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hoseokshobagi · 3 months

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† Reborn in Sin ⸸ | Sneak peak | PJM

† Reborn in Sin ⸸ sneak peak

✞PAIRING: demon!jimin x fem!reader

✞ 【SUMMARY】: for years jimin was your constant and loyal companion in the church, a shining example of humility and compassion. but when he was tragically taken from the world before he could experience life, his heart was filled with anger and resentment. and so, in a moment of weakness, he struck a deal with the devil, trading his soul for a second chance at life. but when he returned, he was no longer your kind and devoted boy you once knew.

✞ 『GENRE』: dark ✟ supernatural ✟ fantasy ✟ angst ✟ smut

✞ RATING: 18+ / minors do not interact

✞ WORD COUNT: loading...

✞ [WARNINGS/TAGS] : dead dove, dark, death, manipulation, corruption (kink?), church & religion, blasphemy & desecration, [oral(m) - not with reader, headpusher jimin, face fucking, spit play], dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, dubcon, public fingering, exhibitionism, sexual "nightmares" & hallucinations, mind games, jimin is the worst & the BIGGEST warning!!!!, oral(f), cunt drunk jimin, unprotected sex, rough sex, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, unrealistic amount of cum lmao, cum play, betrayal, mind break

✞ NOTE: hi beautiful people!!! this story was written for the @btsfests writing fest. actually this is the first time i publish my writing and omg ahcbdjs i'm so nervous while writing this note. i always wrote for myself and my closest friends but thanks to bts fests and their never ending encouraging words i decided to show off my writing. this little part is the reason why i started writing this whole story and i hope you'll like it just as much as i enjoyed writing every word. :] this demon jimin is the most cunty & selfish character i've written so far so yall better prepare yourselves ajfnsjxnsjs

english is not my native language, but despite that i'll write and communicate in english. please if you see an error in my writing or grammar lmk!! <3

my dearest beta read: @liveyun 🐢♡

COMING SOON

❗this is the darkest fic i've ever written so please read all the warnings before reading❗

The delicate chimes of the church bell echoed softly through the cavernous rafters, casting an unsettling shadow over Jimin’s mind. Like ghostly whispers emanating from the very walls and pillars of the church, the sounds seemed to taunt him. Whispering to him that he no longer belonged in this sacred space.

He couldn’t believe how he used to devour Father Seokjin’s every word, eagerly drinking up his sermons like it was the finest wine he ever tasted. In this very church, where he had spent countless hours sitting in the pews, Jimin felt like a stranger in the world he once called home.

He looked to his left and gazed upon the sweet, delicate flower — the very reason why he was there. Innocence shining in your eyes, your eyelashes fluttered like the softest butterfly wings. Sitting next to him with hands clasped tightly together in your lap, you looked as pure as new snow, listening to the mass.

Oh, how much he forced himself to resist the urge to reach out and ruin you right then and there. To feel the delicate petals of your innocence as they crumpled beneath his fingers. But he was going to do so slowly, savoring every moment of your fall from grace.

So, he grit his teeth and forced himself to endure the priest’s words and the choir’s music, at least, for a while.

Despite his best efforts, this place was as dull and lifeless as the stones that made up its walls. He spent half of his life trapped within these confines, he knew every creak of the floorboards, every flicker of light, every word and phrase of the Bible that was engraved in his mind, the product of countless wasted years.

Jimin raised a hand to his face, tracing each perfect curve of his newly manicured nails, scrutinizing them from every angle. He raised an eyebrow in anticipation, marveling at Hoseok’s handiwork.

He couldn’t wait to make another deal with the bastard later.

You noticed his attention was drifting and Jimin’s reverie was broken by a gentle tap on his shoulder, causing his thoughts to come crashing down around him like a house of cards. He turned to see your confused eyes peering up at him, your delicate lips murmuring a soft “pray”.

He couldn’t help but mentally roll his eyes. Oh, you were so annoying. He was going to make you pay for all the stress and frustration that he had to go through and endure because of you.

Jimin lowered his head and with a deep breath, closed his eyes, pretending as if he was lost in prayer, his mind far from it. Wandering anywhere but there.

As you finally turned back to offer your own prayers, he couldn’t resist and raised his eyes, glancing back at you.

And he was so fucked.

You were a sight to behold, more divine than the sacred paintings that adorned the walls of this church.

As your eyes drifted shut, your lashes like feathers of a sleeping bird, delicately brushed the curves of your eyes. The soft radiance of the lights danced upon your face, creating a tender veil of shadows that caressed your skin.

Your lips moved in silent devotion as you murmured in such sincerity, clutching the Holy Book tightly in your hands. And he swears, he could feel his dick twitch just at the sight.

You were so breakable, so vulnerable and so fucking beautiful.

Yeah, he was so fucked. So lost in you.

Park’s burning desires had been building to a crescendo in the last few days, a boiling point that seemed to threaten to engulf him whole. He felt like his longing for you was an aching fire that was on the verge of exploding. The mere sight of you at the church was a powerful trigger to him, fanning the flames for this fire.

And he thought it was ridiculous.

He couldn’t believe how he couldn’t control himself, his body yearning for yours, needing to stain the purity of your grace, to spread his sin all around your soul. To corrupt the sacredness of who you were with the foulness of who he had become.

He glanced around and took in the sights and sounds of the church, noticing that everyone was enraptured by the mass. Their focus was solely on the priest at the cathedral, their attention directed nowhere else.

With a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, he slipped closer to you and your sweet scent filled his nostrils; making him feel intoxicated. He knew exactly what he had to do; a little play won’t hurt anyone.

Jimin’s touch was like a gentle caress of a summer breeze, soft and tender, caressing your skin like the lightest of kisses. Your eyes flicked open, searching for the source of such unexpected warmth.

And there he was, with his legs crossed, - his gaze fixed on you with such intensity that always made your cheeks warm for some reason – one arm resting comfortably on his elbow on the church pew, the other continuing to idly play with the soft fabric of your long skirt.

You never wore anything revealing; preferring modesty over anything else, however this time, you felt utterly exposed as his eyes roamed over your form like that. Jimin always enjoyed this, stripping away your layers one by one, revealing the true you that lay beneath.

Slowly he drew near, his aura spreading like a thick mist, wrapping around you. The scent of his cologne swirled around as his body pressed against yours, his knee gently nudging yours. His warm breath brushed against your cheeks, like the caress of a dead night.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Keep praying." You looked at his hand, still playing with your skirt, unsure of what to say. Jimin’s voice was calm and soft, yet, there was something about his dark eyes that made you feel uneasy. Like he was biding his time, planning his next move.

It clearly made you uncomfortable, but you were too naive to say anything, too afraid to speak your mind, not to mention that you were sure Jimin would never do anything wrong, so you turned back again and closed your eyes to pray.

But what you didn’t know was that you were already entangled by the snake’s coils; Jimin waited for the moment when you would break. He was so curious, so eager to see just how far you would go, how much you would endure before you finally stepped up and told him to stop.

Would you wrench his hand away? Would you yell at him? Would you make a scene in the middle of the church? He knew you wouldn’t, knew you were just too gentle and too timid to disrespect your favorite little church.

And so, he kept pushing, pushing your boundaries and invading your personal space, inch by inch, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in the wake of his touch.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying desperately to break free from his touch, but he only tightened his grip, making your heart race with a mixture of fear and uncertainty.

"Jimin, can you please stop?" Oh, that was it. Your question was hardly above a whisper, as though afraid of you would be heard by those around you. The snake’s grip finally ensnared his delicate, little flower and he had no intention of stopping.

„Keep it down. You wouldn’t wanna disturb the praying souls now, would you?”

A devilish smirk played on his lips, eyes like black holes bearing down at you. His voice was like honey dripping from his lips; so soft and alluring. A stark contrast to the real meaning behind his words and actions. He continued to run his hand up your thigh, pushing your long skirt higher and higher until it was bunched around your waist.

"Jimin, st—" His other hand slithered around from the back of your neck, forcefully covering your mouth, silencing any words that wanted to escape your lips. Whatever you tried to say it came out muffled by his hand, leaving you feeling panicked and completely helpless.

You grasped at the material like a lifeline, desperate to pull it back down, but Jimin’s arm was like a steel barricade, preventing you from covering yourself. You felt trapped, your body burning with the shame of exposure.

"I said keep your mouth shut. We don’t want others to see you like this, do we?"

Your breath caught in your throat, unable to escape as the fear of being discovered and shamed in front of everyone took over. All you could do was fix your gaze on Jimin’s intense, brooding eyes, silently pleading for mercy with your own desperate ones. Ah, so pretty for him.

As you gazed into the depths of his dark eyes, the windows to his no longer existing a soul, you revealed a darkness that engulfed you, and you knew there was no escape.

You were at his mercy, and he had none.

Jimin’s pupils dilated at the sight, your skin was soft and flawless, causing a shiver to run down his spine as he gently touched you. The delicate fabric of your white panties teased him, giving him just a glimpse of what was hidden underneath.

With a playful twinkle in his eyes, he lazily played with the tiny, little, pink bow adorning the center of your panties. His actions were a clear taunt, a display of the control he had over you and your vulnerabilities.

It was clear you wanted to push him away, to scold him, yell at him, but he knew the fear of causing a scene in church held you back. You tried to glance around nervously, hoping no one would notice what was happening.

The world seemed to come to a standstill, the only thing that existed was the fast, thumping beat of your heart as Jimin’s hand slithered closer and closer to the place where it had no business being. You felt trapped, your body frozen, unable to break free as if you were held captive by a coiled serpent; its grip tightening with each struggle. The sound of your unsteady breaths filled the air, the only thing grounding you in reality, that, and the heat from his touch, because this serpent was crafted from the finest satin.

„Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay, keep praying so God won’t mind, yeah?”

His words made you paralyzed, like a spell, breaking you down. Words like those should never have left the lips of the kind and caring Jimin that you thought you knew. Your mind was reeling with shock and pain, struggling to make sense of how someone you had trusted completely could suddenly become a stranger. Jimin’s actions were like a knife to your heart, a stab that pierced through the trust you had placed in him.

With the grace of a feather dancing on skin, Jimin traced his fingers over your clothed clit, making you tremble beneath his touch. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your eyes widening as you felt the weight of the moment sinking in.

And he chuckled softly, a low rumble that only you could hear, taking your response as a cue, he increased the pressure. His skilled fingers now applied a firm yet tender touch, coaxing your body to new heights of pleasure, and your body tingled in response, betraying you by a throbbing ache that grew stronger with every touch.

As the ripples of pleasure swirled within you, you tried to pull back, to resist the sin that was happening in the very place where you sought solace and salvation. The guilt gnawed at your soul, the snake’s venom that seeped into every crevice, tainting the flower’s beauty.

And yet, Jimin reveled in your pain, basking in the darkness of your suffering as he watched the guilt consume you whole. The venom of your remorse was a feast for his senses; the holy wine, the sweetest elixir to be savored with every devious sip.

"Look, what do we have in here." He pressed his thumb against the dark spot on your panties, causing you to shiver. For him, the sensations of your wetness seeping through the fabric was like an euphoric rush, the sweet nectar of his delicate flower, intoxicating and irresistible.

Heat spread across your cheeks, horror and shame washing over you at his words, you shook your head, tried to move, tried to tell him to stop, but you found yourself lost in his eyes, searching for any sign of the person you once knew. But all you saw was darkness, a void that seemed to swallow you whole.

"Deny it if you want, baby, but aren’t you a nasty girl? You’re fucking soaking."

