#it'd be wonderful if you could help him out!

[fi1iat3rra3]

Love your writing for Leon, I hope it's okay to ask how Leon would be like around a reader who's very silent on their feet.

I did ballet when I was little and I learned how to walk really quietly. Most of the time I have to remember people will most likely not hear me approach so it makes me wonder how Leon would deal with the quirk!

~🦊

a/n; OH OH OH I LOVE THIS! Not only is this my first ask, but it's so cute, and I know exactly how it'd be! I've always been lighter on my feet—not because of ballet or anything, but just because it's the opposite of my family, and I consistently scare everyone with being too quiet 😭

Anywho :3 here it is!

content; no warnings—just fluff, humor and silliness

wc; 950

Leon hadn't really thought about footsteps outside of his job and his horrible past. During the Raccoon City incident, he relied heavily on footsteps to ensure his safety. Later, after becoming a government agent, his missions had him rely heavily on sound and the feel of the ground beneath his feet.

Outside of work? He hadn't given it much thought. He always subconsciously heard footsteps around him if anyone was near. His hearing was great, which was shocking considering the abnormal amounts of bombings and explosions he'd experienced.

Only a couple of weeks after moving in with his beloved partner, you, he quickly realized how much he preferred the sound of footsteps to warn him of someone's presence. Because you were quiet. Too quiet.

One early morning, Leon woke, dragging himself to the bathroom for his morning routine. He wasn't going to wake you—no reason to do so if you weren't working for the day. After his morning shower and getting dressed, he padded down the hall and into the kitchen.

It was still only 6 a.m., meaning you shouldn't be awake for another couple of hours. Why would you be? You should be resting. Enjoying the warmth of the bed. Basking in the sunlight that illuminated the skin that wasn't covered by the blankets. You should be—

He screamed when he felt something press into his back. He dropped his coffee mug. Thank God it wasn't glass. He spun around, and sure enough, you were wide awake.

"What in the hell?!" He huffed, chest heaving from the heart attack you'd given him.

You frowned, rubbing your ears and stepping back. "Jesus, you're loud." You complained vaguely.

"You just—!" He paused, exhaling sharply and bending down to grab his mug. "You're too damn quiet in the mornings." He grumbled.

He was so wrong about it being only in the mornings. So so wrong.

Weeks later, another late night for you two. Leon fell asleep on the couch, the TV on mute. He only really wanted the light to avoid keeping the big lights on.

You were supposed to shower and go to bed. Supposed to. Leon really should know not to assume by now. You had an early day tomorrow. Why would you go anywhere else but the bed—it was already past midnight and you'd barely been home for a couple hours! You needed sleep. So he felt safe enough to fall into sweet deep sleep, completely unguarded by the blanket he'd usually have cocooning himself in the bedroom. He was vulnerable, almost bare—except his boxers and tank top.

When he felt the gentle press of your fingertips against his arm, making his arm hair shift and tickle him, creating the sleepy illusion of a bug crawling on his arm, he was jolted awake, gasping and smacking his arm like there was an evil infectious bug trying to crawl inside his skin. When he laid his sleepy gaze on you, leaning above him from the back of the couch, he let out a groan.

"Need to get you a fucking cat bell." He complained, but he sat upright to let you help him up from the couch.

"Or you could just not be so jumpy." You huffed.

"You make no sound. Not even a breath. Not even your damn clothes rustling make a noise. That's a little scary when I'm still getting used to living with you." He grumbled further.

"You're such a baby." You prodded playfully.

"Whatever." He grabbed you and lifted you into his arms, carrying you down the hallway to your shared bedroom. "Gonna get you a bell eventually. Don't think I'm joking." Was all he said before he laid atop of you and snuggled into you, his face buried in your chest.

Months passed. Irregular scares and jolts. Some moments where Leon was scared when he woke up to an empty bed, only for you to suddenly appear back at the doorway, not a footstep or breath to warn him of your approach.

He never got you a bell. But he did find a solution. Heavy slippers during wintertime and cold nights, flip flops during summertime, and hot days. They'd make noise. Drag against the floor and warn him of your approach. He wondered why it took so long for him to think of such a simple solution. But nowadays, he was much less tense when you weren't in his line of sight.

It wasn't like he was afraid of you—no, not even in his wildest dreams, but he just hated being scared because his screams sounded girlish, almost cartoonish at times.

He came home one day, lucky to have gotten off so early. He found you in the kitchen. Perfect.

With a pair of slippers in one hand, and flip flips in the other, he approached. You turned, having heard the door along with his heavy footsteps.

"Indoor shoes. Try 'em on." He said, setting them sound. "Walk back and forth." He said. Paused. "Please." He added. You snickered, slipping the sandals on. You walked a lap around the kitchen. It sounded like flippers. "Good. Now the slippers." You tried the slippers next. Soft slippers drag soft against the hardwood flooring, perfectly quiet yet loud enough to announce yourself.

"This is your solution?" You giggled, stepping over to him.

"Yes. Now I can sleep on the couch without being half awake and fearing your sudden appearance." He joked lightly, leaning in to peck your lips.

"You're such a scaredy cat." You teased. He huffed.

"Whatever. Just.. please wear the damn slippers or sandals. I'm askin' nicely."

From then on, you wore some form of slipper or sandal in the apartment.

This was such a silly one to write :3 thank you, 🦊 anon!! You're my first ask, and I appreciate it so much!

I hope this was to your liking, and if not, I'm very open to critique and feedback!! 🤍

-🍊

[bewitched-hours]

taph x reader getting cuddles in bed except reader scratches the part of taphs wings (like the ones that protrude from the head) that make birds freaky and freakyness ensues? but taph is like really pathetic with it?? i dunno

Anon I really hope you meant for this to be a smut request because it reads like one- Anywho-

Reader gets She/Her~

Although you were surrounded by death and misery, at least you had your boyfriend.

You were always a fan of demolition and explosions so when you first met Taph, your first interest was in his strategies and tools. Not like he didn't mind your friendly attitude and willingness to help lure the killer to his traps for a good laugh. With your sweetness and the time spent together, how could he not have fallen?

Sometimes you talked, sometimes you signed, he loved you either way because at the end of the day, you've come to understand him as though you two had known each other all your lives. You put in a lot of effort and so did he.

But after rounds as stressful as the one you had just gotten out of, both of you were quick to retreat to his cabin for some well-deserved comfort and cuddling.

While Taph buried his head against your chest to listen to your heartbeat, you'd brush your fingers through his hair to lure out those sweet happy little trills. It was simply adorable to listen to and if it were up to you, it'd never end. Just a blissful eternity listening to your boyfriend's happy trills.

Even the little flaps his ear-wings do occasionally during this were adorable!

But speaking off... You never really touched them and although you knew the big wings on Taph's back were sensitive, you couldn't help but wonder if the ones behind his ears were too.

Now, you had two options in this scenario; Leave it alone and just ask later or test it and risk getting your bird boyfriend needy...

... Yeah, you were gonna risk it-

You were careful in moving your hand between Taph's right ear and ear-wing for a few scritches, noting how he tensed up and seemed to puff up his wings on both his back and behind his ears. You stopped momentarily as you felt him squirm but when you attempted to resume, he was quick to sit up and sign to you with shaky hands.

[Why did you stop?] You could tell your risk was well calculated and just smiled softly. "Honestly I wasn't sure if those wings worked the same as your regular ones~" You shrugged, shortly being shut up when he began to rub his erection through both of your pyjama clothes and against your clit. [Well they are so please take care of what you just started.]

Well... Not like you were gonna decline-

Your clothes were thrown off in an instant, holding onto Taph as he kissed you with such desperation... You almost felt bad.

You chuckled a little, giving into his demands pretty easily and peppering his face in kisses before moving onto landing small pecks on his ear-wings.

That seemed to have him nearly collapse on top of you as you locked your legs around his waist, feeling him pathetically twitch under your guidance. Your poor boyfriend must've been overwhelmed already from the mere teasing but you always made sure he was still lucid enough to tell you wether he wanted to keep going. Even if it was just with a simple nod.

"It's okay, baby... I'll take care of you~" You whispered so sweetly, feeling his hips snap against yours for a moment as he hid his face in the crook of your neck with a slight cooing noise escaping him when you worked to remove the last few pieces of fabric separating you two.

... He was definitely desperate, that much was clear but you were still able to guide him as you pushed him closer. For once, you didn't allow yourself to worry over lube or condoms. He usually pulled out anyways and- was that even a risk in this case? Fuck if you know- You could probably just ask Shedletsky later if he knew.

But for now, you should just pay attention to your pathetically cute boyfriend... Who was trying desperately to go slow to avoid hurting you even though you knew he wanted to go at it like a rabbit in heat. You couldn't be more grateful for his gentle nature...

He had one ear-wing still draped over your mouth, presumably for more kisses which you happily delivered. One kiss, two kisses, three... And they were always follows by a slight pause and feeling him push into you desperately. One thrust, two thrusts, three...

"O-okay... I think I'm get-getting used to it..." You whispered between shaky breaths. Taph was unsure at first but slowly started picking it up. He held you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded and each time you moaned it was only motivation to keep going. Echoes bouncing through the room with barely concealed whimpering and whining.

On impulse, you attempted to gently rub one of his ear-wings and when you finally suggested, you couldn't help the giggle escaping your throat while he shuddered and came undone inside you. You gently pulled up his head to pepper him with kisses better but instead felt your weight being shifted before you suddenly found yourself on top, still feeling him twitch inside you as you attempted to process what he wanted with this. But when you did, a small smirk came to your face.

[You're enjoying this.] You'd sign smugly, moving your hips ever-so-slightly in teasing motions to see him struggle not to dig his hands into your waist. Of course, you were enjoying this too. You were partially also teasing yourself with this since you were left close to your breaking point but never really bothered to say anything. You figured it was a little more exciting to deny yourself the pleasure as punishment but knowing your boyfriend, he wasn't letting that slide.

He was trying to thrust up into you, taking note of your shaky gasps and the way your face showed off how you were desperately holding yourself back from chasing your high. But unfortunately, Taph wanted to make sure you would come undone just like he did.

