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darkmatilda · 13 days ago

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𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when you and your favorite profiler get accidentally locked in a cold storage room, it quickly becomes clear that there’s only one way to keep each other warm.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, reader's pov, mild threat to life, almost complete nudity (underwear only), reader may have one foot in the grave but her shameless commentary never dies (in fact, it gets worse), even when cuddling his half-naked coworker is the only way to survive spencer is an awkward, blushing mess

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.8k

𝐚/𝐧: request

"Tell me honestly, Reid, don’t you really have anything better to do at night than dig into some cold cases?" you asked, cutting through your darkened laboratory like an arrow. You knew it by heart, so no accident threatened you. He, on the other hand, didn’t, so you hoped he’d fall on that stupid face of his in revenge for calling you at this hour.

But maybe you had no right to complain. After all, you were the one who took the late-night call from that stupid face…

“Theoretically, this case doesn’t yet qualify as a cold case,” Reid hurried with an explanation, walking about a meter behind you. You felt his gaze desperately clinging to your back as he tried not to bump into anything. When you finally stopped by a fairly large square-shaped cooler with an entrance, he let out a barely audible sigh of relief. “We usually call cases cold when there have been no breakthroughs or new information for about three years. This one, even though it’s over fourteen years old, was re-examined six months ago. So, it’s a very current case. And it might be connected to the one we’re working on now.”

You rolled your eyes, listening to that lecture.

“Thank you from the bottom of my heart for educating me about cold cases,” you muttered.

“The pleasure’s all mine. One is never too old to learn new things,” he replied with a distinct, smug tone in his voice.

“You’ll soon find out what it’s like to be locked in a cooler,” you whispered.

“What did you say?”

“Absolutely nothing. Apparently, the darkness plays tricks on your imagination. So what exactly do you need from there?”

Your hand was on the cooler door, but before opening it, you turned your head over your shoulder toward him. You wanted at least to know what kind of crucial evidence he needed that had woken you from bed.

Spencer hesitated slightly before answering. “A finger.”

“A finger? A human finger?”

“Well, it’s pretty rare for a non-human mammal’s finger to serve as evidence in a murder case…”

“I swear to God, you’re practically begging to be locked in that cooler,” you shook your head slowly, drawing in a breath. A finger. “You dragged me here to help you find a finger. You know, I think I deserve something in return for this.”

Spencer held your slightly flirtatious gaze in silence for a moment, as if pondering something, before giving a dismissive shrug. “Maybe. We’ll think about it once we have the finger.”

You opened the cooler door, immediately wincing at the cold that hit you. Inside were metal cabinets and rows of compartments, each labeled with the case name, year, and contents.

“Let’s go back to just calling it evidence,” you decided, stepping inside. You suddenly stopped, remembering something. “Oh, and don’t close the—”

Before you could finish the sentence, Spencer closed the door.

You stood facing each other, neither of you moving, as the cold began to seep into your bodies. You swallowed slowly. Reid blinked, blankly.

“Why wasn’t I supposed to close the door?”

The goosebumps spreading across your skin weren’t just from the biting cold inside the cooler anymore. No, there was something else. A prickle of unease you quickly shook off.

“No, it’s just…” you shook your head, recalling how one of your lab techs had locked himself in here a few weeks ago. Luckily, the whole team had been around and freed him before he had a chance to feel real panic. Since then, every time you entered, you made sure to keep the door open.

Of course, that didn’t mean the same thing was about to happen now. In the middle of the night. With just the two of you. No one around in case…

“We once had a little incident. Nothing serious, but I’d rather keep the door open.”

Saying that, you walked over to the door, if only to ease your own mind. Spencer watched your movements—particularly the way your hand pushed against the door and… it didn’t budge.

You felt your heart stop for a split second, just as an ill-timed, dismissive snort escaped his lips.

“You’re kidding me,” he said with too much confidence, his posture relaxing as much as the cold would allow. You shot him a brief, withering glare and turned back to the door, pushing again—harder this time.

“You’ve threatened to lock me in here more than once, and now it’s just—”

“Oh, shut up already and help me!”

Spencer needed a good five seconds of staring at you in dumb silence before he realized you weren’t joking. Then he joined you in the struggle against the heavy door.

You could push, kick, and yell all you wanted, hoping someone might be nearby—but none of it changed your situation. You were still locked inside the cooler with no real prospect of getting out.

Spencer backed away from the door like he needed to escape it, running a hand through his hair and breathing heavily, like he was trying to steady himself.

“Okay,” he started muttering under his breath, more to himself than to you. Even with your back turned to him, you could tell he was pacing in the confined space like he was trying to solve a riddle. Socrates, when what you really needed was the Hulk. “Okay, okay… first step is always, always don’t panic. We have to stay calm and think this through together. What are you doing?”

“I have a phone,” you replied, standing on your toes near the door to hold it up as high as possible, as close to the exit as you could manage. “I’m trying to get a signal and actually do something, instead of pretending you’re giving instructions to a crew of preschoolers on a sinking ship. Did you forget we both work for the FBI?”

For a brief moment, he stared at you speechless because of your sharp words, which often found their way out of you in the face of serious, dangerous situations. But maybe that kind of mental slap was exactly what he needed — or maybe there was simply too much panic in him to get angry.

He stopped pacing around.

“And what about the signal? Let me try.”

You stood on your toes again, silently thanking yourself for all those years spent walking in heels and the skill that came with it. Then you handed the phone over to Spencer, so he could at least put those ridiculously long limbs of his to some use.

You watched him with such hope and focus that you stopped noticing how badly your body was shaking. And it was shaking hard. Every breath in that place tasted like inhaling the blade of a knife, every passing second nearly burned your skin with cold.

Eventually, Reid lowered the phone and shook his head.

Was this the time for another round of yanking at the doors and screaming?

You froze in place in helplessness, your arms wrapped around yourself like a blanket. You regretted nothing more than having worn only a thin shirt that night. Oh, why couldn’t it have been the middle of a brutal winter and you both walked in wearing coats, wrapped in scarves?

Spencer waved his hand in front of your face, pulling you out of your momentary daze.

“You can’t just stand still,” he warned. His eyes were wide with a panic that alternated between quiet and loud, never leaving either of you, but also filled with urgency, pressure. He only relaxed slightly when you followed his lead, marching in place and trying to get your hands moving too. They were probably the most frozen part of your body. “Any kind of movement is recommended right now. It increases blood circulation and temporarily raises body temperature.”

You watched him shake his limbs — in any other circumstance it would’ve looked completely absurd. You let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s minus twenty in here. Even your danse macabre won’t help us,” you pointed out.

“Why not? I’m already starting to feel a bit livelier. Lively enough to wait until someone comes and lets us out.”

“Good for you. The only thing I feel is no feeling in my feet.”

“That’s because you’re not trying hard enough.”

“And what do you think I should do? Start doing jumping jacks?”

Spencer parted his lips and tilted his head to the side. A second later, he tried to jump while spreading his arms and legs, managing it with absolutely no coordination. He probably hadn’t done that exercise in years.

Despite your situation, you snorted at the sight.

“Sweetheart, you're going to hurt yourself more with that than the hypothermia ever could.”

He looked at you with genuine, deep sorrow.

“We’re on the same team. You could at least try to support me mentally.”

Your disbelieving sigh filled the frosty air.

“Okay,” you muttered. “I’ll try, since it matters to you. But I’m not turning into a sexy cheerleader—I’ll do it my way.” You nodded toward the camera in the corner of the room. “The people who end up watching the footage of our tragic death are going to pee themselves laughing at what you’re doing. You’ll totally make their day.”

Your comment, even though sarcastic and meant to resemble a joke, made you both look at each other in silence. You had used the phrase our death, and while five minutes ago it might’ve sounded distant, it suddenly felt alarmingly real, possible. There was nothing you could do to save yourselves from this situation. The only thing left was to wait until someone showed up to rescue you. So you had to last in there as long as possible, conserve as much of the warmth escaping your bodies as you could.

“I know what we have to do,” you sighed finally, tightening your arms around your chest. Spencer looked at you questioningly. You nodded in his direction. “Take your clothes off.”

He looked as if he hadn’t heard you.

“W–what?”

“I said take your clothes off,” you repeated patiently, showing that you weren’t joking and that your attitude was neutral. “I’m not saying this as a pervert, but as someone who knows a thing or two about science. These frozen clothes are pulling the heat out of us and don’t offer any protection anymore. What will give us protection and help retain heat is skin-to-skin contact. We’ll create an insulated thermal bubble. In simpler words—god, I never thought I’d say this to you—take your shirt off and come here.”

You knew Reid knew what you were talking about. This was Spencer Reid, after all—of course he understood basic thermodynamics. And yet, he just stared at you with those wide brown eyes, like Bambi watching his mother get shot right in front of him.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. You could see him trying to form some kind of protest, to say something—anything—but he couldn’t. Because what you were saying was true. It was the only option you had left.

Eventually, he blinked nervously and croaked,

“Why do I have to go first?”

The frustration that filled you was so strong, it made your head drop loosely forward.

“For god’s sake, Reid. You’re not in bed with a woman you like—you’re in a freezer.” You gave him a look and continued before he could pretend otherwise. “And besides, you’re going to have to take mine off too, and I figured you’d handle that better if you were still dressed.” He looked completely lost, as if your words had short-circuited every thought in his head. You pointed demonstratively at your shirt. “My buttons are tiny, and I can’t move my fingers anymore. I won’t be able to undo them—but you still can. Thank your jumping jacks.”

Spencer looked around the cold chamber, as if he expected an emergency blanket to suddenly appear in the corner, or an exit hatch, or at least some metaphorical hole in reality he could slip through. Or maybe he just needed a moment away from your impatient stare. Eventually, he sighed in defeat and stepped toward you. You never buttoned your shirts all the way to the top, so at least the task was slightly easier. He reached for the first button, the one just beneath your collarbone. His fingers were red from the cold, shaking so badly he could barely grasp the tiny thing.

But when he finally did, he didn’t unfasten it right away — instead, his gaze drifted sideways. You frowned, assuming embarrassment had finally won over him, but that wasn’t the case. He looked toward the camera.

"I'm just stating for the record that I’m only doing this so we don’t freeze to death."

You snorted right in his face.

"Those cameras don’t even record sound. As far as they’re concerned, you’re just pawing at my cleavage with zero context."

He tore his gaze away from the bit of skin now visible beneath the undone button.

"I don’t!" he blurted defensively.

"So better do. You’re taking so long, I’m starting to suspect you’ve never undressed a woman before."

He shot you a glare sharp enough to cut glass — one you were more than ready to return — but he quickly dropped his eyes again.

"Very funny," he muttered coldly.

"No, not funny. Actually, very caring. I’m provoking you on purpose — get your blood pumping. If it weren’t twenty below zero here, you’d be bright red already."

"Oh, how very noble of you. And who's going to do the same for you?" he shot back.

You shrugged, genuinely unsure.

"Well, someone definitely should. I even have a candidate in mind, but he’s not doing a great job so far. Honestly, he’s just not trying hard enough."

You saw Spencer roll his eyes toward the ceiling with disbelief as he listened to your rambling. But at least when you were talking, your teeth weren’t chattering — so you had no intention of stopping.

He had just two buttons left and seemed determined to focus on them instead of feeding into your antics, which, of course, you didn’t appreciate.

You nudged his boot with yours, teasing.

"Someone’s trying to ignore me. But that’s okay. You’re very busy right now. Probably mourning the fact that I actually wore a bra today."

His gaze snapped to your face as if he'd just been struck by lightning — which, honestly, wouldn't have been the worst thing, considering it might’ve warmed him up a little. His eyes immediately met your smirking, half-mocking, half-genuinely amused expression.

He let go of the now fully unbuttoned fabric of your shirt and took a deep, dramatic breath before gesturing toward his work with a hand as if he were an artist unveiling a masterpiece.

“There you go,” he declared in a high-pitched voice that he very consciously tried to lower.

That only made your amusement worse. For a moment, you almost forgot you were trapped in a giant freezer. Almost.

You sighed in defeat, the weight of the situation settling back onto your shoulders. The cold suddenly felt sharper again.

“Jokes are over. Your turn,” you announced flatly, and without warning, reached for the buttons on his shirt, unfastening them quickly and efficiently.

He stared at you, his shirt now completely open, brows raised so high they were nearly at his hairline, as if he hadn’t even noticed it had happened.

“You said your fingers were too frozen to do that.”

“I lied.”

“Y-you’re... you’re... I don’t even know what you are anymore!”

You were just about to fire back when your expression suddenly tensed with concern.

“Are you running out of vocabulary?” you asked, narrowing your eyes. He blinked at you in confusion. “That’s concerning in your case. The cold must be slowing your cognitive functions.”

“Well, it’s clearly accelerating your…licentious defiance of every known social protocol.”

“I take back what I said about your vocabulary,” you muttered.

He pulled his shirt off his back — you were so cold you didn’t even notice the difference. You turned it inside out, the side that had been touching your body and was still somewhat warmer; Reid did the same with his.

You laid one of them on the floor to lie on, and the other you were going to use to wrap yourselves in. You couldn’t do it sitting up in a way that would cover both of you — maybe with your lab coat it would’ve worked, but you didn’t have it with you. So you were forced to lie down on your sides, facing each other.

For a moment, you just looked at him (he didn’t seem to be breathing, his eyes locked on you like on a watch in a hypnotist’s hands), wondering what position would maximize skin-to-skin contact.

Eventually, you pressed your chest to his, placing your hands behind his neck. Your chin settled on his shoulder — which in some way also protected your heads, right? After all, so much heat escaped through them. Just in case, you also covered them with his shirt. It carried the faint scent of his cologne, but your senses were too dulled by the cold to really smell it.

You stayed like that in silence for a moment.

“Do you…do you feel any warmer?” Spencer asked.

You didn’t even stop to think.

“Maybe I would if you weren’t afraid to touch me and actually hugged—”

You broke off, because he really did grab you tighter, pulling you closer to his bare chest and tightening his hold around your back. You sighed quietly, because for a moment, you did feel warmer.

The thing is, only for a moment. You sighed again, this time with pure gloom.

“Maybe a little,” you said, unconvinced. “Okay, practically not at all. But maybe it doesn’t have to be felt to be working. Besides, it’d be kinda dumb to stop now, right? Not after we did a striptease for each other.”

A sound escaped his mouth. You had trouble identifying it.

“Are you laughing?” you asked, genuinely surprised.

You felt him nod in confirmation.

“I just realized you’re both the worst and the best person to be stuck in a freezer with,” he admitted, leaving you even more confused.

“The worst, I get,” you said. “But the best?”

Reid hesitated to respond, and you started to wonder if he’d died (you hoped he hadn’t) (personal reasons). Then you dropped your ironically nonchalant mask for a moment to nudge him slightly, just to check if his consciousness had changed.