And it was true. Your body felt like it was betraying you, and you were mortified. He ignited a fire within you that you couldn’t deny. A soft cry slipped from your lips, but you couldn’t bear to face him, knowing that you were powerless in his grasp.

You were unable to believe what was happening. As someone who had always followed the Catholic faith and held its teachings in high regard, there you were, in this sacred place, allowing something so forbidden to take place.

But as his fingers slipped under the fabric of your panties, your mind went blank. The back of Jimin’s hand clung to your sticky panties as his fingers found their way down to your folds, the feeling making him shiver.

„Fuck— you’re so wet, can’t wait to feel you around me.”

You squeezed your lips together under Jimin’s hand to keep from making any noise, your eyes squeezed shut, tears threatened to spill down your cheeks as his wet fingers continued to rub and spread your folds apart, smearing your sticky arousal all over your cunt.

„Shh, this won’t make you a sinner baby, it’s okay. You won’t mind just one finger inside, yeah?” His middle finger probed at your entrance, teasing it, making it wetter still, as he slowly pushed in.

„Y-yeah baby— just one finger?” He teased and removed his finger, making you clench around thin air, and Jimin swears, the feeling made him twitch inside his pants. Teasing you – or himself, it didn’t matter anymore – he plunged back in, tauntingly slow.

Jimin’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull, his hard dick pressing firmly against his pants, yearning for release. To him this is how true Paradise felt like, the feeling of your silk walls wrapped around his digit.

He was about to lose it.

He bottomed his finger out inside you, knuckle deep, until his small 13 tattoo on his wrist met with your lower abdomen.

But he craved more. Fuck, how much he wanted to slam you against the pew and spread your thighs wide open, stretching your pretty little pussy right out with his dick. And who could blame him with the way your cunt gripped on his one single digit like that, dripping wet and sinfully warm.

But he couldn’t— not now. And it made him crazy.

You sank into the pew, your body trembling as he started to move his finger, his other hand still covering your mouth to keep you quiet. Every part of you was on fire, your mind and body in a constant battle between desire and shame. You were supposed to stop him, to push him away, but all you could manage was tremble and it made your eyes water.

It was a mixture of remorse and the burning desire pounding between your thighs; something you had never experienced before and something you knew you shouldn’t have felt at all in this holy place. And more likely you should’ve never clenched harder around Jimin’s finger when you heard the small shudder in each breath he took.

"Ahh baby—" The faint, breathy little whimper shattered his voice. "fuck.. you’re so perfect… so f-fucking perfect."

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath shallow and ragged, mirroring the rhythm of his finger. With his warm breath tickling your ear, his whispered words were barely audible, but they still managed to send shivers down your spine.

"Ooh, h-how I wish to see this perfect fucking pussy."

Jimin couldn’t take his eyes off of you as he watched your face intently, committing every single feature and expression to his memory. The way your brows were furrowed in pleasure, the way you fought to keep your eyes open due to the sensitivity.

He couldn’t help but admire the way your chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, the way you tried to stifle your moans under his hand, and the way your juices flowed from your aching cunt.

You were a captivating sight, sinful and alluring, flesh heated and glistening with arousal, and he knew you couldn’t deny it even though you tried. Your trembling body and the slickness on his fingers were evidence of the truth.

He slowly added a second finger, stretching you open further and moving faster, his fingers stroking your sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through you. With every stroke, you felt your body weakening, and your thoughts began to succumb to the corrupting pleasure.

Despite your protests, your body responded eagerly, arching towards him in a desperate plea for more; seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he was giving you.

You never felt so conflicted in your entire life, your mind was a battlefield; torn between your beliefs and the undeniable pleasure that was now coursing through your veins. Every creak of the old wooden pews felt like a judgment, a cruel reminder that you were committing a sin that would send you to the depths of damnation.

But when Jimin serendipitously grazed your swollen clit with his thumb, your mind went blank. You’d lost it.

Your hips involuntarily jerked against his hand, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure. You gritted your teeth, determined to keep your cries of ecstasy at bay, but it was a dead effort as you squirmed and moaned, muffled by his hand covering your mouth.

"Fuck— Don’t moan like that, you’re getting too loud, keep quiet."

But you couldn’t. It was as if your head was spinning, unable to focus on anything except the pleasure. The way he slid his fingers in and out of you, his thumb perfectly stimulating your clit, it was too much.

Despite your efforts, you couldn’t contain the small moans that escaped your lips. The church was now just a blur in the background, the stained glass windows casting kaleidoscopic patterns on the floor.

"Shit, baby, keep fucking quiet or do you want me to slip those fucking panties off and stuff them in your mouth, hm?" Jimin’s whispered words sent shivers down your spine, making you clasp around his fingers right back in.

"Y-yeah, you want that baby? My nasty girl, s-so good... so fucking perfect." He moved his fingers faster, his thumb circling deliciously on your clit, building up the pace for your climax, your body crying out for release. And oh, how he reveled in it, savoring every moment, every sensation as his little flower finally opened its petals to him.

"You’re so close, baby, f-fuck— just let go, let me take you there."

As Jimin’s fingers brought you closer and closer to the brink, you couldn’t help but give in, feeling all the guilt and shame wash away in the face of the intense pleasure you were feeling.

„Ooh, fuck— Y-yeah, baby, go on. Come all over my fucking fingers.”

Just as you were about to reach the peak, a sudden thud broke through the lustful haze. Your tear-filled eyes fluttered open and you glanced up to the top of the church’s gallery, where you saw the organ player, Mr. Min sprawled on the ground at the bottom of the stairs, amidst a sea of fallen notes.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as your eyes met his, and you saw the shock and disbelief on his once serene face.

Your heart plummeted like a falling star, sinking into the depths of your stomach as you realized what you must look like to Mr. Min. Your cheeks burned with the heat of a thousand suns as you met his gaze, his face a canvas of flushed embarrassment, crushing you with shame and guilt.

For in the eyes of Mr. Min, you were no other, but a sinner caught in the act of sin in the house of the divine. And as the notes of the holy music lay scattered at his feet, you couldn’t help but wonder if they were a reflection of your shattered innocence.

Mr. Min quickly ascended the stairs to the organ, his emotions were in disarray, a tumultuous blend of arousal and embarrassment. With each step, he tried to push away the image of what he had just seen, but it lingered like a haunting melody in his mind.

His cheeks burned with shame, but he couldn’t help stealing a glance at you before he reached the top of the stairs, his feline eyes burning you whole.

Exposed and vulnerable, you were unable to look at the organ player in the eyes anymore. You closed your eyes tight in an attempt to block out the intensity of his gaze. But even with your eyes shut, you could feel his feline eyes looking down at you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the image, Jimin’s skillful fingers never faltered to move inside you, your body feeling like it was exploding. A soft whimper escaped your lips, which got silenced by his firm grasp.

With each second you felt yourself surrendering to the overwhelming ecstasy.

As you teetered on the edge, ready to fall into the abyss of pleasure, you were suddenly jolted back to reality, finding yourself next to Jimin who was kneeling humbly on the wooden pew of the church, praying.

With eyes wide open, heated cheeks and heavy breathing you gazed at your own clasped hands on the pew.

Was this all in your head? How could you have let your mind wander to sinful desires in the sacred walls of the church?

Jimin’s innocent devotion to his God only amplified your own guilt, making you feel like a fallen angel in the presence of his pure soul.

Jimin couldn’t help but smirk, he bit the inside of his cheek, but it didn’t help hiding it. He moved his clasped hands toward his mouth to hide the devilish smirk that appeared on his lips.

For he knew the power he held over you, the power to seduce and corrupt your very being. And with each passing day he was one step closer to claiming your body and soul for his own.

And as you sat there, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, Jimin continued to pray, his facade of innocence masking the devilish intentions that lurked within.

#bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #jimin fanfic #jimin scenarios #jimin smut #jimin x reader #park jimin x reader #bts x reader #park jimin fanfic #btsfests #park jimin smut

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songsofadelaide · 7 months

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cw/tw: sickfic, fluff, reader has she/her pronouns, gojo being a little silly. wc: 666

"She's down with a fever, so don't get any ideas, Gojo."

"Wh— You talk as if I'm going to do something nefarious to her, Shoko!"

"Nefarious, no, but idiotic, probably. Do all of us a favour and steer clear of her in the meantime. We don't want others catching this bug."

They say fever dreams are usually unpleasant, but why was this some kind of replay of one of your favourite high school memories instead? Favourite except for the fact that you were sick.

"Y'know I've never really actually gotten sick before because of my infinity and all…"

A cool hand is pressed to your burning forehead, a sigh of relief leaving your lips as you come into contact with it.

"Yikes, she's actually burning up!"

"That's why I told you to stay away. If you or anyone else catches this, I am going to lock you all in the morgue for all I care."

"You'd do that to her?!"

"Not her, of course!"

Getting sick is probably one of the worst things that could ever happen to you. Some days, you can't seem to sweep your condition under the rug, no matter how hard you try to be normal about it. A cold was starkly different from being cursed and it was such a normal thing that Shoko had no other choice but to treat it normally— by telling you to drink your meds and get some rest.

Nanami said he'd handle your pending mission, so rest you did.

There was nothing at all restful about having to stay on campus, though, with Shoko saying she could keep a better eye on your condition there. You felt like the walls and the halls already knew so much. The happiness of your youth, the sadness and anguish of having friends perish before your very eyes, and the bittersweetness of your first love.

"Pain, pain, go away…"

Your first love that seemed to stalk the halls of the magic college, for some reason.

"Come again another day…"

The humming sounded far too real now to be a dream, even more so when the same cool touch was pressed to your forehead again. "Ah…"

"It's okay, you can sleep some more."

In fear you may be in delirium, you opened your eyes and found Satoru seated right by your bedside, a wet towel and a basin of water right next to him. "Satoru?…"

"Sorry. Did I wake ya?" He asked, though you couldn't get a read on his expression with that ridiculous blindfold over his eyes. "Heard from Shoko that you were sick, so…"

"Didn't she tell you not to come over?" You said with a sigh.

"No need to be so worried about me. I've never really actually gotten sick before because of my infinity."

"I know, I know. You've always been too invincible."

He brushed his cold knuckles over your forehead once more, finally drawing out a tired smile from you. "Do you want me to grab you some ice water or something?"

"No, I'm good…" You told him, gently holding him back from moving away from you. When he realised what you meant, he placed his hand over your forehead again. "You're like a popsicle."

It was his turn to chuckle this time. "Ramune flavour?"

"Exactly."

Satoru slightly moved to reach for your hand, clammy as it was, his cold fingers curling around your warmer ones, and somehow, you can't really tell if all of this is real.

"Satoru…"

"Yeah, sweets?"

"Can you pinch my hand or something? I feel like I'm in high school again and I'm dreaming all of this up. After all, I like you so much that I might even be hallucinating."

He squeezed your hand with just enough force as if asking, is it real enough yet?

"…Real," you sighed and nodded to yourself. "Sorry…"

"Whatever are you apologising for?" He grinned at you. "You think I don't like hearing about how much you like me, even from before?"

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff

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lightwing-s · 1 year

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𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊__ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐓 𝐈𝐈

pairing: jason todd x villain! fem! reader

summary: they should hate each other, but from how long they each stay on the other's mind, they clearly were not paying attention to that. they took I'll fuck you in the complete opposite direction.

