#leave out the gloves and cape

[deadsetobsessions]

I just really like the trope of Danny getting summoned, alright?

——

After he shoved Pariah Dark in his coffin shaped locker what what Danny hoped to be for all of eternity, the half unfortunately inherited all of Pariah’s responsibilities.

“What was it again? With great powers comes great responsibilities?” Danny let his head hit the table with an audible thunk. He’s in his “office,” the ghost zone’s approximation of where he might be able to do work seriously. The house- the extension of his haunt- had added the room right next to his bedroom. Danny had to lift all of the paperwork from Pariah’s castle (that’s now also a part of what’s considered Danny’s but he doesn’t think about that) and move it to his main haunt.

He prayed to the universe at large to let him off. Danny hated doing homework- science not withstanding because at least he understood that- let alone an asshole’s centuries worth of work. Danny bemoaned the fact that he was elected the King. He didn’t even defeat Pariah all by himself, so why couldn’t the others do it?!

Like a wave of merciful fate, the beginning tugs of a summoning pulled at his core.

“Thank Ancients!”

Danny scrambled to grab a sticky note, unfortunately glowing green as things tended to in the Ghost Zone, and scribbled down that he’s been summoned and to not look for him until his vacation work was done.

With that note done, Danny decided to bring his A game to the summoning. Allowing his secondary form to wash over him, Danny quickly checked the mirror to make sure he was presentable. A bright glowing ice crown- not the crown of fire, because it was essentially useless without the ring and Danny wasn’t keen on being a king, let alone a near infinitely powerful one- settled across his brow showed his status. A cape, this form’s best feature, made of an expanse of galaxies, nebulae, and frost cling at the end was swept over his shoulders and pinned together with a cloak pin made of clusters of black holes.

A couple of additions to his normal hazmat suit and his trusty thermos at his side, Danny all but dove into the summoning magic with an excited whoop of glee.

As Danny got closer to the magic-made portal, he could hear the whispers of the living presences beyond it.

His summoners! Hopefully it’s not a cult again, even if he thought they were pretty funny trying to summon the king of the dead to kill more people. Not funny “haha,” funny weird.

How should he do this…? Scary? Funny? Oh! Or maybe he should ditch the crown!

Danny grinned, waving his hand to dispel the crown of ice. It was nice, but he was in a dungeon critter mood today.

“Oh, this is going to be gooood.”

Danny cracked his knuckles and put on the most dead-inside-and-outside expression he could manage, modeling it off of the Nasty Burger workers during closing shift. The halfa stepped through the portal.

——

“The ritual is completed! You will all face the might of Pariah Dark, the eternal king of the dead!” The villain of the week cackled as his cult cheered. Wonder Woman, scuffed and injured from the magical bolts these magic users had shot at her earlier, grimaced and raised her sword.

“We will defeat Pariah Dark,” she proclaimed. Her allies rallied at her proclamation and readied themselves for another fight. “This world will not bow to the likes of you!”

“We are all but mere ants before the king of the dead! Pariah Dark will bring forth the reckoning this shitty world deserves!”

“Actually, Pariah Dark’s kind of busy, so you’re gonna have to leave a message.”

Green Arrow’s arrow jerked towards the new voice. Batman paused, hand holding batarangs at the ready. He, out of all of them, knew better than to underestimate a young voice.

A gloved hand shoved through the green portal, using the edges like a door frame to heave itself through. A humanoid shape, with sharp ears all but crawled out of the Lazarus green portal. Batman wondered if this was what Jason saw when he came back to life.

"Lord Pariah Dark is busy?!"

The figure- a boyish not-human- heaved a sigh. "Do you people seriously think that the High King of the Infinite Realms isn't swamped with work?"

"And who are you supposed to be? His secretary?" Hal asked, Ring glowing and at the ready. Wonder Woman tensed and mentally struck Hal away from the list of people to consider for diplomatic missions.

"Me? I'm a glorified paper pusher." The being turned back to the cultists, his cape containing the universe swished behind him. "Did you have a message for Pariah Dark?"

"He was meant to rain down death and destruction!"

"Okay, first of all, I feel like you guys are missing a really important point." The being pointed at the cult leader. “It’s not called the King of the Dead for no reason, you know. Death comes for everyone eventually. Also, I have to do a seriously giant amount of paperwork every time one of you fruitloops gets the bright idea to cause an influx of deaths.”

Danny stomped across the circle, grabbed the collar of the cultist leader’s cloak and yanked him down. He shook him. “Do you people have any idea how annoying it is?! Huh?! Do you know how long the A-354 Form is?! Stop trying to get Pariah to kill people! I’m sick of the paperwork, dammit!”

"How- how did you get out of the circle?!"

The cultists and the heroes squared up, ready to fight the possible common enemy: Danny.

Danny is having the best time of his half life. Screw kingly dignity, Danny’s gotta de-stress somehow! He had a whole bag of complaints!

"You wrote the circle wrong, idiots! Ancients, are you people even literate? What even are those scribbles?" Danny kept shaking the cultist. Wow, what an amazing stress ball!

“Uh- hey, he looks kind of sick…” The Flash said, trying to be a good hero and mediate before escalating. Danny snarled and Flash held up his hands, gulping in fear as Danny’s eyes narrowed at him. “Did I… do something?”

“You,” Danny hissed. “You mother- fruitloop! Stop screwing with the timeline, you giant red-! Do you know how annoying it is to readjust the death count every time one of you little merry red jesters takes a jaunt through time and space?! Do you even know how many complaints I had to field?! Oh, boy you’re all going to regret summoning me today, because I’ve had a long time to think about what I’d do to everyone who made me work overtime!”

Danny bared his teeth, eyes sparkling with mirth as he froze the cultists.

"We're not letting you take over the world," Hawk-Woman said, raising her mace that pulsed with electricity.

Danny snorted to hide his wince. "I'm not interested. Just let me punch him once. Just once." Danny pointed at the Flash.

"Honestly, I can't even blame you," Black Canary muttered, fists raised.

"Wha-! Canary! That's so rude! You traitor!"

"Shouldn't have put skittles in my shoes then. Those hurt, Flash."

"Enough." Everyone shut up at the sound of Batman's command. "What do you mean they wrote the circle wrong."

Danny, who was watching the byplay with interest, shrugged. "They wanted to summon the Ghost King, right? We've had a... change of leaders recently."

"Who is the leader now?"

Danny waggled a finger at Batman. "Nuh-uh. I'm gonna collect my over-time compensation, which is punching the Flash, and then we can negotiate for information."

"Flash."

"I don't want to get punched, Bats!"

"The alternative is that I let the current Ghost King have a go at you."

"Flash."

"Oh my god, just get punched, Barry!" Danny heard Green Lantern Hal Jordan whisper.

"Ugh, fine. No one video this."

Immediately, three phones go up to record the Flash getting decked by a teenage looking ghost. Danny floated closer and wound his fist back, letting loose some of the ghost strength he normally keeps restrained. "This is for my overtime and for Clockwork, you jerk."

The halfa slammed his fist straight into the Flash's face, knocking him clear into the air. Superman catches him but Danny no longer paid attention to the Flash, petty vengeance enacted.

"Honestly, I don't have a problem with you as a person. You're kind of cool. Break the timeline again in the next three months, though, and you're on my shit-list."

"What do you want in exchange for information?"

Danny hummed. "Depending on the level of information, and I reserve the right to not answer any questions. For the name of the current Ghost King..."