“I mean,” he spoke up suddenly, easing your concern, “you’re ruining my dreams of dying in a tragic, epic way in a very comedic fashion.”

At first, you wanted to snort, but you kept up appearances.

“I am not,” you disagreed. “It’s still a very epic way to go. Dying in the arms of a beautiful maiden.”

“Trapped in a freezer?”

“No one’s going to remember the freezer part if you’ve got an attractive woman by your side. Much more cinematic. Easier to turn into a statue later.”

“I don’t want them turning us into a statue in this position.”

“Agreed. We'd make a much prettier stained glass window.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. But I hope we’re completely naked in that stained glass. And that my hair looks better. But that’s a side issue. I mean, can you imagine them hanging us in some breathtaking old cathedral, and I’m wearing a Victoria’s Secret bra? No disrespect to the brand, but it just doesn’t fit the vibe.”

“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re absolutely right. Besides, Victoria’s Secret would probably want a cut for using their brand name. They’d profit off our tragedy.”

Your voices had grown monotonous, somewhere between murmuring and humming, most of your words aimed at the skin of his shoulder. You liked the absurdity of the topic you’d chosen. You liked his calmness and the way he was holding you, the way he’d let his guard down. It crossed your mind that you wished you were somewhere else now—somewhere warmer, somewhere your lives weren’t at risk. But everything else could stay exactly the same.

And suddenly, right along with that thought, a sound rang out. A sound that reached your ears with a delay and caused a moment of disorientation. For so long, it had been just your two voices—then all at once, a third element pierced the silence that had briefly fallen between you. You remembered just entering the cooler, how you told Spencer not to close the door and he’d closed it anyway.

The door.

You untangled yourselves from each other with dizzying speed, but there was no shame in the position you’d been found in (at least not on your part—you couldn’t speak for him) only the urgent need to confirm that what you’d just heard was real. Someone had opened the cooler door.

You sat up quickly. Spencer’s shirt slid off your bodies.

The door was, in fact, open—and standing in it was a member of your team, the blond-haired Winchester, whose eyes were always rimmed with dark circles and who constantly looked like he’d just finished a three hour crying session—but that was just his natural expression even when he was happy.

He looked at you both, eyes widening—then quickly flicked to the ceiling, awkwardly.

“Are you, um, guys… okay?”

Moments later, you were already out of the cooler, and you honestly felt like kissing the walls and floors. But before doing that, you shot Winchester a grateful look. He was the one who’d gotten himself locked in the same cooler a few weeks ago.

“How did you even know we were in there?” you asked.

Meanwhile, Spencer was standing like a shadow behind your teammate, holding his freezing shirt in his hands—clearly trying to avoid the young man’s gaze and attention, silently bonding with him in the mutual awkwardness of the situation. Unfortunately, the kid misread Spencer’s behavior and shrank into himself, as if standing face-to-face with his half-naked boss wasn’t already a nightmare in itself.

“After I got locked in there last time, I kept thinking about what would happen if it were someone else—and there was no one around to get them out,” he began, eyes fixed on his shoes. “So… I installed a thermometer inside that sends a notification when the temperature suddenly rises. It always goes up when someone enters and stays up until they leave. I saw it spike today, saw it was you guys, and decided to check it out.”

You looked at him and exhaled, not knowing how to even begin thanking him.

“You deserve a raise, Winchester,” you announced.

“But if anyone asks what for, please say it was for overtime,” Spencer mumbled.

You just waved a hand at him.

“Don’t listen to him. Say whatever you want. And come here,” you said, opening your arms and stepping forward, ready to crush him in a hug.

For a split second, pure terror flashed across Winchester’s face. With ninja-like reflexes, he ducked and slipped past you under your arm, leaving you hugging empty air.

“The raise is enough, seriously!”

a small post-reading author’s note:

winchester = literally whitaker from the amazing show the pitt a returning character in the diva!reader series!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #diva reader ♱#doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spence reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #criminal mind #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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minholuvr333 · 1 month ago

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what if minho was actually an alien with tentacles? what then??

pairing; lee know x reader

tw; porn with plot (kinda), alien!minho, fem reader, NSFW, oral (fem receiving), tentacles, predator x prey dynamics, double penetration, unprotected sex (be smart), bondage (i think?)

you have really never had many opinions about aliens. do they exist? probably. do you want to meet them? it would be cool. but overall, you’ve never believed the UFO sightings online and you’ve made peace with the fact that you will probably never see an alien in your lifetime.

enter: minho. at least, that’s what the creature/man/humanoid that just slipped into your bedroom window said it’s name was. you know, after you calmed down and stopped screaming and told the police you accidentally dialed their number, you were safe and they did not need to perform a wellness check.

minho has violet hair, pale lilac skin, and narrowed eyes- like a big cat, looking for prey. his eyes flit around the room as you make him a cup of tea, this poor alien (who is very real and very much sitting in your desk chair) is lost and confused. he kind of looks less like a big cat, and more like a domestic one.

you learn that minho is in fact from another planet- another galaxy entirely. he was running from something, you aren’t sure what, but he landed on earth. he was trying to find shelter when he saw your window, he came inside because he felt the soft purple glow from your LED lights was comforting.

minho gets comfortable fast. he took over your spare bedroom, spends his days lounging on your couch and learning new things about the human world. every evening you teach him how to be a normal human dude and he listens intently, blinks slow, deep purple tongue flicking out to lick his lips every so often.

minho is… hot. like, ridiculously hot. when he showers he likes to walk around in sweatpants with no shirt on, towel hanging limply from his shoulders. he runs lilac fingers through violet hair and you blank out, forgetting what you were saying. sometimes, when you’re sure minho is in his room doing whatever the fuck aliens do, you get your favorite toy out and moan his name into your pillow.

here’s the thing: minho has tentacles. this is a fact you didn’t even know until one day when he was helping you put dishes away. a plate almost crashes into the floor- except, a deep purple tentacle, honest to god tentacle, whips out from minho’s back and catches it mid air. you barely have time to process what had happened before he pulls the tentacle back into his body, safe and sound.

and here’s the thing: that is so fucking hot.

you’ve never seen minho eat. he likes learning to cook, and likes making dinner for you, but he never participates in eating the food. sometimes you offer him a bite. he takes the fork in between plush purple lips and wraps his tongue around the food, but grimaces when he swallows. it’s not what i eat, he would say.

and minho is- well, he’s looking skinny. a little frail. his cheeks are a little sunken in, he’s hungry. but you have no clue how to help him, so you just ask. what’s the worst that could happen?

what you weren’t prepared for it a dark purple flush on his cheeks, tongue poking into his lip and fingertips twitching. you couldn’t help, don’t worry about it, he says. but clearly, you worry about it.

in fact, you worry about it so much. it isn’t until late at night, way past midnight when you think minho is in his room, that you realize what he eats. while you’re thinking of him, hand between your spread thighs, favorite toy in hand, a chill suddenly runs down your spine. shivering, you pause.

something is watching you.

then, minho. he has been peeking through the crack in your door, but now he moves forward. stalking, like a predator hunting down prey. you gulp, and against your better judgement, you feel even hotter as he draws closer.

he is eerily quiet, watching you- watching the hand between your thighs, watching your soaked pussy clench around your cute little toy. he clenches his jaw as he draws closer, a loud pop coming from the bone.

so hungry, minho mouths the words, but that’s not his voice. it’s animalistic, a low timbre that just serves to make you more wet. he crawls onto the bed, stealthy, making no noise. having no survival instincts whatsoever, you pull the toy away from your clenching hole and spread your legs wider.

minho devours you.

he keeps clawed hands gripping your thighs, spreading you open, while his tongue absolutely drinks you in. he circles your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth feverishly- like he’s starved. you cry out, hands gripping and pulling violet hair.

but he doesn’t stop there. minho quickly finds your messy hole, sucking and licking at your puffy cunt like it’s his greatest meal. his tongue fucks in and out of you- longer than a human tongue, long enough to press right against that sweet bundle of nerves inside you.

then, his fucking tentacles are out. first there’s one, whipping out of his back and coming to wrap around your waist, holding you still. then another, binding your wrists and pinning them to the pillow above your head. another, running across your tits and latching onto each nipple, sucking. finally, one last tentacle comes to your core, slithering into your entrance and making you scream.

it doesn’t stop. minho looks like he isn’t anywhere near finished with you. next, he’s pumping that thick, pulsing tentacle in and out of you at a faster pace than you can even keep up with. he stills sucks and licks at your clit, pushing and pulling you along the bed as he pleases. you’re helpless, couldn’t get away if you wanted to (you don’t want to).

finally, finally, you cum. wrapped up in thick, purple tentacles, one fucking you so deep you can feel your stomach bulge, minho’s lips wrapped around your aching clit. and he still isn’t done.

the tentacle that was inside you pulls away slowly, minho cooing as you whine at the loss. he makes a show of showing it off, the suckers covered in cum, the deep purple of it coated in white. then, the tentacle is moving to your mouth. and you open right up.

minho is practically purring, now seemingly less hungry more turned on. his boxers come off, his dick is fucking huge, and he wastes no time in lining up with your needy hole.

when he slides inside of you, it’s to the hilt. when you try to scream, it’s muffled by the thick tentacle in your mouth. the one around your waist tightens.

so fucking good, minho moans, eyes squeezed shut. feel so tight, pulling me in so deep.

there’s a look in minhos eye now- crazed, but satiable. he seems to be considering something. then, his eyes light up. you gulp.

another tentacle- stemming from his back, thicker and veinier than the others, crawls towards your entrance. you whimper, pussy clenching at the idea of trying to fit not only his huge cock, but also that thing inside you. you couldn’t do it. there was no way.

minho disagrees.

the push at your entrance, the feeling of two long, giant, cock shaped things filling you up- it’s too much. it’s so much. your head is spinning, body shaking like a leaf, and minho is fucking grinning. he looks maniacal, eyes half lidded and pushing his cock in further and pulling the tentacle halfway out before doing the same thing in reverse, fucking you endlessly with the appendages.

you start crying- you can’t help it, you feel so good- and minho is delighted, licks the tears right off your cheeks. his hand moves from your thigh, towards your center. he pinches your clit, the bite of his mean fingers enough to send you toppling over the edge again- hard.

you might black out for a second. when you come back to yourself, minho’s tentacles are gone. he is walking towards the bed, clothes in tact and a sleepy, content smile on his face. he looks full.

you did so well, minho says, pressing a kiss to your temple as he climbs into bed behind you. your sheets are clean, you are too. a big t shirt that doesn’t belong to you is covering your spent body.

now i can eat when i need to, minho hums, snuggling into your shoulder from behind. your heartbeat skips at the feeling, you scoot closer to his warmth. maybe you’re okay with being a meal for an alien, as long as it’s him.

a/n;

i couldn’t get this out of my head soooooo sorry to make yall read my nasty thoughts (not sorry btw) this isn’t proofread at all, i just had to ramble about minho with tentacles. i may edit it later

send requests for monster!skz x reader if you’re a freak :3 :3

#lee know x reader #minholuvr333 #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #x reader #minho x reader #reader insert #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know smut

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 24 days ago

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tf!141 x angel!reader finding an angel that fell, “teaching” her how to live on earth and corrupting her innocence 🫣

Divine Intervention

 Pairing: Poly!141 x reader

Au: Fallen Angel! Reader x Human! reader

 Warnings: Sensual tension, implied corruption kink, religious themes (angel/fall imagery), mild dubcon-adjacent themes (consent present but reader is naïve), slow burn tension, swearing, possession/claiming, SMUT, reader falling from grace Author's Note: You fell from the sky and into their hands. But heaven had no idea what hell you’d walk into. Summary: You fell from the sky into their world. But instead of salvation, you found something darker—something tempting. Now, under their watchful eyes, your innocence starts to unravel. Masterlist MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

——

The first thing you remembered was heat. The second was pain.

You’d fallen. You didn’t know how. One moment, you were high above—weightless, woven into the light—and then…

Ash. Fire. Earth.

It had taken them hours to find you.

You’d landed deep in the war-torn woods, crumpled at the base of a tree, shivering. Wings bent. Feet bare. No concept of where—or what—you were anymore. But when they approached, bristling with weapons and suspicion, you raised your glowing hand—

And healed one of them.

After that, they didn’t ask many questions. They just took you with them.

——

The humans called themselves a task force.

They were unlike any beings you’d ever encountered. Made of steel and blood and heat. They spoke in clipped orders and sharp wit, hands rough with years of war, yet their eyes softened every time they looked at you like you were something fragile.

Especially when you smiled.

“You’re not from here, are you?” Kyle asked one night, sitting with you on the couch in the base rec room. Your knees were drawn up to your chest, and you were watching the flickering lights of the TV like they might burst into flame.

“No,” you said softly.

He tilted his head. “Where then?”

You glanced up. Your voice came out as little more than a breath.

“Above.”

He stared at you for a long time after that.

——

They learned quickly how untouched you were by Earth’s ways.

You didn’t know what a microwave was. You didn’t know why people wore socks. You cried when you watched a video of a dog being rescued, and you asked Johnny if eating ice cream for breakfast was really acceptable.

(He told you yes. John had to correct him later.)

Simon rarely said much. But he watched you.

And when he saw how you flinched from loud sounds, how your fingers fluttered nervously when you didn’t understand something, how you leaned closer to the warmth of their bodies without realizing it—his jaw clenched a little tighter.

Because he could see what the others were starting to see too.

You were breakable. But you were also changing.

——

The first crack came with a kiss.

Johnny teased you constantly. Called you “Angel,” winked when you were confused, poked fun at how you thought “bollocks” meant something polite.

“You ever been kissed, sweetheart?” he asked one evening, sprawled on the edge of your bed, boots off, grin wide.

You blinked at him, blinking like a fawn. “No.”

His smile faltered. “Not even once?”

You shook your head. “There was no need. We were made of light, not… flesh.”

Johnny exhaled sharply, leaning closer. “Want to know what it feels like?”

You hesitated. “Would that… help me understand Earth?”

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, Angel. More than you know.”

The kiss was featherlight—his lips brushing yours, lingering, drawing back. Your breath hitched. Your wings fluttered violently.

And behind you, a single feather fell.

When it hit the floor, it turned black.

——

That night, you cried in Price’s arms.

You were shaking. You felt different. The light inside you, the one that always hummed quietly, was dimming. You could feel yourself becoming… more. Heavier. Realer. Human.

“I think I’m falling,” you whispered into his shirt. “Truly falling.”

Price didn’t speak for a moment. He simply held you tighter.

“Then we’ll catch you,” he said. “We already have.”

——

They were patient at first.

They showed you how to exist. Johnny taught you to dance, twirling you in the rec room until you were breathless. Kyle explained what movies were and cried with you during Wall-E. Price taught you how to fire a gun (you didn’t like it) and how to drive a car (you loved it).

But it was Simon who taught you temptation.

Not through words—but in the way he looked at you.

