’t want to cause trouble or be shameless or assume or any of the horrible things that you could do wrong.

“You should always do whatever you want,” he says. “But if you’re asking me, I’d like if you stayed.”

“Okay,” you whisper, searching your chest for the relief you think you should be feeling. A win! Right? You don’t have to do something you’re scared of, and you get what you really wanted in the first place. All you ever want is Nagi. 

“Can I still.” You wish words weren’t so hard. For all that everyone makes fun of you for constantly talking, why can’t you when it really matters? You search for the extroverted part of you, and you feel tumbleweeds where a peppy, bubbly personality should be. 

Great. Abandoned. As per usual. 

Nagi doesn’t rush you. He never rushes you. Logically, you know this, from past experience, and he continues in this moment. He’s so still. The opposite of your racing thoughts. The opposite of the fight or flight response pumping your body up to prepare for maximum danger and threat levels. He’s so still as he watches you, with his ever lidded eyes, eyes you usually feel so secure staring into, and would for hours on end, if you could. 

You know these eyes are open to you. They demand nothing. You try to remember that he would never implore you for anything, and the only person rushing you is you.

“I want to stay,” you say. 

“I want you to stay,” he says.

“I want.” Why is it so horrifying to ask for things? To ask for anything. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, please,” Nagi says.

This time, relief crashes through your system, louder this time, bursting through a window, the sound of glass shattering cascading through your veins. 

He opens himself up to you, like he always does, and you slot yourself against his body, like you’ve been wanting this whole time. You try to calm yourself down. You try to stop trying. You try to let Nagi take care of you, like he is so good at doing. 

He kisses the top of your head, and he waits with you until you feel better. And you do, eventually. You always do.

[punkassfrance]

Some NSFW Hcs for Joel

Finals are over and I want to write SOMETHING before I go to bed so enjoy (Tess hcs may be on the way)

Also this (like many of my headcanons) exists in a total vacuum- this is just one possibility of many and I will explore them all with love. I will post conflicting hcs with no hesitation depending on whatever the brain worms are whispering to me at the moment. (I'm calling this headcanons, in reality it's just a disjointed string of horny thoughts I'm sending into the ether.)

Drop some hc requests (for Joel, or Tess, or both) in my inbox if you want! Usually happy to oblige.

CW- NSFW (of course,) AFAB kind of implied, x reader, touch starvation (sortakinda)

He's more passionate about sex than you've ever seen him about anything.

He'll pull the "frail old man" act until it's time to actually get down to business.

"I'm too old for this, you're gonna give me a heart attack darlin" right up until he gets to touch you, then something snaps.

He'll spend hours learning how to fuck you right, exploring every erogenous zone in every way he can think to figure out what you like best.

Much more willing to kiss you than you'd predicted.

He's rough and eager, not at all the cool, gruff man you thought you were seducing.

Rough and eager is an understatement.

He's barely even domesticated, to be honest. You've never seen a grown man act so much like a feral animal.

Biting, growling, scratching, doesn't care at all who could hear.

There's no "can you be quiet for me, baby?"

He's way too busy not being able to shut the fuck up to try and keep you quiet

Way chattier than you would have thought, constantly praising you and muttering whatever comes to mind.

In months of knowing him, you haven't seen him smile nearly this many times

He adores any position that keeps you pressed together.

Missionary, mating press, he'll even lean his chest on your back during doggy just to be close to you.

He's probably a little more touch starved than he'll ever admit.

He's just so fucking psyched to get to touch you and experience any physical comfort in such a hellish world, why would he try to play a tough guy now?

He's been wanting and admiring for weeks, and your skin is too damn soft to play it cool.

He's looking at you like you're a deity.

Maybe if he hadn't been fighting for his life for the last twenty years he wouldn't be acting like such a teenager.

Make no mistake though, he's a very generous lover. That excitement for getting to touch and fuck you 100% extends to giving oral. You've never seen a man so enthusiastic to go down on you.

Enthusiastic is honestly a good word for the whole experience. You really walked into this expecting to be doing all the work, he seems like that kind of guy.

Nope.

He's stoked.

You would tell your (close) friends how different he is in bed if you weren't too busy describing the best lay of your life.

He definitely came first, and he definitely needed a second to recover, but you didn't need to say a word to get his face back between your legs.

Has zero reservations about making a fucking mess. You think you saw some fluid on his nose by the time he was done and he didn't bat an eye.

He's not quite so lovestruck afterward, but he's definitely not back to Joel Miller, the Badass Terror of the Town yet.

Almost no pillow talk unless you lay there for a few hours- he's exhausted and elated and probably a little embarrassed (even if he won't admit it.)

Still, way more willing to cuddle than you would have thought. Not at all the type of asshole to kick you out of bed.

Hope you enjoyed the horny thoughts that kept me awake!

[scottsummersevents]

Well, it's definitely been a hot minute since our last official post for the Scott Summers Bingo, but holidays and life and stresses have kept us hopping (or hiding if we had half a second to breathe), so we haven't done as many updates as we should have. We had all the posts from the Secret Santa (https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ss_secretsanta_23), but our usual Round-Ups sort of fell by the wayside. That said, we have not forgotten our guy and his bingo, and we've had some bingo posts since the last one. Also we haven't capped off the Round 1 for this bingo yet, so if you like Scott/Logan and haven't signed up yet and think you might be interested, check out our FAQ/Rules (https://scoganbingo.tumblr.com/post/728946030219018240/faqs-and-rules), and then pop over here to sign up (https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1N2jc2vhBD_yeMFRiKevPNlwe_9jpVh29jsao9nZGikk/viewform?edit_requested=true). We have a Discord as well, so if you're 18+, hop on in (https://discord.gg/6RjVpJe4A5) and say hi. And while you're doing that, check out these amazing fics!

Title: “Here, At The End of All Things” Author: Cerylid Card #: SSB 007 B5 - Trapped between realities Pairing: Scott/Logan (X-Men Comicverse) Rating: T Warnings/Tags: Touch-starved, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Resurrection, Suicidal Thoughts, Grief/Mourning, Scott Summers Needs A Hug, Trauma, Uncanny X-Men (2018) Wolverine and Cyclops, Alternative Universe - Slight Canon Divergence Summary: The other X-Men have vanished, and a newly-resurrected Scott has called out their enemies to face him at the remains of the School, determined to take as many of them with him as he can. He didn't expect Logan to show up and help. He didn't expect to survive. And he certainly didn't expect Logan to stay and look after him afterwards. Word Count: 3248 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50118301

Title: I Have Doubts, Sometimes, Of Being Real Author: endlesstwanted Card #: SSB-011 Square Filled: O3 — “Through the storm, we reach the shore/you give it all but I want more” Pairing: Logan/Scott Summers Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Post-X2: X-Men United (2003), Past Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Dreams and Nightmares Summary: Months after the events in Alkali Lake, Scott wakes up from a nightmare to find Logan at the usually empty side of the bed. Word Count: 878 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51335404

Title: The Getaway Author: scottxlogan Card #: SSB-001 Square Filled: O2: Caught in the Rain Pairing: Scott Summers/Tony Stark Rating: Mature Warnings/Tags: Meet-Cute, Angst and Romance, Drama & Romance, Sexual Content, Vacation, out in the rain, Forbidden Love, Light Angst, Exploration, Minor Jean Grey/Scott Summers Summary: After the rest of the original five on the X-Men team have taken off to find their path in life outside of the school Scott decides it's time to take a journey of his own to Venice where fate puts him in Tony Stark's orbit and sparks fly. What can it mean to the future moving forward for Scott? Word Count: 4721 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51626764

Title: Fifth Times the Charm Author: Cerylid Card: SSC-007 Square Filled/Prompt: (G1 - Party Adoptable replacement) - "Celebrating New Year Somewhere Big and Fancy" Pairing: Scott/Logan Rating: G Tags/Warnings: Scott Summers Deserves Happiness, Scott is Scott, Logan is a Softie (X-Men) Summary: Scott Summers has been trying to ask Logan to the New Year party for a couple of weeks, but it keeps going wrong. When he finally gets the chance, can he overcome he fears to find out if Logan feels the same? Word Count: 2161 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53115751

Title: Long Nights Author: Cerylid Card: SSB-007 Square Filled/Prompt: (G5) - "Mission Gone Wrong" Pairing: Scott/Logan Rating: M Tags/Warnings: 5+1 Things, Missions, Only One Bed, Pool & Billiards, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Scott Summers, Scott Summers Deserves Happiness, Scott Summers Needs A Hug, Protective Logan (X-Men), Grumpy Logan (X-Men), Making Out, Intimacy Summary: Five long nights that Logan found difficult... and one long night he didn't. Word Count: 3791 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53116726

Title: New Beginnings Author: Cerylid Card: SSB-007 Square Filled/Prompt:(O2) - "Beach" Pairing: Scott/Logan Rating: G Tags/Warnings: Krakoa Era (X-Men), Developing Relationship, Intimacy, Making Out, Resurrection Summary: Mother Mold has been destroyed, and the whole of the new mutant nation of Krakoa has been celebrating. Everything has changed, everything is new, and maybe it’s the chance for new beginnings. Word Count: 1475 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53556145

Title: Resolution Author: Cerylid Card: SSB 007 Square Filled/Prompt: (B5) - "I told you so" Pairing: Scott/Logan Rating: E Tags/Warnings: Scott Summers Needs A Hug, Logan is a Softie (X-Men), Sexual Content, telepathic trauma, Not Jean Grey Friendly Summary: After a bitter argument with his ex, Scott is rescued from his doubts by Logan. Word Count: 2474 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53440141

Title: The Muse: Chapter 5 Author: scottxlogan Card #: SSB-001 Square Filled: G3: "Honey I bought your favorites from the bakery." Pairing: Scott Summers/Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Warnings/Tags: (look up) Summary: Scott and Steve's quiet morning together is filled with poignant reminders of the past leading up to a heated conversation after an uninvited guest provokes something unexpected in their relationship. Word Count: Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48674320/chapters/135397045

Title of Fill: Inspiration: The Muse (Chapter 2) Author: scottxlogan Card #: NSFW Card #2 Square Filled: Summers Splash Mini-Event Sex Manual (with photos) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48674320/chapters/122960221 Ship/Main Pairing: Scott Summers/Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Light Bondage, Blindfolds, tied-up Scott Summers, Sexual Content, Rope Bondage, Sub Scott Summers, Artist Steve Rogers, Light Dom/sub, Praise Kink, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Jean Grey/Scott Summers, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secret Crush, Awkward Crush, Art, Gay Bobby Drake, Scott Summers & Bobby Drake friendship, Rimming, Explicit Sexual Content, Masturbation, Light Spanking, Sexual exploration, Sex Toys, Self-Discovery Summary: Scott weighs out his options after Steve offers him a thrilling proposal. While Scott considers his decision, Scott finds himself leaning towards a path to self-discovery and sexual explorations only to learn that he doesn't have a clue where to start. After Scott has an outing with Bobby, Steve decides it's time to teach Scott a few things about the world of pleasure.   Word Count: 16635

Title: The perfect shot Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | Artists --- Steve Rogers, Bobby Drake --- Exhibitionism Pairing: Scott Summers/Steve Rogers Rating: Explicit Warnings: light BDSM Summary: "Don't come yet," Steve reminded Scott sternly, and Scott was pretty sure, if he was to survive this morning, he would strangle his boyfriend in his sleep. Word Count: 2073 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49075156/chapters/123811438

Title: The vault that is your mind Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | Heist --- Bucky Barnes --- Against the wall Pairing: Scott Summers/Bucky Barnes Rating: Explicit Warnings: light BDSM Summary: In which a heist goes wrong for Scott and Bucky and they find some intriguing ways to kill time before the rescue. Word Count: 4704 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50296798

Title: Now that we've lost the moon Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | Friends with benefits --- Logan --- Hurt/Comfort Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan Rating: Explicit Summary: In which Logan comforts Scott after rescuing him in the aftermath of the last Hellfire Gala. Word Count: 3153 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50297170

Title: Feel the rhythm Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | Musicians --- Remy LeBeau--- Spanking Pairing: Scott Summers/Remy LeBeau Rating: Explicit Summary: In which, after a failed gig at the Mutant High prom, Scott punishes Remy for fucking up in the most delicious way possible. Word Count: 4116 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50297422

Title: Cupcakes and Gunfire Author: Wolfsheart Card #: MRP-002 Square Filled: NSFW Card #1 Square 5: Wedding Ring Pairing: Scott Summers/Bucky Barnes Rating: M Warnings: Swearing, homophobia, fight and a little blood, blow job, implied sex Summary: The X-Men, Avengers, and S.H.I.E.L.D. team up to bring in a Hydra problem that has somehow managed to go even more extreme than Hydra's usual villainy. The mission required a mutant, and that happened to be Scott Summers, and Bucky to go in undercover as newlyweds, and for Scott to reveal himself to be a visible mutant at the right moment. Of course, they'll have plenty of back-up, but until that moment, and even after, the two unlikely partners will find it very easy to play their parts. Until it's no longer just acting. Word Count: 16,840 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49728154