He carefully lifted you up and would move you himself, listening to your heavenly moans and gasps while you kept switching between begging for more and asking him not to let you cum. He was thankfully not listening to it though and eventually you got too horny yourself to really go back now.

He was finally able to let go and watch you bounce instead, setting your own pace and moaning his name like a prayer until you feverishly kissed him to drown out the scream threatening to expose you two while your own orgasm washed over you...

"Maybe we should do this more often after stressful rounds... I'm feeling a lot more relaxed..." You muttered out weakly, still catching your breath when you got a happy trill in response. You could barely even keep your eyes open anymore but made sure to fight it long enough to clean up and snuggle back against Taph. Especially with his fluffy wings wrapping around you.

"Maybe next time I can make you explode inside me-" You wanted to joke around a little more but were quickly cut off by a grumpy but weak slap to the back of your head. As if to tell you you were sounding like an idiot which only made you chuckle. "Fine fine, I'll sleep~ Goodnight Taph..." You yawned, settling in between the warmth of his body and the comfort of his wings to be part of his precious cocoon made of love...

I wasn't really sure what qualifies as pathetic

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[bumblingbabooshka]

I hate when Chakotay is watered down to be Janeway's yes man because their disagreements are actually very interesting. [A lot of rambling analysis of this debate in particular below]

Chakotay in Parallax is very interesting in that he has to navigate a lot of different dynamics. Balance a lot of plates while being watched keenly by everyone around him. Immediately preceding this scene we see him ask B'Elanna for her opinion on the bridge - both as a chance to show her knowledge in his bid to make her chief engineer (because she wouldn't get a chance to otherwise as Janeway has clearly indicated that at this point she views B'Elanna as a troublemaker who won't be considered for the position) and because he just thinks she's a better engineer than Carey and wants the best possible chance of them succeeding. Janeway sees this as unacceptable. Carey is the chief engineer and so he should be called and Chakotay NOT asking for his opinion is an insult to Carey, Janeway, and might make the crew doubt Chakotay (and by extension the Maquis') loyalty to the Starfleet crew.

At this point it seems that to Janeway integration ["They're not your people"] means the path of least resistance, specifically tailored towards the Starfleet crew. She wants Chakotay by her side to keep the Maquis crew calm but also seems unwilling to consider them for important positions aboard the ship. Though she says that the Maquis are not Chakotay's people, not his crew, she certainly doesn't seem to consider them hers [Compare this to later instances where she stresses 'our' crew, here she simply says they aren't Chakotay's: Whose crew are they? Are they crew at all?]. This less leaves the impression of "We need to be a cohesive team" and more "You're not in charge here." She essentially accuses Chakotay of playing favorites. In her mind Chakotay's actions are not conducive to integrating the crews which would (again, in her mind) mean the Maquis being docile and accepting, obedient and content - not making trouble for the Starfleet crew. Chakotay counters Janeway's accusation with one of his own: That he IS trying to integrate them into the crew but her not allowing the Maquis any opportunity to prove themselves or succeed, not showing any trust in any of them (except, implicitly at this point, him) is making things difficult. At this point the Maquis crew are ready to mutiny on his word at any time. He knows this for a fact. Aside from that looming threat (the threat being that tensions are high and if nothing changes and they remain high there might be a mutiny even without his word) - Chakotay knows these people and trusts them. Though Starfleet and Janeway think of the Maquis as a violent bunch of criminal terrorists, Chakotay and a good number of the Maquis joined because they believed in the cause they were fighting for. These are people Chakotay knows WILL fight fiercely for what they believe in and conversely, AGAINST what they perceive as injustice. Even if they're not in the majority - they're used to picking fights which seem impossible to win. At this point Janeway admits that she ISN'T making it easy for Chakotay to integrate the Maquis - specifically talking about practical concerns; how she doesn't feel she can let Maquis crew have roles of importance on the ship because they lack the ability to hold them. "They don't have the discipline, they don't have the training," - asserting that they just aren't prepared for any such roles and it doesn't have to do with them being Maquis specifically. Ostensibly, she's treating them as she might treat anyone unqualified for the job.

Chakotay maintains that some of them, like B'Elanna, have the ability to be trained - challenging her point by saying that IF they're trained there's no reason for any Maquis member NOT to be given a more prominent role on the ship. He isn't suggesting they just unqualified people important jobs. If the problem is that they aren't trained, let's train them. These people have the ability to succeed if you give them the tools they need and a fair chance, he insists. Janeway then switches gears and her argument becomes not "The Maquis are untrained so they can't be given those jobs" but "The Maquis crew are unworthy of those jobs when compared to Starfleet personnel" saying that it'll cause insult and upset among the Starfleet crew if any member of the Maquis were to be promoted above them. Again, her idea of integration is based more on Maquis subservience to the Starfleet crew than it is the two crews working together. (Not that I believe she looks at it that way, it's just where her 'path of least resistance' leads) - though she accuses Chakotay of being too focused on "his" crew, she is admitting here that she believes her real crew are the Starfleet officers aboard, not the Maquis. She also admits here that the system she wishes to maintain (and is asking Chakotay to enforce) is one where there will ostensibly never be any chance of a Maquis crew member being promoted because no Maquis crew member will ever be more qualified, more worthy, than a member of Starfleet. We can see how it'd be difficult for Chakotay to convince his crew to remain calm under these circumstances. There's also Tuvok's behavior toward him at the beginning of the episode where the Vulcan nearly goes over Chakotay's head and when he doesn't do so (as Chakotay reminds him that HE'S the superior officer, the First Officer in fact,) Tuvok acts as if him backing down (partially) and conceding (partially) to Chakotay's authority is a favor to Chakotay.

Tuvok in this conversation is downright insubordinate to Chakotay. Despite Chakotay being the first officer, he doesn't take what he says seriously, argues that his own opinion on what should be done should be followed rather than Chakotay's, lectures the first officer about his conduct, and then almost seems to threaten him with a report. In Starfleet's rigidly hierarchical rules, acting like this to a superior officer (ESPECIALLY the first officer) wouldn't be tolerated and Tuvok knows this perfectly well. He isn't a rebellious character and clearly in other episodes adheres to these Starfleet hierarchies and codes of conduct very strictly. He values them highly. But Chakotay, a Maquis, shouldn't be First Officer. Why should he be given respect for a title he didn't earn? [Affirming Janeway's argument about how Starfleet officers won't be eager to follow a Maquis senior officer] Even though Chakotay tells Tuvok off for it ["I don't have to explain myself to you"] he doesn't threaten to put Tuvok on report or explicitly mention his insubordination. It's unclear if this is Chakotay's personality or if he just doesn't feel he CAN do that. Tuvok is one of the three most senior officers aboard and very close to Janeway. Chakotay has to think of the optics of any situation at all times - we see seconds after this conversation that rumors have already started swirling around B'Elanna being relegated to quarters that've fanned the flames of mutiny. Though we know Tuvok has personal reasons for behaving the way he does toward Chakotay (which he later admits), I really don't think it'd be out of the ordinary for this to be how most Starfleet personnel would treat the Maquis if they weren't outright hostile: Like they're only pretend crewmen. To a lesser extent we even see this with Janeway: In the following staff meeting, she clearly doesn't consider B'Elanna a viable option when Chakotay brings her up and almost ignores the suggestion entirely.

It also, again, leaves Chakotay in an impossible position. If he doesn't protect and fight for the Maquis crew, they won't ever be considered a true part of the crew and dissatisfaction will likely spread among them. Dissatisfaction which the Starfleet crew will then use to further label the Maquis as insubordinate, uncontrollable, unfit. Not to mention that if he doesn't advocate for them, he might lose their trust. However, if he DOES try to help the Maquis crew advance the Starfleet crew will view this as 'favoritism' and will further distrust him, won't respect the people he puts forth as worthy. Janeway seems to be intent on not advocating for any of the Maquis crew and also seems unwilling to ask that the Starfleet crew grant leniency. She implies that the Maquis crew need to learn to get in line and keep quiet and it seems almost like [we must remember the optics] she has Chakotay as the only Maquis in a position of power to facilitate that. Chakotay recognizes and pushes against that, saying that he won't just be her token Maquis - there only so she can point to him and say "See? We don't discriminate against the Maquis here." effectively a tool used to shut down any arguments of unfair treatment and a tool to quell the Maquis if any talk of mutiny DOES arise. In this model, Janeway can just tell Chakotay to calm them down and they'll listen because they trust him. She also doesn't have to really listen to anything he says: A token First Officer has no authority; his words don't hold weight. [Chakotay isn't Maquis anymore, they aren't his crew anymore - ok. What is he then? What are they? Nothing, without respect.] This plan seems untenable, as much as Janeway frames it as sensible: "I can't make it easy, Commander. Surely you can understand that," and alternatives as impossible "How am I supposed to ask them to accept a Maquis as their superior officer just because circumstances have forced us together?" - in the long run, how would this be sustainable? In any power structure, you cannot expect a group of people you're unwilling to grant trust or agency to obediently follow you forever. This proposed form of 'integration' in which the Maquis are kept on the bottom rung and told intermittently to stay there quietly by the only one of them granted permission to stand at the top would never be sustainable - especially with a group like the Maquis who again, were founded on the belief that its members should fight against inequity and are already on the verge of mutiny.

I specifically find the statement "How am I supposed to ask them to accept a Maquis as their superior officer just because circumstances have forced us together?" to be interesting because personally I'd say that being forced together for the rest of almost everyone's natural life is a pretty good reason to ask people to adapt and Janeway does understand this but only applies it to the Maquis - the Maquis are the ones who have to adapt, not Starfleet. The only thing the Starfleet crew have to do is tolerate their presence on board.