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: oh god 6,8k warnings: smut, unprotected sex, chocking, dirty talk, oral sex, foreplay, language

a/n: so yeah, here's finally to part 2! thank you to every single message i got about pt 1, i was so overwhelmed by the response to it that i had to make some time to wrap up the story. also, special thanks to @igotanidea for being the most supportive person I've ever met online and for handling me breaking down over this week while trying to finish this post. to you i owe so much ♡ a/n 2: guys, pls, go easy on me as this was my first attempt at writing smut. so so sorry if this ends up looking ridiculous lol

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

pt i

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests⌟

For the past 48 hours, Jason had been absentmindedly searching for Y/n. Searching for signs that everything that happened two nights ago was real, and not just a product of his imagination.

Two mornings ago, he woke up confused, not knowing exactly where he was or how he had gotten there in the first place. He woke up in his brother's living room, laying in his brown leather sofa, shirt missing and head banging from pain, with the extra addition of the sun beaming its morning rays straight into his eyes.

Handing him a cup of warm milk, Dick filled in on how he found him passed out on top of an abandoned building, just as the sun was coming up in the horizon and he was ready to drop his vigilante outfit for the night. According to him, he was already missing his shirt then, his broken helmet was beside his body, and he was the only thing in the otherwise completely empty building, not even his motorcycle in his line of sight. He couldn’t figure out what had happened to Jason earlier, and he only wondered just how the hell did he get there?

Jason couldn’t offer him an explanation, though.

He had a hunch of just who had put him there. But he wasn’t sure. Everything that happened that night, the kisses, the touches, they couldn’t just not be real. They had to have happened, the memories were too clear in his mind for it to be just a dream. It felt too real to be just a hallucination.

It had to be real, or someone had been playing with his mind way too well. The Mad Hatter is known for his devices, Ivy had been on the loose for a while. Or his mind had simply just acquired the skills to produce extremely realistic scenarios in his head, better than any porn he had watched recently.

That or he was just too addicted to Y/n.

It felt massively wrong. Like he was committing the worst of sins, or something like that, he wasn’t really religious to understand. She was a thief, a villain, someone he was supposed to hate and fight against, throw her in jail and never think of her again until she eventually fled Blackgate just like every other criminal in this god damned city.

But here he was. Standing atop some old factory in Gotham, heavy traffic not flowing just below him, while he looked for any clues or indications she was still around.

Someone just radioed GCPD that there’s a drug trade going on in Tricorner Island, he heard through the coms.

I overheard two guys talking about it. Oracle, send me the location, I’m on my way.

Just did it, Robin. Nightwing, how’s north Gotham doing?

Er… Going, his brother answered through the sounds of grunts and punches.

Where’s Jason? Haven’t heard of him all night and…

Before Barbara could say anything else, Jason turned off the coms, not wanting anything else adding up to his bad temper. He didn’t even know why he had come to patrol tonight, as fighting crime was the last thing he had on his mind. Returning his gaze to the traffic below, he let his thoughts wander elsewhere.

The loud sounds of honks and engines reverberated in the air, with the screams of angry drivers rushing their ways home to rest for the night playing along. The muffled sound of an ambulance siren got lost in the distance, hopefully driving someone with a chance of survival to Gotham General Hospital. All of those noises entered Jason’s ear on one side and left on the other, seemingly going unnoticed by the tall man. It was like he wasn’t there. Physically he was standing on top of that building, mentally he was somewhere else. Where, he didn’t know. With whom, though, he had a clear answer.

She had been missing from the streets for a while, but very much present in his mind. Cupid, Y/n, or whatever she went by, lived in his thoughts. The whole entire day, every second he wasn’t busy with something, he was thinking of her. And for that he was a goddamned loser.

Fortunately, or not, he was constantly thinking of something else he was missing too. His precious motorcycle had been MIA since the incident, and was, for some reason, untraceable by the Cave’s systems. Not riding it for two full days was getting to his nerves, and added to the agonizing feeling he had been under lately.

Riding was his therapy, the cure for every troubled time he went through. There was no anxiety attack, no emotional turmoil, no stupid fight with Bruce that couldn’t be erased by a 100 mph drive along Gotham’s damp streets. Not doing so made him feel like at any moment, anything, even the smallest of words, could make him explode.

Alone, he sometimes could hear the roaring of the V4 engine coming from nowhere. He’d look left and right, searching for it, but finding nothing. Loud, explosive, distinguishable. A hallucination, a very realistic hallucination. Very real. Very… Real?

Speeding up the road, he saw it. Cutting through the traffic, dodging cars and other vehicles, he recognized his motorcycle making its way in his direction. It was it, he was sure. There was no universe where he couldn't identify his favorite thing in the world, even from afar. Moving closer to the parapet, almost flying over it, he tried to get a glimpse of who was riding it, but if anyone asked he’d have a guess.

Her. It had to be.

Whoever was on it was dressed all in black, and as it got closer he saw the same jacket he had seen two nights before. Hooded just like his. And, as the vehicle drove past him, the dark helmet turned, looking directly at him. As if she knew he was there. As if she knew he was waiting.

She definitely knew. She knew pretty well all his movements at this point, understood him well enough. How she learned all that, how to manipulate him like this, he didn’t know, but he knew her intentions. As much as she knew him, he got to know about her. She knew he’d recognize his motorcycle anywhere, and she knew he’d want it back.

So, somehow, he followed her.

The neighborhood he found himself in was dark, the streets were wet and the air was humid. Light rain had just started pouring down on him, as he followed the trails left by the mucky tires of his bike, leading him further down the road. He should’ve been more careful, hiding in the corners and studying the place before making his way in. But tonight he simply couldn’t, all sense of carefulness completely gone, being replaced by hot tempered decision making.

Jason arrived at an old abandoned parking garage. The first two floors were empty, dark and smelled of mold and trash. Climbing the ramps to the last floor, though, he spotted the red motorcycle right in the middle of the lot, parked and with its light still on, blinding anyone who’d go in its direction. They stopped him from seeing much else in the area, but considering that the only sound he could hear was from his own boots hitting the concrete floor, he quickly understood he was also alone.

His footsteps echoed through the walls, the muddy lines left by the tires beside him. As he reached the vehicle, for the first time in days, he felt a portion of tension that he was holding onto for a long time, leaving his body. With a heavy sigh in relief, he turned off the lights before quietly caressing the scarlet tank, the leather seat, admiring his most faithful partner in its long awaited return.

“I took good care of her, don’t worry” he heard someone say. Startled, he lifted his head from where it was looking down, and instantly recognizing the voice, he searched for the source of the heavenly sound.

Then, he found her.

Resting against a concrete column at a far end, Y/n watched the outside, the falling rain and the night sky. Where she stood, the moonlight hit her precisely, like a spotlight in a play, like the moon knew no one else but her. Like she was a favorite. The light made her skin glow, her eyes sparkle. It made her look like a goddess.

He didn’t remember her ever looking this good. Maybe he was too blind by anger he didn’t notice, or there was something different tonight. He knew she was pretty, really pretty for that matter. But he was still so intoxicated from last time, so captivated, bewitched. Looking at her now, he knew getting rid of her thoughts would only get harder. Damn it!

Wearing a similar outfit to the one she wore on the underground, he noticed her jacket was open, and a silver necklace decorated her collarbone. The wind blew at her hair, exposing her chest, her neck, her jaw, her lips. Speechless, Jason stood there, admiring her, for way longer his conscious self would be proud of.

Following his silence, he heard her chuckle, bringing him back from his land of dirty dreams.

“You took my bike” he simply stated, mentally slapping himself for not being able to form a coherent sentence.

“A bit obvious, isn’t it?” she replied, finally looking in his direction, smirk glued on her glossy lips. Licking his own, he didn’t know how to reply, preferring to thank her for delivering back his vehicle scratch free. “It wasn’t difficult. I took care of you, didn’t I?”

So it was real, he thought. He wasn’t going crazy. Or was he? One could argue that. Y/n was driving him insane.

“Thank you… for helping me that night” he said. “How did you know I was there?”

“I was following you.” she replied.

“Why?”

Shrugging, she gave him her answer.

Truthfully, Y/n didn’t know why she was following him that night. After they left the subway tunnels she could have gone home, done with the last favor she owned Cobblepot. However, deep down her mind, he was there. And she worried about him. She knew Penguin well, she knew what he could do. And she didn’t want harm getting in his way. So she followed him.

She wanted to make sure he was alright. Why? God knows why. Y/n doesn’t. Or she refused to admit the real answer.

Jason. The sweet name stuck in her mind since he’d given it to her, and she urged to know what he looked like behind the mask. Put a face to the name, as they say. Did he look as fine as his name sounded? As his voice did? As his body would let on?

“You were pretty quiet these past few days” he said, circling the motorcycle and moving her way.

“I took some time to think.” she replied, returning her gaze to the rain.

“About what?”

“Curious much?” she joked, entertained by his need to get to know her. “About my life. Or what’s left of it”

“Hmm. Could have guessed you were working on another plan.” he joined in with a light joke.

“I got plenty of time for that, too.” she threw him a smile, blinding him for a second. “There’s just so much going on right now. Its…”

“Exhausting?” He cut her. “I guess working with Penguin does that to you”

“I don’t work with him” she threw back at him, her tone a bit sharper.

“For him, with him. It all sounds the same to me.” he said, opening his arms in contemplation.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, shaking her head.

“Then explain it.” he requested. “Why do you do that? Why do you…”

“Steal, rob, trade, cause chaos” she cut him off. “I’m broke”

Pushing herself from the column, she moved to rest her hands on the window opening. The way she licked her lips and shook her head. The way her voice sounded ever so slightly broken. How she uncomfortably shifted on her feet after that comment. It wasn’t much of a choice, her way of life was perhaps the only solution. Jason felt sorry, he wanted to get closer, but he knew to stay away for now.

“I’m fucking broke. My family is gone. I don’t feel like working my ass off all day just to get paid in crumbs. So I decided to take my life in a new direction, and it turns out I’m good at that.”

“I’d say, really good at it.” Jason complimented.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to enjoy that” Y/n looked at him over her shoulder and, shaking her head, gave him a smile.

Shrugging, he said: “I like a good challenge.”

Jason liked whatever this was much more than the angry, frustrated talks they had while chasing each other. It was light, fun. He could work well with that.

“By the way. I took it for a ride, hope you don’t mind” she said, resting her elbows on the short wall, and her cheeks on her hands. “That’s a really, really, sweet ride you have there”

Gulp. With air tightening at his throat, he opened his helmet, taking it off and placing it on the tank of his bike. Jason's sweaty hair stuck to his face, cheeks still puffed from the heat after running all the way to the parking deck.

That’s something I would like to take a sweet ride on, Y/n thought, but shook it away as soon as possible.

“What was that?” Jason asked her.

“What was what?” she pretended not to know, begging the universe he didn’t notice.

“What were you shaking your head at?” Eyebrows arched, she knew he noticed. “Like what you see?”

“You’ve been staring at my boobs from the moment you got here and I haven’t commented a thing” she said, turning her face so he couldn’t see her cheeks growing red.

Raising his hands in defeat, Jason tried to change topics.

“It was custom made.” he explained.

“Then you’ll have to tell me who did it, because I might be interested in getting one myself”

“I built it” Jason proudly informed. “It took me a while, but I got it done just how I wanted.”

“Wow” she moved one more time, facing him fully now, and crossing her arms over her chest. “You must be great working with your hands then”

Looking down, Jason stared at his own hands. Calloused, with a few bruises here and there, and desperate to have them exploring all over her. “I have my talents.”

“I see.”

A moment of silence followed. Not awkward, not tense. Just quiet, as both tried to stray their eyes from each other.

“Just don’t put anyone in danger, alright?” was all Jason asked, turning around to leave.

“So you’re really leaving?” Y/n blurted out, not proud of sounding desperate, but desperately not wanting him gone. “Just like this?”