Title: Luxury of freedom Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | University AU --- Warren Worthington III --- Outdoors Pairing: Scott Summers/Warren Worthington III Rating: Explicit Summary: In which Warren invites Scott to a luxury trip on a family yacht for spring break. They find ways to kill the time. Word Count: 4320 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50297809

Title: Hooked on a pirate Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | Mutual pining --- Kurt Wagner --- Role-Playing, Spanking, Outdoors Pairing: Scott Summers/Kurt Wagner Rating: Explicit Summary: In which Kurt comes back to the X-Men just in time to stop Scott from going to Alkali Lake and the two of them discover, they have a lot more to in common than a shitty family background. Word Count: 7781 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50298247

Title: Just say I do Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | Accidental marriage --- Tony Stark --- Praise kink, Mirror, Temperature play Pairing: Scott Summers/Tony Stark Rating: Explicit Summary: In which Tony and Scott accidentally get married and decide to consummate said marriage while they're at it. Word Count: 5390 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50298580

Title: The things I do for you Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | Road trip --- Sam Wilson --- Toys, Edging, Spanking, Make up sex, Dirty talk Pairing: Scott Summers/Sam Wilson Rating: Explicit Summary: In which Scott and Sam go on a road trip for their first holiday together and Scott hates every second of it until he doesn't. Word Count: 4835 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50298865

Title: Quivering in anticipation Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | Camping trip --- Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff --- Dom/Sub, Toys, Restrained, Edging, Switch, Outdoors, Threesome/Group Pairing: Scott Summers/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanoff Rating: Explicit Summary: In which Scott, Clint and Natasha are on a stakeout together and find many creative ways to pass the time. Word Count: 7915 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50299399

Title: Can't turn you loose now Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | Friends to lovers --- Ororo Munroe --- Hurt/Comfort, Bubble bath Pairing: Scott Summers/Ororo Munroe Rating: Explicit Summary: In which Ororo comforts Scott after Scott has lost Jean to Logan for good, and they find out together that this separation might actually have been for the best. Word Count: 6937 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50300194

Title: The lengths I'd go for you Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | Age difference (no minors) --- Thor --- Toys, Daddy kink, Spanking Pairing: Scott Summers/Thor Rating: Explicit Summary: In which Scott gets to make a wish after winning a bet against Thor, and some creative use of hammers is happening. Word Count: 4766 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50300755

Title: A variant of happiness Author: stormxpadme Square Filled: Sexy days of Summers | Time travel --- Logan --- Kissing Pairing: Scott Summers/Logan (movieverse) Rating: Explicit Summary: In which Scott gets stopped by a variant of Logan and by Wade before he can encounter Jean at Alkali Lake and is given a new chance at life. Word Count: 6102 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50301169

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fanfiction Recs | Vol 34

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Welcome to the Spreadsheet Digest, my weekly(ish) fic rec post. This is everything I read in the last two weeks. I was on a bit of a Din kick, but fear not, there are other boys here too.

All info provided by the author unless it was blank, in which case I filled it in.

Fic Recs Below!

lost, found

Dieter one shot by @sp00kymulderr

When Dieter is hurt by the words of someone else, he turns to his art to help him. What he really needs is you.

homophobia, unsupportive family, bad family relationships, drug use, alcohol use, implied poly relationship, sex mentions, angst angst angst. There is an ezra in this, whether he is our ezra or not is up to you. writer projecting their emotions on to their favourite character.

Well it's love, make it hurt

Din series by @corazondebeskar-reads

After The Mandalorian begrudgingly teamed up with you for a big-ticket bounty, you find you work surprisingly well together, and you propose a short-term partnership. Weeks become months, and your hunting partnership becomes muddled as you explore a new dynamic onboard the Razor Crest.

BDSM, d/s dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, s/m dynamics, sadism, masochism, bondage, bounty hunting, canon-typical violence, descriptions of injury, p in v unprotected sex, oral sex (m&f receiving), anal, toys, impact play, spanking, use of "sir," no y/n, all chapter titles are taking back sunday lyrics, explicit consent, aftercare, big meat Mando, soft dom din, din djarin removes the helmet but does not reveal his face

you've been a bad girl

Din one shot by @beskarandblasters

You’ve been a bad girl and Din decides to punish you by keeping you on a collar and leash

canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), dom/sub, degradation, pet names (good girl, cyar’ika), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, praising, no use of y/n

sorgan girls are easy

Din one shot by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

Din gets off to a pretty girl he met in the past

male masturbation, PIV (past), infidelity (past), hair pulling (past)

Rescue Me

Din series by @charnelhouse

Mando rescues a girl and develops a life-ruining crush.

Innocence kink. Age Gap. Smut. Screwing someone to get the other out of their head trope. Loss of Virginity (a tad bit of blood). Fluids. Dirty talk. Angst. Smut. semi-public sex. language. ptsd. fluff.

sweaty hands, reluctant hearts

Din one shot by 221bshrlocked (AO3)

He never thought the day would come when he’d hear you saying you wanted to leave (him). Yes there was an understanding between the two of you that you were hired to help him care for the Child and to somehow keep the Razor Crest alive and working. And he knew it made sense for you to find work elsewhere now that the Razor Crest was destroyed and the Child was with his own kind. But he just assumed you weren’t going to leave considering it’s been a couple of months since he’d given the kid to the Jedi and you never brought it up. It hurt hearing you say those words, especially when he realized he wasn’t meant to hear them and that you were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people. Turns out, all Mando needed was to see the Marshal eye-fucking you as you fixed the new ship and overshared your thoughts for him to snap and finally make a move. Hopefully he can change your mind…

angst, smut, jealous mando, the helmet comes off, rough sex, penetrative sex, oral sex, breeding kink, slight exhibitionism, sweaty sex, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, sweet talk, mando’a, shy/fluffy mando, touch starved, post season 2 - no grogu, some non con elements due to overstimulation, but everyone is consenting.

i wonder if you stopped his world like you stopped mine

Frankie one shot by @chronically-ghosted

watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy

ruthless

Joel one shot by @whatsnewalycat

Joel is essentially your step dad and he catches you sneaking out instead of manning the radio like you're supposed to... so he punishes you.

DDDNE, literally just a fucked up stepdad/mom's bf fantasy, could read "mom" as tess but I don't name her or assign physical features to her or reader, post-outbreak, reader is def over 18 but not by much so yeah age gap, NON-CONSENSUAL, power imbalance, unethical d/s dynamic, slapping, spanking, punishment, orgasm delay/denial, humiliation, degradation, face fucking, anal sex, little to no aftercare

the warmth of your gaze, the lingering of your touch

Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters

After an evening out with Joel you come home to go to bed together, leading to some other activities before the night ends.

reader is disabled and uses a wheelchair, no outbreak AU, Joel can lift reader, fingering, oral sex, praising, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, pet names (darlin’, pretty girl, baby, angel), fluff, no use of y/n

undercover

Tim Rockford series by @secretelephanttattoo

It's been 20 years since you left LAPD and stopped answering his calls. What happens when you partner up again after all this time?

Idiots who won't admit their feelings. Or if we're being polite: friends to ex-friends to work partners to lovers. Miscommunication. Slow burn romance with eventual explicit smut. The holsters come with their own warning. the dressDave Yorkseries@janaispunkYou’re having an affair with Dave York. When he takes you on a week-long vacation, you realize that you have deeper feelings for him than you should. explicit smut (18+ only, mdni), angst, infidelity, fluff, somewhat questionable relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dave, sub!reader, able-bodied reader, dave pulls her hair, no use of y/n, idiots in love, more specific warnings at the start of each chapter

the dress

Dave York series by @janaispunk

You’re having an affair with Dave York. When he takes you on a week-long vacation, you realize that you have deeper feelings for him than you should.

explicit smut (18+ only, mdni), angst, infidelity, fluff, somewhat questionable relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, dom!dave, sub!reader, able-bodied reader, dave pulls her hair, no use of y/n, idiots in love, more specific warnings at the start of each chapter

My Recent Fics

Trust - Din Djarin x gn!reader - season 2 finale drabble (prompt fill)

Ravage - Ezra x f!Reader - saltburn AU, vampire scene

Only Good Girls - Dave x f!reader - D/s, punishment, mirror sex

Happy Reading!

[blackberry-bloody]

Masterlist

This is a masterlist for my written content!

And if you like any of these, I have a Discord server that I'm working on putting content in! It's pretty chaotic, but it's fun!

While there is some overlap between series, since they all take place within the same universe, they can be read independently of each other.

Also, Stay down, doesn't really have an order to be read in, It's very up in the air and a bit jumbled. So while some context may be lost, it can essentially be read in any order (as it stands right now. This may change later.)

Meet my ocs-

Meet Mibium

Meet Berkley

Series-

Pick Your Poison:

Masterlist

A Choose your own adventure whump story where the player/reader is the whumpee to a mad scientist.

Contains: Lab whump, creepy whumper, paranoia and gaslighting, horror elements.

Characters: Berkley, Mx. Doe, Rain, Marley

Stay Down:

Dayzel's half- A somewhat jumbled story of Dayzel, a demon, and the multiple bouts of whumping he has endured throughout his life.

Contains: Living weapon whump, villain whumpee/outcast whumpee, whumper x whumpee, spousal abuse, manipulation/gaslighting, defiant whumpee, self-loathing whumpee

Characters: Dayzel, Mibium, Rupert, Nox, various background characters from flashbacks.

Nox Marking him

BTHB Pleading

"Have You come to Laugh at me in my miserable state?"

Unforgivable

Sensory Deprivation

Zapping

Dayzel's rescue pt.1

Dayzel's rescue pt.2

Sleep

Mibium's half- A "spinoff" in flashbacks about Mibium's time as a whumpee in Hell as an angel.

Contains: Creepy/intimate whumper, pet whump, objectification/dehumanization

Characters: Mibium and Octavian

BTHB Chained to a bed

BTHB Blindfolded

BTHB Non-con Touching

Overstimulated and Carewhumper

Half Lies and Hidden Truths:

Masterlist

Three connected stories, told separately through The Heart, The Mind, and The soul.

(Content and characters in masterlist)

Snake Bite:

Whumper Berkley- A story detailing his experiments on his two main whumpees, with some flashbacks to a previous whumpee.

Contains: Lab whump, horror tropes, multiple whumpees, lots of character death (non of the major characters, and offscreen/implied)

Characters: Berkley, Rain, Marley, Mindy (mentioned but not present)

Quiet and Lament Prompts

Whumpee Berkley- An "epilogue"/"spinoff" where he is captured by a demon when he's forced to visit Hell.

Contains: Creepy/Intimate whumper, whumper x whumpee, Stockholm syndrome, whumper turned whumpee, nsfwhump (any chapter involving this will be posted to @blackberry-sour-and-sweet)

Characters: Berkley, Octavian

(NSFWHUMP) Octavian being Bored

Failed escape

(Untitled) Demon Mishap:

A story idea about a demon having been "accidentally" kidnapped and sold to a high ranking demon who's eager to break him in.

Conatains: Creepy/Intimate whumper, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, defiant whumpee, nsfwhump (any chapters containing this will be posted to @blackberry-sour-and-sweet)

Characters: to be announced later :)

(Untitled) Space demons:

A story about two bounty hunters in the far, far future when humans/angel/demons have begun exploring the stars.

Contains: Scif-fi whump, enemies to lovers, "enemy of my enemy is my friend" trope, morally bankrupt/ villain whumpees

Characters: Zeke, Omen, (others tbd later)

Lore/worldbuilding-

Timeline

Claim Marks/Magic brands

One offs, RP, extras, and non-canon-

Random Mindy fact

Nox, Rupert, Berkley whumper answer

Berkley whumper answer

Character questions (cheese, flexible, and pets)

Character questions (touch starved, sleep, breaks, and strength)

Character questions (smooth talker, graceful/clumsy, instruments, self-sacrifice)

Magic "anon"- Human Fates

Octavian, Rupert, Nox whumper answers

Berkley Whumper answers (with Mindy)

Nox, Nom, Octavian character questions

Whumpee Nox 1/2

Whumpee Rupert

Dayzel "red flags"

Dayzel tattoos

Rupert= Malewife potential?