At this point Janeway again claims that if Chakotay can show her a 'qualified' Maquis candidate she'll consider them. I believe this is true but we already know that Janeway's standards for qualification will likely not fit the vast majority of the Maquis and Chakotay ignores the claim in favor of putting forth B'Elanna again, firmly. Janeway predictably dismisses her as unqualified and Chakotay disagrees, arguing that he knows her. He's worked with her. He KNOWS that B'Elanna can excel at the job even if she doesn't meet Starfleet/Janeway's qualifications. He doesn't value those qualifications over what he's observed about her - just as he didn't value Carey's title over what he knew about the gap between his and B'Elanna's abilities. Then, Chakotay switches gears. He admits that Janeway's right - he does view the Maquis as his crew but that's because Janeway (almost self admittingly) doesn't and if he doesn't, who will they have? [What kind of captain, kind of man, would he be?] "You're going to have to give them more authority if you want their loyalty." "Theirs or yours, Commander?" Janeway frames Chakotay's words pointing out the flaws in this plan which I outlined earlier, as almost a threat (if she doesn't have Chakotay's loyalty it'll most definitely mean mutiny). Chakotay asserts that it wasn't a threat, he's only trying to help by telling her how the Maquis crew will react to what she's telling him. "I'm sorry you can't see that" - not an apology for what he said but that she isn't willing to budge, not willing to listen to him and acknowledge that she might be as biased towards her crew as he is towards his. Chakotay is trying his best to acclimate his crew but if Janeway isn't willing to do the same, to talk to her people as he's talking to his, then this will not end well and that isn't a threat. It's just the reality of the situation. He then asks permission to leave, showing he is willing to observe Starfleet protocol (just as when he asked permission to speak freely), and Janeway lets him go, exhaling at the intensity of their debate when alone in her ready room.

[dennisboobs]

one day i'll post my fic and you can finally witness this monster of a playlist that fuels my insanity

[rivilu]

The more I think about the story through Daeran's pov the more insane i go. btw.

[yan-randomfandom]

How would yandere saja boys react to reader being a child of Gwi ma, but is nothing like him as in they want to help people?

Saja Boys x Demon!GN!Reader

a/n; i keep missing in my fics, i keep forgetting the plot!! so sorry anon,, i don't know what i'm trying to do in this one (⁠´⁠;⁠︵⁠;⁠`⁠) but i do love the new scenario!! tho sadly this isn't obviously yandere,,

— 👑

"Dying king with a crumbling crown," you hum, a teasing smile stretching across your feline lips. "Will he let the fire go out?"

Jinu sighs, absentmindedly plucking his strings. "As much as I love seeing two tigers, I think it'd be best if you take another form. It's creepy watching you talk with its teeth."

With a chuckle, you shapeshift into his bird instead, licks of fire dying as soon as it appeared. You made sure to keep the tiny hat on. "Yeah, sure, okay. Hey, that was a pretty bold move to your king. Y'know, my creator."

One of his demon companions snort. You snap your eyes toward the one with abs. "That's Jinu for you. Knows what he wants, knows what Gwi-Ma wants. As it's always been."

Jinu doesn't react, he doesn't reply—yet, you and the rest of the Saja Boys could tell he's deeply uncomfortable. He continues his focus on his bipa.

Baby coughs. "Look, I'll do the rapping, yeah?"

"I already said that—"

... After a while, you stare blankly as they get lost in their planning. Listening to every word. Paying attention to their movements. You can barely contain the frown itching to crawl on your—oh, wait. You have a beak.

"Master," Mystery suddenly calls, poking a finger on your wing.

You make an expression with your beady eyes. "Do not call me that. What is it, Mystery?"

His lips curl. "Why are you here?"

All your six eyes blink. The rest seem to be intrigued for your answer.

Of course, you're here to disrupt their plans. You don't say that out loud. Always so grateful that you and Gwi-Ma have cut connection, so even he can't hear your spirits.

"I believe I don't need to answer you," you shrug, earning some looks. You flatter your wings and stand on Mystery's shoulder instead. His smile grows. "Just keep doing your magic."

— 🐦‍⬛

You wonder what the Huntrix girls are doing right now.

Probably better than... whatever this is.

"Gwi-Ma is going to be so disappointed in us."

"What? No! The opposite! He'd be so impressed, we'll never have to be punished—"

"Master's waiting for us to move already."

Gwi-Ma this. Gwi-Ma that. Even if you're the literal spawn of the guy, it's still such a bummer with him being the only topic in this damn world. Well, aside from famine and destruction of your kind. Okay. Enough of this. You have to check on the girls.

Jumping off of Mystery's shoulder, you shift into your true form, pink fire dancing in your silhouette.

You thought you could quietly leave but—

"Where are you going?" comes Jinu's voice, inquisitive. Suspicious, almost.

Romance cast you a look. "You haven't even seen our rehearsal yet! Or, maybe, you'd like to see it live—"

You flow your fire to Romance's side, patting his head in reassurance. "I'll be there."

Maybe that's good enough to be convincing. Then, you leave.

— 🔥

In one of the farthest seat of the stadium, you sit and watch as the Huntrix practice for their performance. Put simply, they're amazing. You always did prefer acapella from the girls.

You've taken a human form, hopefully that will be enough for them to lay off if they spot you. Act like one of the staff who's slacking or whatever.

"So this is where you are," a familar deep voice mutters, and you immediately shoot up a hand to their face. A face that's come from a half-body in the seat next to you, the Honmoon tear strong in your senses.

Between your startled glare and fingers, Baby smiles in curiousity as his eyes glow. "I'm a little hurt. Didn't know you prefer the hunters."

You relax. Okay, cool. He found you spying on Huntrix. "No one will believe you."

A cough. You follow the noise on the floor and find three out of four other Saja Boys. Abby, Romance, and Mystery stares at you with something in their expressions—completely unreadable.

"Does Gwi-Ma know you're—"

Hmm. Darn. You interrupt whoever spoke. "Why are you all here? Did you come to look for me?"

You turn, seeing Baby's immense stare on you. But he doesn't answer. None of them do.

... Weirdos.

"Where's Jinu?"

Baby pauses, then points at the other side of the area.

You follow his direction and Jinu barely meets your eyes.

A frown makes its way to your lips. This human... This human is a wonder. You have Gwi-Ma's memories—while the others are fairly content with their sins, you know Jinu's so much more complicated than that.

Honestly. He'll know about Rumi's patterns in one way or another.

Someone pokes your cheek.

You sigh. "Mystery, stop doing that."

"Ah, no, I'm Abby. You're acting weird."

You? Acting weird? Haven't you always been? You look down on your patterns. An intricate design and color unlike the others.

The weight of your memories — not even yours, really — rumbles in the pit of your core. You don't like what you are, or where you are, or who you are. But, at the same time, you care so much. It's hard to think.

"I'm not answering that," you say eventually, using your higher position whenever convenient.

—

errmm my bad, also im trying to combine asks as I go ... hrrmmm eeemm hmmmm it's not working well

i tried to go with demon reader (anon1) and reader who hates the saja boys but loves huntrix (anon2) but for this one—they just really don't like what they stand for

[inmaki]

gojo showing off your back scratches to geto

( cont from this fic! req, visual ) .

contains: sex talk, desc of back scratches, crack, sugu is called daddy once (as a joke.. right..)

everything was relatively peaceful in suguru's apartment. key word: relatively.

a forgettable yet appreciated sunday afternoon, not a cloud in sight despite the weather forecast predicting downpours of rain. either way, the raven-haired man insouciantly rested across his white couch, reaching the conclusion that today would be a day for self-care, relaxing, and perhaps some meditation.

there was only one thing ruining his peace.

all morning, suguru has been forced to try and ignore the stain a certain someone has left on his couch — a pair of unecessarily expensive yet dirty shoes being the culprit.

despite these attempts, every once in a while his gaze can't help but wander over at the mark — as if it'd poof out of existence if he glared hard enough.

"fuckin' asshole.." he mutters. it was a wonder his relationship with his best friend managed to stay so promising despite all their differences, yet suguru wouldn't have it any other way, even after situations like this.

right when he grumpily turns back to the tv — which was playing some crappy, low budget rom-com — his apartment door is yanked open and suguru swears he nearly jumps out of his seat.

great, was this it? was he about to get robbed, perhaps evicted? and then probably die? forced into the afterlife knowing gojo's shoe-shit was still on his new couch? no that can't—

"i fucked her!"

suguru whips his head towards the apartment door, announcement being disregarded as he nearly groans in agony. speak of the devil.

big blue eyes peak out from under circular sunglasses, one hand already raised in preparation for a dap up while his stupid, big, dirty shoe pushes the door closed behind him. gojo wears a black compression shirt with grey sweats, marching over to his friend with a ginormous grin across his cheeks.

"take your shoes off, now," suguru snaps, nodding to his friend's feet with a frown.

"yeesh... whatever y'say, daddy," the bastard never loses his smile as his hands raise in surrender, kicking them off by the door smoothly. "what's got your panties in a twist?"

geto pinches his nose bridge. "don't call me that," as he continues the scolding, he points to the living room with his free hand. "you got a mystery stain on my couch, satoru. do you know how many youtube videos i watched trying to get this shit off?"

unphased, gojo takes a look at the strangely colored blob against the armrest's leather material and shrugs. "my bad. did you try febreeze?"

"what— no? dude, febreeze is for.." when suguru looks back up to sourly meet his gaze, he could immediately tell the white-haired man was already drifting back into la-la-land, words going in one ear and out the other. "..nevermind. why're you here?"

at the reminder, satoru seemingly brightens, head shooting back up as if he was just told he'd won the lottery.

"oh god, don't make that stupid face—" he pauses. "the fuck are you doing?" suguru might as well say goodbye to his self-care day, because now gojo was stripping in the middle of his living room, shirt thrown haphazardly onto the still-very-much-stained couch.

"just look!" suguru squints as his friend swivels around to face the wall, pushing his bangs away to get a better view of the— oh shit.

it takes the raven-haired man a second to process what he's seeing before shuffling forward, closely examining the achingly red, bulging scratch marks displayed sexily across the latter's back and shoulders. "no way.."

suguru knows the strongest sorcerer well enough to notice how he purposely didn't use reversed cursed technique on these scratches, just so it'd be obvious to anyone that caught a glimpse of what exactly occured. to his further dismay, he can already picture a smug and sweaty gojo walking around their local gym like this, proud simper on his pretty lips as he easily raises a pair of weights in his veiny hands.

a hiss escapes geto's mouth as he runs his finger down a particularly agitated one, knowing exactly how painful they could be after experiencing many hook-ups of his own. even so, satoru only licks his lips, neck craning to the side so he can pride himself in his friend's gobsmacked expression.