If he was stupid, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight tint of sadness on her voice, or the light touch of desperation ingrained in it. But he wasn’t, he heard it. And mysteriously, it boosted something deep inside him, an ego he didn’t know he owned.

“I have work” liar.

“Do you?” she questioned, walking in his direction.

Jason was already mounted on his motorcycle, ready to turn the engine on. But the sight of her getting closer stopped him from doing anything else. He felt trapped somehow, like something was keeping him tied there. But there was no rope, not chains, not guns pointed at him. Just her.

All the way, her eyes never left his, looking at him through seductive eyes, challenging him, inquiring the truth. However, he saw, deep down, they were also begging him to stay. Watching her every move, lips sore from biting, his mouth hung open when, upon reaching him, she crossed her right leg over the tank of his motorcycle, sitting on it.

Her knees touched his thigh, the space between them minuscule. She was close, oh so close to him. His hot breath hit her face, making her eyelashes move. Her own blowing directly at his lips.

“Do you really have to work tonight?”she questioned him one more time, hands sliding up his tights, eyes hanging low and falling on his lips. His own hands traveling to her waist, as Jason saw himself drawing her even closer.

“Not if I don't want to” he stated in a breath, voice weak and desperate. He could feel his pants getting tighter, and heat building up from his neck.

“Don’t then” she whispered against his lips, hers dangerously close, almost touching his.

“I won’t” he said, one hand flying to the nape of her neck and finally, finally, closing the space between their mouths.

Ferociously, Jason’s mouth wandered over hers, tongue immediately sliding in. He held strongly at her neck and waist, as her hands laid and caressed at his tights. The kiss was wet, hot, and desperate. He wanted to drown himself on her lips, lose himself in her touches. And Y/n was just as needy, as her hands traveled up and down his tights, and her sweet moans filled Jason’s ears like a soft lullaby.

Lifting her legs over his, tangling them around his waist, she drew her body closer, locking the small gap they still had between them and grinding on his clothed crotch, while her hands dangerously made their way to where he wanted them most. Palming his dick, Y/n let out a surprised gasp, as her small hand barely cupped his size entirely.

Y/n already expected him to be big. Looking at his body size, it was an easy assumption to make. Sometimes when they met, she would notice the bulge in his pants and spend the rest of the night just thinking about his potential. And, when they were making out on her guest room bed, she could feel just how big he was.

With Y/n massaging him up and down over his pants, Jason would release deep guttural noises, but never bothered about ever ungluing their mouths. His kiss was sloppy, wetting even her chin. He’d suck at her bottom lip, biting it occasionally. The silvery taste of blood filling his taste buds.

As she tightened her hold on him, he grunted loudly into her mouth. Taking both her wrists with one single hand, he took them away from his crotch and held them tightly behind her back. Lowering her onto the panel, being careful to not hurt her head, he stood on his feet as he dry humped her jeans. The thick fabric of her pants adding to the feeling on her already sensitive clit. WIth her legs still wrapped around his waist, she assisted his movement with some of her own, moaning out his name like a prayer, as nibbled at her neck.

He kissed his way down her neck, sucking and biting on it, certainly leaving his mark on her skin. Knowing the bruises she would have by the next morning only grew his lust, a sense of power in having her marked as his own. With his big hands, he wrapped them around her breasts, picking at her nipples over her shirt. Y/n moaned, arching her back and exposing her neck even more for him to reach places he couldn’t before.

He wanted her stained, body covered in purple, as his little art project. He wanted her mindless, no thoughts in her head, drunk from pleasure. He wanted her under his power, dependent, addicted. He wanted her so bad, so good, so wet for him. He wanted to fuck her here and now.

But he had to wait. Against his own nature, he had to stop, before it was too late.

“Get off” he demanded, raspy voice making shivers run down her spine. Pushing away, he unhooked her legs from around him and with the back of his hand, he tried to clean his lips.

Upon his words, her eyes shot open, confusion and disappointment evident in her irises. Jason had to hold himself as to not fuck her then and there, as she looked fucking desperate for him. Needy of his touch.

“I’m not fucking you on my motorcycle.” he state, handing her his hand to help her off his bike. “I know a way better place for us to go.”

“Are you gonna be able to wait till we get there?” she asked, still breathless from seconds ago.

“You made me wait two days already. I guess I can handle a few more minutes. Can you?” he traded a question, raising one eyebrow at her.

Biting her lips, she rolled her eyes at him and shook her head, looking all messed up still. A part of her told her to go, leaving him hanging with his own ego she knew pretty well was getting inflated by each second she spent under his touch. But her horny side, the one speaking the loudest tonight, just wanted to get its release.

Climbing over the back of his bike, she wrapped her arms around him, feeling the ripped muscles of his well shaped abdomen, and rested her cheek on his back.

Turning on the engine, he looked at her over his shoulder. “Hold tight”

A fan of speed, Jason had a feeling he had never driven faster.

All over the city, he had secret hiding spots where he’d store weapons, money, and gadgets he needed for patrol. Small spots, needed mostly for storage and the occasional stitching up after a tough fight. But one of them was larger, his safehouse, built from two stacked up containers at an abandoned port storage lot. Jason considered it almost like a home, being there most of the time while out of patrol and not being busy with his civilian stuff.

He knew it was dangerous to bring her there, she could very well be tricking him, trying to get deep within his skin and rip something out of it. But every ounce of carefulness left his body the moment he crashed his lips to hers.

Parking outside in the dark lot, they climbed out of his vehicle and Y/n waited as he opened the container’s door. Inside, she was surprised by the tidiness of the place, not something she was expecting to see. It was clean and well organized. It contained a small kitchen, a living room and a bedroom on the opposite side to the door.

Y/n curiousness was heightened. This was so different to what she expected his home would be like. She thought he’d be like every other guy she had met, with a messy bedroom, unorganized book shelves, clothes hanging from everywhere. Sure, she hasn’t been with the type of guys that wouldn’t be messy, but his bunker was a very welcome surprise.

A stack of books decorated his coffee table, the only slightly “messy” thing in the entire unit. Taking the one from the top of the pile, Y/n was satisfied to see the early edition of Jane Austen’s Emma among his recent reads.

On the wall, a display showed a series of guns, knives and other weapons, drawing Y/n’s interest in seeing them from up close.

“Admiring the knives, Y/n?” Jason asked, breaking the silence hovering between them since they arrived in the place.

“You have quite the collection.” grabbing a larger knife in her hands, she turned back to him and continued. “No ropes, but knives. I see you’re into some kinky shit, Jason”

“We all have our thing” he didn’t deny. “Fire, isn’t it?”

Y/n liked cocky and fun Jason so much better than the angry annoying one she’d get most nights. Although she enjoyed annoying him, seeing how frustrated he’d get every time they met, this new calm, tranquil version of him was growing in her heart.

It was hard to admit she had a thing for him, the guy who so desperately wanted to take her behind bars. She didn’t blame him, she knew what she did wasn’t that great. She didn’t have to do it like that, there were other options that wouldn’t have been as “easy”, but wouldn’t certainly get her into this much trouble. But all his trouble led her here, to his home, or she so assumed this unit was.

Almost every night, they’d meet, even if briefly, between all the other chaotic events in the city of chaos Gotham City. And every time they meet, religiously, Y/n would spend the rest of the night with him on her head. There was something about his hooded self, the mystery behind the mask, that attracted her. The fact he would do anything in his power to send her to Blackgate or any other prison added a risk factor that only made him hotter.

Then, she became obsessed. She'd learned his watching spots, always making sure to show up just around the corner. On the day of the Tiffany’s robbery, she knew he was close, and decided to strike before anyone else got close.

She didn’t think he’d like her back though. That night in her apartment came as a very welcoming surprise.

Everything that led to this event came as a surprise too. She was supposed to go home, rest after being done with her last debt to Penguin. But she saw him on her way, tiredly looking beyond at, seemingly, nothing, just waiting for something to happen. And then, she just stood there, watching him under the bridge, watching him fight with the two idiots she had met before at Penguin’s club, and watched him almost getting beat by Solomon Grundy. If she didn’t intervene soon enough, he’d have. But she wouldn’t let him, not under her watch.

Taking him from the floor, she carried his body with much difficulty to her apartment. Not all the way, as she stopped to rob someone’s car to drive him there, ensuring the driver she’d would return the car the very next day. She did, and even left him a thank you letter.

Bringing him home was a stupid idea. At least at first. But when he looked at his cuts and scratches, she couldn’t help the primordial instinct of taking care of him. And when he looked all hot and needy, and when he kissed her passionately, bringing him home was suddenly the best decision she had made in a while.

But she couldn’t let it happen then. She was a criminal, but she still had a moral code. Don’t steal from the poor, only the rich. Help those around if you can. Don’t fuck anybody with the slightest level of unconsciousness due to alcohol, meds, drugs, or whatever. Basic human ethics everyone should know.

She regretted it, of course, as him doing things to her body were all that clouded her mind the entire day, her hands and toys not doing enough to send those thoughts away.

There was also the thought in the back of her head telling him he only wanted to fuck her because she was “hot”. Sure, maybe she wasn’t the prettiest, or had the hottest body, but it seemed like was more attracted to her than into her. She couldn’t say the same, feeling exactly the opposite. She imagined once he’d fucked her, he’d fuck with her and had her trapped and sent away.

She didn’t want him to break her heart. Yet, where she was now, she was waiting for it.

“Penny for your thots… Er-hm thoughts” he coughed, worrying about her sudden silence.

“Nothing important.” she replied quietly.

“Really?” he questioned again, wanting to be sure she was fine. “Anything I can help with?”

He was walking closer ever so slowly. Reaching her, he set his arms around her, on the same table she was holding herself against, trapping her in place and forbidding her from getting away.

Just fuck me out of this thoughts, she mentaly replied, for some reason too ashamed to say it out loud.

His face rested mere inches from hers, and she could feel his minty breath once again.

“I want to kiss you” he admitted. “Can I?”

Biting her lower lip seductively, eyes glued on his, Y/n closed the space between them one more time. This turn, though, the kiss was softer, more contained, yet still as hot. His hand flew to caress her cheek with his thumb, palms resting on her jaw and the nape of her neck.

This slower pace, although really enjoyable, from Y/n perspective just wasn't enough. Her underwear felt sticky from the arousal she had earlier, and her core still twitched in desire. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer and speeding up their kiss, becoming slowly as sloppy as it had been before.

He held onto her thighs, wrapping them around his waist. The close contact between their cores heating up their surroundings. She grinded on him, begging for some attention down there, as his lips wandered from her mouth to her neck, leaving bites all along.

She could feel his hardening member growing inside his pants, the junction of his bulge and the hard fabric causing the friction against her clit to feel even better. Her moans were becoming louder and couldn’t stop fleeing her lips. Jason, on the other hand, kept his composure.

The tables were turned now, and Y/n was the one desperate for release.

Sliding his large hands under her shirt, he pulls it up her head with ease. He watched her chest heaving under her pink lacy bra, the sight driving him closer to the edge. While he stared, Y/n swiftly slipped her hands down to take off her jeans too, as Jason took the hint and removed his jacket and his shirt too.

Y/n pulled him by his belt, ending their distance to kiss him once more. His hands flew to her boobs, tightening his hold and playing with her hardened nipples. Slowly, he made his way down to the valley of her breast, kissing and sucking every inch of skin he could find. Looking up, they locked eyes, Jason making sure to not look away as he pulled the cloth covering her tit with his own teeth.

The sight couldn’t have been sexier, Y/n not noticing the moan she let out just at that.