Character questions (mibium)

DnD content-

Forgotten Familiarites- A DnD campaign run by @obsessedwithegos for myself and @emmettnet

Contains: Self sacrifice, religious trauma(?), abysmally low self esteem, whumpee being reckless/lacking self-preservation, character death (mentioned)

Characters: Nom and Alithea (both belong to me), Dirk, Teddy, Dirce (belong to @/emmettnet), Nilam, Selin, Aevid, Kavius, Mantra, various other NPCS, etc. (all belong to @/obsessedwithegos)

BTHB "I just want to have friends"

Help prompt

Laugh

Falling Feathers- A homebrew campaign I'm running for @/emmettnet and @/obessedwithegos.

Contains: Lab whump, non-con body modifications, major character death (temporary), reluctant whumpers, carewhumper, living weapon whump, multiple whumpees, whumper viewing/treating whumpee as "family", whumpee turned whumper, horror tropes

Characters: Denice (belongs to @/emmettnet), Eliza/Esheh (belongs to @/obsessedwithegos), Berkley, Marley, Rain, Dren, Mindy, The Fates, various NPCs, etc. (all belong to me)

[eltanin0]

I would also like to include forced starve cycles into the campaign. Due to The Relict's survivors guilt, i believe there would be cycles where they refused to leave their shelter and instead opt to starve. this would have a pretty low chance of occurring per hibernation, maybe 10% we'll say. The first time it happens it would trigger a dream sequence showcasing the shelter doors opening and closing with The Relict refusing to leave. now of course this is a significant downside, you're being forced to play a starve cycle which isn't fun. But, logically this wouldn't be the first time The Relict has done this. So my thought is that instead of having largely decreased stats and frustrating exhaustion mechanics, The Relict would be downgraded to the stats of a normal slugcats and have a much more lenient exhaustion threshold. This should still allow them to fight lizards and creatures for food, as well as make progress. the lenient starve cycles is also the reason they can only store 1 food for hibernation. i think i would like it if the game saved during the forced starve cycle, so that you're required to play it out.

I think that's plenty of changes compared to survivor. However i would now like to go over certain mechanics and ideas i've had, but i believe would be too much to add to this scug. for starters, i have thought about the relationship between The Relict and scavangers. I do not believe they would be enemies, but instead would have an easier time with them. increased starting rep and whatnot. This ties into my idea of possible pearl storage. The Relict would be able to store a single pearl, tying it to their chewed ear like an earing. this would allow their stomach to be used for other storage while still holding onto a pearl. I actually brought this up like 8 or 9 months ago in an ask by atom (i have removed it because holy shit my answer was mega cringe :). anyway, the reason i dont think i'd add it is because of the implied connection the Relict has with scavangers, and i cannot be bothered fitting it into their story without making it more bloated than it already is. they also wouldn't have a huge amount of interactions with scavs in their campaign regardless, though i guess it could be useful when playing other campaigns with them. Another idea i've had that i will not be including, because i'm certain this would be too much as well as a lot of coding, is some sort of adrenaline mode. by pressing specific inputs together, you would enter a kind of fight or flight, with a slight increase to all stats at the cost of 1/4 food pips per second (maybe half if it was too op). My thought being that you'd either use it and die fighting, or win and be able to eat the opponent. i thought having a mechanic like this would be helpful in a primarily combat oriented campaign, seeing as Spearmaster has infinite spears and Artificer has a double jump and other stuff. however i believe it would overcomplicate the character and be too much for the player to "buy into". Also, i've tried to have stuff make sense, a lot of their strengths and weaknesses have reasons behind them, but including this "adrenaline mode" wouldn't make sense since the rest of the cast doesn't have access to it. Characters that would be more likely to use it, like Artificer or Hunter or any of them really, wouldn't be able to. And that doesn't sit right with me. So that ability is a no go for me.

Man i haven't even touched on the overall story with RoS yet :[ (tbf it's the most iffy part and weakest in terms of thought behind it, much could and would be changed). Basically The Relict would be traveling the land enacting revenge on the lizard population and ultimately trying to find the lizard that massacred it's colony. Eventually throughout exploring it would make it's way down into the earth and meet up with RoS. Their first meeting is the same as what i said in my RoS ramble, RoS offers it's last neuron to The Relict, which it (you the player) refuses to eat. Part of the reason is because The Relict understands that eating the neuron fly would likely result in RoS' "death". It's annoyed by RoS giving up when The Relict themselves has lived with the guilt and refuses to die and waste the opportunity it was given, as well as viewing themselves as only a tool for revenge. Instead they choose to help RoS and force them to see value in their lives, and in doing so provide themselves with their own purpose besides vengeance. Anyway, the rest i've talked about, go deeper, void sea, blah blah, fix RoS a little bit, make way back up to RoS, find purpose in helping something else and proving that your own life has value. The end. I've toyed with the idea that after the campaign there'd be a seperate story about getting revenge and how RoS would try and stop The Relict and all that stuff but i haven't properly thought about it.

Well that was a ton of rambling that hopefully people won't read. If you did, sorry :P . I'm sure i've forgotten stuff or maybe gotten some of it wrong and overall just wasted a ton of time. But at least it's out there and i don't have to memorize it all anymore. Of course stuff can and likely will change but that's where i've been at for the past 8 or so months, yes most of this has been up in my head for a while. I just hope i didn't mess stuff up too much, I kinda lost track at the end since i've been writing this for a couple hours. Anyway thanks for reading and I'm really sorry about all that.

hope i reblogged this shit right

hmm i think it's about time i drop the lore for my green slugcat, dubbed "The Relict" (while the name has slightly grown on me, i'm still hesitant to set it in stone)

unfathomable, insane amounts of rambling below. nobody is forced to read it. Holy shit it's longer than the RoS one D:

About The Relict and general stuff on the campaign. this is just what i've got for now and very well could change in the future.

I would like to start by mentioning that when creating this character i tried my best to keep them plausible within the world of Rain World. With changes that could realistically be created without a ton of extra code, or deviate too far from the base slugcats, at most being within the realm of the "More Slugcats Expansion." so Relict, a green slugcat with a bite taken out of it's right ear and eye, as well as it's right arm (in-game dominant) having a lighter "singed" color to it. The Relict is predominantly shown with an angered expression and focuses on fighting, rather than fleeing. of course it didn't always look this way, starting out as a regular green slugcat and gaining these traits later.

i think i'm going to start with story elements and backstory, i believe knowing these first will help with the understanding of gameplay elements later. The Relict was an average slugcat part of a very ordinary colony. they predominantly hung out with 2 other slugcats, a pale desaturated blue one, and a pink one (this idea is still pending, however it's a viable placeholder for now). one day, while at their home in a region similar to the outer expanse, their colony is attacked by a roaming Lizard. i'm still not 100% decided on what type of lizard, however i'm between either a caramel or a red. either way, their colony is massacred starting with the pink slugcat, and Relict about to be next. The pale blue scug shoves Relict out of the way, sacrificing themselves, and is killed instead. The Relict flees, chased by the lizard, to the edge of their forest area. they're cornered on a cliffside with water below and the lizard slowly approaching. As the lizard bites, The Relict falls backwards out of the jaws, only sustaining minor injuries to it's ear and eye. I'm still not decided whether i should make the avoidance luck, with the ground beneath The Relict crumbling slightly and causing the fall, or whether The Relict should choose to rather die from falling than eaten by the lizard. Regardless, The Relict falls backwards off the cliff and into the water below. unconscious, they drift away atop the water before washing up on shore in an unfamiliar land. along with intense anger to lizards, henceforth they are wracked with survivors guilt and it ways heavily on their mind.This is the basics of their backstory and ideally all of this information would would be conveyed to the player through dream sequences/cutscenes. I would also like to mention that their story is the reason for their name. "Relict" has multiple meanings, however "something surviving where other's did not" is a reoccuring theme. a remnant of something old. (Remnant being a possible name i'd thought of). It's also a connection between the scug and RoS

i think i will now talk a bit about their gameplay changes. they are a fairly standard slugcat, standard in that they don't have crazy abilities like most downpour scugs (no explosive jumps or infinite spears). they are however fairly stronger and quicker than the average slugcat. stat-wise they're similar to the Hunter, above average speed, jump height, slide distance, pole climbing, throwing power (i used to have numerical values for all the stats). like the hunter they're primarily carnivorous, able to eat corpses, only requiring 6 food pips to hibernate and able to store 1 pip spare. there is a reason for all of this later. due to The Relict's hatred and hunting of lizards, all lizards are more hostile to them and are less likely to give up hunting them/ more likely to hunt them given the chance. there are also more lizard spawns in this campaign. if it wasn't obvious, combat is a large part of the campaign and the character of Relict. Okay let's talk about the explosive resistance. The reasoning behind it ties into The Relict's character and story, primarily their survivors guilt. Their view on themselves is pretty negative, seeing themselves as expendable, and will gladly put themselves in harms way to gain an advantage in a fight. like being intentionally bitten by lizards so they can put a grenade in their mouth :P . Due to using this tactic repeatedly, their body has changed in an effort to adapt. This has both upsides and downsides. upside, they've got some resistance to explosives! not immunity, enough will kill them and they're briefly stunned after using them, they can probably tank 2 grenades. Still that's pretty useful. Downside, while the repeated exposure helped harden their skin/fur, it also caused some permanent damage primarily to their right (dominant) arm. This damage has caused their right arm to be significantly weaker than their left, in both throwing power and damage (how fast spears go and how much damage they do). Not to say they're weak by any means. Remember that they're significantly stronger than regular scugs, so this damage only limits their right arm to that of a regular slugcat (1.0). due to having to use their left arm mainly for spear throwing now, their left arm is significantly stronger (1.5). think about it like taking some strength away from the primary hand and reallocating it to the secondary. now it's no cannon arm like Gourmand has, but it's still pretty strong, however it's locked to the left hand which means you need to have nothing in the right to actually make use of it. Would also like to mention that the general toughness that the repeated explosives granted The Relict, also decreases the chances of lethal damage occuring :P (spears, bites, all that). I also like to think this could be conveyed to the player through gameplay cutscenes. so far the changes aren't too crazy, i dont think. to dumb it down a bunch and simplify, we have a slugcat who: has similar stats to hunter, is primarily carnivorous, has some resistance to explosives and bites, and has a stronger left arm and weaker right arm. hopefully these changes aren't too farfetched, because i've got a couple more :P

THIS WILL BE CONTINUED IN THE REBLOG BECAUSE TUMBLR WONT LET ME POST THE FULL THING >:[

[taexual]

SEVENTEEN (HIP HOP UNIT) / making out

warning: some implied mature content.

other versions: vocal unit / performance unit

requested by anonymous.

↣ s.coups

He’d always had a thing for holding you when you were kissing. Even if it was a quick peck in the morning before you both had to leave for work, he’d have to wrap his arms around your waist as he kissed you, no matter that he would have to pull away half a second later because he was running late.

So, it was quite understandable that whenever your kisses escalated, Seungcheol was—almost literally—all over you. It was a task for you to keep your sanity intact when his tongue was in your mouth and his hands explored the skin under your shirt.

He’d touched you hundreds of times before, and yet the feeling of his desperate grip on you almost made it seem as if the two of you had been separated for years prior to this. He was always touch starved, so he always kissed you like this was the last time he’d do this, willing to sacrifice all remaining oxygen in his lungs just so he wouldn’t have to pull away from you.

He breathed you in instead, dizzy and overwhelmed as he had you in his lap, so close, yet still not close enough. He drew odd patterns on the skin of your back, determined to touch every single part of you before the night was over while he kissed you deeper and kept pulling your body closer to his.

Within minutes, he’d grow more desperate, discarding the layers of clothes between you with such speed, you barely registered the cold on your lips when he pulled away. He’d kiss you again – harder, to make up for the full second that he wasted not kissing you – and he wouldn’t let go, expertly maneuvering both of your bodies on the couch so that you were laying underneath him.

He’d make sure his hands touched every single bit of your skin, just like he’d planned, and then he’d go down the same route with his mouth. He loved you—wanted you, needed you, absolutely couldn’t live without you—too much just to make out with you. It may have been years since you started to date, but he still hadn’t learned how to pull away from you.

↣ wonwoo

You’d always thought kissing and making out were two very different things, separated mostly by speed: kissing was usually significantly slower than making out, and it didn’t necessarily last as long. Making out, on the other hand, was fast, passionate, and it usually lead to something.

Funny how you met Wonwoo and he flipped your entire belief system upside down the first time he kissed you. His kisses were quick yet memorable, but making out with him could keep you busy for half a day and render you completely speechless. Not just that, actually; you usually struggled to make sense of your surroundings as soon as he pulled away.

Neither of you were big on PDA, so any form of kissing was a big deal, and Wonwoo always treated this activity with precisely the sort of importance that it deserved. His kisses were grandiose, no matter how long you dated – whenever he kissed you, it always felt like this was the climax of the book. The most important part of the plot of your life.

That was why he could spend hours kissing you. Days, actually, if no one interrupted the two of you.