"damn, these are deep. you actually hit it?" suguru confirms, raising a celebratory hand.

turning back around, satoru daps him up, a massive smirk now on both their faces. "hell yeah, it was amazing."

it was impossible to predict what gojo would do next after barging through his front door — especially considering how many times he's done so — but this has to be the last thing suguru ever expected.

not that he was complaining — in fact, all of geto's temper and need for relaxation seemingly flew out the window, the feeling of proudness for his best friend overthrowing anything else.

and even if he hated to admit it, the way gojo was so eager to come over and announce his virginity loss to him was more than a little endearing, and dare he say cute.

"that's great, man. congrats." suguru leads him into the kitchen — still shamelessly shirtless — to grab them both a can of beer in celebration. while the white-haired man usually didn't get involved with any form of alcohol, this occasion was most definitely exception-worthy. "you made y/n cum too, right?"

an offended glare is shot his way. "duh, two times."

"huh. surprised you could last."

as suguru pours their drinks into two fragile cups, gojo exhales, not bothered in the slightest by his jab. "dude, same.." he admits dreamily. "she was so fuckin' tight and warm.. and oh— fuck, her moans? heavenly.. 'can't believe i didn't bust after the first minute.."

geto gulps, trying his best to ignore the mental image his brain was producing from his dirty words. you can't blame him — both of you were smoking hot, and he was a simple man.

even now, he could already imagine what you both looked like; panting and moaning, skin-slapping so loud that it echoed through the whole room, how blissed out you'd look as gojo's cock split you in t—

satoru's playful sigh cuts through the tensing air. "who knows sugs, maybe you'll have another kind of stain to worry about next time we're over~"

he's never snapped out of a daydream so quickly. "don't even joke about that."

over the next hour, the two men sat manspread on the stained couch, taking leisure sips while recalling satoru's final moments as a virgin — suguru giving out his secret tips and tricks along the way.

maybe sometime, suguru could offer some.. hands-on learning instead.

mlist! <- sugu.. how could u think abt ur bestie and his gf like that... tsk tsk tsk (if u enjoyed reblogs/comments r appreciated heheh)

© inmaki on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[apatheticsunday]

Phantom of the Manor

AKA "The Batfam unintentionally start giving ritual offerings to the Phantom. Danny, who's been mistaken as the Phantom of the Opera, is wondering why his hoodie pockets are full of tomato slices??" prompt idea!

Headcanon that Ghosts become more powerful the more people believe in them, kind of like deities. Danny's never really had to deal with the whole "ritualistic sacrifices to Bloody Mary" or "superstitious prayers against Davey Jones" because Phantom is a Hafta. Danny doesn't need people to believe in him or worship him.

So, he's never gotten a ritual offering before.

Which is why he's absolutely baffled when he shoves his hand into his hoodie pocket to grab his phone and feels something... squishy. And cold. Both Sam and Tucker scream as Danny jolts to his feet with a squeamish shriek. He damn near Goes Ghost as he tries to tear off his hoodie, regardless of the staring mall-walkers. Danny finally manages to fling the hoodie onto their table, scrambling to Sam and Tucker's sides, trying to breath through a panicked: "There'ssomethinginmypocket!!"

Sam carefully pokes around until she finds... squished tomato slices? They're oily and salted like a tomato caprese without the cheese. Which is an interesting choice for a snack. You'd think Danny would at least use a Ziplock bag or something?

("Ancients! Of course, I didn't put them there, Sam!")

Fast-forward a couple of weeks. Danny's going insane because why the hell are there tomatoes literally everywhere? Every couple of days (or hours, depending on the day), he finds different types of tomatoes all over the place. In bed when he wakes up. In his jean pockets at school. Even in the shower, he'll be blindly trying to find the shampoo bottle and come across a handful of grape tomatoes. He can't. Handle. It. Anymore. Danny's going to become the "Tomato Man" at school from how often he randomly pulls out tomatoes from his pockets. Like he needs another reason for Dash to mock him.

The last straw was when Danny was Full Ghost and felt something... itchy in his suit. He knew before he saw it. Danny tentatively pulled the sleeve of his suit open, silently praying that it wasn't what he thought it was, and- yeah. There's V-8 smeared from his goddamn elbow to wrist. He had to fight with tomato juice in his suit for several hours. And that's it; Danny literally can't take it anymore. He goes to Frostbite, begging the Yeti to help him with his Tomato Problem.

Only to be told he's receiving offerings. Which are apparently incredibly sacred and should be appreciated. (It'd be easier to appreciate if it was, like, cash or something. Maybe a Nintendo Switch. Instead, his patrons are worshipping him by offering... tomatoes. Great.)

So, clearly, the only option is to go straight to the source (i.e., his patrons) and tell them to Fucking Stop Giving Me Tomatoes. The next time he feels something weighty in his pocket (gross!), he follows the thready connection of his worshippers through a portal.

And Danny steps out in his full Ghost Regalia (because clearly they're worshipping Phantom, right? So Danny can't exactly show up in ripped jeans and his favorite NASA hoodie). The family sits at a dinner table... which is a little weird, since he'd expected an altar or something. But even weirder is the beady, predatory that look borderline-violent staring at him from everybody at the table. There's an uncomfortable silence more tense than dinners at Vlad's mansion.

Then, Danny carefully scoops out the soupy, baked grape tomatoes from his pocket and dumps them on the table. He doesn't wait for them to question it, just points to the tomatoes and says, "I appreciate the offerings, really, but it's gotta stop. It's gross. I have to wash tomato juice out of my clothes every day. If you're gonna leave an offering, no. More. Tomatoes. Please."

The oldest man seems jolted out of his stupor.

"Excuse me, but could you please explain why you've come to our home?" The man asks cordially. (As if Danny couldn't see him carefully gripping his steak knife like a throwing dart. And that's just rude, honestly. Danny was invited.)

"Uh, I'm Phantom? You literally give me offerings every day. Again, I appreciate it, I never thought I'd have diehard fans, but I don't even really like tomatoes. I mean, they're fine in salsa and stuff, but even I won't eat pocket-tomatoes."

"I believe there may be a misunderstanding. We don't worship a deity named Phantom nor have we left any offerings." The oldest says. He seems like he's about to continue when one of the black-haired adults interrupts him with a nervous, "Uh, B? About that..."

So. Yeah. It turns out Dick Grayson and Jason Todd forced the family to watch Phantom of the Opera, which spawned the joke of offering any food they don't like (i.e., tomatoes) to "the Phantom" (i.e., their trashcan). More than half the family doesn't like tomatoes and Alfred uses it as a punishment for breaking something, overworking, etc. They'd gotten pretty sneaky about scraping their leftovers into the bin but had gotten into a habit of saying "this one's for the Phantom, a treat for the Phantom," or something incredibly stupid like that.

Danny's just... a little relieved, honestly? Because he's literally fifteen and wouldn't really know what to do with followers if he had them. Plus, now he doesn't have to worry about waking up with tomatoes in his bed or making excuses for all his tomato-hoarding while at school. (Which was not necessarily the right thing to mention to Bruce "Serial Adopter" Wayne. Practically the whole table turned to stare at Bruce when Danny mentioned he's apparently an underage deity, waiting for Bruce to sweep in with a well-executed, "Well, it's getting late. Why don't you stay the night?" Because Bruce apparently can't help himself from collecting another black-haired, blue-eyed kid.)

[kurikurikur1]

Never really touched on a kinda disgusting topic (?) but... I hope smone out there likes this kind of stuff 💔

(tw: a touch on hyperemia — a production of a larger volume of semen when orgasming.) (might be inaccurate?)

Ever think of.. hyperspermia on sub!choso?

his cock throbbing so hard in his pants that it was painful—one good look at you and it got him so flustered that it made him rock hard, a harsh pink dusting his cheeks.

He blushed furiously, rushing straight to the bathroom to try and help himself bring it down.

Oh, and his cock was throbbing throbbing, his reddened angry tip already squirting out pre-cúm—which literally looked like he had already cummed. He squeezes the base—whimpering from the sensation as he imagined his cock opening up your tight entrance. Choso throws his head back, one touch to his cock and he's already so sensitive—a string of whimpers and slightly high-pitched moans echo out his mouth.

He strokes his cock at a hurried pace, trying to rush it before anyone notices how long he's taking in the bathroom. He winces—squeezing the base once more imagining that it's your pink fleshy cunt clenching around him, he groans.

Before he knew it—he couldn't control his hand, stroking at a fast speed—you can hear wet squelching from the precum coming out of the tip.

He cums—a loud moan he couldn't contain spills out of his mouth, his mouth open as he tried breathing normally, he looks down. Choso's eyes widened as his cock spurted out loads of cum, somehow still going as he whimpers softly—his eyes wondering if he had cummed inside you. How it'd fill up your womb. His cum sloshing inside of you.

Before choso could come to his senses, to clean up the abundance of his own cum about to soak on his pants and shirt—he hears a knock and a familiar voice. His eyes widened.

"hey! Choso, you okay in there? You've taken a long while, I heard you scream slightly.." You talk loud enough for him to hear from the other side of the door.

He's fucking screwed.

Hello! You might be waiting a while for the event thingy I have for Sukuna and Gojo! Please wait a bit, I'm working on it as I've taken a huge break :) I'll try and post a bit more often! Also, I'll probably change my theme as well..

oh! Edit: I didn't expect this to reach numbers this high...so If ever we get 1k notes I'll do a part 2💔

[devotedsweetheart]

・❥ CALEB'S FAVORITE TOYS !