Mouth clashing against her soft skin, Jason sucked violently on one boob as his hand played with the other, causing Y/n’s head to roll back and hit the knife display on the wall. Her sudden move dropped a few of his knives onto the table, but they couldn’t have cared less, both letting out breathy laughs over the incident.

When he felt he was done with her breasts, he licked his way down belly, sending shivers down her spine. When he reached the waistline of her panties, Y/n’s breath hitched. The hot air from his breath hitting her core. She watched him attentively, waiting for his next move.

“I can smell how excited you are, Y/n” he commented, eyes glued to her core. “I wonder how you’d taste like”

Y/n had to hold tight onto the table to not let out a scream, Jason’s warm tongue sending jolts of electricity up her spine. He licked up and down her folds, one stroke at a time, driving Y/n nuts from impatience. He noticed her despair, and he enjoyed it thoroughly, slowing his pace even more, taking his sweet time licking at her clit.

“Jay…” Y/n begged, a hand moving to grasp at his hair.

“Pantience, sweetheart.” he mumbled between her tights.

“P-please”

Deciding to attend to her pleas just this once, Jason shoved his face down her soppy pussy, tongue moving at a much faster pace. Y/n’s legs went instinctively to rest over his shoulders, and he grabbed them tight to keep her trembling body from moving. Y/n’s lower abdomen twitched, as Jason devoured her intimacy like a hungry man.

Jason was focused, himself enjoying every moment he spent licking her cunt. Sometimes he would give some much needed attention to her clit, and watch her squirm and shake above him. Her warmth overcoming him, her liquids sliding down his jaw, face all wet from her pleasure.

“Ah, you’re doing so good!”

“We’re just starting, Yn.”

And dropping her legs down, he stood up from the floor, shin glistering. Confusion and disappointment much more evident on Y/n face this time, frustrated with being so close to release.

Jason breaks them apart, Y.n’s head rolling backwards immediately, as she begged for air. For a few seconds, he took some time to admire her pose, boobs hanging out, face crunched from pleasure. But he didn’t waste any time before shoving his mouth on her nipples, drawing a surprised scream from the back of her throat.

“W-why did you stop?” she asked under heavy breaths.

“C’mon Y/n. I’ve never been easy on you. What made you think I was gonna do it this time?”

A smirk on his face, he spread her weak legs apart and stood in the middle, cupping her cheeks and leaning in for a kiss. Y/n could taste herself in his tongue, his soaked face staining her own with her juices.

“Do you wanna go to Blackgate?” he suddenly asked. Not understanding a thing, Y/n just stared at the muscular guy ahead. “Answer me Y/n. Do you wanna go to Blackgate?”

Y/n just shook her head.

“Good” he said, giving her a chaste kiss. Reaching behind her back, Jason grabbed one of the fallen knives. “I guess you won't be needing this tonight”

Gliding the blade carefully up her tights, Jason cut her panties and with a swift movement threw them aside. He grabbed the back of her legs and wrapped them on his waist, propping her up to carry her to his bed.

As she laid in his bed, exposed and vulnerable, she took some time to admire his strong body. Ripped muscles modeled his arms and abdomen, and basically every body part she landed her eyes on. Standing at the edge of the bed, staring her down while holding a knife, he looked dangerous and borderline frightening.

“Tonight, Y/n, I’ll be giving you a sentence.”

Slapping hard at her cunt, Jason’s hand massaged her clit with his thumb as two fingers slid inside of her. “And you’ll leave here a good, reformed citizen”

Y/n couldn’t hold back the loud moans that escaped her mouth. Arching her back, she screamed his name like a prayer. Hands grabbing onto the bed sheets, Y/n saw her mind go blank with her first orgasm of the night.

“Such a good girl”

As Y/n heaved and panted, trying to ease her breath, she listened to the sound of his belt falling to the floor. When she looked up to face him, Jason was stroking his dick, grunting by himself as he watched her struggle to keep herself together. She observed his red tip drip with pre cum, her tongue instinctively hanging out.

“Do you wanna lick?”

She nodded innocently, moving to stand closer, but he pushed her back to fall on the bed again.

“No. Not tonight.” pulling her to him, he slapped his dick on her soft cunt, teasing her entrance with his own tip. “Tonight I’m fucking you”

With one hard movement, Jason slipped his entire length inside of Y/n. She cried out his name, as his thickness stretched mercilessly, the sharp sensation causing tears to form in her eyes. He thrusted hard into her, the sound of skin hitting skin filling the room.

“Oh, god. F-fuck!” she cried out.

He held her tight for support, pulling her and he pumped his cock deeper, getting lost in the warm sensation of being wrapped inside her tight wet cunt.

“Sweetheart, you’re so fucking tight. You’re making me feel so good.”

He watched her clothed tits jumping up, and angrily removed her last clothing item from her body. Palming her breast, he played with them as his thrusts started getting sloppier. H could finally feel his frustrations fading away with every thrust, and as she sang out his name he could feel his release getting closer.

With one last hard thrust, he pushed himself out.

“Turn around” he demanded, and she quickly obeyed.

His hard hand hit her ass, surprising her and drawing out a loud cry. He slid his hand once more between her folds, watching her tremble under his touch.

“Jason, please, please. Just make me cum”

“Not yet, princess” he warned, as she cried in complaint, but as he kept stroking her clit she came undone on his fingers. “Tsc tsc tsc. I told you not yet.”

“I’m s-sorry, Jay. I just couldn’t… you were making me feel s-so good. Aah”

Jason pushed her head down onto the mattress, holding her in place by the neck.

“You better keep yourself together. Or do you want me to send you to Blackgate right after we’re done”

“No, please”

“Then wait till I let you cum” she nodded her head, tears soaking the bed.

He lined himself at her entrance once more, teasing it with his tip and he felt her cum melting on his tip. Snatching her hands from where they were supporting her up, he held them fiercely behind her back, as he made his way deep inside of her.

His cock hit heavily at her cervix. Her wall is tightening around him, sucking him even deeper. He was losing himself on her while he fucked her dumb. After so long trapped in intrusive thoughts and in unholy dreams, Jason felt in heaven. He grunted out her name, thankful for choosing a safehouse so far from everybody.

His thrust were getting clumsy, his dick missing entrance her a few times. As she placed him back where she wanted him most, she thrusted back, giving him a moment to rest before returning his moves once again.

“Jay” she whispered out. “I getting close”

“Shhh. Not now, baby. Just a little bit more.”

Grabbing her by the neck, he yanked her up to meet his chest. Her head rolled back to rest on his shoulders as he gained speed, the new position making him hit her favorite spot. Y/n cried out in his ears, when he fingered her clit for a third time.

He bit and sucked on the skin of her shoulder, holding back moans of his own.

“Jay, I-i” she tried to speak, but he cut her off by crashing his lips to hers. Still clutching her neck, he sucked on her tongue as he felt her nail dig into his ass.

“I’m almost there” he announced, sucking on earlobe. “Just tell me. Tell me you’ll stop.”

His drive never seeming to slow down, he requested, voice muffled her neck. he requested.

“Tell me you stop stealing, robbing, dealing. Tell me you’ll stop, then I’ll let you come”

“I’ll stop. Yes, please. I’ll stop, I’ll stop. Jason, please let me come.”

“Look me in the eye tell me this again. Like you mean it” he demanded, capturing her chin and moving her look him deep in the eye.

“I’ll stop. I’ll be a good girl… just for you.”

Jason’s hands rubbed her harder, his thrusts making her mind go blank from ecstasy as her body melted onto his. The know below his stomach coming undone as he filled her with his seed, her own orgasm makes her body spasm against his hold.

Riding out his high, he pushed in at a much slower pace. Leaving butterfly kisses on her back as he lowered them both to rest on the mattress.

When he pulled out, Y/n groaned, already missing the sensation of him filling her up.

After cleaning themselves, Jason watched her back rising and falling, breathing finally even , her eyes closed as she laid on her belly. It wasn’t a sight he expected to see anytime soon, or ever, really. But he was glad to be seeing it, he was glad she was here. With him.

Getting back on the bed, he pulled her and hugged her from behind. He laid a soft kiss behind her ear, hearing the quiet sound of her breath.

“Do you bring many of his villains here?” she gently asked.

“Only the potentially dangerous ones.”

“I hope you have tapped your night with the Joker then. I’d be really interested in watching that”

Throwing his head back, Jason blurted out laughing. Y/n’s heart beat faster at the sound, wishing to hear it more often.

“Relax. He didn’t catch my attention like you.” he confessed, returning to leave kisses on her skin, something he found himself addicted to. “No one did.”

“Good!” she said, and she tightened his hold onto her middle. “I don’t want your attention anywhere else.”

. tag list (i can't believe i've got one of those lmao, thank you so much for the love you've given this story ♡

@dolliezxo @stevesdick @miraculous-panic @kk00789 @alecmoress @parkjammys @biggetywitch @jasontodd-artemisgrace4life @dakotali @theendofthematerialgworl

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd scenarios #jason todd smut #jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood smut #jason todd x female reader

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wandashousewife · 3 months

Text

The Saving Grace (Chapter Four)

Pairing — Wanda x Reader

Synopsis — In the town of Westview, Scarlet Witch, Wanda Maximoff, navigates the challenges of her busy life—juggling work as a therapist, parenting her twin boys, and managing daily stress. Her kind neighbor, you, has consistently provided support, offering coffee, desserts, and a sympathetic ear. Today, after an emotionally draining session, Wanda seeks solace and decides to reach out to you for the first time, hoping to share her burdens.

Warnings — angst, depressed wanda, divorce Fluff??

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“Stay?”

“Yes. Please.” Her tone was soft, sympathetic even. You knew how much she needed this comfort, and what was the worst a couple more hours could do?

With a casual shrug, you responded, "Okay, just don't keep me up all night.” injecting a touch of humor into the moment. Settling back onto the couch, the cushions embraced you in their comfort.

“This is going to sound so forward and awkward, so this just put this into hypotheticals, okay?” Wanda asked, getting a bit nervous as she looked at you.

"Sure, hypotheticals it is," you replied, sensing a hint of nervousness in Wanda's demeanor as she broached the upcoming topic. The air filled with anticipation, awaiting the hypothetical scenario she was about to present.

“What if, hypothetically, I thought you were pretty.” She stated, her eyes never wavered from your position on the couch.

“I’d hypothetically be flattered.” You smiled, following along with the strange scenario.

“What if I thought you were the prettiest girl in the world?” She asked, her tone conveyed the most sincere question that could ever come out of a conversation about hypotheticals of all things.

“I’d say you’re wrong.” Her eyes widened and she cocked her head to the side. Wanda couldn't understand why someone as amazing as you couldn't see your beauty. "Excuse me, what did you say? You're one of the most attractive people I've ever met!" Her words were warm and genuine, and she didn't hesitate to touch her thumb to your cheek.

“What are you doing?” You asked, not sure why she did that.

Instead of responding, Wanda placed a finger on your lips to silence your words. She had no need for justification; her desire for you outweighed anything else.

Your words came out muffled but it sounded like a question that Wanda couldn’t really make out.

As she felt your lips, Wanda leaned in for a passionate embrace. She kissed you deeply, the warmth of her lips filling you with euphoria. As you kissed back, enjoying the sweet heat of her lips on yours, you felt your breath quicken.

When she released you of her love, it felt like you were thrown back and forth through time and space itself. The kiss left you lightheaded and breathlessly overwhelmed in its wake. It was a mind-blowing experience that had been etched on your mind forever. Wanda was the first to pull away, a faint smile across her face as if she were in a daze. She looked at you with a dreamy gaze. Her words sounded hoarse as she finally spoke. "God, you've got me all worked up.."