He’d never go ahead and assume that making out was just foreplay, even if it was painfully obvious that it was, because the two of you were ripping clothes off of each other while refusing to break the kiss. No, he’d always stop and ask – in a husky whisper that made you weak in the knees – if you were sure. If you wanted to keep going.

You’d be suffocating from his drawn-out kisses, your lungs so empty, it nearly stung, and yet you would always nod, just as desperate as he was to have more. More of him pressed against you. More of your lips moving against each other until you could taste yourself in his mouth. More of his heavy breaths in your ear as he tried to make the room stop spinning, beyond overwhelmed from your close proximity.

He kissed you torturously slowly, convinced that you two had the entire time in the world to drown in each other, and yet it never seemed like enough. He knew the taste of your lips better than anything else he’d ever tasted, and he would have gladly spent the rest of his life with his mouth against yours.

↣ mingyu

Most couples usually grew out of the honeymoon phase and kissing tended to lose the exciting spark as the relationship progressed. Perhaps the reason why you and Mingyu were an exception was because you didn’t get a lot of opportunities to be alone together. Or perhaps that was just because Mingyu always planned out your activities in advance and most of them always involved kissing.

Oh, alright, fine. All of them involved kissing.

In fact, if he could find a secluded enough spot wherever the two of you were, he’d immediately push you against the wall at the first chance he got. Honestly, sometimes, the seclusion was questionable – a hallway outside of his birthday party hardly seemed like a safe spot to make out, considering that he was the reason why all of these people were here. And yet Mingyu literally could not have cared less when he had you like this – with your back pushed against the wall and your hands pulling him closer by his collar as he kissed you hard and fast, always desperate, always in a hurry.

He was loud, too. He tried not to be—albeit not very hard—but he couldn’t really control his volume when you’d bite his lip or wrap your hands around his neck, forcing him to bend in unnatural ways so he could match your height. Back hurting or not, he was clearly determined to kiss you breathless, hence the huffing and the groaning as he held onto you, bringing his hips to meet yours in search for more friction.

Making out with him was never half-assed, while playing a game or watching a TV show. He kissed you like it was his job. You always had his full attention and not even a literal explosion could have distracted him when his tongue touched yours, growing more eager each time you exhaled against his mouth.

So, really, it didn’t matter how long the two of you were together. Mingyu didn’t seem to be capable of killing the butterflies in his stomach each time he kissed you, but he was curious to keep trying. Maybe it’d take him fifty years of kissing you before he finally stopped feeling so warm and fuzzy inside at the feeling of your lips against his. Or maybe it’d take him a lifetime.

He was excited to keep kissing you to find out.

↣ vernon

You could take his breath away just by sitting too close to him – he wasn’t proud of that – so, it wouldn’t surprise anyone to know that he could completely suffocate when you actually kissed him.

And yet, even though you endangered his life, Hansol always voluntarily put himself in harm’s way and responded to your kisses with equal—if not enhanced—eagerness. Except he really did need to breathe, so he’d pull away every few seconds – but then he’d make up for that by reconnecting your lips again and gaining more courage each time he did that.

It’d start with a tentative kiss. Then, it’d turn into a deeper one as he brought his tongue over your lower lip when he kissed you again. Then, he’d reach out to touch the side of your face so he could find a more comfortable angle. Then, he’d pull you closer until you were straddling his hips.

If he was still alive by that time, he’d either allow you to control the pace – which was what usually happened – or he’d get far too excited and pull your body against his harder while he kissed you faster. Either way, he’d be completely flushed, his whole body burning as the tips of his fingers dug into your soft skin.

He’d say something – or try to – but it would come out as a desperate sigh or a whine at best. He’d need you to tell him to keep going eventually, even though kissing you had already sent his mind halfway to outer space.

Your lips, your skin, your touch, you – it all made him lose his breath, his mind, his sense of self. Kissing you might really kill him one day, he didn’t think that was an exaggeration anymore. But then, as you gently pushed him down on the bed and leaned down to connect your lips again, he decided he was completely fine with that.

As he’d bring his hips upward to meet yours, as he’d wrap his arms around your waist, holding you in place, as he’d kiss you with more passion and progressively less rational thought – he would know there was no other place he’d have rather lived or died in.

mlist | inbox

[wellfine]

Seeing the Sanji gaining weight after wci post immediately after the SH body types post made me wonder if your Sanji is... actually underweight/close to underweight? Like it doesn’t seem quite Sanji-Zeff dynamics to remain distressingly underfed dispute an athletic lifestyle but at the same time, ‘Sanji doesn’t believe he deserves more food than some unfeeling distant guide to correct living tells him he does’ feels very correct. So I imagine he stress eats during WCI and gains like 15 kilos and then post wci loses maybe 5-7 of those kilos, ultimately coming into equilibrium at something closer to a healthy body weight now the true depth of his trauma has been laid bare & accepted by the straw hats

Oops! You activated my deep Sanji headcanon trap card! Lotta words below (CW for talk of disordered eating)

I definitely drew/see Sanji as being a little underweight due to a difficult relationship with food, which I tried to hint at in my notes, but I tend not to say it outright that often because it always invites people with weird attitudes about disordered eating/underweight bodies/etc. I also tried to contrast between his "repose" and the other characters' to show how his body fat percentage tends to stay lower, while the other characters fluctuate (e.g. Zoro) or stay at a higher BF% and end up with less visible muscle definition as a result (e.g. Usopp).

To be totally honest with you Sanji has a lot in common with people at risk of disordered eating - traumatic childhood, being told he was worthless, especially based on his failure to achieve physical 'perfection', total deprivation of control over his earlier life (both when he was on Germa and when he was starving with Zeff), specific lack of control over his food (starving with Zeff especially), a love of food that manifests in preparing food for others' enjoyment rather than his own, and general difficulty accepting his own self-worth (running to Germa in order to save anyone, his difficulty accepting that Luffy wanted him as his chef, his attempt to sacrifice himself at Thriller Bark, etc).

People have misconceptions about what an eating disorder is, and whenever I try and bring it up, there are people who say he could never have one because "he starved once, why would he ever go hungry again!!" (when food scarcity especially in early childhood is a HUGE contributor to developing disordered eating) "he's a chef he loves food" (not everyone with an eating disorder hates food) "he's not underweight" (I mean, thanks to their overrepresentation in media people don't always recognise what underweight bodies really look like, especially when those people are also muscular, but to wit, you do not need to or want to be underweight to have disordered eating) "he's not a teen girl" (eyeroll emoji)... and not even touching the worse comments that dump on people with disordered eating etc. in order to insist their fav could NEVER, as if it's a moral judgement to have an ED, and implying it would somehow be an insult to Sanji.

Fact of the matter is most people's disordered eating has nothing to do with how they look, though I think you could also make the argument Sanji meets that criteria, too (I don't think a dude whose most defining character trait - tied with his eyebrow - is that he covers half his face 24/7 could be described as "confident in his appearance"). Most eating disorders emerge from a lack of control, which is like... Sanji's whole thing. He had no control over his life at Germa, he had no control over his situation on the rock, and we can see how fastidious he is about other aspects of control in his life as an adult. Monitoring his food intake down to the kilojoule is a very likely way he might deal with the trauma he's gone through. There's also the desire to make invisible/internal trauma visible, like other forms of self-harm. I think Sanji both wants people to worry about him and also wants nobody to know anything is wrong with him whatsoever and so it could easily manifest in passive ways like this - Zeff or Nami etc. worrying over "have you eaten enough?" is much easier for him to process and accept than anyone recognising his internal trauma.

All this to say, I think Sanji - probably without even consciously realising it - has a complicated relationship with feeding himself that manifests in him maintaining a borderline-underweight BF% for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with his appearance. I don't think he would've been underfed while at the Baratie, but I still think he would've been developing controlling compulsions around food that would've grown more once he left that environment and was solely in charge of not only his nutrition, but an entire crew's.

I think he probably tries to make sure he eats enough, mostly so that he can still be a useful and functional Straw Hat, but it's a manual thing. Like he doesn't realise until he's back underweight again and starting to notice the effects and has to pour butter over all his meals for a few weeks, lmao. And I think he definitely struggles emotionally with the idea of not "deserving" or "earning" certain foods, and using food (or lack thereof) as a way to punish himself. Add on to the fact that he's been smoking since he was a kid so his appetite is probably shot to hell, and I think you just have a guy whose natural inclination is not to eat more than absolutely necessary and oh, oops, he has a whole ship full of people he loves more than anything he has to feed first, guess he'll just have to make do on the scraps.

A few others have also pointed out the aspect of weight gain as a form/result of healing from trauma, and I can totally see this for Sanji, too. Comfort eating often stems from the exact same reasons as restrictive eating, control/lack thereof again being a major one. I don't think he would have to lose any of the weight gained in order to be happy or healed, though. Maybe he would gradually lose some of the weight he gained during WCI, maybe he wouldn't, but I think overall the arc works as a very appropriate backdrop to explore Sanji working through and starting recovery from disordered eating on top of his recovery from his other traumas.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Taken, starved, conquered.

My Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Female!Reader

Summary: Smut with knife kink, bratty sub!Ivar, and possessive!Reader.

Word Count: 10.5k (I have zero self control)

Warnings: 18+. Smut, D/s dynamics, sub!Ivar (brat!Ivar), knife kink (& fear play associated with it I suppose), masochism/sadism, blood play (that implies, of course, passing mentions of injuries/cuts and blood), some choking and biting/marking sprinkled about, a lil bit of sensation play, teeny tiny allusions to breeding kink, edging/orgasm control (mentions of past ruined orgasms), fluff, praise, and I think that’s it, lemme know if I missed anything.

A/N: This was originally written as a Winter Blurb in my νοσταλγία series, but since I liked it a lot and it can be read as a standalone, I decided to post it as its own thing, with a tad more context to make it a solid one shot. Hope you like it!

Title is a nod to Persephone’s abduction myth since Nostalgia, the reason this one shot exists, is a retelling of the Hades/Persephone myth. She was taken and in her hunger she ate the pomegranate seeds, and thus was ‘conquered’ by Hades; but I say fuck that, she was not the one taken, not the one starving, and not the one conquered, hence this title for a sub!Ivar (who represents Hades ofc) fic lol.

For setting, all you need to know is: Ivar and the Reader are married (and sickeningly in love with one another), non-Viking!Reader, she’s a healer, and he gifted her one of his knives a little while after they met (he abducted her to marry her, & he just gave her a knife even tho she wanted to kill him, because he truly is that much of an idiot when it comes to her). I think that’s it.

Ivar knew long before you even uttered a word that the offer Jarl Leifrson made of offering his daughter as a second wife are still present in your mind, he could see it in the way even in the solace of your bedroom you hold yourself with that dignified anger he once hated to love, he could hear it in your clipped tone when he asks you what is wrong.

He was aware of the darkness in your gaze, the slightly wolfish edge to your smile, long before you had even answered his call and sat on the armrest of the chair he was sitting on, but too focused on letting his hands and lips explore leisurely whatever expanse of skin he could, he hadn’t noticed where he let himself be led to as he asked how women in your homeland stake their claim.

Though, if he’s honest, this is exactly where he wanted to be led to.

“Women of my homeland are claimed, not the other way around,” Half-lidded eyes followed the curve of your smile and Ivar found heat tightening within him at the sight. You lean closer, lips a breath away from his own, but you do not kiss him yet, instead continuing, “We are to be taken, abducted, when we are to be wed.”

The revelation shakes him out of whatever spell you had him under, and he leans back, a whisper on his lips,

“Truly?”

In all the time you have been his wife, he never imagined you two had actually married following the customs of your people. Granted, Ivar wasn’t intent on following or respecting any foreign traditions when he brought you to Kattegat against your will, but knowing that he had regardless, it…it brings back thoughts he had at the beginning, when he first brought you to him and sentenced he would make you his wife, it brings back that warming certainty that somehow it was Fate that he had you at his side, that the Gods had intervened and had sent you to him.

“Mhm. But, as you found out when you married me, we do not easily accept to be conquered,” You answer absently, leaning closer and pressing the softest of kisses to the corner of his mouth, before venturing closer to fully press your lips against his. You pull away all-too-soon, and Ivar leans forward, chasing after the touch. At your silence he opens his eyes, finds your darkened gaze focused on him, “Women of my blood are fought for, my love.”

Ivar’s breath hitches, stutters past parted lips, when your hand -small, delicate hand- settles at the base of his throat. Nowhere near enough to cut him of air, but he knows you well enough to know it is a threat regardless.

His wandering hands still, his whole body does, as he waits for your next move.

But you do not say a thing, you do not move. You are daring him, he knows that, and his thoughts ebb into nothingness as arousal settles in his mind, hazing everything that isn’t you and your touch and your eyes on him.