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ rundown :: the top 3 toys i think caleb would use on himself / reader! (based on this ask)

a/n :: tysm for the wonderful individual for putting this idea in my headdd!!! mwamwa

1. FLESHLIGHT :: just like anon said, he is most DEFINITELY using a fleshlight and pretending it's us instead. he typically doesn't like to masturbate without you so usually he'll only do it if you ask him to during mutual masturbation, but some nights, he's just so desperate for something - anything - to touch his disgustingly needy dick that he can't help it. don't fret, though, cause he will always ask you if he can touch himself if you're not there. sending you voice notes of himself begging, videos of his cock twitching into his hand, pics of tears rolling down his face... he'll put a whole show on for you just to get your approval to do so little as go near the toy. and while he really does feel bad for doing something so naughty without you in his presence, once that fleshlight is in his hands... hes not stopping. his eyes are shut tight, head pushed deep into the pillows, back arched, hips stuttering, knuckles turning white from the force of his grip on the sheets.. it just feels so damn good! unapologetic whimpers and moans come in between his cries of your name, his last bit of strength practically disintegrated. when he's about to cum, he'll either spam your phone with tons of facetime calls or messily set up is phone to record, feeling obligated to show you how good he makes himself feel thinking about you.

2. COCKRINGS :: okay, hear me out. he absolutely despises cockrings with a passion.. but only because you bring it out when he needs to be punished. he actually quite likes the concerning amount of pleasure that they bring him, he just hates that every time he uses one is when hes being edged or overstimulated. there are rare occasions that you allow him to use it during his personal time, but theres a very big emphasis on rare. you have only one ring for him that vibrates, while all the others are just there to stop him from cumming whenever he feels like he might. it's pathetic how desperate he gets when he's begging for you to take it off. big crocodile tears stream down his face as his stupid little cock twitches and thrashes against your hand, brain turned to mush. literally all he could think about is good it'd feel to cum, how sexy you are when you deny him... it's so bad to the point where quite literally nothing could stop him from cumming. he didnt even ask for fucks sake!! he doesn't realize how much more trouble he just got in for orgasming when he was explicitly told not to.. :(

3. VIBRATORS :: caleb is for sure a sucker for a good vibrator. he doesnt just use it on himself (..his tip) , no, hes not that selfish. he adores keeping it on your clit while he pounds into you in missionary, or even letting you sit in between his legs, your back to his chest, torturing your bud of nerves with that delicious sensation. he'd have you in a headlock, not allowing you to shy away from the toy if it becomes too much; his legs hooking around your calves to get your legs to stay open. he cannot have you be anything but spread open, that just isn't allowed!! on another note, he would without a doubt buy a bunch of those little tiny vibrators that fit perfectly onto your clit & into your panties that are controlled by an app on his phone. he loves taking you to a restaurant just to play with you, watching you fall apart in front of everyone knowing he'll be punished heavily for it. he doesn't care about the consequences.... in the moment. once you two are finally home it's then that he begins to really care. it was all fun and games until you have him tied up, sprawled out in a star position on the bed, fighting against the restraints as you abuse his most sensitive parts with your own vibrator. your panties would be shoved into his mouth, drool dripping from the corner of his lips down his face. he's literally on the verge of passing out because of how many times he's came, his eyes basically permanently crossed and eyebrows furrowed tight. you don't stop until the toy dies... and caleb does too.

[incorrectbatfam]

Jason has the vibes of the older brother who will do everything for his brother "but only for a price"

I mean: Jason will help Tim and Steph in their homework because they give him $10 or Jason once saw Dami and Jon breaking into a lab that was illegally using animals as guinea pigs, the two boys bought Jason's silence with half a KitKat and Jason even helped them because the candy is edible

Jason likes to help his siblings, he just does that to mess with them

Even better: it's casino-style. If they want something from him, they gotta place their bets and hope they win.

Jason: Since you're filing taxes, can you do mine?

Bruce: Sure.

Bruce: *squints*

Bruce: Why do you have a casino under your name in Atlantic City?

[earlier]

Jason: Hey, Roy, just stopping by to check in on everyone. How's the new Poker table coming?

Roy: See for yourself.

Barbara: *deals the cards*

Steph: I'll raise you two. I need that midterm project done more than you need that stupid mission report.

Tim: You're forgetting who has more disposable income.

Tim: *slaps a stack of bills on the table*

Tim: I can do this all night. I even brought leftovers from the buffet.

Jason: *goes to the Roulette wheel*

Damian, explaining to Jon: If we place our bets on black, we can maximize our chances of borrowing the laser lockpick to free the crocodiles.

Jason: *goes to the machines*

Cass: Third time's the charm. Give me his case file.

Cass: *pulls the lever*

Duke: I'll take a stab at the Wheel of Fortune. It'd be nice to have Jason clean my room. Or buy me snacks. Or whatever it lands on.

Jason: Well, everything's looking good around here.

Dick, walking in: Hey, I heard about this place. What's this about placing bets to get favors?

Jason: What are you, a cop?

Dick: Actually, I was wondering if I could try. My bike's in the shop and I really need to borrow yours.

Jason: My bike? Alright. Follow me.

Jason: *takes him out back*

Jason: *pulls out his gun*

Jason: Get on the ground and give me all your money.

Dick: Jason, what the hell?!?

Jason: The house always wins.

[orphicsun]

"She Gets the Job Done!"

Cowgirl Ellie x Fem! Reader

Content: Cowgirl Ellie, Fem! country reader, Ellie is western type of cowgirl, reader is southern, badly written accents(guys I am southern but idk how to write a western accent), smut, clit rubbing(r! recieving), scissoring, making out, biting, some implied homophobia, reader is written as a lesbian, modern AU, reader has female anatomy, very loosely based off of Chappell Roan's unreleased song.

Word Count: 2.4k

Resource Credits: Here and Here!

Description: You're a true southern girl who is fed up with these country boys who just can't please you. What you really need is a woman, but that's kind of hard to seek out in a small southern town. When Ellie Williams moves into your town along with Joel Miller, she ends up working at the farm nearby, and you really want her. It's true: only a woman knows how to treat a woman right.

Wow, you really hated living in the south sometimes. You mostly loved the summer heat complimentary with trips to the creek on the weekends. You always loved going to rodeos where you obsessed over the dandies. You loved southern food, the nature, the farms and the small town life.

What you didn't love was the men.

You were always a romantic at heart, reading steamy western novels with a flashlight under your blankets at the age of 14 or writing love letters you'd never send to cowboys in town. However, as you grew up into a woman, you realized you'd slowly started replacing the men with cowgirls. You spent your nights wondering what it'd be like to be actually satisfied in a relationship. You grew up in a traditional-minded town, so you tried to push down those desires. You had a couple boyfriends, but men just weren't it for you. They were too rough, too awkward with you in bed, too greedy. None of them knew how to please a woman, at least not a woman like you. After a while, you gave up on the dream cowgirl you had in mind. The novels became difficult to pick up once you began to believe you'd never get the chance to experience real passion or real pleasure. That was what you'd felt like, at least until Ellie moved into your town.

Ellie Williams wasn't much for the south. She was a western girl at heart, adorned with thick leather boots and messy auburn hair. You'd seen cowgirls before, so that wasn't what surprised you. You just felt a calling to her, you adored her from her freckles that faded out in the sun to her messy hair that had a tint of red when light hit it in the right way. She was strong, that was for sure. Her biceps looked so firm, like they could handle if you sank your teeth down into them. She wasn't an extremely strong-looking girl, but that only enticed you more. Her eyes told a lot about her, said she wasn't looking for anything funny, but you wondered if she was silly under all the bravado.

She moved from the west side of the states with Joel Miller, who wasn't a wealthy man by any means, but grew up in your home town. At first, you couldn't tell if Ellie and Joel were related or not. Joel was more friendly, talked to older folks in town, but Ellie often kept to herself. She'd spend most of her time helping out with the farm next to your father's. It was when you were walking to the farmer's market that you noticed her for the very first time.

Your father was a nice man, well known in town. You were living with him until you had enough money to afford your own small place. He owned a farm and wasn't the most rich man, but he made ends meet. Today was a nice day, which mean he unfortunately encouraged you to walk to the local farmer's market instead of stealing his truck for the errand. Of course, you kept your complaints to yourself. Your dad was a sweet old man, and you should've been thanking him anyways, cause you met the most gorgeous girl the world had to offer.

Poor Ellie was too busy herding in sheep to notice your stare, to even notice you pass the road. It only made you more intrigued, that she was such a hard worker.

After that day, you'd always look out for her presence. You avoided using your dad's truck when you needed to run errands, saying it would be a quick walk. You just liked being able to pass by her as she worked on the farm, get the extra few seconds to admire her. You really felt like a creep, but this was the first time you really felt such adoration for a person. Such attraction.

The first time you spoke to her, she was driving Joel's truck down the dirt road after she had finished up with your neighbor's farm. You at the time were walking, coming home from the market with a bag of peaches for a peach cobbler. Ellie noticed you, and that was really when the two of you clicked.

She was used to pretty girls, the west and south had no shortage of them. However, you were perfection for the cowgirl. You wore a cutesy pair of overalls and a pink t-shirt underneath, and Ellie had a soft spot for feminine girls. She came to a slow stop on the dusty road, putting the transmission in park.

"Hey, you! Need a ride?" She shouted with a smile plastered on her face. Your heart melted. You'd expected her to be more serious or smug, but she seemed almost nervous. It was only making your heart beat faster.

"I only live next to this farm, it's really no problem." You assured, though you really hoped she'd push the matter. Thankfully, she did.

"Really, Joel would kill me if he found out I let you walk home. It's getting late."

You, an utterly hopeless lesbian, couldn't resist. You said fuck it and let her reach over to open the passenger door for you, and your boots reached up into the truck to plop down into the passenger seat. You placed the brown paper bag of peaches in your lap and gave her a quick thanks as she began driving. Small talk felt more like two old friends hitting it off, and you liked her accent. It made you a tad more comfortable.

The two of you grew really close after that day. She'd be in the local rodeos and you looked forward to the sleepovers that came after. A few months of friendship helped you get to know her in a way that you could confidently call her your best friend. You still liked her though, feelings only growing the more the two of you bonded. You noticed that while she was a bit shy, she came out of her shell when she was around people she knew. She was quite sarcastic to Joel, and you loved the way she made fun of you at times. It made your heart flutter, and you imagined she was saying the opposite of whatever insult she had created for you.

Ellie wasn't much like what you'd imagined, and you partially felt bad for the feelings harbored away for her. She was a cowgirl who loved horses, sure. But she shared some private interests with you that shouldn't have made you want her more, but it did. One night, Ellie and you were sitting outside in her cow field, a blanket laid out beneath the two of you. She turned to you with a genuine smile, the warm look that she only gave very few people, and spoke in a quiet voice.