He did want that new gaming console. And Jazz could use some help with her rent.

"I want $5,000 and a plate of really good spaghetti."

"I have cash."

Danny nodded at the Dark Knight. "You just carry $5,000 in cash on you? Who does that?"

"I like to be prepared."

"And he's rich," Superman chimed in.

The Flash reappeared with a plate of spaghetti from an Italian place he teleported to. "Here you go. Fresh, and pleasedon'tscrewwithmyafterlife."

Danny shoveled the spaghetti into his mouth, jaw unhinging like a particularly disturbing snake right before he dumped the whole thing- plate and all- down his throat. "Thanks! The food didn't even try to kill me this time! You're good."

"Does your food try to kill you all of the time?!" The Flash- Barry, apparently- asked.

Danny nodded as he took the cash from Batman's gloved hands. "Totally. It sucks."

"Identity." Batman demanded.

"Oh, yeah. The current ghost king is me."

"...What."

"You have been swindled. Bamboozled. Outwitted and outsmarted," Danny snickered, shoving the bundle of cash in his chest. "But seriously, I'm the king. We got rid of Pariah a while ago."

The crown of ice materialized.

"You said you were a glorified paper pusher!" Hawk-Woman chortled.

"I am! I'm pushing so many papers across my desk, it's unending, I swear!"

Batman growled. "You tricked us."

Danny smirked, "You got tricked." Red Robin, in the corner, snorted quietly. "Anyways, if you've got more interesting things around here, I'll considering busying myself with that instead of sentencing you to an afterlife of paperwork."

The adults straightened, grimacing. "Beast Boy is green," Hal offered up.

"Hey!" Beast Boy shouted, offended at the easy way Hal offered him up. He turned to Danny. "But have you ever seen a green chinchilla? Super cute. Watch!"

"Woah!" Danny clapped. Yes, he'll hang out with them before dragging himself back.

[xmy-love-to-youx]

Simon as a father

Simon wasn't exactly excited about having children but once he held his first born in his arms, his mindset changed.

Simon loves his little girl. He loves spoiling her, she's his little princess.

She's got his beautiful brown eyes and blonde hair.

"Daddy? Can I have puppy?"

"Yes my princess"

"Daddy, I want pizza but mommy said no"

"It's okay princess. Let's get you pizza but don't tell your mother"

He will break all the rules just to see her happy.

Simon would come home, exhausted, both mentally and physically. He is prepared to drink himself drunk and pass out on a random spot but once he hears little footsteps running to him, a smile appears on his face under his mask.

"Daddy! You're home!"

"There's my little angel"

Simon is very protective of his little girl, his always holding her and walking around with her in his arms.

He let's her wear his mask and he'd watch with a smile on his face as she tries to scare him.

"Boo!"

"You scared me, my little Ghost"

He would sit and listen to her ramble on about something completely random whether it's that wierd boy from school or something she saw on TV. He would sit still and listen, she had his full attention.

"But it very creepy. All he does is eat glue and cry whole day. That's so baby-ish of him"

"I agree"

"And this one girl brags about her dog all day..."

With every chance he gets, he spends it with her. He plays with her, brushes her hair.

He even joins her when she had a tea party with her stuffed animals. He let's her paint his nails pink or any color she decides, he just covers it up with his gloves.

He let's her play with his hair.

"Daddy. I want to play with your hair"

He immediately lays down and let's her do whatever she wants.

She makes him watch Barbie with her until they both fall asleep on the couch.

One day, Simon had a rough day at work and wasn't in a good mood. Price was on his head about paperwork and Soap was annoying him as always. He needed a pen and went to his bag to grab another when he got there, he spotted a mysterious picture in his bag and pulled it out, it was a drawing of him with a cape with the words scribbled across the page "Daddy. My hero"

Simon framed the picture and keeps it on his desk and stares at it everyday.

He reads her stories and watches her slowly fall asleep, he stays for a while and watches her cling to him like he was a teddy bear.

He places a gentle kiss on her forehead before quietly leaving her room and goes to bed.

He holds you in his arms and whines about how his princess is growing up too quickly.

It wasn't long afterwards that baby #2 came along and he was overjoyed and stuck to your side.

"No standing"

"I'll do it for you, you sit down and rest"

"What is my baby craving today?"

Simon makes sure you and the baby are safe before he leaves or does anything.

Simon definitely loves his girls but if he should have a boy, he would definitely name him Johnny, after his fallen friend and teammate.

Simon's poor phone is always full because of all the pictures and videos in his gallery that he took of his children.

[kentocidal]

OPEN UP AND SAY "AHH..." .txt

USERS: dentist!kento nanami x fem!afab!reader

WARNING! THIS FILE HAS BEEN CORRUPTED WITH THE FOLLOWING MALWARE: dubcon, oral inspection, gloves, medical malpractice(?), oral (m!receiving), spit, dacryphilia, choking/gagging, power imbalance, oral fixation, ask to tag

NOTES: something happened to me while i was writing this. anyway, here you go. ~3.2k words.

the dentist’s office was one of those medical buildings that was clearly a house before it was an office. built in a cape cod style with a tiny parking lot that had been added far later. you had found this place online, after it had gotten some stellar five-star reviews that you trusted enough to schedule a consultation and a cleaning. 

it wasn’t one of those gimmicky, commercialized dentists either. it didn’t have a tooth for a mascot, or a commercial with a jingle that never left your head. it was simply a dentist’s office. the page on google came up as “kento nanami, d.m.d., dental practitioner and surgeon.” 

something about the blandness of the webpage, matched with the homey feel of the office, dissuaded your nerves. you had finally found an office you felt comfortable going to get your cleaning at.

you took a breath in as you stepped through the threshold, and found that the home had absolutely been converted to a medical building. the hardwood flooring, the almost sickly yellow lighting, the stock paintings on the walls of oceans or some tropical place. it would almost be tacky in any other place, but it felt right for a dentist’s office such as this.

the girl at the desk, clearly some part-timer, popped her gum as she looked up from her phone when you approached. “do you have an appointment?” “ah, yes. at twelve-thirty?” you nodded faintly, eyes glancing over the girl’s nametag. ‘k. nobara.’ perhaps she was studying under dr. nanami.

she hummed softly as she clicked around on her desktop for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “i see it. here, just fill this out, and i’ll send you right back.” she flashed the barest hint of a bored smile at you as she placed a teal clipboard on the desk with a pen, and you thanked her before going to sit in one of the padded chairs.

name, address, insurance information, when you had your last cleaning, reason for your visit. standard paperwork for a new patient. 

how did you hear about dr. nanami?

you wrote in: online. all positive reviews! :) 

you filled out the rest of your medical information before walking the paperwork back up to nobara, who took it from you and popped the bubble she made with her gum. she barely even looked at it before taking it to the scanner and making a copy. once she finished her own side of the paperwork, she looped around the desk and opened a door to lead you down a tiny hallway. “just this way, please.”

she brought you into a small room retrofitted to be an examination room. the dentist’s chair was in the middle surrounded by all of the necessary equipment. there was a television mounted to the wall, displaying what was on the computer monitor in the corner, there to reflect x-rays and other important images. nobara moved a little table filled with sharp instruments on it over to the side to allow you space to sit in the chair. you sat, taking a breath and sitting back. the leather squeaked under you, and it wasn’t the most comfortable place to be, but it was to be expected.

nobara made sure you were settled before grabbing a piece of blue medical tissue and a thin ball chain with clips on either end, leaning over you to place it around your neck as a bib.