“Are you sure Agatha didn’t leave you any of her drinks?” You asked, unsure if what Wanda was doing was influenced by intoxication. You thought that she's been drunk, and therefore, all the steamy actions were mere hallucinations. But unfortunately for you, it was not the case. "I'm sure." She replied with a confident tone, letting her hands roam up and down your body. Her fingers moved to the bottom of your shirt, grazing gently against your skin.

“How old are you again?” You asked, unaware of her age to see if this was morally correct. Well, you were of drinking age, so how bad could it possibly be?

Wanda sighed in irritation. This was certainly not the ideal time to be asking such a question. It was quite clear that she wanted to get back to kissing. "I'm thirty-four years old, if it matters to you." As Wanda finished her sentence, she pulled you close to her once more. She pressed her body against yours to the point where you could feel the heat emanating from her skin. Her lips found their mark, and your mouths opened and moved in unison; the heat was palpable and it was certainly not a platonic kiss.

When you pulled away, a question popped into your mind. “What about the boys?” Your sudden question shocked Wanda. You were referring to her children, but there was a reason she wanted to ignore any mentions of them for the time being. “What about them?”

“What if they see us?”

The worry on your face seemed to bring Wanda out of her love trance. She sighed, finally accepting reality. She had completely forgotten about her kids for a handful of moments in time, and as she looked at you, that reality hit her like a ton of bricks. "That's true…we shouldn't get carried away."

“Didn’t you say that Vision was picking them up for the week tomorrow evening?” You asked c referring to how Wanda had previously told you before she left for the trip that the boys would be picked up by their father, Vision, tomorrow for his shared care.

The mention of her ex-husband brought Wanda up short and killed all trace of her giddy mood. "Yes, I know." she replied in an agitated tone. The fact that she'd have to share her children with Vision for entire weeks was something she hated, and she clearly wasn't thrilled to talk about it.

“Then I’ll see you then.” You smirked, the thought of it made you giddy.

The moment of excitement that crossed over your face seemed to lift Wanda's temper a level, too. She smirked as well and gave you a sly side-glance. "You promise?”

“I swear.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #my fic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximov x reader

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fishsticksloser · 10 months

Note

Read through a bunch of your fics and it's got me kicking my feet with joy so I had to make a request of my own (feel free to ignore)

So I've been thinking about how each brother would care for their (fem) s/o with a headache (leaning towards romantic)

(Also I may or may not be projecting a bit since I get headaches almost daily :'])

Headaches

RotTMNT x gn!reader

Warnings: headaches/migraines, fluff

A/N: Same here. I thought about doing a self indulgent hc about this but then you asked! I don't get them daily, but I get them too often, mostly migraines that make me sick (I am projecting with Donnie because I can...)

Donnie

Genuinely believe he gets migraines a lot

When he gets them, sound is the worst and he can't get up because it makes him feel so sick

Also possible hallucinations (those are so fun /sarcasm) just things he thinks he sees in the corner of his eye

(I saw a few comics about it I'll link here and here)

So you having headaches or migraines is nothing to him

Not like it doesn't matter, but he knows how to handle it really well

He has multiple "care packages" around his most frequented areas

In fact he has multiple in his lab

And bedroom

There are things like Ibuprofen (and other meds if that doesn't work), water bottles, ice packs, heating pads, anything you'd ever need if you were sick

He made sure every light in his lab and bedroom is covered in case you have light sensitivity

Leo

Also gets headaches quite often

He keeps meds in his nightstand because of this

He doesn't get migraines a lot, not like his twin, but he does get them

He's often the one who helps Donnie with his migraines so he knows how to help

Will move mountains to get you whatever you want/need

Need the lights off? Done

Need completely silence? Done

Need this one super small, almost insignificant thing because it makes you feel better? You're damn right... He'll go find it

Mikey

Such a sweet boy, truly

But he's not very good at knowing how to take care of headaches and migraines

He gets them, but less than all his brothers

He's had maybe 6 in the last few years

Still Mikey tries his absolute best

He'll make you comfy in his/your bed

Turn the lights off

Get you water, meds, whatever you need

He'll talk to Leo and Donnie to see how else he can help too

Just wants to be the best he can for you

Raph

He gets headaches a lot, not many migraines

Can you blame him though?

Taking care of his brothers so they don't do anything stupid for ... 10+ years can do that

If he had hair it would all be white

So he's plenty adept to handling migraines and headaches

He helped Donnie and Leo with theirs when they were younger

He does tend to get nervous when you have a headache/migraine though

He hates seeing you in pain and it's hard for him

Because there's not much he can do to take away the pain

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yesimwriting · 7 months

Text

More than this

A/n the anakin appearance in ahsoka show got to me, that's all i can say

warnings: i didn't think too much about realistic timelines and i lowkey prioritized vibe over canon (as usual tbh), also written very quickly bc i'm supposed to be studying for a test so typos maybe? and maybe not great lol,, lowkey manipulative anakin but he's in his villain era so

Summary: Similar vibes as that force "facetime" thing with kylo and rey,, basically anakin 'facetiming' his not gf after killing off a bunch of younglings bc she's going through it and he's that committed

----

You're sick of it. Not of meetings or of political discourse or of trying to do the right thing for your people. You're sick of pretending like your entire way of life doesn't have an approaching expiration date.

The door to your bed chambers shuts with a groan loud enough to mask your irritated sigh. You squeeze your eyes shut so tightly you see stars before resting your forehead against the solid surface.

At least you're alone now. For now.

It won't be long before someone finds you. Another meeting or lesson or worst of all--another suitor. You don't want any of it. In fact, you might not ever want to speak to another person again.

"Not surprising."

You turn around too quickly, the back of your head hitting the door with a soft thump. Some combination of a shout and gasp tries to crawl up your throat but just as quickly the urge vanishes.

"Great..." He's standing at the other end of your room, confident like he has a right to be in your chambers. Like he's actually-- "I'm being driven to insanity."

He tilts his head slightly, expression revealing much too little. "I've told you." He takes a step forward. "I'm real."

At this point, he's given you several reasons to believe the stories he's told you. That the force he wields for whatever reason has chosen to connect the two of you. Considering what you've been briefed on regarding the current state of the Jedi, you might be better off if the stranger that keeps finding you does turn out to be a hallucination.

A question settles in your chest the way it often does when he appears. Now that you know about the rumored fall of the Jedi that has your father nervous and your advisors unsure, you're more wary of him than ever. How is he 'standing' here, perfectly fine?

You're not overly concerned about offending him. He's just someone that manipulates his abilities to pop in whenever you crave solitude most. But something at the back of your mind warns that you might not want the answer. Nothing good could come from any involvement of the Jedi in their current state.

"A hallucination would make the same argument," you whisper, voice drier than before. He takes another step in your direction. A mistake. You've made one by indicating nerves. "So..." Recovering quickly, you force your spine to straighten, "Why are you here this time?"

Casual and detached. That's how all of these forced rendezvous go. It's the safest. He insists on whatever point he's trying to make and you pretend to be too caught up in your annoyance to find any part of interesting until he eventually vanishes. Any stray in that could lead to a negative shift. Especially now.

"Are you not happy to see me?" You blink. He's made those types of comments before, a hint of humor touching his features enough to make you feel less on edge. But this time the words feel off, void of any warmth or surprising charisma.

Nerves twist themselves in your stomach. Whatever happened to the Jedi, whatever had all the members of your latest meeting on edge has effected him.

He's watching you, waiting for a reaction. You want out, but some instinct begs you to keep that hidden. A lifetime of being a royal daughter instead of a son has taught you that there's a certain safety that comes from playing unaware. "Not any more or less happy than usual."

That sounds normal, right? You've never been particularly nice to him, making it clear that you have no interest or time for whatever potential the force he's always talks about sees in the two of you as a pairing. But you're also not mean or flighty. "Okay, maybe a little less."

A small offering. You've done it before, revealing bits and pieces of your life to him because he has no part in your world. It doesn't matter what he knows and you've never had someone in your life in any capacity that you could just rant to, someone you could exist around without any pretext.

"And why is that?"

Another thing you didn't think through. The meeting that made you feel like a useless figurehead just waiting to be married off had revolved around the issues with the Jedi and what that means for your people.

"Some meetings today." That's a casual enough thing to admit. He normally assumes that's your issue. "Long meetings...so if you could just get to your point and disappear the way you usually do."

The corner of his mouth turns upwards. Normally, his partial smiles and signs of ease make you feel better about speaking to him. This look, however, only further knots your stomach. "Busy day."

"Yeah," you agree, nodding once, "Another one of my cousins have agreed to a proposed betrothal and that--that always starts discussions of when I'll finally do the same and--"

You're not sure where your rambling's going, you just know that this is something you complain about enough for it to seem normal. Besides, the best covers are based on the truth and what you're referencing is true enough. There was some discussion about a relative's impending marriage, but the rumors took over the meeting before anyone could try to convince your father to finally marry you off.

He takes another step towards the door and then another. The room is large enough that there's still an amount of distance between the two of you that's respectable, but that doesn't make it easier to dismiss that he's getting closer. At least your proximity to the door is comforting.

"You've never lied to me before."

The flutter of uncertainty in your stomach spikes, a brief wave of panic rendering you incapable of thinking. He's capable of just appearing in your room without actually being here, being able to tear apart your lie is nothing compared to that. But somehow him being able to tell where your truth begins and ends feels much more invasive than what you already knew about. You don't lie constantly, but for so long your ability to seem clueless has been your only form of self preservation.

You don't know what to do next. A part of you wants to fall back on habit, commit to your portrayal of not knowing. He'll see through it, there's no reason for him not to, but what else is there? Owning up to lying about the meeting will lead to a discussion of the actual meeting and that...

You're not sure why you're so convinced that ignorance is what you should be striving for. After all, everything you heard about the Jedi's current situation was unconfirmed, too recent and closed off to have reached even the top leader's of your home. But if it's true and he's really reaching out to you after such tragedy and acting casual in a way that makes it feel like you've never met him before.

You're also too aware of the fact that while you do feel the need to be alert, you're not afraid. This would be easier if you were. "How do you know that?"

Instead of sounding as closed off as you want to, genuine curiosity bleeds into the question.

"The same way we can see each other." Another step, this one less subtle. "I can teach you, if you'd like."

If he can tell when you're lying, there's not much point in saying no without a reason because despite yourself, you would like to know how. Who wouldn't? "I think I'm missing certain abilities."

His eyebrows draw together, and for a brief second you get a glimpse of something a little more familiar and a lot easier to accept. "I wouldn't be too sure."

Okay, now you know something's up with him. A breezy half-laugh escapes you. "Come on." Maybe that was his way of releasing some of the tension. His expression doesn't waiver. "Okay." If he wants to act strange, fine, but he's not going to convince you that you're like him in anyway. "What makes you say that?"

A beat passes and then another. If he had behaved like he usually does, you might have even considered the silence a sort of hesitation. "You're the one that reached out to me."

Another breathy, almost nervous laugh slips out. "Even if I had wanted to speak to you, I wouldn't have known how."

"You found a way."

There are only so many things you can believe from him. He's an invasive stranger that you've decided to accept in your life out of desperation for an outlet of escape. "That's impossible." He's closer now than you remember him being a second ago. That's almost enough to derail your train of thought. "The--the only thing I was thinking about was how much I wanted to be alone."

"You say that every time."

Pressing your lips together, you give yourself permission to let his words sink in. Every time you've seen him, it's after deciding that you want nothing to do with anyone ever again. "Then I guess you have impeccable timing."