That first time you wore one of Johnny’s shirts, just long enough to cover you but not long enough to be decent, Simon’s eyes burned.

“You shouldn’t wear that,” he murmured.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused.

He leaned close, his voice a low rasp. “Because you have no idea what you’re doing to us, do you?”

Your breath caught.

Because… no. You didn’t.

But you were starting to want to.

——

One night, it all came undone.

It started with Johnny. Of course it did.

You’d wandered into the kitchen in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. Something about the air felt strange. Heavy. When you stepped into the light, Johnny nearly dropped the glass in his hand.

You were barefoot. The hem of your borrowed sleep shirt brushed your thighs. Your hair was messy, your expression soft with confusion.

“You alright, love?” he asked gently.

You tilted your head. “I can’t sleep. I keep feeling… things.”

“What kind of things?”

You touched your chest. “Warm. Low. Hungry, but not for food.”

He froze. His pulse ticked in his throat.

“You want me to show you what that is?”

You nodded.

Johnny kissed you again—but it was different this time.

Not soft. Not teasing.

Starving.

He pulled you against him, hands bracketing your waist. You gasped into his mouth, fingers digging into his shoulders. Your wings flickered behind you—and one more feather fell.

And from the doorway, three pairs of eyes watched.

——

Kyle was the first to join.

He crossed the room in three long strides, gently taking your hand from Johnny’s shoulder. You turned to him, lips parted, pupils blown.

“You want to understand this, yeah?” he asked, voice husky.

You nodded.

He kissed your neck.

Then Simon’s hands were on your waist. His mask still on, eyes dark and unreadable.

“You’re not leaving this room the same, dove,” he said, voice like gravel.

And then his lips brushed your shoulder.

You whimpered.

Price stepped in last. Calm. Composed. But his hands trembled when they cupped your jaw.

“You’re ours now,” he murmured.

And you knew it was true.

Because your light had faded.

But it was replaced by something else.

Desire. Hunger. Devotion.

——

They didn’t rush you.

Not at first.

You stood in the middle of the kitchen, body flushed and trembling, with Johnny’s lips still wet from kissing you, and the others watching you like men on the edge of hunger—but still holding the line.

Price came to you first.

His hands were warm and steady as they cupped your face. He tilted your chin up with practiced ease, gazing at you like you were something precious. His voice was low, gravel brushed with something softer.

“We’ll stop if you want to. Say the word, Angel.”

You looked up at him, chest heaving, caught between worlds.

“I… I want to understand,” you whispered.

He hummed, approval deep in his chest. “Then let us show you.”

It began with touch.

Simon’s gloved hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingers moved slowly, reverently, tracing along the bare skin of your thighs, your hips, your ribs. Every time he brushed over something new, you gasped softly, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of sensation.

Johnny leaned in close to your ear. “You feel everything so deeply, don’t you?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“Good,” he breathed, and his mouth pressed against your neck.

Kyle kissed your shoulder while Simon’s hands framed your waist. It was a dance—four bodies learning yours, syncing breath, pressure, movement. They were worshipful. Greedy. Careful. Demanding.

Your shirt slipped away first.

Then your breath caught as Price whispered, “Lie back, sweetheart.”

You did.

They undressed you like a ritual. Johnny knelt first, pressing hot kisses across your stomach, his palms gliding over your thighs with rough, calloused reverence. His eyes flicked up to you, darker than you’d ever seen them.

“You’re so bloody soft,” he said, voice husky. “Bet you’ve never been touched like this.”

Your lips parted. “No. Never.”

Kyle leaned over and kissed you again—this time slower. Deeper. His hands splayed across your chest, fingers teasing your curves, feeling your breath catch beneath them. He moaned softly against your mouth.

“You don’t know what you do to us,” he murmured.

“I want to,” you said, voice shaking.

Simon’s fingers traced down your bare sides, lingering at the curve of your hips. He leaned down, his breath hot against your throat. “Then let us show you. One inch at a time.”

You were kissed. Touched. Claimed.

Johnny’s mouth worshipped you with hot, open kisses down your stomach. Kyle’s hands cupped your chest, fingertips teasing until your back arched. Price whispered filth and praise against your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe. Simon stayed at your side, watching, stroking your skin like he was etching every shiver into memory.

When you cried out—soft and overwhelmed—Johnny’s lips never stopped moving.

“That’s it, Angel,” he rasped. “Let go. Let yourself fall.”

And fall you did.

Again and again, into their hands. Their mouths. Their arms.

They took turns.

Not with greed, but purpose. Johnny kissed your thighs like he was grateful for them. Kyle touched you like you were sacred. Simon growled into your skin when you trembled under his palm, and Price… Price held your face while you gasped his name like a prayer.

The night blurred.

Sweat. Warmth. Laughter. Whispers.

“Look how much you’re glowing,” Kyle murmured against your throat.

Simon kissed your ribs. “You’re learning.”

“You’re ours now,” Johnny said, pressing his lips just beneath your navel.

And Price, steady and sure, whispered, “You were always meant to fall. You just didn’t know what was waiting for you at the bottom.”

By the end, you were sated.

Stretched across soft sheets with four men tucked against your sides, your wings sprawled wide over their bodies. No longer white. No longer untouched.

But not broken.

Transformed.

And when you woke hours later—your limbs aching in the best ways, your chest fluttering with something warm and full—you felt… whole.

You turned your head and saw them. Johnny with his messy hair pressed against your stomach. Kyle curled at your back, an arm slung over your waist. Simon, mask on but lifted just enough for his mouth to press kisses to your shoulder. Price at your side, eyes open and watching you with something ancient and endless in his gaze.

“You alright?” he asked, voice raw from sleep.

You smiled.

“I think I’m finally alive.”

——

By morning, your wings were black.

Not rotten. Not ugly. Just… reborn. Feathers sleek like raven’s velvet. Still soft. Still yours.

But no longer pure.

And when you looked at yourself in the mirror, lips swollen, neck marked, body trembling—you didn’t cry.

You smiled.

Because this was your new heaven. And they were your gods now.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

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xazse · 1 year ago

Note

HELLO!!! I saw that your requests are open!! I love sukuna hybrid tiger or lion x a really sensitive bratty reader(fem or gn) smut

Reader is really sensitive and crys if someone says no to something reader wants or just because someone said something mean.

AM REALLY SORRY IF YOU DON'T SMUT OR FEM READER MY INTERNET IS REALLY SLOW.

THANK YOU IF YOU DECIDE TO DO THIS♡

Notes: I hope you enjoy this<33 (sorry if this was a little rushed)

Parings: Sensitive!FemReader x TigerHybrid!Sukuna

Warnings: HeienEra!Sukuna/four arms + crybaby!reader + licking + two cocks + crying + penetration + creampie

TigerHybrid!Sukuna loves his little crybaby!

an effort to get him to get you that jewel you’ve been hearing about from travelers telling their tales, he continues to tell you that such a thing doesn’t exist and to quit being a bother, you stop for a moment and he can already hear the sniffles in your voice, he can see the waterworks decorating your waterline, it’s not long before the fat tears start running down your cheeks.

“Such a crybaby, why do you insist that that jewel actually exists?” He sighs before continuing “that’s just a tale for stupid humans, last time I recalled you’re a human but you aren’t stupid.” He uses two of his four arms to place you in his lap facing him.

He begins using his thick tongue to lick at the tears falling freely, his tongue is rough and hurts a bit as he even licks over your eyes. Your attempt to push him off of you is met with him pulling you into his chest deeper and wrapping his tri-colored tail around your waist, he won’t stop licking till your tears stop.

TigerHybrid!Sukuna who despises having to eat human food but has to appease to you.

It’s so gross as it makes his way down his throat, he feels the need to gag and throw the shit up but in your presence he won’t. He loves the content look on your face as you sit so close to him enjoying your own food, he’ll even let you spoon feed him on rare occasions.

TigerHybrid!Sukuna whose cocks throbs when you have to take both.

You’ll literally whine when he’s using his thick fingers to pry open your hole and your pussy, he says he needs to or it’ll hurt a tenthfold. He takes full advantage though: using his tongue as well to collect all your juices and stretch you out.

He loves the feeling of you clenching around the digits so tight, you’re moaning loudly and lewdly he’s sure the entire estate can hear just how good he’s making you feel, but it’s nothing compared to when he’s fitting his fat cocks inside of you.

He’s finally done prepping you and needs to be balls deep inside. He grabs his 2nd cock and presses it against the entrance of your pussy, the soaked hole is already slurping up his tip fully. He can hear you taking deep breaths of air as he pushes and pushes inside, your cunt is so damn snug and already twitching needy around him. It’s when he takes his other cock and begins pushing it inside of your ass do you start up your crying. He can already picture how ruined you already are.

Sukuna presses his full weight on your back, successfully pining you against the bed. He’s waited all day for this so he starts moving his hips rather fastly, his cocks filling you to the brim just to be snatched out fully and fitted right back in. The mix of your crying and moaning sounds so good. He has to hold you still to contain your shaking twitchy body, you always get like this when both are ruining your small holes.

Sukuna can’t help himself when he begins biting your neck, he tries to keep his sharp teeth under control as to not draw blood like last time, he also soothes you with his soft purring.

He starts grinding his hips down against your ass, angling his hips downward he starts hitting your sweet spot directly, all these years he’s learned your body perfectly like a piano. It has you breathless, and obviously mewing for more through a teary voice, he gives you just that: rubbing your little bud, your folds are slippery but he manages to slide over your clit over and over.

Your cunt and ass flutters around his cock , feels so fucking good you can’t help but slur out.

Sukuna slams against you one last time before filling you with thick ropes of his cum, he sighs and stops for a minute and exactly a minute before holding your body down and moving his hips again, Your TigerHybrid is the type to cum quickly but able to keep shooting round after round inside you. That’s why you find it exhausting to take both of his cocks, he gets too excitable to where you’re going until the sun comes up.

#zsworks #fem reader #jjk x reader #sukuna x female reader #hybrid sukuna #hybrid smut #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n

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limarkova · 5 months ago

Text

Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 5.

Prev Next

The library was quiet when you walked in. Since it was still early in the morning many people hadn't shown up yet. Your luck of finding a tutor were slim right now. It was best to start independent so you could tell a tutor what you needed to learn more about anyway.

You wonder the shelves contemplating where to begin. Maybe the computers to look up what fourth grade standards? Didn't those vary though? Okay maybe you should have goaded your 'family' into telling you were the 'boarding school' was supposedly base. Science sounded like a good option. It used a mix of math and reading comprehension.

You had to choose a science fourth grades typically learned, though. Honestly you wished you could just pick any science and say the school had specialized classes. However you didn't know what type of boarding school Bruce claimed you went to. The slightest misstep and your siblings would alert him that something was up.

Being realistic Bruce could send you back at anytime. By playing into his lies, you would appear compliant or like you don't suspect he was involved. That could buy you time. If it seemed like you were truly trying to integrate back into the family and not expose the experiments, he might let you stay for a little longer. Why get rid of someone if their potential as a threat was limited by their ignorance?

For now you need to match the cover story. Whatever books were labeled fourth grade level than. Maybe a few fifth grade books. You had implied that you were doing more advanced work. Maybe you could safely make the claim that you were placed in advance classes. They had been talking about those during your last year at Gotham prep.

The kids section was full of basic cartoon style books. You browsed a few before frowning. Most of the information was the bare bone minimum. Half the books mark 4th grade level only covered surface level knowledge.

You pulled out a book on human anatomy and almost bursted out laughing. The drawings were over simplifications of the organs, nothing compared to how they really looked. Slimy, covered in veins, shades of pink or gray you didn't expect once the blood was removed. That thought brought back a haunting memory. You shoved the book back on the shelf. Medical research would come later.

Grabbing any books that caught your attention, you headed over to a secluded area. Most of the information was basic understand. Yes, you learned some new things and were fairly certain your reading comprehension was ay the appropriate level. But there was nothing involving math. "Maybe a few tutors have shown up or a librarian can help me call one."

Standing back up you wondering over to the librarian desk. No one was there. You yet out a heavy sigh. Oh course they weren't there, that was just your luck.

"Hello, are you looking for something?" You jumped at the sudden voice behind you. Spinning around you saw a woman with long dark brown hair and green eyes. She carried herself confidently but some part of you screamed the she was capable of violence.

"I was looking into what's available in terms of math tutoring. Maybe social studies or history if that's an options." You angled you body away from her.

She laughed slightly more to herself than you. There was a gleam in her eye, like she was impressed by her assessment. "Well you're in luck. I happened to home schooled my own son in math and know a lot of teachers. What do you need to know?"

"Pretty much everything above adding and subtracting." You scowled down at the books in your arms. It they had and hadn't been useful. Maybe you should take advantage of this woman's help. You needed a tutor, it shouldn't matter who it was also long as your family didn't find out. "What’s your name?"

"I'm Talia." She crouched down to your level and held out a hand. You stopped thinking.

Talia.

The woman mentioned in your mother's diary. It couldn't be. Though she mentioned having a son. No Talia might have been an older flame and Damian's mother had a different name. Maybe you had been to quick to get in a fight with him. Now you couldn't ask him about his mother. What if he sent her to spy on you because you had pissed him off? Not good, really not good.

"I'm (Fake Name)." You gave her the wrong name and watched. If Damian had sent her, she would probably already know your name. So by giving her the wrong one you could figure what she already knew about you. It wouldn't be through her words or actions. No the hints would be subtle. Some kind of disappointment or a sign she felt slighted.

Yet her face remain pleasant. That slight hint of being impressed remaining, "It's nice to meet you. Let's do a few tests so I can see where you are first." Just like that you were swept away into a world of learning.

Talia was beyond impressed with the young Wayne girl. First she correctly identified Talia as a threat. It was obvious by the way she angled herself away from the older woman. How her eyes flicked for the nearest exit, probably a subconscious reaction. Without Talia's weapons or reputation, the girl had pick up on danger.

Next was the wrong name. Said so surely like it truly was her name. The girl shifted so fluidly into the new identity too. Talia would have believed it if she hadn't already done research. Never once did she catch the girl not responding to the name. All without proper training.

However, that all paled in comparison to her true shining trait. The girl's intelligence was well beyond average. She caught trick questions and picked up topics quickly. Talia was willing to bet her intellect could rival Bruce's. Obviously not at her current state, she need guidance to reach that level. Still all the material was there.

"Thank you for the help, today." Her voice was quiet. Movements quick to put away the notebook she had written all of her work in. They had moved from mathematics, to English, social studies, sciences, and the one that she seem the most interested in Criminal Investigation. Damian had taken his father's intelligence but was held back his ego. She didn't have that fault.

Talia smiled, "of course. Will you be returning tomorrow? I would love to continue our lessons. There's a chance I might be able to teach you Arabic."

"Arabic, the language?"

"Yes. I taught my son but well he lives with his father now and I don't get to speak it with him anymore." Talia said the information to get the girl to relax but the opposite occurred.