“dr. nanami’s just finishing up with his patient, he’ll be right in for you.”

you nodded and thanked her again, to which she smiled softly before leaving and shutting the door behind herself.

it was quiet outside of the ticking of a clock behind you and faint music playing from another room. it didn’t take long for the music to be turned off, footsteps to come down the hall, muffled chatter to be heard as who you assumed to be the doctor’s last patient gets checked out.

you shift in the seat and lick your lips, nerves returning. you didn’t really like the dentist (who does, anyway?), but you couldn’t find a reason to be so worried about it outside of superstition and online horror stories. 

just as you buried yourself into your head, there were two rapt knocks on the door behind you before it was pushed open. “ms. l/n?”

“ah,” you turned your head and peered over the back of the chair the best you could as the doctor entered and shut the door behind him, “yes, that’s me, hi.”

“nice to meet you.” he was tall, broad, curt; his hair was perfectly styled atop his head, wearing a blue polo and khaki slacks rather than scrubs. the only dentist-ish thing about him was the surgical mask that was pulled under his chin. 

brown eyes met yours and his lips quirked up into a cordial smile as he approached. you smiled back, feeling heat rise to your cheeks; he was far more attractive in person than he was on his medical profile.

“nice to meet you as well. thank you for squeezing me in, i-”

“it’s no problem. there was an opening. it made sense to get you in here quicker rather than make you wait.” he shook his head as he grabbed the rolling stool from under the nearby desk and took a seat, dragging the computer stand over with him to start typing away. 

“you’re here for a consultation, yes?”

“consult and a cleaning, yeah,” you breathed, fingers curling into the fabric of your pants. “it’s… been a while.”

“when was the last time you had a cleaning?”

“three years?” you smiled sheepishly when the doctor cast you a sidelong glance and clicked his tongue. “i didn’t mean to keep forgetting! i was new to the area at that time, and it just kept slipping my mind.”

“still, it’s not good to neglect regular visits like that. i’ll make sure you schedule your six month follow-up before you leave today.”

you nodded, because that made sense. at least he seemed to care about your health, unlike some other dentists you’ve had before in the past.

dr. nanami typed for a moment more before pushing the computer away and getting back to his feet. “before we can start, i need to take some x-rays of your teeth. have you had this done before?”

“a long time ago, yeah,” you watched closely as dr. nanami took a step over to where a protective vest was hanging, watching him pull it down before approaching you again.

he used a foot pedal to lean the chair back slightly, and you went with it, your head resting against the high back of the chair. he looked much taller from this lower angle, his cheekbones high and his jaw cut and perfectly angled. 

he laid the heavy vest over your chest and then leaned over your body completely to reach for the x-ray camera that was hovering overhead, tugging it down closer to you. you sucked in a breath; he smelled of some foreign, expensive cologne, the scent making your head spin slightly. 

dr. nanami hummed in the back of his throat as he stepped away from you to reach for a box of gloves on the desk, tugging out two of the black latex garments and pulling them on, one at a time. you watched the latex shine in the sickly fluorescent light of the examination room, watched the way he stretched the rubbery material over thick fingers and broad palms. one by one, he snapped them on, making sure he was protected. 

you shifted in the chair again when he leaned over you to bring the plastic piece to your mouth. he was so close – he had to be, this was an exam, snap out of it! – “i just need you to open up wide and then bite down on this, okay? it’s going to take a few photos of your teeth and your jaw.”

you blinked like a deer in headlights, because suddenly a gloved finger was tapping your cheek. you opened your mouth, nice and wide, and felt the cold plastic slip past your lips and rest between your teeth.

“bite down,” and you did, “that’s it. good. now stay still.”

you found yourself preening under his ministrations. he would step away and let the machine whir as it photographed your teeth and your bones and your jaw structure, and then he would be right back in your space to adjust where you were holding the piece between your teeth. he took about five or six pictures (it felt like you were swimming in his cologne) before he finally pulled the piece from your mouth with a soft pop and pushed the attachment away.

his wide, gloved hands lifted the vest from your chest, and you felt like you could breathe again once the weight was gone.

“not so bad, hm?” dr. nanami quipped, though he didn’t smile, and you laughed airily like a little girl who got caught with ice cream she shouldn’t be having.

“not so bad, right.”

he nodded once before he took a seat on the stool again and sat right next to you, pulling up the fresh x-rays as they loaded up. you were presented with the images on the television just as dr. nanami viewed them up close on the computer screen in front of him.

“your teeth look good,” he murmured, as if it was more to himself than to you. “all even – none missing. adult teeth grew in almost perfectly, though you did wear a retainer briefly, did you not?”

“yes.”

“right.” he clicked over towards an image of your molars, humming under his breath. “have you been experiencing any pain in this area?”

“hm? no, why?”

“there’s a bit of a dark spot here,” he moved the mouse over to a spot on the image, on a tooth that had to be all the way in the back of your mouth. “it could be a cavity.”

you moved your tongue in your mouth to feel for it, but came up short. “i don’t feel it, but maybe.”

dr. nanami pushed the computer away and shifted closer to you, reaching up over your body to grab the light fixture and drag it down towards you. using the foot pedal again, he brought your chair back, back, back; it felt like you were completely horizontal by now. 

he rolled his stool over to be behind your head, leaning over you. it was almost as if your head was in his lap, separated only by the chair’s headrest.

he pulled the light down lower until it was perfectly on your lips. once settled into position, he moved his surgical mask back up and over his mouth and nose, and you thought that it somehow made his eyes all the more alluring to you.

“i need to conduct a further oral examination to assess the cavity. is that alright?”

“yes,” you breathed, and dr. nanami made a sound of approval. 

you figured he would reach over for the metal table and grab for one of those little mirrors, or maybe even a water pik of some kind, but, no; dr. nanami leaned more over you and pressed two gloved fingers to your lips.

“open up and stick your tongue out, yeah?”

you blinked at him, heat rushing up to your cheeks once again. you felt as though your ears were playing tricks on you; dr. nanami had sounded huskier, like his voice had dropped an entire octave when he muttered the command to you.

you swallowed the saliva that pooled on your tongue before opening your mouth as wide as you could, sticking out your tongue and flattening it so he could see your teeth better. 

“good girl.”

your whole body shuddered the moment those gloved fingers pressed on your tongue with the utterance of those two little words. what was this?

a part of you was saying that something was off about his ministrations, about the way his fingers pressed and almost petted the flat of your tongue before starting to explore deeper. the other parts of you, however…

it felt as though you were floating as dr. nanami brought his other hand up to your face to hook a finger in your cheek and pull slightly, tugging your mouth open just a little wider. your eyes fluttered and you made a wet little sound, only for dr. nanami to click his tongue behind his mask and murmur for you to settle. 

his fingers continued their journey, probing and prodding at the warm flesh of your cheeks, the hardness of your teeth, rubbing and feeling over your tongue and your flesh and bone.

you whimpered softly when you felt his index finger rub over your molar in the far back of your mouth. it felt as though his whole hand was forcing your little mouth open, but that definitely wasn’t the case. 