Eyes that travel to his mouth when his tongue darts out to draw his lower lip into the trap of his teeth, and his heart quickens. It feels strangely like standing before a predator, when the forest stills and silences when a beast is on the prowl; and he knows he isn’t the one on the hunt.

The word, the admission that he cannot stand the silence before the strike, slips past his lips with roughened voice,

“H-How?”

The knife he gifted you so long ago suddenly is in your small hand, blade trailing leisurely over his chest. His breaths quicken, and he has to force his body into stillness so he doesn’t move away from the knife, but he is incredibly aware of how with one movement of your wrist you could kill him, he is painfully aware of every pinpricking little drag of the sharp blade that he can feel even over the undershirt he still wears.

“Quite different from any other fight,” You intone, voice low, soothing even as you trail maddeningly soft kisses up the column of his neck towards his jaw, making a shiver run down his spine when you stop, voice by his ear as you continue, “Trying to overpower me is just delaying your defeat. In this fight, your strength is measured with how beautifully you surrender.

From that spot under his ear you continue that painfully soft trail of kisses towards his mouth, and Ivar jumps when he feels the blade mimic the same path on the other side of his face.

He tries biting back a helpless sound that leaves him regardless, feeling time dissolve into nothing as you hold him tethered between the softness of your lips and the threat of the knife.

When your lips are again a breath away from his, you demand his attention return to you, you demand his focus be solely on you, you demand the spell you had him under to dispel, by pressing the blade harder over his cheekbone. The pain is sharp and unexpected, and with every nerve on his body attuned to you, he cannot keep the hiss of pain that leaves his lips, a sharp inhale through his teeth.

The sharp sting of the knife pressing against his cheek and the intoxicating closeness of your lips to his keep Ivar tethered, immobile, baited breath as he waits for your voice to reach him.

“You have taken me, you have made me your wife. You have fought,” You promise, a dark mischief lilting your voice and making a shiver run down his spine. You search his eyes, not weak or satisfied enough to cross the distance between your lips just yet, and press, “But I told you, this is a fight that leads, inevitably, to your surrender. Will you, my love?”

“To you?” Ivar asks, raised brows as he leans back to meet your eyes. He finds himself missing the sharp edge of the blade against his skin, the way it made his heart quicken like a rabbit’s. Lips pulling into a smile, he cannot help but defy you, even if the smile is tremulous and he knows his arousal is evident, “Why would I?”

There’s a sudden change to your demeanor, written somewhere in the quirk of your eyebrow, etched in the faint curve of the corner of your mouth, but most of all visible in the darkness of your gaze as you look at him; and Ivar finds he could never regret defying you if that change is his reward. There’s gentleness still, hidden in the reluctant fondness of your gaze, but there’s more coldness to it, more thrilling cruelty, and it takes every ounce of his control for Ivar not to reach down and touch himself over his clothes to relieve the maddening ache of his hard cock as you look at him like that. He almost wants to just to see how you’d stop him, because he knows you would.

A thoughtful hum is all the answer you give to his taunt, leaving him chasing the thrill of having finally started to get through to you, leaving him hanging on to the realization of what it is that lets him drive you as mad as you do with but a touch.

Standing up from the armrest of his chair, you pull away from him. As you do, the knife you were dragging leisurely over the skin of his throat is now slowly, torturously, trailed down his arm. Ivar feels the sharpness of it, the threat of it, even over his shirt, and though his muscles tense and some instinctual part of him begs to pull away, he remains still, defying eyes set on you, smile still on his lips.

You are the one pulling away, and yet he feels like he is being chased, hunted. Still, he finds himself leaning forward, more tethered to your touch, to you, than he would like to admit.

Ivar watches raptly as you walk away, a slight sway to your hips that he knows you are doing on purpose. Still, your expression betrays nothing as you turn back around to face him while settling on the bed, sitting up against the headboard.

“Will you not join your wife?” You ask, false innocence in your tone. Not that you try keeping any façade of meekness, not with the way you toy with the edge of the knife by your lips, not with the hungry way you keep looking at him.

Ivar isn’t sure of you make an emphasis on your title as his wife because of that lingering jealousy, because you decide to use it as a way to lay a claim of your own; or because you are aware of what it does to him to hear you speak of yourself as something his, because you know it only makes the desire burning away at his control heighten when he is reminded you are his as much as he is yours.

He keeps his eyes on you, studying that annoyingly smug expression that quirks at your lips and darkens your gaze, and…Ivar knows he is playing your game by now.

Still he refuses to give you victory in the terms you demand it, but regardless he stands up, adjusting his grip on the crutch and walking towards the bed. Once again, his heart races at the predatory look in your eyes, at how even as he is the one standing and approaching you, it feels as if he were the one being hunted down, the one cornered.

He sits on the end of the bed, his back turned to you, and starts making quick work of the buckles and strappings at the braces around his legs.

Ivar feels your eyes on him as he does, and though for a moment there’s the impulse to tell you to look away -he doesn’t think it will ever leave him, that irrational need to try and make you forget, to try and make it so that you don’t notice-, the longer the silence stretches the heavier the feeling that your attention on him evokes gets. He feels exposed, he feels vulnerable, and there’s a thrill that comes with it now, a safety, because he knows he is desired, because he knows even if he were stripped to nothing you would want him.

Finishing with the braces of his legs and tugging off the boots, Ivar straightens his back, moving to take off his shirt, but you finally move from where you were waiting -watching- behind him on the bed, drawing closer, and he stops.

Kneeling behind him, your small hand reaches in front of him, but it settles nowhere near his chest, instead grasping at the base of his neck, forcing his head back.

His breath stutters past his lips, and all he can focus on is the feeling of your soft touch pressing tighter and tighter on his throat. A thrill runs through him, a restlessness that feels like a fever under his skin, but still he surrenders, leaning his weight against you.

The pleased hum you seal with a kiss right behind his ear is his reward, it seems. But your hold on his throat doesn’t loosen, and…by all the Gods, he never wants it to.

There’s something overwhelming, something that overcomes him, at the thought of surrendering to you, at the feel of your hands on him demanding that surrender; something that makes his breaths quicken and his hear thrash madly in his chest.

Your free hand reaches in front of him as well, but in this one you proudly hold the knife he once gifted you. He won’t lie and pretend he never imagined you wielding it against him when he offered it to you so long ago, but to experience it is something else entirely.

Ivar realizes he was saying your name only when you tighten your hold on his throat further, a hiss of a warning by his ear that he stay quiet.

Of course, he wants to bite back with words of how you ought to try harder if you mean to make him obey, but the sharp end of the knife being dragged down over the edge of his collarbone stops whatever words are to leave his lips, and he grits his teeth to keep any sound from leaving him.

You continue the knife’s path down, pressing hard enough that he almost wants to writhe in his place at the sharp sting of it, though he isn’t certain if he wants to escape that maddening feeling by pressing closer or further away from the blade.

The knife catches on the collar of his shirt, and at Ivar’s sharp breath you lean down and press a kiss over the column of his neck. He shivers, and this time not even through gritted teeth he can hold back the gasping moan that leaves him.

“Be still, my love,” You advise, voice maddeningly arrogant, the words and the drawl of your accent making his heart race in his chest. “Lest I do something you wouldn’t want me to with this. Though…I am not so sure you wouldn’t want me to, if I’m honest.”

Licking his lips, Ivar tightens his hold on your leg, tight enough to make you gasp softly. A smile pulls at his lips, and he dares,

“Give me the knife and I’ll show you what I’d like to do with it.”

He can’t see what you’re doing, your hand on his throat forcing his head back until he’s almost resting his head on your shoulder, but he feels the movement as you adjust your grip on the knife, and it evokes in him a special kind of thrill, something instinctual awakening a wildfire-like fear to run through his veins.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You tease, a drag of your teeth over his ear before your voice grows colder, and you order, “Stay still.

He trusts you, with his life and his heart, but still his breaths quicken as a few heartbeats go by and you don’t yet cut the offending garment, enjoying this delay of the inevitable that puts Ivar all the more on edge. Payback for his insistence on delaying the inevitable as well, he supposes, and he can’t say he minds.

Swallowing thickly, he grits his teeth to keep himself from saying anything, but feeling the hold of your hand on his throat tighten slightly as he does makes not voicing his need for you to do something all the more difficult.

Sensing his tension, you breathe a laugh, dark and intoxicating, that dances over his skin leaving a trail of goosebumps chasing after the caress of your breath on the skin of his neck.

“Trust me,” You advise, your voice a breath by his ear, roughened by desire and something else, and Ivar closes his eyes through a ragged breath of his own. “Give in to me, Ivar.

Without a warning you move your hand, a twist of your wrist as you move the blade downwards to tear at the fabric. Ivar startles at the sudden movement, chest rising sharply with a quick breath, and the drag of the knife against his skin this time is strong enough, painful enough, to make him gasp, a helpless call of your name.

At his sudden movement, your hold on his throat tightens, and that only drags him further down into the chaos of this rip current, overwhelming him in the tiny aftershocks of the pain that make pleasure dance in the edges of his thoughts.

You smile against the curve of his neck, but your tone is of displeasure when you speak,

“I warned you not to move, my love.”

Even if Ivar knows the reprimand is part of the game, even if he knows he hasn’t actually disappointed you; he feels a strange cold settle in his chest, a foolish knot of emotion tightening his throat.

Determined to prove he can be good, Ivar forces his body under his control once again and remains still, not betraying a single movement past the irregular rising and falling of his chest, as he obeys your command.

A soft kiss from your smiling lips on his shoulder is his reward.

This time he is almost expecting the sudden movement as you continue cutting open the shirt, and still Ivar cannot help the gasped breaths and the instinctual movements of his body as the edge of the blade drags over his skin.

He is convinced you press harder than you need to against his skin, he is convinced the faint scratches off the knife down his chest are not an accident at all; but he doesn’t have the voice or the presence to actually say anything right now.

Eyes squeezed shut, he tries breathing past the hold of your small hand on his throat, and finds himself stilling his body so that he doesn’t tremble in your arms, giving away too much. He refuses to voice a thing, he refuses to admit you’ve won, even if you both know it is inevitable that you make him do so.

But with each sharp drag of the knife over his skin, sometimes rough enough to sting as if blood was drawn and sometimes barely a tease of the blade over his heated skin; with each soft kiss you press wherever you can reach over the column of his neck, silent praise you breathe over his skin with each of those kisses; he feels himself slipping further and further somewhere where there’s nothing he doesn’t give away, where there’s no power he doesn’t’ rescind to you.

You have finished cutting the front of the shirt, and slowly you trail the knife upwards, hand on his throat adjusting and forcing Ivar’s head further back.

He has no choice but to linger like that, exposed, vulnerable, throat bared to you and the biting kiss you press under the curve of his jaw, body pliant and yielding to you as you make him lean his back against your chest.

Your hand leaves his throat, and still he remains tethered, unmoving, waiting for your next move. Ivar knows, because he knows you, that you wouldn’t surrender a proof of your victory if you weren’t already sure of having another one, and so he waits.

A sharp sting as you drag the tip of the knife over his cheek startles his body into tension, a tension you mockingly soothe with quiet assurances he can’t hear over the rush of his own heartbeat on his ears.

The hand previously on his throat travels down his chest, maddeningly slowly, torturously soft and gentle. For a moment, a breath, Ivar can lean into that familiar gentleness, quieten his heart to the cadence of those soft touches; and finds his muscles relaxing just slightly.

But it seems you take notice of it, and the piercing drag of nails over his chest makes him gasp, the sting somehow too much and not enough at the same time.

In between that softness that threatens to shatter him and that roughness that reminds him he isn’t so easily broken, you continue the trail of your hand down his chest.

Ivar is so hard he aches, so when your hand cups gently at his cock over his pants, he cannot keep the gasping breath that leaves his lips.

His eyes open and remain focused on the ceiling above him, yet unseeing, as you slowly move your hand, causing a maddeningly light amount of pressure that is nowhere near enough to offer any reprieve.

With a grunt, he tries moving in tandem with the teasing touches of your hand, desperately seeking more, and for a moment, you let him. Each drag of your hand over his cock sends pleasure like lightning down his spine, a touch that in any other situation might be not enough now threatens him to send him over the edge in a matter of seconds.

Without warning, without reason, you pull your hand away, leaving him chasing after any kind of friction, involuntary movements of his body as it tries searching fruitlessly for your touch.

“You moved.” The tone of your voice is mocking, smug, infuriating; the slight drawl of your accent a little stronger as your short words dissolve into a breathed chuckle.

With one last kiss behind his ear that doesn’t fail to make a shiver run down his spine, you move from behind Ivar, stepping down from the bed and standing in front of him.

He doesn’t fail to notice that while he is almost naked before you, tattered shirt and heaving breaths; you remain an image of perfect temptation. Your hair is still stubbornly styled, your dress still hugging your curves, even the crown of gold flowers is still on your head.