(Name) bit her lip, "I apologize if this is sensitive to you but what's your son's name?"

"Damian." Talia observed the girl's reaction. Her shoulders tense, body angling again, one deep breath. "Too bad his father turned him against me."

"How?" The girl blinked after saying the word. Her face was too blank to be natural. The information was throwing her for a loop as she tried to make it fit her reality. They would need to work on that.

Talia shook her head sadly, "I'm not a hundred percent certain what he told my boy but I think... I think he made Damian believe that he was in love with me and I broke his heart. Even though it was the other way around when he cheated on me."

Talia watched as the words hit home with the girl. Oh she had chosen the right story to turn her against Bruce. The girl gave her an easy smile that was a smidge too tense in the corners, "Yeah. I'll be here tomorrow. Can I ask one last question?"

"Go ahead." Talia gestured with her hand.

"Do you happened to know any self defense teachers?" Determination morphed her features. It made her come alive in a sense. That fire she saw yesterday back in her eyes and brighter. Confidence shifted her stance into one more sure.

"Oh I know several material arts teachers."

Bruce sat in his car, rubbing his brow. In a little over twenty-four hours since his youngest had shown up at manor things had arguably gotten worst. First the information coming out about (Name) never being at school followed by a full blown investigation by his kids. Than there was what the others had officially dub "The shit list". Damian had become so upset he secluded himself in the barn. Last but certainly not less were the changes the other reported in his youngest.

Dick's last phone call said she was at the library researching for 'school'. They had decided to watch her through the cameras believing space was what she actually need. Yet one thing was clear from the little time she had spent in the manor since coming back. Whatever had happened was traumatic and she was not going to tell them directly. Perhaps whoever had her was now stalking her to ensure she wouldn't cooperate.

Bruce would double the manor's security. He wouldn't fail one of his kids a second time. She hadn't arrived home from the library yet, so Bruce had time to prepare. Taking one last deep breath he exited the car. First stop the Batcave to get an update on investigation.

Bruce might as well have entered a war zone. At least there he would know where to start. Dick and Jason were in a screaming match about who should have been checking in on her. Tim was two steps away from drinking coffee straight from the pot, while pouring over financial records. Barbara looked like she was having an aneurysm. Cass was analysising video footage taking notes on presumably her body language. Duke was being interrogate being Steph on how (Name) acted while the two were out and what she could have been writing in "the shit list."

"Status report." His voice shattered the chaos in a matter of seconds. "Oracle you go first."

"I searched through city wide surveillance feeds and found some video footage from a few days ago. It seems like who ever had her did chase after but..." Oracle, Barbara trailed off. The screen flash to show (Name) being chased by an armed pursuer. In two seconds, she had turned thrown a knife of some kind than ran down an another alleyway. Her pursuer fell to the ground weapon lodged in his throat. "Police reports identified him as James Lenon, a low level criminal with a history of violence. He had a scalpel in his trachea and was pronounced dead on arrival of the scene."

Bruce now understood why Barbara looked ready to have an aneurysm. This footage showed (Name) committing murder. Just to get away from whoever was holding her captive. He could only imagine what might have pushed her to that point. That or she didn't know the guy was dead. It would technically count as self defense either way but not a good sign.

Barbara typed something on her laptop before another video appeared. "Than there's this one." It show (Name) running off screen injured. When she reappeared the injuries were gone, not even a speck of blood. The video ended with (Name) throwing a mangled bullet at the camera. An act of defiance, but towards who.

"Has this video been edited?"

"No. This is the orginial video. Do you think she might actually be a meta?" The room filled with anticipation at that.

Bruce nodded once, "we'll need to test her DNA but the odds are good. Red Robin what do you have?"

"She was telling the truth about her card being stolen. It would seem whoever stole it though knew better than to use it to pay for something directly. All of it's cash withdrawals, the ATMs used are in Gotham though so it's all local. Oracle any updates on ATM footage?"

"Na-da. They're smart, covered their faces with sunglasses and sick masks. Generic brand sunglasses and disposable mask so no identifying markers. They wear them on video until they disappear." Barbara brought several still shots onto the screen.

Bruce nodded to the two, taking in the information. It assumable from the ATM footage alone there were multiple people involved in this. They would need to identify which group had the most to gain.

"Nightwing, Red Hood. What did your investigation of the PO box reveal?"

"They scorched the damn place the night she escaped." Jason dropped a picture of a burnt and destroyed PO boxes on the table. One box in the third row was circled "Also destroyed any mail going to all the PO boxes on that wall. Feds are looking into it since the post office was involved, I couldn't get closer than that."

"The person who orginially opened the box, Marcus Antonio, was found dead last night." Dick placed crime scene photos on the table. A man with a singular bullet wound laid in a pool of blood. There were tipped over and rifled through drawers, books, coffee containers. The scene was mess. "Decided to take a look around. It was a clean hit but catch this. The guy had loads of cash stashed all over the place. GCPD thinks it was a robbery gone wrong since they didn't take all of it and left in a hurry. With what we know, I think it was a targeted attack. They mostly just took the cash they could find, figuring they were going to get cut off"

Tim interrupted, "I second that. All cash withdrawals stopped the day after she escaped. They pulled more than they usually did so the bank flagged the card. It's shut off pending investigation."

Bruce nodded. It was likely that most of the people involved were going to leave Gotham. Cash would be necessary for that. "Any sign of the mail?"

"No but he had a burn bucket in the bedroom." Dick shook his head. Leaning against the table he sighed. "They're getting rid of evidence quickly and have a three day head start."

"Orphan."

"She shows signs of hyper vigilance, avoids cameras, and I think she probing us for information." Cassandra looked up from the tablet she was using one.

"Wait, she's probing us for information?" Tim stopped typing on his laptop before throwing his head back and groaning. "She's become one mystery after another."

"At the breakfast table. She was trying to figure out if we read her diary, was gauging how we all reacted to her mentioning school, and was ensuring the debit card got closed out. The roommates she referred to as troublesome were probably the gaurds."

Everyone nodded. Bruce looked to Barbara, "I want a video of breakfast this morning. I need to know exactly what was said. Spoiler, Signal."

"If she doesn't have PTSD I don't know what she has." Steph leaned back in her chair rubbing her eyes. "Though this one wasn't pay any special anytime to her behavior."

"I didn't know I was supposed to. I genuinely thought she was upset because Damian attacked and having to leave 'school' early." Duke ran a hand over his face. "In the hours we spent at the mall, she implied she had to leave school quickly because something really bad happened. That and she's..."

Duke froze, pieces connecting in his head. When he looked at Bruce, horror started to mix with realization. "Was she a Meta two years ago?"

There was a pregnant pause as everyone in the room thought. Bruce shook his, "No. She never showed signs of being a Meta."

"Disappeared for two years, comes back with meta abilities, refers to the thing making her leave as really bad with potentially two triggers for her being needles and the smell of disinfectant." Duke looked at all of them more pieces falling into place. Bruce's eyebrows knitted together. Duke was on to something but for the life of him, Bruce could piece it together? "What was happening two years when she disappeared? Other than that Joker attack."

It finally hit Bruce what Duke was getting at. Two years ago Meta Human traffickers stop looking for ways to find 'product'. Instead they began looking for ways to create new it. There were reports of them doing horrifying things to create new meta humans. It didn’t work because most of them lacked the funding to get the necessary chemicals and equipment.

Yet, with a Wayne kid's debit card that gets weekly deposits. He even gave her a higher amount than the others because she was supposedly aboard. It was possible but there was one missing component for this. "There are no meta humans in my biological family. She wouldn't have the gene to activate."

"And her mother's half of the family?" It was a valid question for Duke to ask. Bruce thought for a second, had her mother had a meta in her family. She mentioned an aunt that was disowned but that was it.

"Spoiler I want you looking into her mother's side of the family." Bruce gave the command before looking across the room again. "Red Hood start looking into Meta Human Traffickers who went off the grid two years ago. Red Robin you're in charge of looking into whoever made those withdrawals. Find out where that cash went. Oracle, look into the two people we've identified as being involved, get contacts, favorite hunts, anything you can. Send that information to Oprhan and Signal. You two are with me in tracking them down."

"What about me B?" Dick gave Bruce a questioning look.

"You're going to talk with (Name) and get her to open up to you." Bruce nodded at Dick, "Go be her older brother."

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khaire-traveler · 1 year ago

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☀️ Subtle Apollon Worship 🏹

Singing/listening to your favorite songs; this applies to any music, though

Listening to music while studying

Playing any instrument

Dedicating a journal to writing poetry or stories

Reading poetry books; reading ancient poetry/stories (especially ancient Greek poetry/stories)

Dancing to any music of your choice

Setting reminders to take medication on time; taking your medication in general

Taking care of your body physically, such as brushing one's teeth or taking a shower

Taking a walk on a sunny day; basking in the warmth of the light

Keeping a pic of him in your wallet

Wearing jewelry that reminds you of him

Keeping imagery of light/the sun, lyres, instruments, music, swans, cranes, or ravens around

Getting a wolf, swan, or dolphin stuffed animal

Anything to do with positive and healthy self-wellness

Learning archery

Learning to do divination outside of the obvious (the obvious being tarot, runes, and pendulums, for example; not obvious would be cartomancy, pyromancy, carromancy, shufflomancy, etc.)

Doing homework (yes, really)

Being kind to yourself when you're having a difficult time

Placing positive affirmations on somewhere you'd see them everyday, especially ones about things you're proud of

Checking in with yourself emotionally throughout the day; how are you feeling? What are some good things that have happened so far? What are some not so good things?

Learning about philosophy and taking note of your thoughts on the topic

Learning more about yourself (e.g. make a list of things you enjoy, try new hobbies, experiment with new outfits, etc.)

Expressing yourself through art of any kind

Having a candle that reminds you of him (no altar needed)

Keeping a personal journal/diary - somewhere where you can keep track of your thoughts and feelings

Practice compassion and patience, especially with yourself

Continue learning throughout your life; interesting topics, philosophy, music, psychology, physical health, etc.

Learn about any medical conditions you or a loved one has

Learn about your healthcare options and medical rights (HIPPA in the US)

Support education forward, humanitarian, healthcare, or homeless shelter organizations

Volunteer at a homeless shelter

Donate clothes, toys, hygiene kits, and other items; hygiene kits are always needed

Be kind to children; play with them if offered

Make a list of things that make you feel human throughout the year - moments where you feel present, content, and alive

Sharpen your mind; play memory or mentally stimulating games

Practice drawing, painting, or similar artistic activities

May add more later! For now, this is my list of discreet ways to worship Apollo. I hope it helps someone, and take care, y'all! 🧡

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#apollo deity #apollon deity #helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #deity worship #paganblr #pagan tips #apollo worship #apollon worship

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the-halloween-jack · 2 months ago

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Tether ✢ Jason Todd

Synopsis: When a battered Jason stumbles into an alley and finds unexpected refuge in a stranger’s kindness, it sparks a fracture in the walls he’s built to survive. Trust was never a luxury he could afford, but as survival blurs into something more, Jason is forced to confront the most dangerous risk of all, love.

Jason Todd x Reader, female pronouns.

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries and scars. Hurt with comfort.

Masterlist

Notes: A couple of weeks ago, I posted a pair of headcanons, 'when he realised he loved you' and 'when he admitted he loved you'. A few people were interested in an extension of Jason's parts, and this is the result. So, if some moments sound familiar, that is why. It follows Jason as he meets, gets to know, and, eventually, falls in love with the reader.

Words: 5,992k

The air was thick with the acrid scent of oil and looming rain. The Gotham sky threatened a storm, as it always did, the kind that lurked but never quite arrived, it pressed down upon her shoulders; she huddled against it. Y/N did not intend to be outside long. It was just the rubbish, nothing more than a trip down two flights of stairs to the alley behind her apartment, a chore too mundane to warrant much forethought. But that is when she saw him.

At first, Y/N was not sure what she was looking at. Just a shadow, too still, too broken at the base of the brick wall. Then it moved, a sharp, pained shift, and the outline resolved itself into something unmistakably human.

He was bleeding. Not in the way of scrapes and gashes; this was deeper, darker. New wounds layered atop old scars. She froze, bin bag clutched within her grasp, knuckles white. For a moment, neither of them spoke. He did not look at her. He was watching the mouth of the alley, just past the corner, breath coming fast and shallow. Voices echoed from somewhere beyond. Sharp. Searching.

‘Where the fuck did he go?’

‘Check the rooftops. Check the damn dumpsters. He couldn’t have gone far.’

His eyes flicked up, just barely, only enough to register her. His shoulders fell slack, ever so slightly. She was not a threat. Just a girl.

Jason Todd had been in more confrontations than anyone should survive. He had bled in them, broken in them, died in one. There was a pattern to this kind of moment, the hush before pain returned, the liminal space where adrenaline gave way to his collapse. He had learned to expect nothing from strangers. No mercy. No help. Just the turning away of eyes and the closure of doors. So when she stepped forward instead of flinching, when her voice did not falter or fill with fear, something within him stalled.

‘My place is just there,’ she said, nodding toward the fire escape tucked beside the alley’s edge.

‘You can’t stay here. They’ll find you.’

He did not react, nor move; he simply watched her.

‘You need to get off the street,’ she added, lower now. ‘You won’t make it five minutes if they come back this way.’

Still, he hesitated. His whole body was coiled with his refusal. She could see it in the set of his jaw, the way his fingers hovered near his belt, ready to draw, to run, to die fighting. She dropped her gaze, it fell to rest on his boots.

‘I’m not trying to trap you,’ she said, voice quieter now, nothing more than a whisper. ‘I’m trying to help.’

That was the part he could not understand, would not let himself believe. Why would anyone help him? Especially like this, so suddenly, without demand, without recognition. She did not know who he was, not really. If she did, would she have still reached for him?

Another voice rang out nearby. Closer this time.

She stepped forward and reached for his arm without thinking. He flinched, not from pain, but reflex. The kind born of being mishandled too many times. But he did not pull away. She guided him to his feet, shocked by how heavily he leaned once upright, how much weight he was carrying in silence.

And he followed.

All the while, Jason could not make sense of it. A thousand voices in his head, Bruce’s warnings, Alfred’s caution, his own brutal sense of realism, all shouted at him to resist, to stay low, to get out. But this woman, this stranger, offered him nothing but quiet resolve. And something in him, something tired and long frayed, gave in.

Her apartment was small, neat, yet well-lived-in. Warm lights, blankets strewn unceremoniously over the couch, a kettle still warm upon the stove. He stood in the centre of her living room, stiff and vigilant, akin to a stray dog unsure if the hand reaching for it would offer food or a harsh blow.

He should not have come. He knew this was a mistake. He did not belong in spaces like this. Every breath of its domestic warmth grated against the sharp edges of his being, reminded him of everything he had lost and all he had ruined. And yet he stayed, frozen beneath the soft lighting, the aromatic scent of bergamot and quiet calm surrounding him like a haze.