“what a pretty little mouth you have,” muttered the doctor, before his fingers dove down towards your throat.

you gagged harshly around his digits and kicked up a fuss in the chair, rattling the attachments and kicking your feet. dr. nanami let up only for a moment as you felt drool start to form at the corners of your mouth and coat your tongue. your eyes brimmed with tears, wetting your lashes, and dr. nanami only watched you with those golden brown eyes.

you couldn’t see the bottom half of his face, but he had to have been panting.

“your teeth are in very good condition,” he spoke in such a soft tone it almost had you relaxing again as he unhooked his finger from your cheek, letting your jaw slip just slightly closed again to try and find comfort. 

“ah, i’m not finished,” dr. nanami chastised you with a tap of his wet finger on your cheek, and you whined softly under him as his forefinger started to probe and inspect your mouth yet again.

one by one he inspected all of your teeth the best he could, feeling each one, filling your mouth with the taste of latex and the scent of his cologne. your eyes were locked on his face, while his were locked on the way your lashes stuck together, wet with tears, and drool started to drip from your lips and drag down your cheeks. 

his eyes flickered away from his inspection for a brief moment to watch the way your thighs were squeezing together, and that was it for him, the sign that he needed.

he pulled his fingers from your mouth and tugged his mask off of his face, placing it to the side as you heaved.

“now then,” he started, shifting back away from you as you caught your breath, “your teeth are in perfect condition, but i’m concerned about your throat. let’s… conduct an experiment.”

your wet eyes shifted hazily backwards as you tried to look at him again, only to be met by a thick cock springing free from dr. nanami’s khakis. he was leaky and drippy at the tip, and it smacked wetly against your cheek.

oh. oh.

you squirmed in the seat and moved yourself backwards (or, well, up towards him) with a bit of his help, a wet hand on your shoulder tugging your body up so your head would hang off the headrest of the dentist’s chair. 

from this angle, dr. nanami didn’t even need to get up. he could stay seated in his stool and let you do all the work.

but you were his patient, and he was your doctor. he would take care of you.

he shifted his weight and took his cock in hand, guiding the tip over your spit-soaked lips. his other hand wrapped loosely around your throat, his thumb hooking onto your jaw to force your mouth open.

“there you go, nice and wide, just like that…” dr. nanami hunched over you, studying your fucked out expression. “is this okay?” “ye-yes,” you whispered, and dr. nanami finally smiled down at you. it was brief and fleeting, but it was there.

and then he gathered spit between his lips and let it drip down onto your waiting tongue.

you moaned, quiet and wanton, just as dr. nanami slipped his cock into your mouth.

he tasted musky and salty and perfect. he fucked your mouth open slowly, his hand a nice weight on your throat, helping to hold your twitchy body down as you shook with anticipation.

slowly, slowly, he worked the tip of his cock further and further into your mouth, until he was muttering, “open wider, wider, just like that, good girl, take it…”

it felt like all of your blood was rushing to your brain in this position, but at the moment, you didn’t care. all you cared about was how you choked and gagged around the tip of dr. nanami’s cock as he worked it into your awaiting throat.

he sheathed himself in your tight heat and started to rut into you as your throat fluttered around his girthy length. the room filled with the sounds of skin-on-skin, soft gags, wet plaps, and dr. nanami’s little gasps and moans.

he moved his hand from your throat to the hem of your pants, managing to undo the button and the zipper with just one gloved hand before it was slipping into the front of your panties to graze over your clit.

you gasped and moaned around his cock before starting to choke again, drool dribbling all over your cheeks and face as dr. nanami collected some of your slick on his gloved fingers to rub your clit in quick circles.

“shh, quiet. feels good, right? feels nice to have your throat fucked like this? you like it when your doctor touches you here?”

you had gotten so turned on that his words were almost enough to send you over the edge, your nails clawing at the rubbery material of the dentist’s chair.

“i can feel you throbbing,” he grunted as he fucked his cock deeper into your throat, “go ahead, cum on my fingers, cum, cum-”

his fingers didn’t stop even as you creamed in your pants and all over his gloved hand, your body jerking and your throat constricting around his cock. dr. nanami groaned low in his throat as he finished down yours, pumping his hips slowly and riding out his own high.

he pulled back from you and panted, pulling his hand from your panties and licking your juices off of his glove, then discarding both. 

you laid on the dentist’s chair, head hung over the edge, boneless and still twitching from the waves of your pleasure.

“now, for your cleaning…”

—

“so, do you want to make your six-month follow-up now? or should we send you a letter reminder in the mail?” nobara popped her gum and twirled her pen between her fingers as she looked you over.

“i’d-i’d like to make it now, please.”

“sure. and don’t forget to leave us a good review online, alright?”

[beskarandblasters]

Tell me how it’s lookin’, babe

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to @planet-marz1 for sending the discord this image because that’s what inspired all this 😵‍💫 Gifs are by @bestintheparsec and banners + dividers are by @saradika 🖤

Summary: You see Din in just his flight suit and don’t know how to act.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, helmet stays on, porn with little plot, pet names (cyar’ika for you, baby for Din), tattooed!Din, shy!Din, uncircumcised!Din, body worship, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, half ass editing 😔, no use of y/n

It’s been another long, exhausting day. All you can think about is peeling your clothes off your sweaty body and crawling into Din’s bunk… And dumping the sand out of your boots. Maker, you really don’t care for Tatooine.

The walk across the desert is laborious, but soon enough the Razor Crest appears in the distance, like a mirage before your eyes. You pick up the pace, anxious to feel some air conditioning already. Before you know it Din’s lowering the exit ramp and you’re back inside the cool metal interior of the Crest. You slip off your boots and leave them by the door before heading to the bunk. You don’t hesitate to shed layers of clothes as you walk, tossing them into a pile on the floor at the foot of the cot. It’s nothing new for Din, he’s seen you naked countless times now. But you look over at him, leaning in the door frame by the bunk, and covered in layer after layer…

“You’re not… hot?” you ask him.

“…What do you mean?”

“Like sweaty, Din.”

“Oh… Yes.”

“You don’t ever wanna take all that off? Not the helmet of course. But even just the armor?”

“I guess I could.”

“Only if you’re comfortable,” you reassure him, taking a step closer to him and placing your hand on the hollow part of his helmet. He rests his hand on top of yours and says, “I am.”

You nod, looking deep into the T-shaped visor and take a step back so he can start to remove his armor, his weapons, and his cape. It’s methodical and meticulous the way he does it, each piece carefully removed and placed into a small pile on the floor.

And now he’s standing before you, wearing only his boots and his flight suit. He looks hot in his armor, there’s no question about that. But now that he’s just in his flight suit you can see his form so much better; his biceps, his chest, his thighs, everything. You’re fully staring at him, mouth agape and eyes full of lust and admiration. He’s all yours.

“Cyar’ika?” he says, breaking your trance.

“Hm?”

“What are you looking at?”

“You.”

You hear his breath hitch under the helmet. You take a step closer again and run your hands along the fabric of the flight suit. His visor follows the movement of your hand, running along his chest and down his arms. You look down and there’s a bulge growing in his flight suit.

“How do I look?” he says softly.

“So kriffing good, Din.”

“Really?”

“Of course you do,” you respond, moving your hand down to his groin. He lets out a strained “cyar’ika” as you palm his cock over his flight suit.

“Feel like shedding another layer?” you ask with a grin.

“You want to see me like that?”

“Baby, I’ve been dreaming about it.”

“You mean that?”

“Mhm,” you say, feeling the wetness grow between your legs.

“I guess I could take it off.”