It seems…fitting, somehow.

One of your legs lifts to make his part, and you step closer, your left hand reaching to settle over his shoulder. His eyes catch on how you’ve hooked the round handle of the knife over your ring finger, and the sight makes Ivar’s stomach tighten.

His eyes remain focused on your hand, lingering on how the handle of the knife hooked on your finger contrasts against the wedding ring you wear on that same finger. His eyes follow your hand as you trail your touch over his shoulders and down his arms, making him take off the tattered undershirt.

With the realization that dawns on him just now that he hasn’t been able to touch you since you pulled away from him on that chair, the hunger gnaws at him all the more, and he reaches for you, one hand settling on your hip while the others travels up the back of your thigh, hating the dress for daring keep him from feeling your skin under his hands.

Finding himself starved for the feel of your skin, Ivar tugs you towards him and leans forward, trailing hungry lips over the low cut of the dress over the center of your breasts, trailing as far up towards your neck as the position allows him to.

Your hand grasping at the back of his neck is a clear tell and he smirks against your skin, not bothering to hide how much it pleases him to know he has on you at least a portion of your effect on him.

The sharp push of the tip of the knife on his bare shoulder is expected, and yet Ivar doesn’t pull away, hand grasping more tightly at your ass and bringing you as close as he can. He isn’t sure if he is defying you because of the thrill of angering you or because he doesn’t really want to pull away from the now-painful pressure as you hold the blade to his skin. Maybe a bit of both.

You are nothing if not relentless, and though you do not warn him again, the piercing pain spreads over his shoulder and he is sure you won’t stop even after drawing blood if he doesn’t obey; so he is forced to pull away.

Your eyes linger on his upper chest, somewhere near his heart, where the first of the cuts reached the deepest.

He makes himself stay still even as you reach for him with your free hand, trailing over the fresh cut with the tip of one finger. Ivar cannot for the life of him feel the sting of pain, not when you’re looking at him like that.

Heat coils within him when you bring your fingers to your mouth to lick off the drops of his blood, your eyes meeting his and in them shining a challenge he will always rise to meet, your head held high with a might he will always surrender to.

Ivar feels he will lose his mind when your lips curve into a smile he saw only once before.

You had a knife in your hand, one of his, just like you do now; and your smile was a little wild, a little mad, just like it is now.

You had marked your claim on that Saxon’s soul with the cut you made, and you promised to become his ruination with that smile on your lips.

And Ivar’s lips part, his breath stuttering and thoughts clouding; because he knows he would let you lay your claim over whatever you want from him, he would let you become his ruination if that is what it takes to never lose the way you’re looking at him now.

When your hand on his shoulder pushes him, Ivar falls back on the bed without hesitation, but he doesn’t loosen his hold on you as he does, making you move onto the bed until you are astride him, your knees on either side of his hips and your hands on either side of his head holding you up.

You don’t hesitate to lean your weight against him, lowering yourself to lean on your elbows so your chest is pressed against his. He is convinced the grind of your center against his cock, still confined in his pants, is nothing short of purposeful.

Focus still drawn to his chest, you settle better against him until you can lift one arm, and so lightly he almost shivers at the faint touch, you retrace some of the cuts with the blade. Your eyes darken further when you look up at him, and when you smile he could swear there’s still a faint stain of red on your lips.

“Does it hurt?”

Lifting his brows, he taunts, “You cannot hurt me.”

“Is that a challenge?” You ask, not waiting for a response when you press harder over one of the lines you were retracing, making Ivar hiss underneath you, unwillingly moving as if to get away from the pain you so gently draw on his skin. He realizes his eyes have fallen closed when he feels your lips pressing gently over that new cut you traced under his collarbone, when he feels the air stinging at the sensitive skin when you breathe a chuckle, “Of course it isn’t. You know I can.”

Laughing past quickened breaths, Ivar says, “Arrogant.”

“Honest,” You correct without missing a beat, a kiss between the dip of his collarbones to seal your words. He opens his eyes to find you still focused on the marks you left on his chest, from feint cuts to welts to the faintest of lines. Quietly, you confess, “I…I like seeing these marks on you. My marks on you.”

“Why?” Ivar presses, surprised at the hoarseness of his own voice, annoyed at how his tone betrays his need.

You make no note of it, returning your gaze to the few cuts and welts over his chest.

“I hate how they think anyone can take you from me,” You bite out, slowly trailing your eyes upward until you meet his gaze again. “I hate the idea of someone taking what is mine.

It will never truly leave him, at least he doesn’t think so, that rush of warmth and something else, something darker, whenever you lay your claim upon him. To know you want him enough to be possessive over him, to be jealous of whoever it is that tries getting his attention, it is something still new, still thrilling, for Ivar.

He searches your darkened gaze, a surge of tenderness somewhere in his chest that he doesn’t bother fighting against, instead trailing his hands up and down your sides as you rest your weight against him.

“And you are mine, aren’t you?” You press, leaning closer only to pull back when Ivar leans up to capture your mouth. You have been teasing him for too long, making him play this game of yours and not letting him kiss you even as he plays -mostly- by your rules. “Say it.”

Ivar challenges your gaze with his own, hand leaving your hip to grasp at the side of your neck, thumb teasing at the base of your throat. He could swear you press into the grasp of his hand, and he isn’t sure if you are daring him to close his hand around your throat or asking him to. It makes his next move all the more difficult to decide on because, from experience, it usually backfires if you are daring him to do something and he does it anyways, or if you are asking him to do something and he refuses.

He tugs you closer, making your lips be once again a breath away from his own.

Eyes dropping to your mouth, he demands, “Kiss me.”

But Ivar should know better than to expect the arrogant, infuriating woman he married to agree to something before getting what she wants. You remain unmoving, breaths quickened and one with his own, but still too far away.

With a growl rumbling from his chest, Ivar surges forward, wounded pride at having to accept not being able to overpower you, and captures your mouth in his.

Hand moving back to tangle in your hair, he loses himself in your kiss, the satisfaction of having you so intimately close after all this teasing, the shiver that it sends down his spine to feel in your kiss the faint coppery taste of his own blood.

He licks into your mouth, demanding you part your lips for him, demanding more.

Your hand on his throat is rough and stronger than he would have expected, and you force him to part from your lips, holding him against the bed as you sit up again. Ivar doesn’t particularly mind the view, and he feels his lips curving into a smile at having almost gotten through to you.

Defying you always proves so fun.

With a twitch of anger on your nose -though he notices the way you lick you lips, as if chasing the taste of him, and he feels his cock twitch in his pants at the sight, demanding any sort of relief-, you press hard enough that you cut Ivar of breath.

His heart is beating madly in his ears, but he can still hear you demand,

“Say it, Ivar.”

Ivar knows he could push you off him easily, he knows he could overpower your strength with his own, but at the same time he knows he doesn’t want to win, he knows he will lose if he tries claiming his victory through force.

Maybe because victory isn’t his to claim, not here, not with you.

And it thrills him -it overwhelms him, it intoxicates him, it consumes him- to have your small hand press tighter his throat, your smaller body pinning his down, you demanding control over his own body and succeeding.

Still, even if more than anything he wants to lose himself in the ecstasy of being claimed by you, in the weightlessness of admitting he is yours and yours alone; he wants to defy you.

With a smile that he knows gets on your nerves, Ivar speaks past the pressure on his throat, words biting, challenging.

“Make me.”

A breath goes by, then two.

With a muttered word in your native tongue, you surge forward, capturing Ivar’s mouth and capturing his breath and what is left of his mind as well.

Your kiss is hungry, devouring, leaving him with no choice but to give in and follow your lead, part his lips when your tongue demands entrance into his mouth and muffling a moan against your lips when you deepen the kiss.

Iva cannot help the whine that leaves him when you pull away, especially when you stop leaning your weight against him, moving to get off the bed.

Leaning up on his elbows, heart racing at whatever it is you are going to do, he watches you stand between his legs again. For a moment the possibility of you leaving him untouched, responding with nothing to his defiance, flashes through his mind, and shamelessly there are words at the tip of his tongue to take back his challenge, to let you know he can be good.

You have made him watch and left him unable to touch -you or himself-, you have left him so close to the edge before pulling back and reminding him of a broken rule, you have proven time and time again that any insubordination by him is something you know how to punish as thoroughly and efficiently as you reward any time he surrenders.

But you don’t pull away, instead you hook your fingers on the waistband of the already undone pants, and tug them down his legs, eyes holding his in a silent command that he doesn’t look away. Not that he could, entrapped in the spell of your darkened gaze.

As always, there’s the tinge of cold that tries making its way past the comfortable and safe haze that takes over his thoughts when he is alone with you, the intrusive thoughts - an instinct more than anything by now- that tell him to hide his legs from you, that warn him to pull away before you have a chance to.

Your eyes on him as hungry as ever, your touch on him as soft as ever, it keeps him tethered, it makes letting go of those thoughts easier; and there’s nothing but concern for the now, for the way you’re looking at him and the way you’re touching him.

“I think that you don’t really want to win. I think,” You drawl out, an absent press of your lips on his chest as you move upwards followed by a teasing drag of your teeth over his nipple, leaving Ivar gasping underneath you. “That you fight against me just so you can be reminded that I will always defeat you.

As if to prove your point, you dart forward, a barely-there touch of your lips over his, a graze of your mouth against his, and still Ivar tilts his head towards the ghost of a kiss. Satisfied, you reward him with a kiss, brushing the tip of your tongue across the seam of his mouth, a teasing flick of it over his bottom lip.

Ivar’s lips part, welcoming, seeking, but you keep the kiss almost painfully shallow, teasing and almost mocking, pretending you are merciful enough to be offering what he so clearly wants.

His breaths are quickened and shallow when you pull back, and when you lick your lips his gaze is drawn to your mouth. Still tantalizingly close, and he could cross the distance and kiss you, but he mustn’t, and he doesn’t. Few things are as simple as this, as accepting the reach he has given you over himself, body and soul; few things are as safe as this, as surrendering to you and finally giving up the control he so desperately needs.

You smile and continue, voice honey-sweet, but he knows better than to think that sweetness doesn’t have its poison hidden underneath,

“All those times you have tried to make me surrender. To your might, to your wishes, to you,” Your words are slow, deliberately poised as you adjust yourself above him, straddling him more comfortably. “You do that because you know I will fight back.”

Wordlessly, you reach in between your bodies and grasp his hard cock in your hand, running your thumb over the tip to gather any moisture that collected there before starting purposeful, precise strokes of your hand over him.

After starving for such a touch for so long, Ivar can do nothing but surrender to it, head falling back against the mattress, lips parted and eyes tightly shut.

You lean forward, claiming his lips in a biting kiss that he can only return sluggishly, too lost on the feel of your small hand over him, overwhelmed by the pleasure you so easily draw out of him.

Ivar’s eyes open with a wordless gasp as the sharp sting of a cut spreads from his shoulder.

He cannot keep the whine leaves his lips when he feels the teasing drag of a knife over his arm, realizing only now that the sharp blade against his skin startles him into attention that the reason you leaned forward was to reclaim the knife.

“Did you ever really want that, my love?” You ask, a quirk of your mouth that tells him you already know the answer. Ivar has no idea what he is supposed to say, because he isn’t frankly understanding most of what you are saying past the rush of his own heartbeat on his own ears, and the ache of his cock, so hard he feels he might lose his mind if your touches continue to be so maddeningly teasing. “Did you ever hope I would one day surrender to you?”

A breath of silence, and he swallows past a dry throat, trying to find the words.

“Haven’t you, though?” He asks, sharing your smile as you let the masks lip for a moment, and nothing but the kind of exasperation that makes your eyes shine with adoration looks back at him.

You shake your head, “One day I’ll muzzle you, I swear.”

“You are the one that insists you want to hear me.”

“I don’t need to hear your words. I don’t need no coherent sound leaving your lips,” You trace the bottom edge of his mouth with the tip of the knife, once again putting all of Ivar’s focus on that simple but dangerous movement. This time your smile is once again wolfish, and you taunt, “If I have my way, and I always do, none do by the time I’m through with you.”

Free hand tightening on his shoulder until he feels the sharpness of your nails digging into his skin, you finally take him inside you, not giving him or yourself a moment before you start moving.

The movements of your body above his, the rough grip of your hands on him, the cadence of your breathing as pleasure starts building within you; it is not for him, it has nothing to do with him. You are using his body in whatever way you see fit to give yourself pleasure, you are demanding the surrender of his body to yours, and Ivar’s feels weightless, breathless, mindless.

You are always a sight to behold as you hold yourself above him, a slow dance of your hips as you grind and move on him; head tilted back, neck bared to him, shameless view that makes Ivar not bother resisting the urge to sit up.

Hungry lips mouth at the curve of your throat, his hands settling on the curve of your ass and bringing you closer every time you sink back down against him.