"You know, I've always wanted to go to space."

You turned to face her with slightly raised eyebrows. "Really? You? In Space?" You couldn't help the surprise in your tone.

She laughed softly at your expression. "Yes, dumbass. I used to listen to the first moon landing recording on repeat. Somethin' about it was really magical, ya know?"

You couldn't help but melt a little at her confession. The thought of Ellie being obsessed with astronauts was really endearing. But you couldn't stop the teasing, either.

"Is that why you have those nerdy space comics on your shelf? You told me those were Joel's!"

Ellie scoffed and swatted your arm playfully, but her hand lingered on your skin. "That's a topic for another time. Be grateful I share my secrets with ya."

You felt the warmth of her fingers, the way they softly traced patterns on your bare arm. Right then and there, you suddenly needed to risk it all.

"Ellie...I..I really need to tell you something." You sounded shaky and uncertain, but you needed to get your feelings out, even if it meant facing a possible rejection. This girl was too perfect to let get away.

"Yeah, what's up?" She sounded curious, unaware. That made you feel uneasy.

"I just..well, when I first saw you, I thought of you as a completely different person. And I really liked you. I liked you in a romantic way. I got to know you, though. The thing is, I think I like you even more. And I'm so sorry if you-" You were suddenly cut off when her plush lips met yours.

You were shocked, but quickly kissed her back, hands grasping at her everywhere, pulling her to lay on her side so you could tangle your legs with hers. It felt so nice to be kissing her. She tasted like fruit and smelled even better, and her tongue felt hypnotizing against yours. It made you crave much more.

Soon, you were rolled onto your back so the cowgirl could lay on top of you. Her hands were trailing from your sides to your stomach, her hand pausing above your shirt, her eyes meeting yours to search for any hesitation. When you nodded, her hands slid up your shirt to massage your tits through the fabric of your cotton bra. You let out a quiet whine, the feeling of her weight pressed on your body, and she leaned in to press her lips against your neck. In response, you tilted your head back, desperately craving more of her. You could feel the shakiness of her breath, and it reminded you that she was just as nervous as you were.

"Do you wanna keep going?" She asked, and you really noticed how different her tone was from when she was usually speaking to people. One of her hands trailed down the button of your jeans, and she didn't continue until you nodded.

Her hand quickly unzipped your jeans, her eyes meeting yours. She thought you were just too beautiful, looking up at her with wide eyes. She adored you. Her fingers slipped into your panties, and she let out a little "fuck" when she felt the damp patch in your panties. You laughed with a tinge of embarrassment.

"Please, Ellie." You sounded so desperate, Ellie quickly leaned up to plant a kiss on your lips. This one was much more confident, more sloppy and hungry than the first. She took your tongue into her mouth, giving it a hard suck which made you buck up into her hand, trying to get her to just fuck you.

"Patience, mkay?" She said softly as she pulled away, a shaky exhale leaving her mouth at the sight of the string of saliva the kiss had pulled from the two of you.

You nodded even though you weren't the most patient person. Ellie kept you at bay by rubbing at your clit with the pad of her finger, swirling moisture around the soft bud. You made one of the most heavenly sounds Ellie had ever heard, your eyes fluttering shut as she touched you. For the first time, someone actually focused on you. She struggled to pull your shirt off with just hand but you helped her out and soon, your bra was quickly unclasped. Ellie continued to rub at your clit as much as she could through your jeans, but she eventually gave up and pulled her hand out of your jeans, eliciting a cute whine from you.

"Off, please?" She requested, her voice so sweet and yet so demanding. Now that she knew you wanted her, she wasn't playing around. You nodded eagerly and lifted your hips as much as possible to pull your jeans and panties over your hips. Soon, you were left naked on the blanket. Ellie sat up to strip off her own clothes and you admired the sight.

Something about watching the girl strip, her pale skin coming into view in contrast to the stars above the two of you, it was perfection. Her body was slim and she was lean but had muscle on her. There they were, those perfect biceps..you couldn't help but sit up with her to plant kisses on them which soon turned into hungry little bites.

She let out a shaky laugh at your biting and joked with you, even in the heat of the moment. "You're gonna take a bite outta my arm, jesus."

You ignored her teasing and instead moved your lips to her pointy tits, smiling slightly as she shuddered. You found her weak spots. You dragged your tongue over both of her tits, feeling her nipples harden against your touch. She was getting impatient now. She pulled you closer so you were sitting with your legs tangled together, moving to slot herself between your legs. You let out countless desperate pleas as her wet cunt came into contact with yours.

You couldn't help but buck your hips into her no matter how much she tried to stabilize you, both of your moans filling the field. Her cunt was so wet against yours and you could feel her clit and lips both rub up and down all over your own clit. The stimulation felt so good but it had you desperate in ways your body knew, your whines getting louder when Ellie would lean in for wet, lazy kisses and trail her lips all over your neck, hands snaking around to squeeze your ass.

"Fuck, Els. Please, I'm gonna cum..I want you, please.." You pleaded with her, your orgasm building up inside you. This would be the first time you actually came from another person's actions.

"Cum with me, mkay? Cmon baby, you can cum for me.."

You'd never heard Ellie speak so filthy before. Sure, she had a sailor's mouth. She'd swear and curse even on her death bed. But just hearing her beg you to cum, it really sent sparks down into your pussy.

You frantically ground against her pussy, words coming out probably incoherent to Ellie's ears. "Fuck, I'm cummin', I love you Els.."

Your orgasm hit you like fireworks, all of the butterflies you'd felt for Ellie over the months released into intense bliss. She came with you, your juices mixing together, wetness coating both of your thighs.

The two of you spent the next few minutes catching your breaths, a comfortable silence exchanged. You were collapsed against her, arms around her as she held you close. She was so warm, and it was now a comfort more than a turn-on.

Soon, she spoke up in a soft, quiet murmur just for you.

"I love you too, by the way.."

[cherrieshalo]

Hiii!!! I was wondering maybe if you could do a series fix or a part 2 to the nerd x jock bakugo series ?? It was so good and I was enthralled !!

part 2 for nerd x jock has been highly requested im so glad everyone is loving this !!!

pt1 here

jock!bakugo who insisted nerd!reader sit with him and his friends at lunch. what better place than to sit down and eat while she rambles about how amazing his presentation was! as much as she tried to say that it was okay, he insisted. so there she sat on the corner seat surrounded by a bunch of beefy looking guys...worst nightmare, really.

jock!bakugo who picked his presentation topic as a last resort that she'd come and talk to him. he was tired of trying to be near her and getting shot down, so picking a topic he overheard her talking about to one of her little friends was him just trying to grasp (rather pathetically) at some straws.

jock!bakugo who walked her to every class -whether or not he had the same one or had a class across the school next period- to her car, to lunch, everywhere. he bascially came a lap dog for her at this point! he didn't care if his friends or teammates teased him about it, he was just being chivalrous!

jock!bakugo who asked nerd!reader to homecoming. as friends, of course. he was confused when she stared at him blankly. oh, was she not going? wait, she's never gone to homecoming? no, nuh-uh. he can't have that. she's coming with him. she tried to deny and told him to pick from literally any other girl that was hanging off him all the time, but he didn't listen. wasn't she his friend now? it'd be fun, he promised her.

jock!bakugo who still continued to walk by her desk with that same stupid smirk each class period. we couldn't stop now that they were on some level of familiarity, right?

jock!bakugo who insisted on picking her up early the night of the dance to take pictures with his team and their dates, especially since they won the homecoming game. she couldn't refuse him, agreeing reluctantly.

jock!bakugo who felt a punch in the gut and heart when he saw her leave her home nervously, quickly getting out of his car to open the passenger door for her. shit, even though she was dressed much more simply than his dates in the past, he felt like she had forcibly pulled all the air out of his lungs. he made sure she was okay with every picture taken and stopped when she began to feel uncomfortable.

jock!bakugo who thought she were having fun at the dance. who thought everything was going well. until she excused herself to use the restroom. okay, he could wait. but then being told that his date was sitting outside by herself? nah, what the fuck? he couldn't let that happen!!

jock!bakugo who quickly ran out looking for her, seeing her figure hunched over on a bench. he sat down next to her, laying his jacket over her shoulders. was she overwhelmed?? did someone say something to her?? hell, was he a bad date?? his stupid little heart ached when her heard her sniffle, voice quietly telling him how she felt like she didn't belong.

jock!bakugo who couldn't help but scoff at her words. didn't belong? she was a student at this school, wasn't she? the scowl was quickly wiped off his face when she turned to him with tears staining her cheeks.

jock!bakugo who quickly wrapped his arm around nerd!reader's arm and pulled her head to rest on his shoulder. he promised her tonight would be fun, and he didn't like failing. he would do anything he would need to fix her mood. he promised her, after all...

[b1eedthefreak]

hi!!! idk if you'd be interested in this idea, but i think it'd be funny daryl dating the reader but that doesn't stop other ladies from shooting their shot. i was thinking prison era, but whatever floats your boat, but like daryl genuinely doesn't understand how people don't get that he's in a relationship with literally the most amazing woman in existence?? but it gets funnier because these women actually don't know because publicly his declarations of affection just aren't that obvious but to daryl and reader his actions may as well be him screaming how in love he is. idk where i'm going with this but i hope you see the vision. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Taken Man

⌇daryl dixon x reader

⌇summary: the women at the prison can’t seem to get the hint daryl is already a taken man and keep flirting with him, he’s sick and tired

⌇warnings: none

⌇word count: ~4.3k

a/n this request was so fun to write! i hope this was what you were expecting!

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The sun had set at the prison. The sounds of footsteps echoed off the concrete walls as Daryl made his way through the yard, balancing a stack of boxes filled with fruit. He’d volunteered to help out with the food distribution again, knowing it would give him something to do that didn’t involve constant nagging from people.

But, of course, peace was fleeting when you had a guy like Daryl Dixon, charming in his own gruff way, walking around.

As he moved, he felt something, someone, approach from behind. The first touch was unmistakable, a hand on his bicep. Daryl froze, a look of confusion passing over his face.