“Only if you want to,” you reassure him, meeting his gaze again.

“I’m sure,” he says with a small nod.

He takes off his gloves, tossing them by the pile of beskar the corner before slipping off his boots. You follow the movement of his hands, realizing this is the first of his skin you’re seeing other than his cock. His hands are calloused, peppered with small scars from years of training, fighting, and bounty hunting.

And now it’s time for the flight suit to come off. He takes a deep breath and unzips it, stepping out of it and again tossing it by the pile of armor in the corner. His cock springs free as he releases it from the fabric, hard and sticking straight out. His whole figure is broad, his limbs toned and muscular. There’s more scars like the ones on his hands. Some are smaller and paler in color. Some are deeper, their edges more irregular. He’s got some beauty marks as well, each of them scattered about in his chest and arms, down to his legs. On his left bicep he has a tattoo, a simple black ring encircling his upper arm. It suits him well. He’s just beautiful, every feature of his telling a part of his history. And you’d like to know more.

You’ve had thoughts in the past that seeing Din completely naked with just his helmet on might be a weird sight, but now that it’s here in front of you it just feels right; a sliver of intimacy you and only you will ever know, even if you can’t see his face.

“Din… you’re beautiful,” you say, hands immediately gravitating to his sides.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh but I do,” you say, one hand roaming up his torso and to his chest, while the other moves down to his cock.

He says nothing, his visor fixed on your hand stroking his cock.

“Let me show you,” you say softly.

You sink to your knees and kiss along his groin. He lets out a soft groan every time you inch closer to his cock. You bring a hand to his balls and cup them lightly before finally swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, sliding it underneath the foreskin to draw a sharper moan from him. He curses under his breath and runs a hand through your hair, desperate for more.

And finally, you give it to him, taking his length in your mouth. The grip on your hair tightens as you bob your head up and down, all while you’re still cupping his balls. You look up at him, making eye contact with his visor as you suck him off. All of a sudden his balls tighten up in your hand and his cock twitches in your mouth. He’s going to cum soon but you’re not ready for that just yet. You pull your mouth away much to his chagrin as he lets out a soft whimper when you do.

“On the cot, baby,” you say, wiping the drool dripping from your chin.

He lies down on the cot and you move to straddle him, his cock glistening with his pre cum and your spit resting by your cunt. He brings a hand to your entrance, stroking it up and down with his fingers and spreading around your wetness. His fingers circle around your clit, working you up and making you more anxious to sit on it already. And eventually, you just can’t take it anymore.

You move his hand away, pinning it up by his helmet while you inch forward and sink down onto his cock. You’ve ridden him before but now you get to rest his hands on his bare chest for once. And you do, the warmth of his skin radiating against your palms as you rock your hips back and forth. His hands move to your waist, giving the skin a soft squeeze while you drive his cock deeper inside you.

“Kriff, cyar’ika,” he curses, coming out as a moan.

“Mmm, you feel so good. Kriff, you look so good, Din,” you respond, tears stinging your vision as you look into his visor. It’s hard to stay fixed on his visor for long, though. Your eyes want to roam his body. They keep gravitating towards the tattoo on his bicep.

“And when did you get this?” you ask, fingers grazing the tattooed skin.

“A long time ago. You like it?”

“Mhm. Maybe you should get more.”

“Oh, yeah? You’d like that?”

“I’d love that.”

Kriff, now you’re thinking of Din with more tattoos and your mind starts going hazey at the thought. You grind your hips against him, feeling the wetness seep out of you and down his shaft, soaking his groin. The small bunk is filled with the obscene noises of skin colliding with skin and the wet sound of his cock moving in and out of you.

Soon enough, you’re at the edge of orgasm thanks to Din’s cock hitting all the deepest angles inside you, the sight of his bare body beneath yours and the thought of him with tattoos.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Mm, let me feel it, cyar’ika.”

A tingling sensation originates at your core and spreads outwards. The movement of your hips grow erratic as you ride out your high, the pool of wetness beneath you growing bigger as you cum. Your own orgasm triggers Din’s and soon you’re both coming together. His cum spills inside you and his grip on your waist tightens as he moans your name.

But now you’re resting against his chest, his cock still inside you and starting to go soft. Your bodies are slick with sweat as you catch your breath. You whisper beside his helmet, “You should get naked more often.”

“I bet you’d like that.”

“Oh come on, you know I would.”

He chuckles, “I know, cyar’ika. I know.”

He rubs your back and soon enough you’re both falling asleep, letting the exhaustion from the day and the evening’s activities finally get to you. You could spend the rest of your days like this.

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[blindmagdalena]

i'm thinking about john killing someone in front of his s/o, but that was about to kill them so his violent is seem a protectiveness. to be seem bloody and not be feared....

18+ 2.7k homelander x reader, established relationship, gore, blood, morally grey reader? shower sex, fingering, praise kink, breast play, dirty talk, rough sex, count down, needy/possessive/yandere HL, reader is nondescript with f!anatomy.

Homelander is breathing shallowly, eyes wide—wild—blood dripping from his chin and from the stray strands of hair that fell forward when he lunged. He's elbow deep in a man's sternum, and his other hand is wrapped tight around his broken neck, the bones like fragments of glass poking out from beneath rapidly cooling skin.

It all happened in an instant. One second, the man currently in his hands was grabbing you by the hair, a knife swinging wildly towards your throat, and the next he was dangling from Homelander's grasp, heart slowing against his knuckles.

He laughs through his teeth, licking his lips reflexively. The blood is sour, contaminated with god knows what, but that hardly takes away from the thrill of the moment.

It's been a while since he held the gaze of someone whose life he just claimed. Long enough that he forgets where he is, and who he's with.

He drops the man to the ground like a wet sack of potatoes, innards spilling out from the hole his arm leaves behind. In the man's hand, Homelander sees something that sets his teeth on fucking edge: strands of your hair ripped from your scalp in that limp, dead palm.

"You stupid motherfucker," he growls through a crooked sickly smile, lifting his boot to crush the hand like it were nothing more than an insect. The man's heart has long since stopped, but the rapid pound of another is still loud in his ears.

Yours.

Slowly, he turns around to look at you. You're cradling your skull where you'd been grabbed, tears gathering in your wide glassy eyes, the shock of it all catching up to you. You're staring intently at the corpse, watching blood pooling out from beneath it.

You've never looked at him with fear in your eyes before, but that's precisely what he sees when your eyes meet his. It makes him bristle internally. What was he supposed to do? You were in danger, and the way you screamed will follow him into his nightmares.

He could have lost you just now. You could be the one soaking in a puddle of your own blood, losing your life to the press of nothing more than a flimsy metal blade. While Homelander has always been logically aware of your humanity and the tender vulnerability that entails, nothing has ever put it so viscerally in the forefront of his mind as a freak incident coming so close to erasing you from his life.

He did what he had to. You'll understand. You have to understand.

"Hey," he says, hands raised to you placatingly, as if coaxing a spooked wild animal. The blood just makes his crimson gloves look glossy. He blocks your view of the body. "Hey, it's alright."

Your terror is palpable in the race of your heart and the sour smell of adrenaline coursing through you.

He reaches for you with the hand that isn't drenched in viscera, but before he can take hold, you beat him to the punch, throwing yourself into his arms, your own wrapping tight around his middle, hands clasping together beneath his cape.

Caught off guard, Homelander's arms hover awkwardly for a beat before he returns your embrace. He'd been certain that he was the source of your fear after a display like that.