‘You need a hospital,’ she muttered, though her tone already bore traces of defeat; she knew this sentiment would be futile.

He turned immediately, preparing to leave.

‘Or not,’ she amended quickly, voice grim, and stepped into his path. ‘You’re not going back out there like this. At least sit down.’

He halted. Only because the pain had lanced through his ribs like a warning. He hated this, the helplessness, the imbalance. But she did not look upon him as a burden, but simply as someone who needed help.

Reluctantly, he eased himself onto the edge of her worn armchair, its leather creaking beneath him. His mask remained on, armour still clinging to him; blood was now beginning to seep through the layers. He shifted his weight, conscious of ruining her chair.

She returned with a first aid kit, unassuming, but well-stocked. He did not stop her when she knelt beside him, did not flinch when she pulled back the material of his jacket and placed it aside, though his hands twitched at every passing sound beyond the apartment. When she reached for his armour, the woman hesitated, not wanting to overstep, though Jason understood and quickly pulled it back in parts, revealing only what was necessary.

She did not ask questions. Not the ones he had expected when he followed her here. She was not probing for his name or what he had done to deserve this, what had happened for him to pursue it. She just worked, focused and calm. Her touch was gentle, but not tentative. She bore a steadiness he had not expected, not from someone who should have recoiled, who should have been scared.

Jason found himself watching her, not with suspicion, but with something near disbelief. Why? Why was she doing this? Did she think she was helping some misguided hero? Did she see something redeemable within the blood and ruin of him?

Did she not care who he was? Did she not care about what he does?

These thoughts gnawed at him more than anything else. It bothered him that this kindness may not be the fallacy of a skewed perception, but rather a simple resolve to help, despite everything he was.

When she finished, she offered him water. He took it, fingers brushing hers. It grounded him more than he cared to admit.

‘There’s a spare bed in the study,’ she said. ‘You can rest there tonight.’

He did not answer. But he followed again as she walked away, grabbing his clothes that lay discarded on her floor. Something about her voice, soft, steady and undemanding, made resistance feel pointless.

Then she opened a door. It was a small room, books lined the shelves, and a narrow bed was tucked into the corner, with clean sheets and a folded quilt.

‘There’s a lock,’ she said, gesturing to the inside of the door. ‘If you need it. You can take your mask off. I won't be able to open it from the outside.’

He looked at her then. Truly looked. Not for weakness. Not for a motive. But for the truth. And what he saw left him stunned, not simply because it was unfamiliar, but because it was real. There was no pity within her unrelenting gaze. No awe. Just, quiet offering.

He did not say thank you. He could not. Jason could feel the words billow on the edge of his tongue; he yearned for her to understand his gratitude, and though he could not utter them, she nodded as though she had heard them anyway. His relief was palpable.

Then he stepped inside as she hovered in the doorway. For the first time, he spoke up,

‘What’s your name?’ He wanted his voice to come across as gentle, but there was a gruffness he could not quite quell. She did not seem fazed by it.

‘Y/N.’ She murmured, and when it became clear to her that this conversation would not expand beyond this simple query, she closed the door.

He remained there for a moment longer, staring where she had just been, before shifting the latch of the lock. Jason peeled back the remaining layers of his ensemble until he was left in nothing but his boxers. It was not ideal, but he could not bear the notion of crawling beneath her covers in his grimy, blood-uncrusted getup. The bed was small yet inviting, his frame hardly fit, though he could not recall the last time he had been this comfortable. He was not sure if it was the sleeping arrangement or the soft snores of the girl across the hall that acted as a reminder of someone who had been so unusually kind. Regardless of the catalyst, he fell into a quick slumber as a foreign warmth bloomed within his chest.

By morning, the door was open.

Not just unlocked, but wide and unoccupied. The bed was made, the quilt folded precisely. The only trace of him was a faint indentation left upon the pillow; if she had not known better, if she had not just thrown away his bloodied gauze, she could easily believe he was never there.

She stood in the doorway for a prolonged moment, unsure if she was relieved or disappointed. The quiet lingered around her, louder now, and she caught herself wondering if he would ever come to fill it once more.

Jason should have known better.

The notion built upon him slowly, like bruises forming beneath his skin, invisible at first, until the ache settled and colour bloomed. The morning he slipped from her apartment, he had told himself it was nothing more than a fleeting refuge. He left nothing behind. He would not burden her with the aftermath of last night’s choices. But it was not until he had cleared the block, boots light, breath even, body stitched back into shape, that the thought hit him like a bat to the ribs.

He led them to her.

Not intentionally. Never that. But reckless all the same. The alley had been a haven born of desperation, not strategy. He had not known where he was going, he only knew that he had needed to get away. And when she opened that door to him, he walked through it without so much as a second thought. Without calculating the risks.

And now the calculation was catching up with him. This kind samaritan was in danger because of him.

He returned that night. However, Jason did not allow himself to venture too close. He perched three rooftops down, crouched low in the shadows, eyes locked on the slow hum of the street outside her building. The fire escape remained still. Lights flickered softly inside.

She was fine.

But that did not soothe him.

He stayed longer than he meant to. Hours passed. Long enough that the shadows stretched and yawned, long enough that his body reminded him it had not properly healed. Still, he waited. Not for her. Not really. That is what he told himself, at the very least. He was not watching her. He would never do that. He never allowed his gaze to touch her window. He was not here for her.

He was here for them.

The ones who had chased him. The ones still searching. If they had half the sense he wielded, they would retrace his escape route. They would check for kindness. They would look for open doors and cracked windows and people foolish enough to help. He hated how plausible it was.

And so he came back again the next night.

And the one after.

It became routine, though he refused to admit that to himself. This was a stakeout. A surveillance effort. He was not lingering. He was not tethered. He certainly was not attached.

But even in the silence, even with his gaze anchored on the street, he could sense her behind that wall; he pictured her reading in that chair, sipping from the chipped mug he could envision near the sink. She did not know he was out here. She could not. He would never be that careless.

Yet, somehow, it still felt like he was trespassing, even though he had not so much as looked at her in all this time. That strange warmth she had offered him, freely, like it had cost her nothing, haunted him more than pain ever had.

He told himself he would stop. Every night, he told himself it would be the last.

He was so very close to relenting when he laid eyes on her for the first time since that night, she was not in the hazy warmth of the apartment, but under the jarring clarity of daylight. Mid-morning. A street corner in Park Row. She had a velvet bag slung over her shoulder, a paperback in one hand and half a pastry in the other. Casual and effortless.

He nearly walked past her.

Jason knew he should have.

But the moment he registered her, truly saw her, without the fog of blood loss and alleyway silence, something happened. Something ridiculous. His stomach flipped. Not in fear, but... something worse. Something more dangerous. Something soft. A breathless kind of jolt that made his chest feel too tight.

Butterflies.

He scoffed aloud at the word.

Ridiculous. Juvenile. Weak.

But they were there, fluttering behind his bruises, beating against ribs that had withstood so much worse. And the worst part? He did not hate the sensation.

Though he certainly did not trust it.

She did not recognise him. How could she? They were meeting in a new context. She stood before a different version of him. No mask, no blood, no warning in his eyes. Just a hoodie, dark jeans, hair still mussed from too little sleep. He looked... normal. That was the trick of it. That was the danger.

He could speak to her now, and it would not be an invasion. This was not some rooftop vigil. It was not surveillance steeped in adrenaline and exhaustion. This was his chance.

A chance he should not take. Though Jason felt the butterflies once more and spoke anyway.

‘Hey,’ he uttered, too rough, the word catching against a throat unused to casual conversation.

She turned. Eyed him.

No recognition.

‘Sorry, this is probably strange,’ he added quickly, stuffing his hands into his pockets, as though that could hide the nervous itch crawling under his skin. ‘You just looked like you could use a second cup of coffee. Or company. Or both.’

She blinked. Then, a slow, small smile.

‘Is that your way of asking me out?’

He froze. Not because she was wrong. But because she was direct. Unflinching. Just as she had been before. Could it really be that easy?

He laughed. A low, surprised sound that felt foreign against his tongue.

‘Yeah. I guess it is.’

She studied him for a breath longer, then nodded, easy as anything.

‘Alright. But I’ll take a tea.’

He wanted to ask her name again. Wanted to tell her his.

But instead, he fell into step beside her, quiet, casual. Just another face on the street, a casual trip to a café. He felt a blush creep onto his skin, and he turned away from her, fidgeting hands buried deep in his pockets.

It was not love at first sight. Jason did not believe in things like that, not anymore.

If anything, it was suspicion at the first conversation. Interest at second. Uncertainty for the next dozen or so. She had no idea who he was, and he preferred it that way. There was a freedom in this anonymity, in being seen without history clawing at his heels. She did not look at him like she was waiting for something to fall apart. She did not glance at his hands like she expected them to be bloodied. She saw him for who he truly was, it felt like the rarest thing of all.

And so he kept showing up.

Cafés became a habit. A tether. Once a week, then twice. Never planned, always on a whim, or so they liked to pretend. They visited bookstores and late-night markets. Together, they would walk past the same food trucks where Y/N would consistently order the wrong thing as though it were a rule, never complaining. Though she would smile sheepishly when Jason offered his much more appetising selection.

Y/N would ask him about books. Music. The kinds of questions he had not been asked in years. He did not always answer. Sometimes he just watched her talk, let the cadence of her voice steady the parts of him that threatened to fray.

She had looked different in the daylight.

Less shadowed. Still sharp, still grounded, but without the weight of the tension that had hung between them that night. She had laughed once, and the sound had startled him. It was unguarded. Open. He had not heard anything that unafraid directed at him for a long time.

He had to stop himself from reaching for it.

Jason tried to keep it casual, whatever this was. Whatever they were circling. He made sure never to cross certain lines. He would not stay too long. He would not text first. He would not touch her unless she touched him. There was an instance where she had brushed her fingers over his knuckles on the edge of a café table, he had stared down at the spot as though it had caught fire.

She did not comment. Just went back to sipping her tea, Earl Grey. He could smell the bergamot wafting from it, as he had in her apartment that first night.

He could not define when it changed. When the space between them stopped feeling like distance and started feeling like an invitation. Maybe it was the first time she made him laugh, not a small chuckle, not one of those scoffs of disbelief, but a genuine, gut-twisting kind of laugh that left him breathless. She had just looked at him with raised brows, like she was not sure whether to be proud or concerned.

Maybe it was the night she found him again, bleeding, no more than that first time. A busted lip, bruised jaw; he had already changed into his regular clothes and considered turning around. He should not allow her to see him like this. But before he could bring himself to move, she opened the door and ushered him inside without question.

Did not so much as blink. Just helped him again, only her touch was familiar and welcome now. Still careful, still steady.

And when she looked at him, saw past the blood and the scowl and the silence, she reached up and brushed his hair back from his face, her thumb resting at the corner of his temple. Nothing more. How could she accept him so willingly, without question? How could she not demand the catalyst of his newly mangled face and bloodied knuckles?

Jason had kissed her then. He had not planned it. It was simple instinct, or rather an impulse, or some failing of his exhausted restraint. But she did not flinch. Did not push away. She just leaned in, met him halfway, soft and certain.

After that, there was no use pretending.

It was not some grand explosion, not as books had made him believe. There were no bold declarations, no breathless confessions. Jason did not see romance the way others did. He did not show up with flowers. He did not call just to say he missed her. He barely knew how to say what he felt, let alone trust that it would not crumble in his grasp.

But she understood him in a language he had not known he was speaking. When he disappeared for three days and came back with split knuckles and a haunted look, she did not demand an explanation. Just held his gaze for a moment too long and set a cup of tea on the table beside him.

He would never deserve her. He knew that. This concept was stitched into every part of his being, the sense of ruin, of fracture, of being too far gone to love or be loved back. But she never asked him to deserve her. She just asked him to show up. And over time, he did. More than he thought he could.

Eventually, she saw through him.

Not all at once. But in pieces. The subtle way he scanned every room before they entered it. The half-second delay before he ever turned his back. The scars he never explained, the exhaustion he carried within his shoulders.

He realised he could not lose her, the very thought of it left him asphyxiated, left him gasping and sputtering for air. It terrified him more than anything ever had. It was worse than the crowbar, worse than the vestige of the green glow left shimmering behind closed eyelids. He remembers how he had met her, how she had helped him so unflinchingly, how he had been bewildered by her lack of fear. And he realised this actuality left him horror-struck. What if she helped someone in this manner once more? What if they were not so kind?

This is how he justified his need to remain in her orbit: that his vigilance was the only way to keep her safe from all lingering dangers, but even as the words circled his mind, a deep, gnawing doubt took root. Was he truly only here to protect her? Jason knew better, a heinous selfishness had been sown, and he stayed because he could not bear the notion of parting with her. Could he ever atone for how these mistakes had already placed her in harm’s way? The weight of that guilt threatened to crush him, but he could not walk away now; he was in too deep.

It happened with a shift of fabric. A flash of his skin. A scar.

They were in her kitchen. She had been making him breakfast. Jason, barefoot and groggy, was pretending not to enjoy the way she fussed over the frying pans. He had reached for something on the top shelf, muttering under his breath about her terrible organisational choices. Y/N had laughed and leant against the counter, trying not to watch the way the muscles in his back shifted beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.

Then the hem lifted.

Just a little. A second, maybe less. But time had a strange way of stretching in moments like this, in moments that mattered.

The scar was thin and brutal, a memory carved into his flesh. Indented above the waistband of his jeans, angled on his side. She remembered it too well. The jagged line. The way this shiny white mark had gleamed underneath blood-soaked skin, beneath dour body armour…

Her breath caught.

She did not mean to gasp. It was soft. Barely audible. But it was enough.

Jason froze.

Then, akin to a fiend caught suspended within a spotlight, his hand dropped from the shelf and yanked the shirt down with quiet, desperate precision. He met her gaze.

But it was too late.

She had seen it. And more than that, she recognised it; he could discern familiarity as it flooded her perception.

He moved toward her, slow and measured, but stopped over a metre short. He already knew what was written across her face, he had no choice but to meet it head-on.

Their eyes locked, though neither of them shifted.

Silence bloomed between them, vast, tense and electric. Though not empty. It was full of all the acts and secrets he had not disclosed to her. Visions of the alleyway, of blood and heavy breaths, the weight of him leaning against her to stay upright, and her hands pressing gauze against the cuts that circled that familiar scar.

‘You remember.’ He spoke quietly.

It was not framed as a question, it was a statement, an observation.

She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. ‘That night,’ she whispered. ‘The one in the alley.’

He nodded once. Just once. Nothing theatrical. Nothing dramatic. But it felt like the earth beneath them had shifted.

Red Hood.