“Wow, Daryl,” the voice came from behind him. “You’re so big and strong. We’re so lucky to have you around.”

Daryl didn’t even look back, his face scrunching as if he didn’t know whether to be flattered or uncomfortable. “Uh… yeah. Thanks.”

He could practically hear the woman grin behind him, but he wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Still, he didn’t move, just kept carrying the boxes toward the makeshift food line. The woman’s touch lingered for a moment, squeezing his arm in a way that made him want to shrug her off, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to do that without coming off rude.

Daryl was trying to move along with his load, but the woman let go. The awkwardness was thick in the air, but Daryl continued forward, shaking his head and wondering why he couldn’t just be left alone. You already have the most amazing woman in existence, he reminded himself. Why can’t they get the hint?

Later that day, as Daryl sat down at the metal table, sharpening his knife, he thought he was in the clear. He was focused on the blade in front of him, the rhythmic scraping of the sharpening stone a moment of rare peace. But that peace didn’t last very long.

He heard footsteps approach, followed by the unmistakable voice of another woman. “Oh, Daryl,” she cooed, leaning on the table beside him. “Mind if I keep you company while you work?”

Daryl looked up briefly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m good here,” he grumbled, his tone flat. He had no desire for company. Especially not from someone who couldn’t seem to see the obvious.

“Oh, come on,” she persisted. “Just a little chat won’t hurt.”

He wasn’t really paying attention anymore, just focused on sharpening his blade. His patience was wearing thin, and it was starting to show in his silence. But this lady was persistent.

Finally, she leaned over, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Daryl,” she said softly, “I just wanted to tell you how much we all appreciate you. You’re really something special.”

He let out a low sigh, gripping the handle of his knife a little too tightly. “‘Preciate it,” he muttered, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from something that didn’t involve her sitting next to him.

Just as she started to say something else, he cut her off, his voice a little firmer. “Listen, I got work to do.”

With that, she finally took the hint, stepping back. Daryl didn’t even watch her walk away. He just let out a frustrated breath, muttering to himselfz

Then, later that evening, when dinner was being served, he found himself walking into the mess hall, trying to find a quiet corner. But of course, someone else had other plans.

He was just about to sit down when another woman came up to him. “Hey, Daryl,” she said, her voice sweet. “You look like you could use some company.”

Daryl turned slowly, his face scrunching up in disgust. Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Nah, I’m good,” he grumbled.

But she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “C’mon, you’re always so quiet during dinner. You should let me keep you company!”

Daryl’s face twisted further into a frown. He couldn’t believe this was happening again. He grabbed his plate, shoved his food onto it with more force than necessary, and turned to leave.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go eat by myself,” he muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed. “I gotta keep watch anyway.”

The woman was left standing there, flabbergasted, but Daryl didn’t care. He made his way toward Cell Block A, where he found a quiet spot, a corner where no one would bother him, and set his food down to eat in peace.

He grumbled to himself as he dug into his meal, shoveling food into his mouth like he was starving. Why can’t they just leave me alone? He didn’t understand it. He was already taken. So why were these women still coming at him like he was some sort of prize?

As he chewed his food, Carol entered, her brow furrowing slightly when she spotted him sitting alone, looking like he was about to burst from frustration.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, sitting down next to him.

Daryl glanced at her, his face scrunched up in a way that screamed pure exasperation. “These damn people won’t leave me alone.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her seat. “What do you mean?”

Daryl put down his fork for a moment, mimicking a high pitched voice, hands on his head as if he was imitating the women who’d been bothering him. “Oh, Daryl, let me stay with you… Ooooh, Daryl, Daryl, Daryl!” He exaggerated his words and shook his hair. “I don’t get it, Carol! I have a beautiful girlfriend! We’re obviously together!”

Carol snorted, holding back a laugh. “I wouldn’t say it’s all that obvious, Daryl.”

He blinked, completely thrown. “How the hell not? I gave her a sharpened knife! A sharpened freakin’ knife! And I brought her a rabbit to eat!” He was so frustrated, his hands throwing gestures into the air like he was giving some sort of declaration of war speech. “What the hell else do they need to see?”

Carol couldn’t hold it in anymore. She started laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. Daryl watched her, his frown deepening, and he shook his head. “What’s so funny? I’m serious!”

“Okay, okay,” Carol gasped, wiping away a tear. “It’s not exactly obvious to everyone. You’re not walking around with a neon sign that says ‘I’m taken.’”

Daryl looked horrified by the suggestion. “What the hell do you mean? I even—“

“You gave her a rabbit, Daryl,” Carol interrupted before he could continue, holding up her hands to stop him. “That’s not exactly common behavior for a guy who’s not into her. You don’t just bring women rabbits.”

At that moment, you walked into the cell block, out of breath and clearly on the search for him.

“Hey, where’s Daryl?” you called out, looking around for him. You finally spotted him sitting next to Carol, and a smile tugged at your lips as you approached them.

Daryl didn’t see you yet, too caught up in his frustration. “These damn women keep gettin’ in my face! I don’t know how much clearer I can make it!” He slammed his fist down onto the table. “What the hell do I need to do?! Start wearin’ a damn shirt that says ‘I’m a taken man’?”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing as you approached them. Carol was cackling beside him, holding her stomach. The two of them looked at you in surprise, but Carol was clearly enjoying the show.

“I take it things are going well?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Daryl groaned, looking like he was about to lose it. “They won’t leave me alone, and it’s makin’ me lose my mind!”

You sat down next to him, placing a hand on his arm, trying to stifle your laughter. “Daryl, baby… it’s not that obvious to people.”

His face was so deadpan as he groaned, “What the hell do you mean? I gave you a damn rabbit!”

“Yeah,” you said, holding in a grin, “but some people don’t know our signs.”

Carol just about lost it again at Daryl’s expense, her laughter echoing through the room.

Daryl slouched, finally realizing the hilarious truth. “I’m gonna need a damn neon sign next time.”

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[eveningcherryblossoms]

It's A Beta Life, Not A Better Life | Part 5

A platonic yandere Batfam x neglected beta reader story

Dick knew your mother way before he knew you.

The first time he saw your mother he was ten, freshly presented as an omega, and extremely upset from not having his original pack with him and from having just squabbled with Bruce over remaining as Robin. Too dangerous, growled Bruce. At that time, Dick had hated presenting as an omega.

Then he saw your mother, so beautiful and captivating and unmistakably omega, and he instantly knew that he wanted to be like her someday. It was almost a crush, which was funny–Dick had always hated the 'high-class' omegas who fluttered around Bruce at galas, especially the ones who tried to act motherly towards him in order to lure Bruce. Yet when it came to your mother he wanted so badly to be pack with her, to learn how to be a strong and beautiful omega from her. When your mother herself finally approached Bruce, Dick did a quadruple flip from one chandelier to another.

When Bruce later pulled him aside and told him that it was just to be a contract relationship, to be dissolved within three years once Bruce could adopt Dick–apparently that was her offer of aid, to be exchanged for her share of her natal pack's inheritance that was in the form of a dowry–Dick was upset beyond belief. Not even knowing that Bruce would do his best to court your mother comforted him.

Good thing he didn't hope anyway. Bruce failed. Your mother sweetly, cruelly kissed Dick on the forehead and left without a backward glance the day after Dick's thirteenth birthday.

He hid in the nest for days.

That should've been the end of things. Dick did allow himself to dream from time to time of your mother returning, penitent for having left yet as captivating as always, but that was that. Then six years later he went home after a long mission and saw you.

He... Goodness, it was embarrassing how out of control his scent was upon learning about your existence. You, the actual biological child of your mother, who apparently had just died. And you didn't even take after your mother in appearance!

Dick didn't mean to be unkind to you, but it hurt so bad to know your mother had you with Bruce, his and your father, then walked away from him and Bruce to raise you herself. To claim you and you alone as her pack. For a fraction of a second, Dick could've cheerfully committed fratricide.

Thank goodness you were nothing like your mother. Just a normal kid, a good kid who didn't throw tantrums or cry or bother anyone for their attention. It literally took Dick years before he could think of you without overflowing bitter envy. But it was all good now!

Better yet, you had presented as an omega just like him! Dick could immediately tell from your scent patches and turtleneck and those hints of your omega mother's features he now spotted in you. He could help you build your first nest and teach you to use your innate omegan charm, as your mother had taught him.

Yes, yes, once he was done with this mission, he'd bond with you just like how he'd hoped to bond with your mother. It was so nice having another omega in the pack.

Though it'd be even nicer if Reader was a beta, Dick mused. Your mother might've been the most wonderful omega Dick had ever met and you might've been her biological omega child Dick would look after for her sake, but with the pack being... like this, it would've been much better for everyone if you were a beta.

For everyone but you. After all, in Dick's mind, it was never about you.

You ticked off one month with grim satisfaction.

It would've been so easy to feel complacent. To wave off everyone's neglect of you and not take care to hide, with the reason–excuse–that they wouldn't have noticed anything anyway. Had you done so, it would've been game over by literally the first day.

Luckily you had been careful, so you hadn't been caught–not by the Waynes or by any other pack.

You were still free and, fate willing or not, with luck or not, you were resolved to stay so till the end.

It had been a whole month since you presented, but to be honest it didn't feel like it. You were so busy looking up everything about betas, figuring out how to cover up the tracks of your research, actually covering up the tracks of your research, learning to control your beta scent and instinct, refining your acting, and improving your physical skills in (the hopefully not inevitable) case you would have to fight off or run away from a pack.

It was exhausting. It was draining. It was... surprisingly, exhilarating.

You felt the corner of your lips twitching.

No good, no good. This wasn't some game, you ought to take this seriously... But you did, didn't you? It didn't change the fact that you found it exhilarating to do what you were doing now.

You firmly told yourself to maintain self-control and vigilance. Only one month had passed, you still had twenty-three left to go through before you could leave.

Still the dangerous, hazardous little thought persisted–

That you could get used to this thrill.