"He just-he tried to kill me," you rasp, tears overflowing, spilling down your cheeks, wetting his suit further. "Yeah, yeah he sure did. S'alright, he's not gonna hurt you again," he coos, stroking your back with one bloodied hand, the other cupping the back of your neck. He kisses the top of your head as you cry, working the shock and fear from your system. "Ssshhh, shhshh."

Looking over his shoulder once, he lifts you up into his arms and takes off gently into the night sky, keeping you gathered close as he flies, carrying you far away from the mess spilled all over the pavement.

Not his problem. His focus is you.

With your face buried in the crook of his neck, he can feel your tears rolling down into the collar of his suit, can smell the sea salt sweetness of them. He's never let you see that side of him before. When the shock wears off, will you see the moment for what it was?

Will you realize how much he enjoyed it?

Landing on his balcony, your arms are still tight around his neck. Neither of you have said a word since take off. He's not sure where your head is, other than the fact your racing heart has slowed to a more natural—albeit still nervous—patter.

Inside, he sets you down gently on your feet. Your balance wavers, and he settles you with his hands on your hips, staining your clothing with smears of dark blood.

He's almost afraid of breaking the tenuous quiet, but he needs to know where your head is. When you glance away, are you looking towards the door, planning your escape?

His hands tighten reflexively on your hips, and your eyes spring back up to meet his.

"You okay?" He asks quietly, warily.

"Yeah," you say, though it's hardly convincing.

"You're in shock," he says, touching the side of your face. Enough of the blood has been wiped on your clothes that it doesn't transfer much to your skin. "You remember what happened?"

Maybe your distress will leave you malleable enough for him to shape the incident just right. Make sure that you remember first and foremost that- "You saved me," you say, cutting his thoughts short. "That man was trying to hurt me, and you... you saved me."

His brows lift, surprised to hear you say it first. "Yeah. Course I did."

"You were so..." You trail off, gaze moving along his features.

Apprehension prickles from his spine all the way up to the back of his neck. He's accustomed to being scolded for his brutality by Madelyn, or looked on with thinly veiled disgust by Maeve.

They're both long gone from his life now, yet he finds himself waiting with bated breath for your response, his throat tight under the gripping hands of the ghosts of his past.

"Amazing," you exhale, banishing his specters with the sweeping wind of your breath. "God, I've never been that scared in my life, but you reacted so fast. No one has ever protected me like you do," you say, cupping his blood spattered face in your palms, smearing it into thin pink swaths across his skin with your thumbs.

He breaks into a slow, pleased smile. "Well, you've never been with anyone like me before."

"No," you agree. He can still feel a slight tremor in your hands, your body still coming down from the adrenaline high. "And I never will."

That strokes his ego deliciously. He likes the finality in your voice, the dreamy way you're looking at him, even as the smell of blood hangs heavily in the air. He almost kisses you before he remembers he's got the blood of some random thug all over his face.

"I need a shower," he says, lips close enough that his breath teases yours.

"Me too. Guess we'll have to share," you say, feigning resignation.

He grins. "Uh oh."

In the bathroom, Homelander makes quick work of undressing, but you're faster. You're already in the large shower, steaming water pouring down from above. He steps in with you, letting the water wash over you both. The water turns pink as it carries the blood away, and then sudsy as you both soap and shampoo the mess of the day from you bodies.

Once he's rinsed, he slips in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "I love you," he says at your ear, trailing kisses down to the lobe, to your neck. He loves the feel of goosebumps rising against his lips.

"I love you, too," you respond as you have a thousand times before. Maybe more. He stopped counting when he was sure you'd never stop.

"How much?" He prompts, hungry for more. Your praise and assurance after a moment of such uncertainty has only made him desperate for more. He wants to wring more pretty words of admiration from you, hear more of just how good he is to you.

He can't help but color your answer with a slip of his hand between your thighs, toying with your clit.

The touch earns a shivering sigh from you. "So much. More than I can stand sometimes," you say, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

"I thought you'd be scared of me after seeing what you saw... What I'm capable of," he murmurs, pillowing the reminder with deft, wet fingers. "Are you?"

You shake your head. "No, m'not, mmm... You'd never hurt me," you say, breath hitching as his fingers slip in further, fingertips stroking the lips of your pussy.

"Never," he echoes, his other hand slotting over your throat just to feel each noise you make. He pulls you back flush to his body, presses his hardening cock to the curve of your ass with his a shaky groan. "I liked it," you admit quieter, moaning when he slides his middle finger inside you. The confession stirs something primal in him, makes him growl out a rough little noise against your skin, grinding his cock into you.

"I wanted to rip his fucking guts out for touching you," he says, working another finger into you, savoring the slick, velvet feel of you around them. "For trying to take you from me." His words make your cunt quiver. He can't help himself, has to pull them from you just to taste you, sucking the nectarine sweet flavor from his fingers, rolling his tongue between them, hungry for every ounce of it.

He moans around his own fingers when you reach back and take his cock firmly in your hand, jerking him slowly. "I want you inside me," you say, your legs spreading slightly, back arching into him. "Touch me until yours is the only one I remember."

Fuck. Yes, that he can do.

You let go of his cock, and he wraps an arm around your waist, guiding himself between your wet, soft thighs. You close your legs, earning a breathy noise from him as he rocks between them, the warm, wet heat of your cunt a tease along the top of his cock.

"Take me," he murmurs fervently at your ear. "Wanna be in you, feel you, fuck you, make your pussy mine."

Shuddering against him, you reach down between your legs. Pressing your fingers to the underside of his cock, you push it up as he moves forward, the thick head of it catching on your entrance and splitting you open in one long, slow thrust.

Christ, you're so fucking tight. He can feel your muscles contracting, flexing, pulling him deeper. Your cunt feels made for him.

No one will ever take you away from him.

His right hand goes across your chest, cupping your left breast and rolling your nipple between his thumb and index finger while he braces you tighter to him. He rolls his hips slowly at first, relishing the tight, slippery pull of your cunt before he begins to pick up a proper pace.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" He grits out, the slap of naked skin against skin loud in the shower. "Tell me how good it feels."

"Feels like being fucked by the fucking sun," you moan, gripping his arms, useless for anything other than taking his cock when he holds you like this. "Hot, you're so hot inside me, and I can feel... I can feel you holding back, it's like you're vibrating," you say, voice catching with every solid thrust. "It's like... it's like getting as much as I can take from something so much bigger than me."

He doesn't know what he expected to hear, but it isn't that. The idea that you can feel the true gravity of his power behind each restrained thrust drives him wild, makes him want to give you more, but he knows he can't. Not without breaking you. Sweet, frail, human thing that you are.

If he could, he would break you apart, fuck you until you fall to pieces in his hands, and then he would put every single fragment back where it belongs, but he can't. If he breaks you, he will lose you.

He needs you to survive him.

"Fuck, fuck," he rasps, holding you that slight bit tighter, lifting you nearly off your feet as he arches his back, lifting and dropping you onto every thrust of his hips. "M'gonna come," he says, voice reedy. "Come with me, let me feel you. I know you're close, can fuckin' feel it. Touch yourself for me, sweetheart."

Immediately, you drop a hand to your clit, the tips of your fingers brushing where he's pounding into you. The touch must be electric because you jolt against him. "I am, I am," you whine, rubbing yourself, the pleasure making you squirm.