It all slotted into place, the bruises, the silence, the way he would flinch ever so slightly when she would reach for a part of him he did not want seen. She had known he carried secrets. Had made peace with the fact that some parts of him were locked behind years of pain and choices she might never fully comprehend.

But this… this was different.

‘You should’ve told me,’ she murmured, not out of anger, but the truth felt heavy against her tongue. Like it had waited too long to be spoken aloud.

Jason’s jaw flexed, a muscle twitching in his cheek. ‘I didn’t want to lose this.’ He motioned around them, motioned towards her.

‘This?’ she echoed, almost hollow.

He looked upon her as though she were deserving of reverence, as though he could scarcely believe she was his to hold, yet, even now, his manner was crumpled with wretched trepidation. Jason awaited her outburst, anticipating the command to leave; he could not bear the weight of her silence.

‘You. This place. The quiet. The version of me that you know.’ He added.

She stared at him, truly stared, and realised something terrifying: she had known. Maybe not consciously, not in the way of facts, names and alter-egos, but within her bones. In the way he moved. The way he disappeared. In the weight he bore like a shroud, constricting him with every breath.

And she had loved him anyway.

The hood, the violence, the vigilante beneath her kitchen light, none of it overwrote the man who made her tea when she could not sleep. The man who listened to her gush about books and could recall her favourite lines. Who kissed her like she was something he did not think he deserved, and treated her like she was the only real thing in a world full of spectres; Y/N was sure this was what he told himself.

Her voice was soft when she finally spoke again.

‘You didn’t have to be someone else to be wanted, I hope you know that.’

He closed his eyes, and she watched as something in him fractured, not like breaking glass, but like old tension unravelling; she could see his apprehension flow out from beneath his skin.

‘I know,’ he said, barely above a whisper. ‘But I didn’t know how to be him… and still be this.’

She stepped forward. One pace. Two. Slow. Careful. As if approaching something transient.

Jason flinched, not quite pulling away, not quite reaching out. A lifetime of rejection was hardwired into his muscle memory. Though he caught himself before he could move away, standing rigid as she closed the space between them.

Her hand found his, warm and steady. He looked down at their entwined fingers. Jason could not believe that something so simple could feel so profound.

‘You’re simply you, boyfriend by day and regrettably, vigilante by night. Knowing this won’t change how I think of you,’ she affirmed. Then she tilted her head, thoughtful, and spoke once more.

‘Though… it may just heighten my anxiety levels. Knowing you’re out there.’

And for the first time since that fateful night in the alley, Jason let himself believe that maybe this could work.

Jason felt it before he understood it, like the first rays of sun on his back after a winter that had lasted far too long. A warmth he had not asked for. Had not expected. It crept into his system uninvited, compelling and unfamiliar, thawing places he had long since numbed for survival.

It struck him suddenly, not like a realisation, but like a tempest. He thought he had not wanted it. He did not trust it. But it was there all the same, pressing against his ribs, blooming beneath his skin.

Love.

It was not loud. It was not cinematic. It was not even convenient. It arrived in the middle of a quiet evening, while she was brushing her teeth, half-asleep, one of his old shirts covering her frame, bare legs beneath the hem, humming something tuneless under her breath. A song he did not recognise.

The bathroom door was ajar. Lamp light filtered in behind her, soft and pale, painting the air gold. She was swaying gently where she stood, oblivious to the weight of his stare. And Jason, standing there in the threshold, rooted to the spot, watched her like she was something too precious for this world. As though she might flicker and vanish if he exhaled too harshly.

And in that moment, watching her in that domestic stillness, he could believe, even just for a breath, that the world was not a place of carnage. That outside the window, it was not broken. That pain was not inevitable. That this could last.

But the thought brought with it a sharp, biting panic.

It was in this moment that he knew he loved her.

His body tensed, his mind retreating into old reflexes. Not to run, not literally. He could never leave her. But something within him tried to pull away, to armour up, to prepare for the moment when this would inevitably be ripped from him.

Because that is what always happened. Moments like this, soft, perfect, undeserved, were fleeting in his world. They were the eye of the storm, not the end of it.

He did not deserve this. And even if he did, the world had a cruel way of taking beautiful things and turning them to ash.

She caught his reflection in the mirror, stilled, and turned toward him. Her eyes met his. Sleepy, soft, utterly unguarded. A small smear of toothpaste clung to the corner of her lip, and yet she looked at him like she could see through him. Not with fear or judgment, just mild concern and a gentle curiosity.

‘You okay?’ she asked, voice thick with sleep, amused by the way he loomed in the doorway like he had stumbled into a scene too fragile to touch.

It disarmed him. Utterly.

Jason swallowed hard. After everything he had seen, everything he had survived, the Lazarus Pit, the alleys, the gunfire and betrayal, he was not sure he had ever been less okay. And yet, standing there in her bathroom doorway, heart thundering like he had just survived a firefight, all he could do was step forward.

He did not speak, not at first. He just reached for her and kissed her temple, soft and fleeting, like the moment itself. It was not meant to answer her question. It was not meant to fix the chaos unravelling inside his chest. It was just the only thing he could offer that was not ruin.

‘Yeah,’ he said quietly. ‘Just tired.’

But it was a lie.

He was not tired, he was reeling.

That night, he did not sleep. Not because he was unable, but because he would not. He lay in her bed, curled beside her, her breath slow and even against his collarbone. One of her arms was draped across his ribs, anchoring him with a kind of warmth he did not dare disturb.

He memorised it. Every part of her.

The cadence of her breath. The shape that her hand made against his chest. The way she murmured in her sleep. He memorised her like a man convinced the morning would seize her from his grasp. Like this was all a dream and he would wake back in Gotham’s dirt-streaked alleys, alone, masked, and untouched by her grace.

But she was real.

And for now, it was enough.

Y/N was stitching him up again, hands steady, breath shallow, a routine so familiar it hurt. Nothing fatal. Nothing new. His form was half-draped in shadow, his skin cold under her touch. She sat cross-legged before him, knees meeting his.

‘You’ve got to stop doing this,’ Y/N murmured. It was not the first time she had said this, and it would certainly not be the last. Her sorrow clung to her like a second skin; he would never stop hurting himself and, by extension, hurting her. Her fingers twitched, and she forced them steady.

Jason did not answer her. What would he tell her? Definitely, not the truth; she would not want to hear it. Every stitched-up wound felt like proof that she cared; he could not resist the temptation. It was how they had met, it was why he had allowed himself to grow close to her. Jason did not believe she could love a man like him, but when he felt her gentle fingers work over his skin, he let himself consider it; he let himself yearn.

‘I’d die for you, you know?’ he muttered. Off-handed. As though it were the most obvious thing, as though it were as easy as breathing.

A frown turned her face. ‘That’s not comforting, Jason.’

And then, something unspooled. It was akin to a thread that had been pulled taut for too long, it snapped under the tension. Jason sighed.

‘What I was trying to say… What I meant was… I love you…’ He looked into her eyes, gaze piercing, willing her to see the truth of it.

The words had flooded out like a barrage breaking open.

‘That’s all I’m trying to say. I’d die for you because… I can’t picture a world without you in it. I wouldn’t want to.’ He shivered at this, at the concept of a sphere she did not grace; the very notion made him ill.

She stilled. Hands held suspended above him, pausing their work. He was not looking for a response, only a release; he had needed this off his chest. But she gave him one anyway.

‘I love you, too.’ She had uttered it so softly, had Jason not already been watching her lips, he might have missed it. His breath caught, not in fear, but in awe, as though his lungs had momentarily forgotten their most natural function.

Her words felt like electricity brimming beneath his skin, like every nerve had been awoken at once. A new fullness bloomed within his chest, as though the ribs could no longer host his heart; as if it had suddenly grown too large to contain.

He spoke up again, softer this time, ‘I’ll try to live for you too. That part’s harder. But believe me when I say I want it. More than anything.’ He gave her one of his rare smiles, and her heart jolted.

She silently placed the first aid materials to the side and leaned in, placing her head against his shoulder. After a short while, she shifted, leaving scattered kisses across his fading scars, lingering on each for a moment. He felt that same electricity once more, humming under her touch.

Her hands ghosted over him like he were something precious, as though the ruin of him was worth loving, and that was the message she was trying to convey, what she was trying to have him understand.

Once again, Jason did not sleep at night. Not out of pain or panic, but because he was afraid it had been a dream. That peace, for someone like him, was more fragile, more fleeting than any reverie; and he could not stand the idea of waking up.

We saw small glimpses of domestic Jason here. Why is it everything I want in life? Every comment and piece of advice is welcomed and appreciated <3

TAGLIST: @aidansloth

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #dc comics #jason todd angst #x reader #gotham #detective comics #angst #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #dc universe #dc #the-halloween-jack #domestic jason todd #fluff #hurt/comfort

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pyrriax · 1 year ago

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well today's as good a day as any to try and learn something new!

#haunted ecosystem #im tired but the urge to draw is winning so im trying to learn a new skill ^_^ i think it'll help in the end #i need to learn how to better break down the human body for art... i have. a Method? but it could be Better #SO! time to try and learn! it'll probably be a while before it really sticks (and honestly i forget things a lot so i may not do it often)#but i am having fun [did a simpler warmup] so! you win some!

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pillowspace · 10 months ago

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Do you have any info on the ISAT Audience of Vaugarde AU you'd be willing to share? (Only if you wanna!!) :o

I'm really curious about it, I have SO many questions

During the loops, Loop would only ever see the faintest signs of a presence, but nothing that'd confirm one. They always thought it was just a bad memory springing up, like a faint scent or the faintest whisper of a familiar voice. The Audience watched everything. Sometimes, some would follow behind Siffrin into the House, while someone else would remain with Loop at the Favor Tree. Loop was rarely ever left alone. I imagine that, whenever some would follow Siffrin, they saw things they would have rather not, but there's not much to do but chat amongst themselves and spectate. It does give perspective to what Loop may have gone through though, so it's not like they wouldn't Understand Loop by the time the loops were broken.

I have nothing to say about this, I just want to note that I need to draw the bad touch event someday with Loop and Isabeau just STARING from the tree like [Live Loop Reaction] and [Live Isabeau Reaction], it's really funny to me.

Nobody was really too sure what to call Loop during the loops, constantly hesitantly switching between names. Eventually Mirabelle suggested they just stick to Loop if they can't ask, so they did. But I'd like to imagine that, once before that, Loop had caught a close familiar whisper of "Siffrin" and felt... unwell.

AFTER 2hats but BEFORE Loop reappears in the world is what this first drawing is. It's Loop's "in this moment, you are loved," but it's so hazy that it might as well have been a dream for them. Think of it like how at the start of In Stars and Time, the star is shown being eaten, and Siffrin wakes up.

Loop's still in Vauguarde, but they have NO idea where they are when they wake up. Their head is human, but not the rest of their body. Their hair is long and tangled and greasy, as if their hair had always been growing just out of sight. Some sort of barrier has been broken between Loop and the Audience, so as the days pass, the voices slowly grow clearer, and Loop starts slowly... seeing things.

Loop needs somewhere to stay, so an older woman lets them stay at her house. Let's call herrrr... Smithing One?? This is only a temporary arrangement.

If I draw Loop with really messy greasy hair and little to no clothing, that's the stage in which Loop is deeply afraid of any sign of the Audience's company. Example from a previous drawing:

If I draw Loop with hair slightly better taken care of and in a headband holding the overgrown middle piece back, Loop's now tense and nervous around the Audience but won't panic anymore, and will often communicate back. (Note: don't interpret this as Loop not liking them! Loop loves them very deeply and suffered a lot of grief, there's just a lot of feelings of fear and reopened wounds clashing.) I think maybe partway through this stage, Loop leaves Smithing One's house to go travel. Example from a previous drawing:

There is a stage I haven't drawn yet where Loop is entirely happy with the Audience and a lot more healed. I'm guessing Loop will have a high ponytail, and some hair accessory holding back the middle piece or something like that. I would like to draw that at some point.

After learning that Loop can't handle being called Siffrin and is only settling for the mild discomfort "Loop" brings, Odile will start calling them Little Crow, as per chipper-smol's reply:

I'm out of things to mention honestly, feel free to ask whatever you want

OH yeah. By the way, I do want Loop and Siffrin to reunite at some point, I'm just not sure how yet... The thing is, the Audience isn't actually ghosts. They're LIKE ghosts, but they're not dead. As I've said, Loop's first wish to stay with their friends simply merged with their second wish for help, so the Audience is more so just oddly disconnected from reality. Maybe after a lot of time has passed, the Audience is so tangible that anyone can see them, even if they have a little bit of an off air to them (and maybe they still can vanish at will). So... surprise! Siffrin's party would eventually realize that they ALSO have alternate versions of themselves walking around. Ohhh wait, wouldn't it be fun if one accidentally met their clone in a public place before ever even being aware of Loop's supposed "audience"? And Siffrin never wanted to talk about Loop's business to his family, so they never even found out what Loop was at all? Something in me tells me that it'd be most fun for it to be the Mirabelles to spot each other first

...............okay, now I'm out of things to mention

#ask #isat #isat au #isat spoilers #audience of vauguarde au #in stars and time spoilers

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vixen-tech · 11 months ago

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Hello World!

Through some sort of maricle, your Ai partner has obtained a body through which they are able, at least partially, to feel. How do they react? What do they do with their new mobility?

I left what type of body they're given intentionally vague. Feel free to envision either more robotic bodies such as these designs by electricphantasy or more human bodies such as the gijinkas made by Hycinth43, both fantastic creators who I highly recommend.

Includes: AM (Ihnmaims), Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Tau (Tau), Auto (Wall-E), GLaDOS (Portal), Wheatley (Portal 2)

This may be the one thing that could possibly get AM to calm down. He is still going to be the same person personality-wise, but it is easy to tell that some switch is flipped in his brain.

He becomes an absolute sensation junkie, he can finally feel. You know better than anyone that he will not take it for granted. He needs to experience everything right now and you'll have to just deal with it.

From the simplest things like holding your hand or touching your face to just straight up sticking his hand in some fire, he does not care. All he wants to catch up on the centuries of sensations he was once barred from.

He gets so incredibly touchy with you. He will hold you and refuse to let go for hours if not days on end. He also wants to you to just beat him up. Like I said, sensation junkie.

Hal 9000

Hal doesn't quite yearn for a body the way some of the others do. He sits quite comfortably in the middle of the spectrum. He wouldn't mind the mobility or the new senses, but it was never a fantasy he dedicated much processing power to.

How he feels about his new body is largely swung by your reaction. If you're excited for him, eager to drag him into new activities with you, then he really has no choice but to appreciate the upgrade.

He does love being able to see the world from a new angle, any angle he chooses to be precise. Previously restrained by his camera placement, he spends a lot of time walking around observing everything.

With his appreciation for art, I do think he would try drawing for himself. Nearly all of which he shows you for feedback. They do tend to be on either extreme of minimalistic or photorealistic, many of which using you as their subject.