He's so close now that you could extend an arm to touch him....if you wanted to. He angles his chin downwards slightly, "I can teach you."

Warmth begins to crawl up your chest. His assistance is another thing that should scare you. You're not like him...you can't be and even if you were, it'd have to be a secret that you take with you to the grave. And even if you are, why does it matter to him? "Why?"

He's unfazed by your abrasive tone. "I can see it."

"There's nothing to s--"

"You want more than this." You swallow once in an attempt to get rid of whatever's lodged itself in your throat. Maybe there is no such thing as being able to be fully honest with anyone, no matter how disconnected from your life they may seem. "I can help you."

Some halfhearted correction tries to pry itself out of your mouth even though there's no point. "I don't--we don't even know each other." You keep your poster rigid. "I don't even know your name."

His lips part. Whatever response he was planning on giving you is cut off before he can even start by the quick knocking against your door. Your head initially snaps towards the door. "..Are you in there?" Another rush of soft knocks. "Your father's waiting for you, he wants to debrief the last meeting."

Your let your head fall forward again with an instinctual sigh. By the time your eyes settle where they were before, he's gone.

#star wars #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #darth vader x reader #darth vader x you

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eerna · 4 months

Note

16&17 ofc

16) What is the most over-hyped book you read this year?

Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros! The entire Internet went NUTS over this book. People I thought had good taste loved this book. And then I read it and it was literally written at fifth-grade-level except it had graphic sex in it so I suppose it's adult. I am not kidding when I say I do not get it. I do not get it how anyone can turn their brain off so much that they can enjoy this book. I personally turn my brain off a lot and I don't get what sort of a mass hallucination convinced people this book is worth their time. It's not the worst book I've ever read, but it is definitely the worst popular book I've ever read.

17) Did any books surprise you with how good they were?

Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami! I thought it was gonna be good because of all the acclaim, but then it was so insanely written For Me that I was left reeling from the impact. It spoke of such niche feelings and worries that I didn't even know I harbored and this is getting too vulnerable so I am gonna shut up.

#eernask #eernanon #end of the year book asks

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silusvesuius · 2 months

Note

Your Depiction of Ulfric is literal perfection. I’ve never seen anyone who sees him in a similar way to me, until I found your account last year. I fucking love miserable old man Ulfric who could never catch a break since the day he was born. Every major event in his life (he can’t even decide which one’s the worst) shaped him in the worst yet most interesting way possible. I can’t speak enough about him, his messed up self esteem clashing with his ego, his repressed emotions and sexuality, his shattered image of his own body and mind, the constant loud arguments between the voices in his head (mostly just him arguing with hallucinations) *I’m definitely not projecting here* his unstable mood, his flashbacks and his odd obsessions with random harmful patterns he associates with familiarity. Because to him familiar=safe even if he’s basically only familiar to a constant state of worry and feeling like he’s being targeted or hunted down.

None of this seems to be getting better, at least not in a notable speed. Yet they’re all existing within a strong and powerful man. It’s quite the combination, he’s being weighted down by all of that baggage but his back is too strong to bend. He appears as if he has nerves of steel from the outside, but really if anything is made of steel in his mind, it’s the vessel that he uses to bottle all of that trauma up.

I already had a vague idea of his complicated relationship (obviously) with Elenwen but your version literally felt like it opened my third eye. It is scrumptious and your art is so beautiful it depicts every essence of it all perfectly without even needing to include words. I fell in love with it at first sight.

dis answer is kinda long so i'm (crumpling it up and tossing it under the cut)

Omg wtf Thank you's 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕 this is so well put together into words; i will do 9543 backflips for demented ulfric always. i've grown to like him in canon too cause he really has that, wouldn't even call it deceitful, weirdly-content personality.. but i don't think anyone in the writing room in sk*rim HQ knows how to write a character that has been through Anything, event of any kind, so he seems too 'perfect' for a person that has been through literal physical torture, to me, and his reactions to things that should be greatly upsetting are too mild. even though him being elenwen's victim is a piece of information that's easy to miss it seems like it also completely slipped out of the writing IOFDHDJFUIO LOL.. it all obviously adds up to him seeming more appealing as a fashie character to the audience, cus a visibly mentally unwell man wouldn't do it for most people, especially when you want to sway someone to be on his side of things.

i think it's quite smart for the st*rmcloaks to be presented as the more warm and welcoming types of people but ulfric should be the coldest of them all. Bro shouldn't even have the mental and physical capacity to seem Content with his life especially in that moment. he should be the type to use his civil war motivations as an excuse to stay alive if that makes sense, cause i don't think he really wants to live, but he has things to do to keep his mind and hands busy xchkvcjcvkl//

i also really love how ulfric only has galmar as someone he's really close to, it always seemed beyond genius to me, to write them like that, it's cute... he rly is the only person to suffer thru 4 hours of ulfric Peak psychosis monologue followed by 2 hours of trying to prove to him that th*lmor and imperial soldiers aren't hiding in the chests and under the beds of the palace LMFAOO galmar is the one guy who he can sob in front of and act like a little baby fishing for compliments and reassurance, and, not all that related to ulfric as a whole, but i strongly believe that having him be so vulnerable with galmar would make galmar really excited, it would make him feel good, like no other damsel in distress could deliver that feeling EVER. having such a seemingly-strong political figure rely on you Badly and madly would feel like something else entirely 💗 it's very off-putting and perhaps inappropriate of him to feel that way when ulfric is just searching for stability, but i think that even if ulfric knew galmar felt that way he wouldn't really gaf LOL. he'd turn to elenwen if there was no one else to go to cause he 'knows' her, and he'd torment elisif cause he 'knows' her as well.. but he would be completely closed off from making connections with other people 🏆

+ bonus; elenwen's feelings for him would border on everything at once, like, every type of relationship and connection that ever exists.. she really views him as the food she left over in the fridge and will get to eat when she's back from work as a reward

tl;dr him being scarier and more .. unkempt? from the outside would make him even cooler tbhs. he should become christian and develop religious OCD

#ask #i love herrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr (him)#him just lashing out at everyone would just be cute *audience Aww sfx*

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brick-a-doodle-do · 10 months

Text

i'm so sleepy but i decided to finish this <3 i've had insomnia the past couple of months, and while finally i'm slowly starting to feel a little better i got the idea for this in like may on probably the worst night of it. not very good, just some comfort noms 'cause who doesn't love those? :D

and though it's no improvement

wc: 1988

cw: vore (sfw, nsx), half-willing prey, swearing, mention of depression, mention/description of gore (very brief)

—–—

Nobody could sleep.

Tommy wasn’t talking for Tubbo, or Ranboo, or Dream (Although with the imprisonment of the guy he couldn’t be positive on that one), or anyone else.

He, Tommy, couldn’t sleep, and he wanted to make sure he felt like everyone was sharing his problem.

A consistent two nights of tossing and turning, throwing his blanket off of him when his skin pulsed uncomfortably with the warmth, and pulling it back on when the night grew too windy, and crying into his pillow with a dry-wet throat over the fact that his eyes felt so heavy but he couldn’t drift off. He counted the animals that passed by his window, stared at his ceiling, like maybe he’d wake up in a tent with a tedious headspace and a hyper ghost there to talk to him about his latest story with a particular blue sheep. But everything in his fantasy is gone.

Logstedshire has been blown up, his tent has been abandoned, and Ghostbur has been sent back to Limbo. Everything good in his life always leaves him. It was only a matter of time before the days he called useless and the time he called torturesome were brought to and end, and it hurt him to think the last ounce of happiness from his was when he was with Technoblade, the traitor he thought to be a friend, or when he was running around with a Mexican and female edition of his mentor-slash-torturer that he was half convinced were hallucinations. Those were gone, Technoblade was thousands of blocks away, Ran-bitch is taking over his Tubbo, and even with Dream in prison, Tommy’s life was awful, and flavourless.

It’s been lately that he realised it’s because of him; had he not kept his secret stash, had he not pulled out his axe so eagerly, or had he kept a better eye on his only remaining remnant of Ghostbur, he’d still be clinging onto his happiness.

Not like exile was a particularly reminiscent-worthy time.

Or, rather, was it? It had been the only time that he’d ever gotten the chance to feel productive, like he was doing something. He’d claimed he’d been lonely but he was surrounded by people—although in the moment he’d been shadowed by anger of being pitied that perhaps it felt lonely. He had been free, and had gotten a taste of letting himself choose, and had let himself bask in the piss-poor feeling of not being the crowd favourite any longer. For some reason, that felt pure now, a feeling that he had never experienced before that made him delusional, yet delusionally thrilled.. Dream wasn’t there to dictate him, he was just there to reset him, which got the cogs moving in Tommy’s brain if he was thinking about it, because how else was he to convince himself a secret stash was a good idea if not because someone kept resetting his progress?

Tommy tosses again, half of his blanket crumpled at his bed. He tosses onto his back and the blanket slides off. He sighs, then grumbles. The night is unusually cold, but it’s also unusually warm. It’s not right though. His head feels like it’s splitting. A million thoughts race through his train of thought, never condoning his slumber—no matter his pathetic desire for it.

Before he lets the lights behind his eyes grow any longer as his body goes numb but his thoughts keep busy, he opens his eyes and sits up. His hands grab anxiously over the side of his bed, grabbing the clay cup floating in an iron bucket of water. He drags it in the water and takes an eager sip of it, the room-temperature water sliding down his throat. As he swallows, it stings, but it feels better.

Carelessly, Tommy tosses the cup back into the bucket and shifts out of bed, shoving his blanket back onto his bed before walking around to the front door. He can barely call it that anymore, but he needs one for it to be home. Otherwise he wouldn’t be beating the raccoon allegations.

He pulls the crooked and whiny thing open and steps out. The night air is like a slap to his face, but it felt nice.

Tommy steps out and shuts the door behind him, then faces the quiet world. To his right, the bench is left untouched with the newest version of the jukebox set slightly off. He considered listening to one of them, but it didn’t feel right. There was no occasion for it, no conclusion to celebrate. Because Tommy liked happy endings, and Wilbur didn’t feel like one.

“Still can’t sleep, huh?” Tommy jumps, his skin crawling at the sound of the loud and gravelly voice. Speak of the devil. Abruptly, the nice air turned into a cloud of disappointment that reeked of cigarette smoke.

“What?” Tommy asks, turning around to source the giant—who he realised very quickly was sitting on the hill behind his home, legs crossed and looking down at him. His glasses give off an eerie red glare that makes him shiver. Tommy’s eyes widened. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Enjoying the fresh air! Do you know how long it’s been since I saw the night, Tommy?”

Tommy scoffs. “Do you have to do it on top of my house, though? Rather disruptive, don’t you think?” he bargains, eyes narrowed. He slips his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the voice in the back of his mind telling him to run.

“I don’t recall having a house, I think that blew up. Or—rather, have you seen much of Pogtopia?”

He tenses at the name. “It’s been abandoned since the last time we were there, I don’t fucking give a shit about that place, it messed you up.”

“Aw, Tommy, you think so?”

“I know so, man. You were n—” Tommy pauses. “Stop fucking talking to me! I’m not here to talk about your mental health. I just want to sleep. But I can’t because you’re fucking alive!”

“Ouch,” Wilbur murmurs. “I thought you wanted me back?”

Tommy flinches at the words. “I didn’t want shit, don’t put words in my fucking mouth,” he spits out, looking off into the distance for a moment, before settling back on the revivee.

Wilbur throws his hands up gently in defeat, a god-awful smile peeking through the torch-lit property.

Somewhere in the distance, through the silence grown taut, is the growl of a nearby zombie. Not as near as the one sitting on his fucking roof.