"M'gonna count us down, alright? And you, mmmgh, you're gonna come with me," he says, already fighting to hold himself back. Your cunt is only getting tighter the closer to release you get, making it hard for him to stay focused.

"Five... four," he manages to say, desperately holding onto his final tethers of control. You're beyond speech now, reduced to nothing more than desperate, needy noises as you finger your clit, not even bothering to try and hold yourself up while Homelander mercilessly bounces you on his cock,

"Three... two..." His words are strained, balls drawn up tight, cock throbbing in the slick grip of your cunt. He needs to come so bad it makes his toes curl, but he won't let go until he feels you coming undone.

"One..."

One, two, three more thrusts, and you're screaming his name, knees curling up, your whole body tightening like a vice. The spasm of your orgasm rips his clean out of him, has him gasping into the crook of your neck.

He comes so hard his vision goes white, every movement halting, his focus purely on the ardent pounds of his cock emptying deep inside you, flooding you so thoroughly that the excess spill back down his shaft, his balls, mingling with the hot water and making him shiver from head to toe.

When he can, he takes in a deep, shuddering breath, easing his hold on you, though not by much. You're all but limp in his arms, panting, head lolled back against his shoulder. He lets the water run on the two of you a little while longer, savoring the aftershocks of your release before gingerly slipping out of you.

Carefully, he rubs the water between your thighs, tenderly cleaning you, kissing your neck, your shoulder.

"That was..." You trail off, words half slurred, and then you just laugh softly, the marvel clear in your voice.

He laughs, too, his own voice frayed. "Sure was."

The two of you put as much effort as it takes to get dry before making your way to bed, slipping beneath the cool sheets and rapidly warming them with your bodies, Homelander's in particular. He's always run hot, and you seem extra appreciative for it tonight, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into his arms.

"I love you," you mumble sweetly.

Homelander draws the covers up over your shoulders before slipping his arm around you, drawing you into the warm, safe circle of his arms. "And I love you," he purrs, gently rolling his knuckles up and down your back.

You look peaceful, he thinks, watching as you begin to drift to sleep. He's sure it helps that he wore you out so thoroughly, but still, he'd anticipated that the shock of the evening would still have you worked up. It could be that you're still processing, that the trauma will return in nightmares that follow you into the night.

Maybe the threat of a rat simply makes less of an impact when you're cradled in the jaws of a lion.

Regardless, should you sleep fitfully or peacefully, he will be here.

No force in this would can keep him from you.

[thesuperiorrobin]

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐬~

“I’ll stop you”

“oh but you won’t”

Robin knows you’re right—you always are. No matter how many times he’s come across you, he can’t bring himself to take you down and that infuriates Batman. But it goes the same with you too.

Two sidekicks with two different purposes, and two different mentores on two different sides when it comes to justice.

You let out a small laugh “I’m kidding. I’m not planning on doing anything tonight”

“That’s a relief” he takes a step closer to you and you hum.

Soon you find yourself sitting on the edge of a building with your legs dangling over—silently watching below as cars and people pass by.

“Don’t understand why they hate each other so much. Do you?”

“No, I don’t”

“do you hate me, Robin?” He doesn’t miss a heartbeat to answer

“Of course not, I tolerate you”

humming you but your lip—to keep yourself from laughing. “Shame, because I don’t really like you”

the glare he gives you sets you into a fit of laughter as you throw yourself on his lap. He’s quick to secure his arm around your leather-covered waist to keep you from falling.

“Careful! Acting foolishly up here might result you in falling to your death cat girl”

“won’t happen because I’m in the presence of a hero” you sigh dramatically—arm reaching around his waist to grasp his long yellow and black cape—bringing it back around towards yourself.

His thumb rubs soothing circles on your waist—it almost puts you to sleep. Robin’s certain he can hear a small purr sound come from you. You two enjoyed each other quiet presence. Until five cop cars zoomed down the street with their red and blue lights and loud sirens that startled.

The batmobile follows closely behind. A groan rumbles from Robin’s chest and you sigh heavily. You push yourself up with the help of the sidekick as he places his gloved hand on the hem of your back.

“I'll see you tomorrow night” you hum. He gets up to leave but your rock stops him, hands gently grasping the hood of his cape that lays on his shoulders and bringing him closer down to you. You place a gentle kiss on his cheek, one that's placed close to his lips teasingly.

“Don't get killed”

he gives her a sly smirk before he disappears for the night.

[sunsetsimon]

Halloween Party (NSFW)

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader nsfw

mentions of drinking alcohol, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, a little rough but nothing crazy

his gunslinger skin has had me going crazy recently. totally self indulgent.. my first time writing a full blown smut scenario in like 4 years so cut me some slack if it sucks lmao. AND SORRY ITS LATE I WAS OVERTHINKING IT TOO MUCH.

hope you enjoy!!! - sun

nsfw under the cut. mdni

─────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────

simon couldn't believe you managed to drag him to this halloween party hosted by your friends. you knew full well that simon is neither a halloween nor party guy, so this was way out of his comfort zone. but dammit... he wanted to make you happy. he knows you miss out on a lot of things because of his antisocial tendencies, and it made him feel better knowing he'd be there to protect you if anything happened, so he decided to go.

he's dressed in a gunslinger costume, full black dress attire and a red chrome mask. the bottom of his face is exposed, pale scar on his top lip barely visible. his black hat covers his eyes and he keeps his head low, not wanting to draw attention. the fabric hugs his muscles perfectly and your appetite is growing for something that isn't food. the short cape on his coat makes his shoulders broader, somehow making your boyfriend appear even bigger.

he steps to the door first, the music clearly blasting from inside, barely muffled by the thin door. giving you a nod, he opens it and you walk in, holding his hand as you lead him through the crowd.

"hey guys!!" you hear yelled over the music, turning to see your best girl friend, anna, waving at you two. she squeezes her way through the crowd, a huge smile on her face when she sees your matching outfits. simon in his costume, you in a cowgirl one. "you guys look great!" she says excitedly, giving you a quick hug and simon a wave.

simon leaves to make you both a drink while you catch up with your friend. he watches you from across the room, you look so beautiful when you laugh. with your cowgirl costume on, dressed in black shorts and a black vest top to match him, with fishnet tights and red cowgirl boots.

the night flows quickly as you get lost in the music and drinks. you chat with your friends throughout the night but make a point to stay close to simon, knowing he wanted to leave within the first ten minutes of arriving. "come with me," you say, grabbing his gloved hand and pulling him from the corner he got comfortable in.

simon huffs, following you out to the backyard, "what's out 'ere?"

you giggle, tipsy from the alcohol and feeling playful, "this is where the real fun is."

there's only a few stragglers, a couple sitting with their feet in the pool and a small group talking in the opposite corner of the yard.

pulling him to you, you push up his chrome mask to reveal his entire mouth. his lips are a soft pink, bottom one slightly plumper than the top. he hums when you kiss him, tasting the mixed drink you had been nursing for the last 15 minutes. dragging a hand slowly up your back, he holds the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair and giving a small tug.

your tongues fight for dominance but you fail when he sucks on your wet muscle, knowing that makes you weak. cupping his growing bulge, lightly massaging him through his dress pants. simon almost growls, pulling away and dragging you to the side of the house for more privacy.

throwing his hat to the ground, he kisses you hungrily, loving the way you moan into the kiss when he gives your fat ass cheek a hard squeeze. your heart is pounding, worried that anyone could turn the corner and see you two. but simon quickly swipes that thought from your mind, trailing wet kisses down your neck and across your throat. his short blonde hair tickles your chin, a small chuckle vibrating through your chest. simon's head is spinning, the desire to be inside of you too strong to wait much longer.