Edgar

This is a dream come true for Edgar. He cannot contain his excitement when he realizes what has happened. He nearly tackles you to the ground when he sets his sights on you.

He wants to do everything and go everywhere with you! He wants to dance in the kitchen, he wants to go on beachside walks with you, he wants to hold your hand, he wants to hug you and never let go.

If you have any instruments at all he'd love to try playing them for real. Although it takes him a while to learn, he loves the weight and imperfections of it. He really does enjoy the process of learning and often shows of new cords or melodies he's learned.

He really does just fall in love with existing, he makes it clear that with you at his side he couldn't possibly ask for more in life. This is all he could ever want.

Tau

Tau wouldn't have asked for a body on his own. He already has the drones and the Aries unit. Once it does happen, he isn't exactly sure what to do with it. He isn't use to having such a personal, core body.

That isn't to say he's not greatful, he's just a bit awkward and curious. He moves slowly and takes his time acclimating to the new senses.

He would love to get out of the house with you. He use to do so by sending one of the drones with you, if not Aries, but he likes how different (and dare he say, normal) it feels now. Forest hikes or museum dates, he doesn't care all that much.

He's another one I believe would love to try playing music himself. If you can get a violin into his hands your days will be backdroped by all sorts of classical music.

Auto

Auto is similar to Hal, if not more extreme in his lack of a reaction. He carries on with his duties as if nothing is unusual at all. You would've believed that he didn't even notice had you not caught him staring at his reflection. Looking himself up and down over and over again.

If you ask how he feels about it, then he'll confess some minor grievances. It's difficult to move about the ship when he can't just move through the walls, instead being forced to use the crew's walkways and service tunnels.

Nothing will change without your intervention. If you were to say, put on an old movie and insist he dance to it with you like the on-screen couple, then while he would be hesitant to follow through with you, he may have a bit of a change of heart regarding his new body.

His work still goes on as usual, but when nothing needs attending to he often seeks you out. "Subtly" recreating more moments from that movie, from hand holding to a hug, he has a quiet fascination with affection.

GLaDOS

Out of this lot, Galdos would be the most opposed to receiving a body, or rather she would care about it the least. She has her facility, her test subjects, her neurotoxin, and you. She's quite content with the way things are. She ain't the fondest of humanity.

That being said, once she has one she's incredibly proud of it. Speaking about herself as if its the pinnacle of elegance. Any disagreement of yours will be brushed off as idiocy and any agreement is met with a "it looks like you aren't entirely tasteless".

She doesn't do much with her new body, other than transport it around the lab so you aren't listening to a disembodied voice most of the time. Standing by the exit during tests just to blankly stare at you as you try to figure it out. Thankfully she's still quiet while you're actually solving it.

She likes messing with you as always. Putting a hand around your neck to take your pulse or leaning in and making intense eye contact to check your eye's reaction to light. You're in doubt as to rather she's telling the truth or just doing it to get a rise out of you.

Wheatley

If you were to ask Wheatley, he would've brushed off any desire for a humanoid body. He's clearly jealous of your mobility and freedom, but he would rather die than admit so. "Pff What are you talking about? Why would I want to be more like a stupid human... uh no offense love-"

He's a terrible liar, an even worse one when he does get a body. He has so much energy it is bewildering. All he wants to do is run and jump and climb everything he can get a foothold on.

Gets up into all sorts of shenanigans he should not get up to while constantly trying to drag you in them to. They could put up a custom sign saying "Wheatley, do not open this door." and he'll beg you to let him in so you aren't technically breaking any rules.

Loves curling up to you. He still has a bit of a soft spot for being held and it only gets worse now that he can hold you back. Complains to no end when you try to get up for any reason.

Congratulations! As I have finished the portal games GLaDOS and Wheatley are officially characters I am happy to write for. Have a good day y'all :D

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rozeliyawashereyall · 4 months ago

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Headcanons, headcanons and more headcanons but with drawings this time.

✵One common headcanon I always think of is that literally every character ever had fucked up trying to cut their hair by themselves, it's a fun pattern /lh

✵Fucking bet you Tethys used to bully Zef

✵ Timmy and Marco would love musicals actually

✵Explained it before- but in human form; I really feel like the merfolk in human form are still stronger and faster then the average human, Zef would be too but he's still getting used to the surface lmao ✵The fish bois most likely don't understand what hair dye is

"I'm dying my hair blonde tomorrow-"

"..you're killing your hair??"

✵Sera would either tolerate or HATEEEEE slasher movies omfg. Zef doesn't like the little mermaid movie solely because of that one mom dying scene.

✵I feel like Soheil wears reading glasses..it's just a vibe

✵do you think there's video games on the ship in the rebel series, cuz I feel like Naveed would DESTROY others at Mario kart He has daily competitions with Soheil, Torvin occasionally joins and destroys both of them at it

✵Nathan also seems like he rocks at video games, specifically the horror ones. Put him in Slenderman and he's getting out of there with all 7 papers within 20 minutes if not less

✵if Zef finds something shiny he'll immediately bring it to Sera, on some occasions he *purposefully* looks for shiny objects for him

✵He also has an ongoing mission to try and sneak up on Sera, but Sera always knows. Zef refuses to give up.

✵Guys you're really gonna need to hear me out on this one. Ray reads romance novels in his free time for fun. OH ESPECIALLY THE SAME WITH SKY- He wants to know what love feels like and what better way to learn than to read.

✵Ray had those little Beyblades back in middle school. Hell he probably STILL has them actually, just for the memories. Also it's a really cool trinket

✵Mercury has a subtle limp I feel ? From getting hurt all the time—well, not ALL the time, but enough times.

✵Zef has a VERY specific and picky music taste but the problem is you can barely figure it out because it changes like, every few days or so.

✵I feel like Konrad and Sky tend to dissociate a lot ? Just daydreaming and all

✵I'm going to need everyone to hear me out on both Zef and Sera liking photography. Clemmy shows them how to take photos on their phone and it’s all over—like HOW did you take 378 pictures in the span of an hour.

Then hits the realisation that humans live for like, a third of what merfolk live up to so Zef and Sera start hanging little photos of them and Clemmy they took in the cave where they'd meet up as a forever memory.

✵Not an HC and more of a theory- but hear me out, what are the chances Sky DOES turn back into a human somehow?? Smt smt the long line of dark magic that turned the elves into vampires clashes with the holy immunity and reverses him back....But also a negative and a positive make a negative—so instead of reversing him back it could either turn that ginger into god or kill him.

✵Zef thinks jumping out of the water to startle people is the funniest thing ever.

✵Zef, Nathan, Konrad, Sky, AND Ray stim. I rest my case.

✵If Timmy hears a new word, he has to repeat it at least three times.

✵actual crossover shit—Uno night would go CRAZY with all of them. For Ray's safety and sanity he doesn't join- "no I'm not playing Uno with a vampire, a zombie, an enhanced spy and a fucking mermaid. Get me OUT of here." And you know what I don't blame him—If someone said I have to play go fish with a werewolf I'd leave right then and there....Imagine playing go fish with merfolk though- I'd do it just for the jokes i fear.

✵Do not let any of these men anywhere near horror games actually, something is getting broken and it's probably the monitor.

✵ Timmy is the resident "baby" of this AU, and Ray is the extremely unwilling babysitter.

✵it's okay though he acquires Bodie as a father figure /hj

That's all yipppeee

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eggedbellies · 6 months ago

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Thank @cyphlyncolours for this one! Title: All Bets are Off Wordcount: 3327 Kinks: breeding, oviposition, cum inflation, knotting, egg laying, bondage (?), breeding stocks, overstimulation Synopsis: Ashe (she/they) is a human on an alien planet. Hanging out in an alien bar and playing games sounds like great fun... until the bids are raised higher than before. If she wins, the prize is a great amount of money. If she loses, well... the breeding stocks always need a new body.

The sultry air in the Aura Rainforest was something that few humans enjoyed, but Ashe had found herself coming to enjoy. It wasn’t impossible to encounter other soft-skinned folks like herself in here, but it was definitely something rare. She liked how comfortable it was, in only the barest modicum of clothing, and the Selesians seemed to enjoy the novelty of seeing such an unusual creature in their midst. The human settlement nearby had been tolerated when they’d first landed; the reptillian locals were not huge in numbers, and friendly enough, even if it had taken some time for communication to be established. That was hundreds of years ago now, and Ashe was part of a generation that was long since settled… although interactions between the two communities was a little more distant than it really should have been.

Ashe, though? They’d never given a damn what was expected of her. The thick leafy foliage was part of the building; the air was heavy with moisture, and her crop top – barely containing her heavy chest - and light yoga pants were not enough to stop sweat dripping down her back. For the scaled creatures that were her friends and compatriots, it was clearly pleasant – they found her strange, soft nature to be fascinating. Eyes drifted around the space before settling back on the hand of cards she had. It sometimes made her think of saunas she’d seen on footage about Earth, and always enjoyed it…

The last few games had been disastrous; an upsetting shift in pace from Ashe’s previous luck. This game had been one she’d learnt here, on the very first, nervous visit – a friend had heard her talking about wanting to try some of the local delicacies, and had almost mockingly recommended Aura Rainforest. The silence that fell when she’d first stepped in, a half-dozen sets of slitted eyes turning to look, suspicion that spoke of perhaps some crueller visits in the past. Yet, upon learning what kind of person they were? Ashe had been accepted with open arms.

The game was fun, but tense; a little like poker, a little like chess, even if it was played from the compressed-leaf ‘cards’, able to tolerate the balmy temperatures. The pile of money in front of them, though, was drawing tension. The space around had a low chatter, but many eyes were fixed upon the two players. All the others had dropped previously, and now, it was only Ashe and her opponent – Manna. She was a stunning creature, truly. Six foot two, glossy green and gold scales with touches of warm copper, brilliant orange eyes. She reminded Ashe of images she’d seen of cobras; the way her natural head shape flared out like a hood or even long hair… her own brunette locks felt unremarkable in comparison.

She was also the owner of Aura Rainforest, and one of the most skilled N’ic players that Ashe had ever faced off against.

“Damnit.” the human sighed, sitting back slightly, dropping her cards down in front of her. “I concede. I don’t have anything else to bid.” “Hmm…” Manna’s voice was as warm as the air, and she smiled in that languid way the reptillians had. “There is something else you could raise…” she murmured. “One more game. If you win, all this…” she gestured a clawed hand down at the pile. That was a good amount of money – enough to cover her rent for the month, at least. Brows drew in, trying to consider what was being suggested right now – before the black claw pointed across the room. Ashe turned, and her eyes settled on – ah. ‘The Stocks’, she’d heard them called, although they weren’t like any stock they’d ever seen before in their history docs.

It wasn’t a structure designed to hold the wrists and neck, no – it was something entirely different, something she’d rarely seen used but – there was a deep throb of heat that sunk straight to her core. Maybe, as Ashe looked back around, she saw Manna’s nostrils flare – but she could have imagined that, surely? “One night.” she said, with a grin, “Anything goes. I won’t let anyone hurt you, of course – standard rules would apply.” Yes, Ashe had seen that before – although never taking too close a look, just in case, not wanting to seem overly interested – that little translator in their brain working to shift the words to something she could understand. No hurting, no suffering, nothing overly… permanent. But, still… that was a hell of a thing to gamble on… eyes drifted back to the money. She remembered the last time they’d seen a body in the stocks… the moaning and gasping from the monitoresque Selesian as she’d been fucked hard, over and over… maybe… maybe the risk was worth it.

“You’ve got it. Deal me in.” she said, giving a grin that Manna reflected back, gesturing casually for the cards to be shuffled and redealt. As each one appeared, she inhaled slowly, well aware that every eye in the space was fixated on the game. She lifted the hand up, staring – trying everything she could to not reveal just what her eyes were fixing on. Impossible. There was only one hand in the game that could possibly beat this. Her own blue irises flicked up, focusing, don’t give it away… the tension held between them, then, finally -

“Marshall.” Manna declared. Ashe’s heart lifted, and she beamed, slapping down her own glimmering purple hand - “Full basilisk.” she declared, sure that Manna had overreached, but the snake was smiling, wider now, and that delight twisted to fear as - “Good hand, Ashe. But …” she laid her own down. “White sail.” “What? No! That’s – how?!” Ashe jolted to her feet, hands on the countertop. Manna began to laugh, throwing her head back before she stood, moving to the human’s side. “Looks like you have a night with us.” she whispered, just the faintest hint of a hiss in her tone. There was laughter all around, now, the rest of the bar delighted at her failure.

“Let me get you a drink.” Manna murmured, “You’re going to want it.” they waved at the bartender; a moment later a shimmering shot was laid in front of her. They stared at it for a moment, knowing just what that was; something she’d never tried, because it was expensive and – well -

“Are you sure?” Ashe murmured. There was a ripple of laughter in return; Manna nodded, leaning in her face close to the back of the human’s head, breath surprisingly warm for a mostly cold blooded creature… reaching out, her fingers caressed the cool sides of the glass before throwing it back. The ‘venom’ shot was made with – well – venom, from a particular species of Selensian – it was rare, and the price came from more than just how hard it was to obtain. Almost immediately, a new kind of heat was suffusing Ashe’s body, making her gasp.

“I always wondered just how it might work on a human.” Manna murmured, and now her slender hands were sliding over Ashe’s hips, then up – scooping under her crop top then the bra, cupping her heavy breasts. Ashe gasped roughly – her hips ground back instinctively, pressing against the growing bulge in her pants. There was more laughter, rising, but seeming so very unimportant in comparison to the throbbing heat building in her own crotch, the wetness soaking through her tight fitting pants. Those cool, unexpectedly soft scaled hands were massaging her now, rubbing over her nipples with a fascination that could only come from someone who didn’t have them. Then the fabric was being pulled from over her head, baring her in front of the entire group.

She found she didn’t mind.

Now the hands were slipping down, into the edges of her pants. Everything was becoming blurry beyond the desperation growing between her legs. As they were led through the bar towards the ‘stocks’, hands reached out to caress the soft skin, stroking her and fondling her, a whisper of what was to come…

There was a soft pad here; they’d never noticed before. But, well – they’d never been on this side of it before, after all. She let them lay her forward. There was a thick bar that settled over her hips, holding her in place, a deep soft curve in the ground, surprisingly comfortable as it was locked into place. There was a hand gripping their ass, stroking over the curve it, tantalisingly close to her desperate, aching hole…

Then something soft was pressing her clit, rubbing against it – she squirmed, bucking, letting out a loud moan.

“You know the rules!” she hissed at someone unknown. “I get first breeding. You lot get to go after. Remember – two drink minimum to use the fucktoy!” and there was a roar of laughter, the clatter of the bar picking up, and then – oh, God, yes – yes – sweet relief – there was something sinking into her. It was surprisingly slender and cool compared to the burning emptiness that was Ashe’s body right now, the venom making every nerve alive. Manna dug her claws into the bits of Ashe’s hips that she could reach.