But you do not miss a beat, the knife you still held hooked on your finger grasped on your hand, pressed against the center of his chest, right over his heart -fitting, he thinks dazedly- as you force him to lay back down on the bed.

“Do not move,” You order, voice cold, ruthless. “Last warning.”

He scoffs, because war has taught him victory is all the better when it is hard won and you have taught him defeat is all the better when he makes you fight for it. Even now, when you hold a knife dangerously close to his throat, he raises his brows and taunts,

“You cannot truly believe you can threaten me.” The words are not fully past his lips when his voice is cut short, gasping breaths and a hoarse call of your name as you open yet another cut over his shoulder.

The pain seems to heighten and spread in every hurried breath that goes by, until there’s nothing he can focus on but the sensations you draw out of him, pleasure and pain alike.

His heartbeat rushing in his ears, he doesn’t know if the noise he is hearing is his own voice, but with the way your tight heat wrapped around him sends sparks of pleasure down his spine and the way the sharp sting of the cut spreads pain through his body and leaves his every nerve alight, Ivar doesn’t have it in him to try and restrain himself from voicing your effect on him.

“Want to know what I believe?” You ask, words breathed past his ear, your hand on his neck tightening as your movements above him become more frenzied, more desperate. He’s caught in the riptide of your voice, your touch, you; and he can offer no words other than a silent call of your name as you use his body to bring yourself closer and closer. Dragging your teeth over his earlobe, you send a spark of pleasure like lightning down his spine, and, voice rough, you finish, “I believe that you like being reminded of your place. Underneath me, at my mercy. You know you belong nowhere else.”

A need that goes beyond anything his body might be trying to tell him burns in Ivar’s veins, and hearing you this close to the edge, feeling you tightening around him, feeling your thighs tremble slightly as you move above him, demanding your pleasure from him; it drives him to move one hand to where you are joined, skilled movements of his fingers against you that makes your body tighten further and further, your voice grow more and more breathless.

When you move back up so that your chest isn’t pressed against his anymore and Ivar is lost in the sight of it, in the arch of your back and in the way the low light casts a warm glow over your skin, in the sound of his name on your lips as your head tilts back and in the breathless praise that the breathed word means.

With every movement of your hips you demand your pleasure from his body, and he finds himself freely giving whatever you demand and anything else he has left to give.

Past the noise that fills his head, past his quickened breaths as he watches you bring yourself closer and closer to the edge, he thinks there are words leaving his lips, encouragements that you let go for him, pleas disguised as praise.

Desperate to see you coming apart for him, because of him, he doesn’t care what repercussions may come for speaking out of line.

You lean down, pressed against him as your cries and the tightening of your walls around him tell him you’re getting closer and closer; and where you are going you are dragging Ivar with you, each rhythmic movement of your bodies together driving him closer and closer to the edge.

Your whole body tightens and trembles as you fall apart, a call of Ivar’s name by his ear that draws an answering call of your name in between Ivar’s gasping breaths.

He feels his body coiling around an unseen tension, but before he can let go and follow you, without warning you bite down on his shoulder -roughly, and behind his closed lids he sees you as he did that first day, blood dripping down your lips as you bit down on that man’s skin- and the sharp pain makes his body unable to focus on any pleasure but the one that ebbs weakly alongside the pain you draw out of him.

Too long he lingers tethered to that easily-lost pleasure that comes with the pain, to that all-encompassing and overwhelming pleasure of having had you moving above him; but finds himself unable to hold on to either, left so, so close, but unable to fall past the edge.

He is left unable to finish, but all the sudden pain did was make him impossibly harder. He tries breathing past gasping, desperate breaths, feeling his body shaking against his will and wondering absently if you can feel him about to shatter.

Maybe you do, because as you pull your mouth away from his sensitive skin, your soft hands run up and down his chest, bracing you and holding you above him and also offering a soothing caress that somehow manages to pull him further under.

Ivar is of half a mind to beg that you sink your teeth into him again, that you draw that maddening and overwhelming kind of pain from him again, that you push him over the edge with nothing but that roughness, that ruthlessness, he so loves about you; but your mocking laughter interrupts whatever words his lips were silently forming around.

“Do you want to finish, Ivar?” You tease, he previously-soft touch of your free hand turning rougher as you dig your nails into his skin, making him hiss and yet still arch into the touch. “I want you to, I want you to fill me up. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to fill me with your seed, make me swell up with your child, so everyone knows how good you fuck me?”

His head falls back, and gritting his teeth Ivar looks up at the ceiling.

Through gritted teeth, a hand grasping desperately at your thigh when you repeat that maddening little movement of your hips, he bites,

“You’re wicked lit-…”

You interrupt him swiftly, “Not a word. Unless you’re saying what I want to hear.”

He tries blinking past heavy lids, tries focusing on you.

Feeling the thrill quickening his heart, knowing he is playing with fire, he dares, “Why should I, hm?”

Your smile is a little power-mad, and you bite your lip, lowering your gaze to the movement of the knife down his chest as you ask again,

“Do you want to finish, Ivar?” The meaning behind the question is completely different now, and his throat dries. At his silence, you simply request, “Say you’re mine, and I’ll let you.”

But a part of him wants you to demand his surrender the same way you demand your pleasure from him, a part of him wants you to overpower him, wants you to force him to submit. And so he stays silent, thrill running down his spine like lightning, a kind of fear he finds himself starved for running through his veins.

Even at his defiant silence you don’t stop moving, continue moving on him, around him, above him. The tight drag of your wet heat around him drives him steadily towards the edge, each roll of your hips sending jolts of pleasure down his spine, each drag of your breasts against his chest as you press closer stealing his breath and whatever is left of his heart that isn’t yours already.

“You may choose not to say it, but you’re mine,” You state, reaching over his head to grab the knife again. Voice rough but certain, as if you aren’t speaking to the darker and more desperate parts of him with each promise of conquest, of ownership. “Your body is mine, mine to do as I please with. All you have to do for me to have mercy, is surrender, Ivar.”

This time you don’t wait for an answer, you don’t offer him an opportunity to defy you, though he isn’t so certain he would have the breath or the strength to do so right now.

Ivar hisses at the pain that spreads through him at the cut you slowly open over his shoulder, tracing the shape of one of the ink traces on his skin. That pain is almost enough to send him tumbling over the edge, to let him think of nothing but it, to finally pull him under and drown out anything other than the pain that blossoms on his skin with your name on it and the pleasure it brings with it. A hoarse and ragged call of your name, and as the knife continues the trail of fire over his skin.

Ivar is so close he can feel all of him tightening, twisting as he falls deeper and deeper into a riptide where all he can make out is you, warm and tight wrapped around him, and the piercing pain dancing over his skin; he is so close that it borders on painful, and drags him further down.

But you aren’t yet that merciful, and the soft press of your kiss over the thin cut tethers him to the present, makes him whine at the loving touch, because it would be so easy to fall apart at the feel of that gentleness that always makes him feel like he will shatter, it would be as easy as breathing to give in if it weren’t for the sharp sting of the knife against his skin, for the thrilling fear that lights his nerves on fire when you draw the blade over his skin.

Ivar isn’t sure how long you torture him for, for how long you keep him tethered only to you and aware only of what you’re doing to him; but it feels like an eternity, it feels he has been so close to the edge so many times that there’s tightness in his throat, stinging in his eyes, breathless pleas at the tip of his tongue that he refuses to voice lest his surrender is made real.

His hands tighten on the sheets underneath him, as if that is what can keep him from flying away, as if that is what can let him hold on to even the slightest bit if control.

But even that you take from him, the rough and dark laugh you breathe by his ear sending a shiver down his spine and prompting his hands to reach desperately for you, one grasping at the side of your hip while the other tangles in your hair, though he isn’t sure if he does it to draw you closer or push you away.

He cannot take it anymore, he will lose his mind. Tethered between this softness and this roughness, between pain and pleasure, between defiance and surrender; he will lose his mind, he is sure of it.

He cannot take it, he cannot stand another moment.

The word is ragged, hoarse, desperate as it leaves his lips, “Please.”

“Hmm, please what, my love?” You tease, a rotation of your hips that makes a ragged half-shout leave his lips as he desperately grasps at your hips, trying to keep you still until he can catch his breath.

Ivar’s breathing is out of his control, and past gasping breaths he tries speaking, silently mouthing the words a couple of times before they can leave his lips, broken and shaking,

“Please, a-anything.”

You lean forward to capture his mouth, your kiss sweet and surprisingly soothing. Still, as you pull away Ivar bites back a whine as he cranes his head towards you, chasing after your lips. It is not enough, it would never be enough, and he…he feels like shattering.

Searching his gaze, grounding him with your eyes on his, you command,

“Say it.”

The words -a vow, a truth, a plea- leave his lips with ease in a haggard gasp,

“I’m yours,” And the words keep stumbling past his lips, rushed, “I’m yours, only-…hah, only y-yours. Please, let…let me…”

“No.”

His eyes widen, and words keep stumbling past his lips, hurried, “Wh-…no, no, I…p-please, you can’t-…”

“I can, I have,” You intone, a mad little smile teasing at your lips. Lifting yourself off him, Ivar knows he mustn’t do anything except grit his teeth and clench his hands into fists as you pull away. After a breath, you run one hand up the inside of his thigh, stopping just shy of touching him, and offer, “I can go on, if you ask nicely. But you know how that will end.”

He does. A few times he has pushed beyond a point you’re willing to forgive, and you’ve set out to tease him, but instead of stopping and pulling away when he is just close enough, you have pulled away and left him bereft of your touch as he is coming undone, leaving him with no control over his own body as it trembles and convulses, helpless moans leaving his lips, the release far from his reach and yet somehow already past him.

He shakes his head wordlessly, gritting his teeth as a strange but thrilling embarrassment makes his cheeks feel hot when you chuckle quietly.

But he needs to finish, he cannot be left like this. This is torture, and he knows you well enough to know when you are just teasing him until he breaks.

Turning his head to meet your gaze, Ivar offers quietly, “I…I can be good.”

“Why weren’t you, then?” You ask, not missing a beat.

You keep pulling away, and an urgency fills him. He…he has to prove to you that he can, that he is, he has to…he has to earn it, he knows he does.

“I’ll prove it, I’ll be good.” He promises, the haze that softens his thoughts whenever it is just the two of you making it possible that the words leave his lips and the cruel voice in his head that whispers he has failed you already is easily quietened.

When you move to rest once again over the top of the bed, Ivar turns on his spot, holding himself up on his arms and crawling towards you.

“Will you?” You taunt, a small smile curving at your lips. Ivar moves even closer, one of your legs falls to the side, an invitation even if you don’t voice it, and once he is close enough, he doesn’t hesitate to reach for you.

Dragging rough hands over the soft skin of your leg, Ivar dares lean forward, pressing a reverent trail of kisses up the inside of your thigh, an edge to his thoughts that he hadn’t realized was there softening when you lift a hand to caress his hair.

“Mhm, yes. For you.” He confirms against your skin.

He bears your mark, his chest littered in raised lines of the knife having scratched at the skin, red drops of blood staining his skin and thin red lines where you dared cut deeper, bite marks -new ones and older ones that have yet to fade- spread over his neck and shoulders; and Ivar gathers it is only fair he is allowed a few marks of his own.

Just as his teeth sink into the soft skin of the inside of your thigh, your hold on his hair tightens, a sharp tug that speaks of the warning you don’t voice.

Obediently, though he is smiling slightly at the sting of pain in his scalp -he does try most things because he knows you will fight back, you were right, of course-, he continues the harmless trail of kisses up the inside of your thigh towards your center.

But, once again, you stop him, a silent command that he continue past the inviting wetness between your legs, until he is face to face with you.

“My pleasure is yours,” You say, smiling up at him when Ivar holds himself up over you, realizing only now truly how easily he could overpower you. Maybe he could, if you were anything other than who you are. The teasing, cruel, glint in your eye makes his heart skip a beat, and your hands on his hips bring him closer to you, demanding a choked moan to make it past his lips as his arousal is brought to the forefront of his mind again. You tilt your head, lips brushing against his as you order, “So you will prove you can please me, by bringing the both of us pleasure,” There’s a challenge in your tone, and lifting the knife one last time you use it to guide Ivar to your lips, the edge of the blade retracing the scar on his cheekbone as you kiss him slowly. Pulling away, you remind him, this time the meaning behind words so similar to the ones you’ve said before, “But your pleasure, just as you, just as your body, is mine, my love. Don’t forget that.”

He searches your gaze, before leaning forward, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You let him kiss you, but before long you take control of the kiss, your hand at the back of his neck guiding the angle of his head and your tongue insistent as you deepen the kiss.

Even though he doesn’t need to, because you both knew the truth long before he accepted surrender in this game of yours, Ivar pulls back just enough to whisper, breaths quickened and voice roughened, “I’m yours.”