“That’s my house you’re sitting on,” he points out.

Wilbur huffs, like it was a joke. “I thought so.”

Tommy wrinkles his face. What a fucking asshole to be here, unannounced, basically stalking him. Tommy sighs, ‘Prime’ coming out in a gravelly whine from his throat. He wants to say something, he really does, but Wilbur beats him to it before he can shuffle his thoughts into something appropriate for their situation.

“You’re having trouble sleeping, aren’t you?” Wilbur accuses. Tommy doesn’t have it in him to pick a fight, so tentatively, he nods.

“That’s kind of why I’m out here,” he mumbles.

Tommy can practically feel Wilbur’s urge to ask him The Question seeping off of his roof and pooling around his feet—so much that he shudders at it. Wilbur wouldn’t, he knows Tommy’s hesitance with him now. Things weren’t like L’manburg anymore, they haven’t been for a long while.

“Can I help with that?”

There it was.

“No.” Simple. Tommy’s hands are shaking. Wilbur stares at Tommy so intensely, so attentive to his little brother, if they could be considered that anymore. The giant’s hands twitch, Tommy notices through his peripheral vision.

“Not even as a brotherly welcome-back gift, Tommy?” Wilbur asks, almost pouting. Infuriating.

Tommy, though, does consider it. The feeling of being embraced by Wilbur all around. If he was lucky, such a cold soul would follow down to a cold gut. He smirks at the thought. Still, he persists with a decline: “No, Wilbur.”

The next moment goes by in a blur; he’s standing on the grass near his house, then a second later his vision is obscured and gravity shifts as something grabs him, gently but secure, and Tommy’s left squirming in what he recognized as Wilbur’s grasp. He kicks aimlessly at Wilbur’s domed fingers, grumbling at the entrapment.

When torch-light comes back to view, he’s met with Wilbur’s face. He rolls his eyes at it, looking away. Or, the best he can when there’s a giant mouth and a willing predator who’s captured his prey.

“It’s been thirteen years, I’ve felt empty. So fucking empty, Tommy. Haven’t you just felt useless without my embrace?”

Tommy snickers. “No, Wil. I haven’t felt useless, I’ve been productive out from under your wing. I felt free for the first time in years.”

A low grumble comes from Wilbur’s throat, something of a purr, less graceful than it had in L’manburg, but still almost lulling. If not for the suffocating stench of smoke, he might’ve folded.

Tommy’s pulled a little further from Wilbur’s face, who stares at him, long and hard, long and sad. Tommy still feels free at this moment, like he can do what he wants to do.

And…he doesn’t want to sit in a stomach with the same humidity as out here, in arguably worse conditions considering the absence of a nightly breeze. But, Wilbur was back, and there was always some part of him that has vouched to never say no to Wilbur. So, he shrinks a little in defeat. “Fine, dickhead. I don’t say no to you, blah blah, fucking eat me if you have to.”

Wilbur seemed satisfied enough to whisper a small thank you before pulling Tommy back to his face, parting his lips and letting Tommy do his own thing. Pleased with the effort, Tommy stood up and placed a tentative lip to Wilbur’s blood-stained and scarred lips, climbing over them and his bottom row of teeth, almost tumbling over when he loses his balance. He stumbles, catching himself on Wilbur’s instinctual tongue, which flicks up slightly to offer its support. He stands on the edge of Wilbur’s gums before clambering onto his tongue, padding along the uneven surface before sitting in the middle with practised ease.

Wilbur’s turn.

At Tommy’s still form, Wilbur tilts Tommy slowly to the side of his mouth. Tommy shifts carefully to sit on his molars as Wilbur licks at him, coating him in a generous layer of saliva for an easy trip. The feeling used to be so alien to him, then it was once normal, and now, he hates to say it was nostalgic. Part of him was waiting for Wilbur’s lips to part and for light to flood in from the morning, trees fluttering in the wind and the Camarvan somewhere in the distance as the two of them treated each other to a picnic for the early days of their Nation’s upbringing.

When Wilbur’s lips part, it’s dark. He can see the bench, vaguely, and the stupid fucking duck that sat in the middle of the server with trident pools decorating the rest. He pats at Wilbur’s frozen tongue, letting him know he’s okay. Satisfied, Wilbur’s maw becomes pitch black again and he goes off of muscle memory for the next chain of events.

He’s brought over to the edge of Wilbur’s mouth, half-dangling over throat, and suddenly, Wilbur swallows and he’s sent down a squeezing tight tunnel along with a pool of saliva. He travels down, the disruptive beating of Wilbr’s heart distracting him enough for him to barely register his final destination.

Tommy lands with a squish, the surface under him having shifted from teeth to gut in a few half-predicted seconds. The blond sighs at the intense heat that follows in Wilbur’s gut. It was fine, he could suck it up for a few hours.

—–—

#mw #brickfic #tw vore #mcyt g/t #mcyt gt #dsmp g/t #dsmp gt #dream smp g/t #dream smp gt #t!tommy #tiny!tommy #g!wilbur #giant!wilbur #mmgmmfmdfhdf i love them sm <333 #this feels like my old fics ahg the rushed ending with the witty last sentence !! dfjvjdsf those will haunt me but i love 'em<3

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orikiys · 9 months

Text

✿ ✿ 〞voicemails with hanbin

✰ pairings : bf!hanbin x gn!reader

✰ genre : romance + fluff + heavy angst

✰ synopsis : they say, regret is stronger than gratitude, and hanbin wished he would have said it all sooner. he was late, and there was no way he could turn back the time

✰ warnings : mentions of character death, grief, loss, angst, miscommunications and cursing, hallucinations, mentions of suicide, mentions of death as a joke

one 𖨂

"good morning my love, it's 4 a.m but who cares right? i knew you did, you cared for me so so much. but it's already been 127 days. 127 days of pure torture without you not being by my side. without you not baking your favorite cinammon rolls for us. i miss it. from your lame jokes to your cute little giggles. i watch your favorite movie regularly, i still buy myself two scoops of ice cream because i knew you loved the flavor yet you would hesitate to share, i still have your phone with me, and even though I keep sending these voicemails to you without any hope of receiving one back, i just hope wherever you are, you are happy. and safe. i've been dreaming of you again. it started a month ago and although, it seems so real, i know it's not true. you are so close to me, yet so so far my angel. these memories of us; will forever be with me. and no matter what, i won't stop loving you."

two 𖨂

"i'm back again my love, and it's currently day 200. your friends visited me yesterday and although it was to make each of us feel better, all we talked about is you. no one has forgetten you angel, no one. even the florist remembers you and one day he asked me where you were. i said that you've gone far away on your new journey, opening an entirely new book of your life. one which doesn't have me, maybe? our relationship was the most significant one in my life. you made me feel alive. but perhaps that doesn’t mean it was meant to be forever. our relationship, and you, have shaped me more than anything or anyone has or ever will. i am becoming the man i was intended to be. nothing will shake me again, and that’s all credit to the strength I’ve gained from the life I shared with you. thank you. thank you for teaching me how to love again, and thank you for loving me."

three 𖨂

"i'm angry. at you. i hate you for leaving me all alone in this world! i had no one except you! but why did you have to leave so early? couldn't you take me with you? couldn't we be the forever we always talked about? what about the cat we were planning on adopting? what about a cottage nearside the shore with mini you's and me? what about all of the promises you made? are you breaking them really? are you not going to come back ever? are you seriously leaving me during my worst?! i'm so sorry for not taking you to that concert of the group you loved, i'm very sorry for not doing couple skincare when you wanted. and i'm sorry for all the times i hurt you. please, just come back? i can't do this without you. you're my other half. my soulmate. just- let me see you once more, please? i want you in my arms, i want to look into your eyes when we kiss and i want to slow dance with you every evening. just come back. this is the only thing i want from you baby."

four 𖨂

baby, even this word feels so unfamiliar on my lips now. i haven't met anyone after you. there is no after. you were my one and only. and it ended the moment your hand dropped in the ambulance. i will never ever forget that day. that pale look on your face as your cried in my shoulder. but i could do nothing! absolutely nothing! i've never felt so useless in my life. i couldn't even save you, what kind of fiancé am i? we were going for trial of your wedding dresses and so suddenly you couldn't breathe. you told me, with tears running down your face as you grasped on me tightly. to do something. to do something that could save you. and i failed. i'm so fucking sorry love. i fucked up very bad, and i know it. but your friends, my friends, your parents, all of them tell me it wasn't my fault. but how could it not be when you said you knew that i would save you? you trusted me with your life! and i? let that trust go in vain. i don't think i'll ever forget, 13th of june, when i let you go."

five 𖨂

are you okay? are the other angels keeping my angel safe and happy? i hope they are. i hope you're not mad at me. you have all right to be, but there's a bit of hope in me that you might not be mad at me. please baby, just say something except for 'hi, this is yn. i'm currently unavailable please leave a message' i left you nearly 500 voicemails and all i ever receive is radio silence? it's not fair baby. it's not. please, don't punish me this way. please. i beg you to come back, even though i know it's impossible. i'll wait for you, even if it might take forever or 2-3 rebirths. i'll wait for you."

six 𖨂

"it's day 467 and i thought i was close to moving on, then everything stirred up again and i realized i had only buried you deep in my heart, there's no way i could forget you. little by little, everything is becoming distant. from your voice, to the feel of your hair under my fingers, to your face. and i fear i might forget all the things about you. which is like my worst fear. sometime in the day i go from loving you to hating you. the hate is just a way i am trying to fool myself. how could i ever hate you? i will have only love for you. i hope to see you one day and only appreciate the love and laughs we shared. i often think about the times we’d be falling over in the kitchen laughing, trying not pee. or in bed cracking up, while I hit your arm from laughing so hard. or when you cheat by sitting on my lap and winning all the games witj cheating. i don't mind. it felt good to see you smile. one day i will grow old with grey hair and wrinkles, but i will still love you. one day, when i lay motionless, i wish to be buried beside you. i wish to see your face when my eyes close. i wish to say i love you upon my last breath. and i wish to see you with the stars. i wish to be loved by you in every life."

seven 𖨂

"it's day 1000. i brought you a new phone so i could keep sending you voicemails. i still recharge your data everyday, and i still listen to all the voicemails you sent me, in hopes you did the same. but of course, you can't. i keep fooling myself, and dragging myself deeper and deeper into my delusions that now i've started seeing you. everywhere. when i wake up, at work, in the mirror, and even when i sleep. your face- it haunts me now. you walk up to me in my dreams or nightmares, and tell me how you hate me. or how i put myself before you. you called me selfish. you told me that i didn't love you. i didn't love you? i've been loving you endlessly, my angel. my therapist says i need to stop sending you voicemails now. or i won't be able to move on. but what if i don't want to? what if i want to be surrounded by you, engulfed with these hallucinations till i die? people call me crazy at work, i know that. they don't talk to me afraid that i might make them crazy as well. but I want them to know what love is. it can be both a boon or a curse. and now, it has turned to be a curse. but not once do i regret it. i will meet you in every life. and i will love you in every life. i can only hope that each lifetime, we learn faster and love harder. maybe eons down the road, we will actually work out. if we do, I can’t wait to experience that love. and if we don’t, i’m at peace because I know in my soul that every time we finally walk away from each other, this will always be the relationship and you will always be the person that made me who i was meant to be. i am coming to you now. i can't live like this. goodbye, my love. this might be the last voicemail you receive. just know that i love you. always and forever"

#ॱଳ͘#zb1 hanbin #writing #romance #writing inspiration #scenarios #sung hanbin #hanbin x reader #zb1 #zerobaseone #zb1 x reader

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