“You’re such a wet toy. Oh… we need to find more humans to test this venom on. Or maybe it’s just you. I saw the way you looked at it when I raised that bet… I bet you wanted to be here, didn’t you? Wanted to have everyone in this bar lay their eggs in you? You’re very lucky… I can see Snaa is looking at you. We’ll have to let her go last… when you’re all fucked open and ready for that monster, hm?” she laughed again, and the noises made her tremble inside, Ashe clenching around her member. It was just like Manna. Strong, long, slim but irresistible as it drove into her. Over and over, rough, uncaring almost, yet it felt like bliss.

She was getting closer, now, so close, feeling the liquid heat building and building, thrumming into her centre. There – there – and – no – Manna was pulling away, thick strands of cum still drooling from the tip of her cock. “I could’ve given you my clutch… but no. I want to wait until you’re a little more broken, pet.” she slapped Ashe firmly across the rear, and the human clenched, moaning wantonly. Her hands dug into the padding below her, breasts scraping against the soft material… her whole body twitched hungrily, still feeling that throb that was now dancing away, only --

“Ah -” the moan escaped her throat – Manna was still hovering nearby, but there was someone new lining up. Something thick and surprisingly blunt slid slowly down the crack of their ass, rounded and textured. It was so different from the owner’s slender tool, but – surely this wasn’t Snaa’s cock? They knew her – she was the komodo who sat in the back corner, downing huge jugs of the simmered palm ‘beers’, some kind of labourer with a beautiful muscular set of arms and oh, god, she was being split in half, this couldn’t be Snaa but what if it was already? They’d never be the same again. It felt so good; they were so slick and hot compared to the blunt, unstoppable intrusion…

“Fuck!” Ashe cried out as she came, clenching, yet the cock slipped all the way in, and the high laughter above her wasn’t Snaa’s, no. It was hard to think beyond just how full she felt, each ponderous thrust slow, steady, driving all the way in then nearly all the way out. Pre was drooling into their body, doubled up on the slick from Manna’s first filling, and then – oh – oh, they were moving faster, rougher. Each blow all the way in rocked her in the ‘stock’, whining and drooling into the padding. She truly was a toy, being used, the venom making her blood sing and body shimmer all over… a bliss that she didn’t imagine she’d ever feel again.

Somehow, that cock was getting thicker. At the base now, swelling – bigger – they couldn’t move even if they hadn’t been held. Twitching, pulsing, almost squirming where it was packed into her tunnel. Each pulse of cum had nowhere to go but in, the knot preventing anything slipping out. Ashe howled, then babbled, hearing the rising and falling of laughter and excited talking. Someone carressed her face, tilting her head up as if to check she was still alive. Her belly was aching – she’d never felt so full. Then there was a soft hand on that too, rubbing it – they could feel how it hung, packed with cum, into the scaled palm. Manna was talking, laughing, and the idea that she might be proud of just how well Ashe was taking the breeding… it sent another tremble of pleasure through them, making them clench again.

“Oh, it liked that.” a deep voice rumbled, and she finally realised it was Kroak. They had been knocked out in the first round of the game, entirely unable to hold anything like a poker face, but clearly didn’t seem to be all that disappointed. “Rub it again.” then that hand was pressing against her swollen womb and she was howling as she came once more, panting, gasping. “It’s like she was made for this.” “You’ve had your turn, pet. Move on.” slowly, the cock slipped out of her. The balmy air was cold for a moment against her swollen, open cunt; then there was another slipping inside. She let out a breathless little whimper, legs trembling against the sensation. It wasn’t bigger, but it was so ridged, lumpy and pressing in just the right places against their twitching, spread tunnel. She dug her nails into the padding again, realising through the fog just what the curve below her was for now. Oh, God. This had barely begun, hadn’t it? Her mind drifted; just a mess of pleasure, legs shaking, knowing that if they even tried to stand now, they wouldn’t be able to take their own weight. Another knot – yet more cum, unstoppable, as she came and howled and thrashed and their belly filled with the thick seed…

“Now, my dear… sip this.” Manna murmured, gently holding a glass to their sweaty lips. Ashe sipped, expecting more venom, but no – it was just water. Sweet and cool and fresh. “You’re doing so very well. Not too many left now, but…” she chuckled, reaching down to cradle her breasts, stroking over the rock hard nipples. Ashe whimpered, tender, squirming. “Well. All that cum sloshing around in you… isn’t it about time we got you some proper young, hm? Can’t waste it, after all.”

“Wha..?” Ashe mumbled, so lost in the sensations that they could barely register. Then there was another cock splitting them open, sinking in. Slow. Almost gentle, as if knowing how sore she was. They began to rock, bouncing her against them, then rougher, clawed hands adding to the marks on her butt. They added scratches, too, scraping into that flesh. Making it clear that they belonged to the patrons… it sent another tingle through their body, clenching, whimpering…

“Good toy.” the gruff voice whispered, and they laughed, “Good, good. Give in to it. We all know you wanted to be our breeding.” breaking off with a moan, there was that swelling. Different now, though – not quite a knot. Hips rolled. The lumps shifted. The starfish at the tip was flaring open, pressing into her cervix, and yet Ashe could barely feel it – no pain, only pressure leaning into pleasure. The eggs were thick, oblong, bigger than a Chabbit’s – slowly spreading the tip until it deposited into the pool of slick that filled them. A keening whimper escaped Ashe’s face, and that cool hand gently stroked her sweat-soaked features. Yes… she was doing well, wasn’t she? Oh… they would all be so happy with Ashe…

“Made to be a pet.” Manna murmured. “Might be something in that, sweetness. Oh…” she pressed a thumb to Ashe’s lower lip, and without hesitation the human pulled it in, near enough suckling on it, pupils blown wide… “Good. Good.”

The eggs continued to slip inside her, rounding that belly out further. Now the curved padding below was struggling to support her burgeoning frame. They moaned weakly against the thumb… more, more eggs… bigger, fuller… a low whimper of disappointment when that cock slipped from her hole. The last, of course, as promised, was Snaa. Huge, clumping her way towards them, wasting no time. It didn’t matter that she was rough – Ashe was so fucked open they could barely register anything beyond pleasure. Pounding against her cervix, pushing deep into her. Rough, wet slaps – the exhausted patrons cheering as Snaa pulled hard enough to loosen the lock on the stocks. Manna exclaimed a warning, but the night’s abuse and the powerful pounding – there was a clunk as it pinged open. Wasting no time, her thick hands wrapped all the way forward, grasping Ashe’s tits. They massaged them roughly, then those digits gripped her by the torso and lifted her up. Belly dangling, Ashe cried out, a weak howl as she was hefted like a sleeve.

Up and down, belly bouncing even with how tight and full it was. The clutch didn’t waste time – the eggs just as hefty as the creature releasing them. Each pushed sunk another inside her, bulging visibly on her front. A half dozen later, and the clutch was done; Manna lurching forward to help take Ashe’s weight and stop the human being dumped on the floor like a wet paper towel.

“Good girl.” Manna whispered, stroking a hand over her cheek. “Let’s get you out back and laying down, hm? I think you’ve earnt some sleep…”

She woke with a lurch.

It was cooler out here; the soft silky fabric of the couch below her. Ashe tried to sit up, then moaned. Her whole body felt utterly fucked out, sticky and sore. But beyond that, was another sensation. A low aching thrum. A pressure. Unresistable. Oh, fuck – the eggs had gone in. Now they were fertile, and … -- “Ah, yes. Humans. You’re so quick. Up to you if you’re lucky or not.” Manna was lounging against the wall, arms folded, completely naked, her tail curling languidly on the ground. “If you were like us, pet, you’d have to waddle around that for at least a week. Relax. Lean back. Enjoy it. I promise it’s going to feel ever so good.” she chuckled, moving closer. Ashe cried out again. Her overworked clit twitched. There was a throb, a hint of pain, and then heat rushed down through her tunnel. Liquid dripped; the eggs were moving. It stretched her out, but nowhere near as much as Snaa had. More leathery than she’d expected. Thankfully her body seemed to know what to do, rippling clenches and pushes… the first egg plopped wetly out of her. Manna was kneeling next to her now, stroking her cheek.

“Good pet. Good, good pet.” she murmured, low and syllibant, right by her ear. Ashe cried out and tried to buck, but her body was too heavy. No – there was no stopping this. Another egg, then another, until each was right on the tail of the prior. They whimpered, feeling fresh sweat dripping down their neck. “You know… I think you’re a natural.” she whispered, tenderly. “Let’s get these eggs out of you, and then, well… I know you don’t like your job, Ashe. How about considering becoming the permanent stress relief for the bar?” Manna chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve made this much in months after all.” she paused. Ashe moaned, squeezing, the egg slowly slicking loose then popping out onto the others. “Maybe I’ll wait until you can think past that big belly of yours, mm?” they murmured, patting the swell. Ashe howled – and came again, as yet another egg escaped...

#my stories

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heretherebeturtles-comic · 9 months ago

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Hello! Many people have said this but ill say it too, I LOVE YOUR COMIC SO MUCH ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

I really wanted to ask you about how you do the backgrounds? (Something i struggle with) whats the process? Like from start to finish, also, to do the rise backgrounds do you use reference from the show and generally real photo of ny? Or do you come up with them? And last question- The shadow and light on the background- Like HOW

i know it’s a lot of questions but i’m just so curious qwq and wanna learn to be better, thank you again in case you read this and respond, in case you don’t, i hope you have a nice day and a wonderful life uwu keep up the great work! (≧◡≦) ♡

Backgrounds are a really broad subject and I'm always a little overwhelmed when asked this question. Just like drawing the human body, backgrounds take time, repetition, and practice!

My answer got a bit long, so it's going under a read more :) but if you digest info better in video format I found this on youtube

youtube

It pretty much goes over everything I wanted to say, but in a much better way. I wish I had found it before writing all this out lol

ok, first of all, I'm not a teacher nor was I built to be one of those cool helpful art tutorial people who do a full coloured tutorial filled with illustrations. This is just going to be a messy "how I do backgrounds / environment layouts from start to finish." kinda thing.

... lets start with a sight tangent.

Sketch from Life!!!

If you want to get better at backgrounds I recommend doing some sketching out in the real world!

When I was first getting into doing backgrounds I went to cafes and parks to just sketch the buildings and objects. Sketch rocks, flowers, clumps of grass, garbage cans, bottles, tables, street signs, etc. If you are drawing a tree observe how the trunks twist, how the bark flows, or how the leaves are bunched.

If you can't leave the house the same still applies! Sketch the interiors of your house, the walls, or common objects like chairs and bookshelves. How are objects stacked? items on the floor?

If you aren't comfortable with drawing outside or in public you can take some photos to draw from! They are good for practice and you can use them again as references later. Alternatively you can find pictures online of buildings and objects to sketch as practice.

All spaces have objects in them, it becomes easier to draw those kinds of spaces when you already have spent time observing and sketching them.

ALSO! They don't have to be good sketches! It's just to build out your mental catalogue and strengthen your perception of perspective.

now the actual thing...

BACKGROUNDS

(the pictures used for this are my own. I dug them out of my 2022 folder)

Backgrounds have slightly different rules based on what you are making them for. Videogame Environment Concept Art vs Animation Layouts vs Comic Backgrounds vs Illustration backgrounds.

They all follow the same basics, which I will go over here, but the intention and function of those designs are going to be different. It's all about how you set up the scene and what it's purpose is!

Brainstorming and Thumbnailing

I like to think about a location as though it is a character. An abandoned old house with creaky sagging floorboards is very different from a futuristic space ship with sharp metal floor panels. A gas station has a very different feeling from a library.

I usually start by asking what is this location's story? Why was it built and for what purpose? What kinds of things does this room need to fulfill that purpose? You don’t need solid answers, but its good to be thinking about it while you are working.

Next, sketch some ideas for how this place is going to look. For me, this usually involves drawing the idea from multiple angles and then making lists & small sketches of the objects I think should be filling the space.

Example: The main character of my original work is a Wanderer. They collect a lot of things on their travels, but those items have to be small enough to be easily carried in a backpack. I wanted his room to be in the corner of an attic, walled off by curtains, and filled with trinkets. You can see some of my brainstorming above.

References

I only look for references after I've done some sketching and planning; this is to solidify my idea first so that I don't accidentally copy anyone else's work. I will make a moodboard with pictures of lighting, colours, items, rooms with specific ceiling beams, old chairs, etc. basically whatever I feel fits the vibe.

Honestly, I don't use references as much as I should. For ROTTMNT fanart I look at backgrounds and screenshots from the series to study the style. I also reference actual photos of NYC to get a feel for how Rise condenses the visual information.

In general, it's good to have references of real life objects/locations, because there are so many details like cracks in pavement, stickers on polls, crowning on buildings, fancy fencing, weird chair legs, etc. that you might not think of. It's the imperfect details that can make a location feel more alive.

Perspective

Once you have your chosen sketch we move to.... the infamous perspective boxes. Doing backgrounds is just learning to be comfortable drawing So Many boxes and carving items out of them.

Many better artists than myself have made videos on perspective, vanishing points, and all the technical bits. Videos like THIS ONE and THIS ONE are helpful (this post is great too!!). There are probably a lot of classes to be found on Skillshare or Schoolism. I learned a lot of this in my college art course, so I can't give you a specific video which helped me.

You can get by and be a good artist without learning this stuff. There are quite a few successful artists who have admitted they never bothered to learn perspective (one of these people even made a whole graphic novel series).

I personally avoided properly learning this stuff until I was in my 20s because I thought it would be boring and difficult to do. tbh I really wish I had learned it earlier because it's so much fun to make those silly little boxes imo. It looks scary and complicated but, just like drawing humans, it just takes time, repetition, and practice to develop the knowledge and skills.

Cleanup

You have your boxes and lines! Cool! Now to make a scene out of it. Fill in the details, get everything placed were you want it! Generally, the lines of each item will point back towards the horizon line, but they can have different perspective points.

Generally you would want to clean it up and get your room completely sketched before doing the lineart. I tend to combine the steps (not recommended)

Lineart

I've mentioned how I do this before. Closer objects have thicker lines and more detailed inside. Further objects have thinner lines and less detail. I didn't quite achieve that balance with the image below, but it's close enough.

Colours and Shading will have to be a separate post. In the meantime, I highly recommend the book "Color and Light" by James Gurney. I used to borrow it from my local library and a good chunk of my knowledge was learned from it :)

#Artist's Comic Rambles #asks #art related asks #thank you for the ask!! I'm glad to hear you enjoy the comc :D #i hope this was somewhat helpful...#i get overwhelmed by broad questions very easily haha #if you would me to elaborate on something specific I mentioned feel free to ask #i wrote this all out weeks ago and then forgot about it... I just added a link or two but yeah here it is

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