A/N: I'm on a roll guys 🤟😎 Actually in my original outline the whole Batfam's pov was supposed to take one (1) chapter, but I didn't wanna write 3k+ words in one day again so I decided to keep it to Bruce. Then Dick just insisted to be written aaand guess we'll see everyone else's pov in the next chapters 💕 Btw I was so pissed at Dick's even though I was the one who wrote him here 😭😂

My package is still lost :x Who took my manga omg...

P.S. Guys, if you wanna be tagged pls request it on the latest update okay... I think I saw a notif of taglist request on older parts but it confused me so I refrained from adding it. Sorry about that! 😔🙏

Taglist: @randomlyappearingartist @bellethesleepypotato @nirvanaxx1942 @tenswife @galaxypurplerose @shycreatorreview @cupid73 @time-shardz @mikusamsan @simpingpandas @kore-of-the-underworld @elmichi0 @mirabilis-polaris @farsketch @altumsomnum @hai-there-how-are-you @vanessa-boo @ashjade19 @yandere-enthusiast @a-lurking-fae @hyperfixatedcatlover @leeiasure @luckynemi @lowkeyjarrr @lunoorbonoor @deathbynarcisstick @tacendxx @staarflowerr @anonlikesfics @magical-panda2 @whognuthis @arwenyukiamoto @hon3ydewcaram3l @lilyalone @jazzyspaceghost @teabutnerdy @bunbunbread @darktrashpoetry @conqcakes @sleepdeprivedcrappywriter @unrelatedlily @ciatin @ratchetprime211

[enviedear]

LOVING ALONE IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT

₊ ⊹ JASON TODD

🧸ྀི REQUEST | jason having (what he thinks is) an unrequited crush

CW | lovesick!jason with issues accepting love, just-a-buncha fluff. 1.6k words. 🎧ྀི

your eyes flicker to your window for the hundredth time in ten minutes. there's an attempt at forcing your gaze back to your book, but your concentration on it has long since shattered. it's impossible to concentrate on anything other than him, perched on your fire escape right outside your window—JASON TODD.

he thinks he’s so subtle, as if you'll never notice when he parks himself on your fire escape like some sort of gargoyle. you smile slightly at the thought, heart pounding a little faster than it should. a condition that makes itself apparent far too much when your mind drifts to him.

he's silently taken on a sort of sworn protector role, separate from his nightly redhood rendezvous. you count yourself lucky to have his presence around your domicile so often. you truly never got over the culture shock that was gotham, but jason helps. even if he decides to go to great lengths to try and hide it.

outside, in the frigid and everpresent putrid gotham air, jason todd sits in complete rumination. he has goosebumps marring his arms beneath his leather jacket, but he pays them no mind. no, he's far too busy listing all the reasons he should just leave, why sitting outside under the guise of guard is utterly stupid, but still, he sits.

he runs a gloved hand through his hair, tugging slightly. he feels pathetic. how can he meet death, the criminally insane, survive things that would kill most—and somehow, he's shocked still with nerves at the very idea of knocking on your window.

in his head he has it all pictured, if it went perfectly. you'd come to the window, a confused look on your face until you spot him. he'd pull some stupid line, something he heard dick use once, and it'd make you laugh. he loves hearing that, more than anything. then he'd crawl in—spend the rest of his night with you, doing anything. and in his head, that's perfect.

but the underbelly of that dream keeps him rooted to your fire escape. to him, there's no way you could ever share his sentiments. you refer to him as a friend and no matter how much he wishes for something else, he can't change reality. can't force himself to make something more out of what you give him.

between the blood on his hands and the rage he can never seem to fully rid himself of, he's come to the aimless conclusion that you deserve someone better. someone more delicate, someone who doesn’t live with one foot in the grave. but every time you laugh or shoot him an easy smile, it gets easier to admit that he’s too far gone.

you deign the separation foolish, but still, you give yourself one more attempt at reading before you put your book to the side. really—you just wish he’d just say something. you’ve thought about saying something yourself, more times than you care to admit, but the timing never feels right. besides, there’s a part of you that wonders if jason even realizes you’ve been waiting out for him.

every time you joke or tease, you can see some struggle behind his eyes. as if he wants to let go and laugh with you, but something—himself—holds him back. your very own sisyphus—his very own boulder to carry up a labyrinthine mountain.

maybe it’s his past and the walls he’s built around himself, but you’re over him expecting you to be afraid of him. you wonder how much more evident you need to be. if anything, you wish he could see himself the way you do—intense, yes, but also loyal and good, even if he doesn’t believe it.

he proves it every night when he stands watch outside your shitty apartment.

with a sigh, you stand up from the couch, moving toward the window. he’s always so close, and yet there’s a distance he keeps in place—you’ve had enough of that.

you slide the window open, leaning out just enough to catch him mid-step as he’s about to leave—flee moreso. “going somewhere?”

he turns on his heels, red helmet in his hands, "figured you'd be asleep."

you hum, eyes narrowing, "already? it's six pm on a saturday."

“just didn’t want to bother you.” he admits, voice low, almost timid. he doesn’t meet your eyes, and it’s frustrating how hard he tries to hide, even from you.

“you’re not bothering me, jason.” you say softly, leaning on the window frame. “you never do.”

jason looks at you then, something uncertain flickering in his gaze. his lips dart out to quell his chapped lips—you hold his stare, hoping he can see what you’re trying to tell him, wordlessly.

that you want him here, that you’ve been wanting him all along.

“i can stop by for a few.” he finally says, adding a shrug to the end of his sentence.

you smile, opening the window fully as invitation. jason crawls in, a rather innocuous task but given his stature, always surprises you.

“i have pizza and brownies. saturday special.” you tell him, a persuasion. you want him to eat.

“sounds good.” he’s in the middle of slipping out of his redhood garb, clad in a skintight athletic tee and his cargos—mask sitting on your coffee table. “i’m gonna change in the bathroom, i’ll be right back.”

before his fingers can grab his duffle you start, “why don’t you shower here? i know you don’t have any of your usual stuff but—”

he cuts you off, “i couldn’t. i’m already eating your food…and using your fire escape as a landing spot.”

“jason, seriously. shower here. i’ll heat up the food and put on some tv. it’s a saturday.” you’re not one to beg, but this is treading the line.

his shoulders sag, but there’s a small smile on his face, “thanks, sweetheart. you’re too nice to me.”

his tone is sarcastic, self-deprecating, and that annoys you slightly. you want him to know that he’s welcome here, wanted. needed.

“i like it when you’re here, you know.” you feel like sparking a match, timid flames sparkling. “i miss you when you’re gone and everything.”

he quirks a brow, "what are you tryin' tell me?"

you feel silly at his question, the air around you seemingly buzzing. jason peers down at you with a raised brow, as if he's genuinely confused by the sentiment. as if he's baffled by the notion he could be someone to miss.

your breath hitches as you debate your next move. you're walking a thin line between saying too much and not enough. you could play it safe, keep your cards close to your chest—or you could be honest. near painfully so.

when you find your voice, it comes out soft, "i'm trying to say that i like it better when you come inside instead of sitting on my fire escape. i don't want to be a landing spot for you, i want... more."

he clears his throat, shifting on his feet, "you don't want that." he seems to take a step back, not physically, but mentally. his face goes still, chest breathing even, mind anywhere but the present.

you groan, annoyance evident, "i do though. you have to see that in some way by now." you step towards him, "sometimes i think you feel the same way."

jason’s gaze flickers toward the floor, and for a moment you wonder if you’ve crossed the line, if he’ll pull away entirely. but then he looks up, eyes darker, severely sincere. “you have no idea what you’re asking for.” he cautions, but his voice is lower, almost a whisper.

you smile softly, finally letting your hand touch his arm, feeling the solid warmth beneath. “maybe i do. maybe i’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

“don’t say that unless you mean it,” he murmurs, his voice rough.

“i mean it.” you reply, sincere in your admission. “i’m not afraid of you, jason. i’m afraid of what happens if you keep shutting me out.”

he grumbles at that, a half-willed attempt to argue against your point. you stay quiet, urging him to continue where you left off. you watch his face contort through a realm of emotions—confusion, fear, and then, thinly masked and wistful poignancy.

“i’m not shutting you out. if anything, i’m protecting you.” he finally decides, arms crossing over his chest, eyes scanning the wall behind you. nervous.

you shake your head, fingers reaching for his twisted expression, finding home on his pink-tinted cheeks. “i don’t need you protecting me from you. i need you to want me as bad as i want you.”

your words are bold, maybe overconfident, but you mean them to the fullest extent. you’re so beyond exhausted of attempting to disregard or conceal your feelings. even if jason’s not, you think he deserves to know.

jason todd looks you over. his eyes raking you up and down like you’re some high valued product—and he’s unsure wether to take the bid or let it pass by. in the time you’ve known him, even in the thralls of his vigilante persona, he’s studied things. eyes pointedly and silently assessing his situation, no matter how far removed he is from his upbringing—his “father” lingers in his antics.

finally, he chuckles, low and more timid than usual, “you don’t know how badly i want you, sweetheart. but…” he stops himself, and you’re grateful because you would have done it yourself if he had continued on with some rebuttal. “fuck. you’re all i want.”

it comes out like a beg, pleading that rarely works it’s way onto his features. you smile, and pull him closer. his arms uncross, opting to gingerly hold your shoulders. still timid, unsure.

“you should know how much you mean to me. you do such a good job of showing me…keeping watch and never letting me eat alone. it’s sweet, you’re sweet. i want you to know it.” you keep his gaze when you speak, hopefully drilling each sentiment permanently into his consciousness.

he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, “i believe you. swear. i just… this is new. i never thought…” he falters off, equal parts unsure and dumbstruck. “i like you a lot. i didn’t know you felt the same, sweetheart.”

you grin, inching your face closer to his, “well i do. deal with it.” your tone is teasing, playful. pulling him back into the safety of reassurance—what you want him to anticipate from you.

it seems to put jason back in his element, “oh? you have demands? usually that’s my thing.”

you laugh, “could always be our thing. the demanding couple—sounds inspired, don’t you think?”

“something like that…” his smile is soft, “but for now, i think i’m fine with just being yours.” he says it so earnestly, no thought to it. just the truth, and it feels damn good. it envelops you just the same as his arms, wraps you up in utter victory. love hard fought—and it feels so sweet.