You smile, wolfish, and dart forward to bite teasingly at his bottom lip, “Mine.”

He doesn’t need to say it, he doesn’t need to hear you say it. But he wants to, because it will never leave him, this thrill of having been torn to pieces, bared of any armor, and still having been chosen, claimed.

Sometimes, at his lowest, at his most hurting, he wonders how. How, of all the people that have wanted you and offered you worlds in exchange for your love, of all the lives you could have lived with any other, you could choose him. Sometimes, at his weakest, at his most uncertain, he wonders why. Why, after seeing all what makes him who he is, after being witness to what he has let no other see, you want him regardless.

“Do you want me?” He asks against your lips, not really sure why the words stumble past his lips, but once that they are hanging in the air between you he finds himself waiting for your answer with a knot of emotion in his chest.

He feels vulnerable, exposed, as he always does when he is with you, when he is like this, when the two of you are like this; and though he wouldn’t change a thing he sometimes still feels easily shattered.

Your hand on the side of his face is soft, and warm, and soothing, and you bring his mouth to yours, a soft kiss that makes him shiver before you promise, “Always.”

That is all the encouragement he needs, and he grasps himself in his hand -almost flinching at the borderline painful desire that runs through his veins, that makes his every nerve feel set alight- and enters you.

And in between the familiar movement of your bodies, the sounds of pleasure you let out that echo in his mind like wordless praise, the sudden sharpness of your teeth making him somewhere new or your nails dragging over his skin; Ivar is unable to focus on anything that isn’t you.

Your voice washes over him, makes him feel warm and weightless, tethered even as his head fills with noise and his body threatens to betray him; the words echoing in his head and managing to pull him further into this space you always drag him to, this rip current, this whirlwind.

You feel so good inside me, you gasp, a breath by his ear, and though he is so hard he aches, more than anything he wants to hear that voice call his name in ecstasy again. Ivar mouths hungrily at the soft skin of your neck, bringing you both closer and closer to the edge. After having been denied for so long, he’s desperate for relief, but he’s more desperate to earn such relief, such pleasure, by giving all of himself to you.

My sweet, beautiful Ivar, you croon, wrenching a choked sob from his chest as he moves with more vigor, thrusting harder and deeper inside you. Only you could render him so defenseless with but a touch, make him feel so cherished with but a word; only you could breathe loving words past his ear and leave him so easily shattered while holding him in one piece in your embrace.

You are so good for me, you praise, and a shudder wrecks at his body at the warm feeling the simple words evoke in him, breaths erratic as his heart thrashes in his chest. You tighten around him, quiet trembles of your body as you fall apart, and the drag of your nails up his back draws on his skin a pain much sweeter than any knife ever could.

Let go, let go for me, you demand, and he hadn’t realized how much he was craving your direction, your permission, until the words wash over him and he finds himself dragged under a rip current, unable to breathe or think, left to chase desperately for the blend of pleasure and pain that your tight heat and your teeth on his skin drown him in.

Ivar falls apart in between gasping breaths, ragged calls of your name until his voice gives in, trembling body that you hold tightly against yours; the painful relief, the weakening ecstasy, leaving him with your arms around him as the only thing keeping him from drifting away.

He trembles in the aftershocks, cannot help it, even as he tries holding his body back under his control; almost aching at each shiver of his body where it still rests over yours.

You bring him back to himself in between gentle touches, soft words in your own tongue and his -though no matter the language he cannot understand them, cannot hear them over the rush of noise in his head-, and with that uncanny sense of understanding him that still surprises him, once you are certain he can hear you, you tease,

“You could have surrendered much earlier, and suffered less.”

Ivar smiles lazily against your skin, moving slightly to the side only so that his whole weight isn’t resting on you, but refuses to part from your embrace, arms wrapped around you in kind and bringing you closer as he buries his face in the curve of your neck.

“Where’s the fun in that, hm?”

Your answering giggle is tired but happy, and with a kiss on the top of his head you mutter,

“I love you.”

The edge of what just transpired ebbs away, and as the thrilling fear of having you holding a blade against him fades, as the urgency of proving to you that he can be good quietens; he is drained, weightless, tethered to nothing but you.

Your hands are soft and soothing up and down his back, your voice a rumble under his ear and a breath over his heated skin; and Ivar has never felt safer.

“And I love you.”

Victory has nothing on surrender, when it is you he can surrender to.

____ ____ ____

Got fluffier/more emotional than I intended at the end there but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Thank you for reading! Hope this was alright, I’m always insecure about writing/posting smut lol, but I would love to hear your thoughts!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @1950schick​ @ietss​ @peachyboneless​ @encounterthepast​ @maggiescarborough​ @fae-sedai​  @zuxiezendler​ @crazybunnyladysworld​ @stupiddarkkside​ @northumbria​  @aprilivar​

[astronomoney]

Heyo! I heard you were open for requests, so I thought if I can ask for a fluffly prompt of 18? Like Jon kent x batsis? ( I noticed this dude don't get much love at all.) Maybe it has like a tiny (big) crush on batsis, and accidentally ends up following her. But don't rush your self, I know you got alot to do. I'll wait! Ty! (This is alot of reading, sorry.)

Pairing: Jon Kent x Fem!reader

Prompts: Prompt list 18-“Care to explain why you’ve been following me for 6 blocks?” (Apparently “care to explain *inster text here*” is a common prompt theme on my list)

Summary: Jon Kent meets the one and only batsis (that’s you) and being the idiot he is, falls madly in love... naturally.

A/n: Ok so this took a while and i didn’t like where it was going for a while but after some editing i actually really like how this turned out! (Also sorry this took so long life hit me like bitch this past week) And Jon and the reader are about 15 16 ish here which makes damian 19ish. Masterlist

Word count: 1.5k it’s not a super long thing but i’m pretty pleased with that number

Code: y/n=your name

Not So Super Stelthy

Jon Kent floated in a small circle about 4 feet above the ground, trying his best not to fall asleep. He had been watching Damian watch security footage on the batcomputer for 30 minutes and he was bored out of his mind.

“What are you even looking for?” Jon asked, letting himself land and walking over to the computer.

“Proof.” Damian replied, too focused on the tape to give more than a one word answer.

“Right, of course the proof,” Jon nodded his head before pausing awkwardly.

Damian sighed and paused the video. “You have no idea what i’m talking about.”

“Nope.”

“And you’re extremely bored.”

“Yup.” Jon rocked back on his heels, dragging out the Y sound.

“Fine then, you can look around the cave but don’t touch anything. Got it?” Damin said sternly, knowing that if he didn’t give Jon something to do he'd start asking questions nonstop.

“Really! I can go explore by myself!” He exclaimed, instantly more energetic. “I promise i won’t break anything!” He called flying swiftly out of the room before Damian could change his mind.

He walked down a random hallway looking at the various souvenirs on the walls. He heard some grunting and the sound metal against metal coming from a room down the hall. He made his way toward the sound using his super hearing to try and figure out who it was.

“That was so not fair!” An unknown female voice exclaimed.

“Technically that’s not stated in the rules.” a smug voice shot back. Jon recognized it to be Tim’s but he still didn’t know who the other person was. He kept walking towards the sound until he found a large open room with weapons on the walls and mats on the floor.

In the middle of the room he saw two people holding metal bow staffs and walking around each other.

“Well it was implied.” The girl said before charging Tim. She swung at his left but he blocked and twirled the bow staff around to hit her in the side. She stumbled back but quickly regained her balance and came at him again, this time faking a hit to the right before sweeping his legs out from under him so he landed on his back. His staff rolled away and it was very clear that he had lost that fight.

“YES!” The girl cheered “I win and you owe me 20 bucks.” She boasted in a sing-song voice, reaching out her hand to help Tim up.

“Yeah yeah I get it.” Tim grabbed her hand and hoisted himself up sounding annoyed at his defeat. The girl turned around and walked towards the bench where a plastic half empty water bottle sat. That was when Jon saw her face for the first time, that was also when she noticed Jon.

“Oh hey Superboy.” She said, sounding slightly confused as to why the Metropolis hero would be in the batcave.

“Jon?” Tim asked, turning towards him. “What are you doing here?” He smiled and walked over to rest his elbow on the girl's shoulder.

“Hi sorry i didn’t mean to bother you I was just uh exploring.” Jon said, semi awkwardly. “Damian’s doing some research on the computer and I guess he didn’t want me distracting him.” He pointed sheepishly towards the room where Damian was still watching security tapes.

The girl laughed and shrugged Tims arm away. “Well definitely don’t take that personally. Damian’s not really one for conversation. I’m y/n by the way.”

He remembered Damian mentioning her here and there but he’d never met her before. “I’m Jon, but you know that already.”

She laughed again which made him smile. “Well Jon it’s nice to meet you.”

“There you are.” Damian rounded the corner. “I have the proof but we need to hurry if we’re going to get there in time.”

“You better get going before Damian pulls a kryptonite katana on you.” y/n joked waving over at the very grumpy looking teenager.

“Yeah,” Jon laughed. “Wait? Does he really have one of those?” his smile was replaced with slight concern for his own safety.

“Superboy. Let’s go.” Damian sounded impatient, although he always sounded like that.

“Sorry i’m coming.” Jon began flying over to him. “Bye y/n!” he called before turning the corner and disappearing.

“Bye Jon.” Y/n leaned on the door frame and watched him fly off, a small smile on her face.

“Umm what was that?” Tim asked a very confused look on his face.

“What was what?” she turned around

“Oh I don't know, maybe the whole ‘oh hi i’m y/n nice to meet you’ thing?”

“Ok I know you don’t talk to people very often but typically when you meet someone new you introduce yourself.”

“Well your starry eyed stare might have been a bit too much.”

“Starry eyed?” she scoffed in response “I was in no way starry eyed.”

“Uh huh sure.” He said in an over-protective-older-brother voice.

“Shut up.” y/n tossed a bow staff to Tim and got into a fighting stance with her own.

༻𖥸༺

After a mission went wrong, Damian demanded Jon train in the cave at least twice a week to make him, in Damians words “Somewhat competent on the field”. That meant Jon would spend more time in the cave and saw more of y/n.

Whenever Jon and y/n got a chance to talk it felt like they’d known each other for their whole lives. They had inside jokes and about 2/3’s of a secrets code memorized. Sometimes they would just sit next to each other, completely comfortable in the silent company. Jon’s heart started to beat faster when she was around and his cheeks would heat up when she smiled at him.

He got distracted whenever she came into the training room which resulted in a very hard kick to the stomach on more than one occasion. One day while Jon was on his way home from the manor, he spotted y/n walking swiftly across a rooftop. He hadn’t seen in the cave that day but Damian said she was at a friends house.

His exact words were “She’s at her friends house studying, now if you’re done being completely in love with my sister can we run the training again?”

Of course Jon responded by saying “I am not in love with her!” but it was clear that Damian didn’t buy that and at this point Jon wasn’t sure he believed it either.

‘What is she doing out?’ he thought while silently ducking behind a nearby billboard. Jon let her get about three rooftops away and used his super senses to keep track of her. She turned left, then left again, then right, then another left, and finally stopped on top of a random building.

Y/n turned to look at the city and let out a sigh. “You know,” she spoke softly with a hint of a smirk in her voice. “For someone with Superpowers you’re shit at staying hidden.”

‘Busted’

“How could you possibly have seen me?” Jon came out from his apparently not so good hiding place and landed a few feet away from her on the roof. “I was in super stealth mode.”

“Well darling Jon i was raised by Batman. Noticing things is kinda, well my thing.” She laughed. “Now, care to explain why you’ve been following me for 6 blocks?”

“W-well i have a perfectly reasonable explanation for that and it is because,” he said slowly trying to come up with a good excuse as to why he’d been following her. The truth was he didn’t know why he’d followed her. Although he had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with his not so small crush.

“It’s because- Hey wait a second you’re not even supposed to be out here.” Jon cut himself off by changing the subject. “Didn’t Batman like, ban you from being a crime fighter?”

“What Batman doesn't know won’t hurt him.” She walked over to him so they were now about 2 feet apart.

“He’s Batman! He knows everything!” Jon exclaimed as if it was obvious.

“Well i’m not going to tell him.” She paused leaning closer to Jon so they were mere inches away from each other. His heart speed up and he felt his cheeks turn pink from how close they were. “Are you going to tell him?”

“N-no?” It sounded more like a question then an answer but it was good enough for y/n.

“Great!” She leaned away again, her smile returning. “Now that i’ve confirmed you won’t be snitching on me, we can go get some food. I am starving and there’s a great taco truck just around the corner that makes the best nachos. That is if you want to?”

“Want to? Yeah i’d love to!” He smiled happily at the idea.

“Perfect, then it’s a date.”