"bite," he orders, holding a gloved finger up to your mouth. you submit easily, teeth grabbing the tip of the fabric as he pulls it off. his bare hand gives a small pat to your cheek, "good girl."

he shoves his hand down your shorts, teasing your swollen clit through your damp panties. he rolls your sweet bud in his fingers, loving the way you mewl, gripping his shoulders hard with want. his mask is lopsided on his face, lips swollen and pink from your bites and sucks.

"f-fuck simon... let's be quick," you whine. you might be tipsy and horny, but that doesn't let you forget that you're in your friend's backyard and anyone could see you right now.

“you rushin’ me, lovie? thought you dragged me out ‘ere cause you wanted to get fucked, yeah?” simon asks, his voice thick with lust. he takes his hand out of your shorts and flips you to face the brick wall, tugging them down just past your ass. quickly working to unbuckle his belt and fetch his cock from his pants, he fucks into you with haste, groaning at the way your tight hole sucks him in.

he drags your hips further from the wall, forcing you to arch your back and lean against it with your arms. the brick scratches your skin, your body jumping with each thrust as he bullies your gummy pussy, loving the way you squeeze him when his huge cock pokes your cervix. reaching around your thigh, he tickles your swollen and aching clit. the cold pad of his fingers adds to your pleasure, mind dizzy as he fucks you expertly.

"gonna cum si-" you cry, but a hand slaps over your mouth. as if anyone could even hear you from the loud music inside. his fingers tighten, lightly squeezing your tiny face when you continue to moan and cry into his hand. hot tears of pleasure stream down your face, the knot in your stomach twisting until it finally snaps.

pussy walls clenching eagerly around him as you cum, begging for his seed. euphoria washes over you in waves, shocks shooting through your entire body, tiny clit burning from his abuse. your legs are weak, knees knocking against each other but simon pulls you back up, refusing to let you fall.

"nng- fuck. 'm so close," he heaves, his nails digging into your hips when he squeezes them hard. your whines and pulsating pussy are all he can focus on, the party a distant memory at this point. with one final push he cums, shooting his load deep into your cunt, holding you back against him to make sure you get every last drop.

"ready?" he asks after a minute and you nod. slowly withdrawing from your pussy, a trail of cum following suit. getting yourselves together, you pull up your soiled panties and shorts, cringing at the cold wetness in your pants.

"i guess we'd better say bye to anna and them," you laugh, "i need a fucking shower."

“let’s get out of ‘ere then,” simon agrees, buckling his belt and grabbing his hat before making his way back inside. he decided he needed to come to halloween parties with you more often.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: A Haunting.

Pairing: Yandere!Bruce Wayne x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Implied Stalking, Nonconsensual Touching, and Obsessive Behavior.

It was following you again.

A flickering shadow, skirting along the edges of rooftops and the wired frames of fire escapes, constantly slipping in and out of the corner of your vision. You’d seen it last night, too, falling from your balcony when you finally managed to tear yourself away from your laptop, and the night before that, on your way to grab something from the only corner store that was still open by the time you could force yourself to leave your apartment. You thought you’d be able to make it home uninterrupted tonight, but you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like Gotham had ever been a particularly kind place to the people who just wanted to survive.

You caught something shifting in your peripheral, but kept yourself from snapping in its direction. It was better not to pay attention, to keep your eyes down and your hood pulled up and focus on getting home, into the relative safe-space that was your shitty apartment in your shitty building in your shitty neighborhood. It was better to concentrate on cutting corners than the two, identical pinpricks burying themselves in the nape of your neck. It was better to breathe, to try to keep a hold on your own pulse rather than pay any attention to the steady, muted footsteps trailing behind you. It was better to—

You cut into a narrow alleyway, took a few steps, and immediately ran into a dead-end.

Fuck.

You took a wrong turn.

The footsteps were closer, now, on cement rather than hollow steel. You spun on your heels, pressing your back into the brick wall that’d smothered your escape route, but that only managed to make you feel smaller, more cornered as you tried to make out any features of the dark, looming shape slowly approaching you. You tried to remember which villains were active in this area, if there was a curfew that you’d chosen to ignore, but your thoughts went blank as the dim light flowing in from the main street caught on the silver of brass knuckles and serrated throwing knives, as a pitch-black cape slid off of a shoulder too stiff not to be armored, and…

You let out a breath of a laugh. “Oh my god,” You mumbled, shaking your head. Batman, as odd as it felt to refer to him as that, didn’t seem perturbed, only coming to a stop in front of you. “You scared the hell out of me, Batman, sir. I wouldn’t have been so freaked out if I knew it was you.”

“I… apologize for that.” You’d never heard him speak, before. His voice was raspier than you thought it’d be – a lot deeper, too. Compared to the other local vigilantes you’d run into (particularly, Nightwing’s hyper-cheeriness or Orphan’s total silence), it wasn’t completely unpleasant. “I didn’t—” He seemed to interrupt himself, to trip over his words. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve called him nervous. “I’ve seen you walking alone, before. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“Is anything safe in Gotham?” You laughed. He didn’t. Rubbing the back of your neck, you forced yourself to shut your mouth, swallow your humiliation, and go on in a way that wouldn't embarrass you in front of the city's greatest protector. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t do anything to add to your workload. My boss is sort of a sadist, though. Believe it or not, this was the earliest I could get out.”

He didn’t respond to that, not immediately. He scanned over you, instead, his eyes drifting from your face to your wrinkled post-shift hoodie and back again. He raised his hand, and you kept yourself from pulling away as gloved fingertips ghosted over your jaw. You’d almost forgotten about the small bandage plastered over your eye until he brushed against it – a result of a short-lived bar fight that’d gotten out of hand while you were behind the counter. It’d stopped bleeding in a few seconds, but better safe than sorry, right?

“Oh, that’s nothing you have to worry about.” You tried to smile, to shrug, but he was already cupping your face, tilting your head to the side with more force than he seemed to realize he was using. It was obviously a reflex; one he’d probably earned from years of protecting injured civilians. Your personal space, and the bruise his grip would leave on your jaw, were insignificant, in comparison. “Just a minor incident at work. It’s not a big deal, I promise.”

For whatever reason, that didn’t seem to satisfy him. “You should be more careful. A dive bar with a reputation like that isn’t a good place to spend your time.”

…huh.

You were starting to think he might’ve been better as a shadow.

“I don’t remember—”

“You should move, too.” You were really, really starting to prefer his shadow. “Your neighbor, three doors to the left – you know he’s wanted for arson in another city, don’t you? It’s dangerous for you to be so close to such an unstable person.”

It occurred to you, for possibly the first time since he’d initially shown himself, that you were in a dark alley, in the middle of the night, totally unarmed and totally trapped by a man who seemed to know you better than you knew him. You tried to remind yourself that it wasn’t just any man – it was Batman, but that name brought you less reassurance than it had, a few minutes ago.

“Uh, Batman, sir,” You started, suddenly struggling just to spit something out. “I… I really think I should be getting home.”

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve said he was smiling. “Of course. I’ll take you back to your apartment.” And then, after a short pause. “To make sure you don’t get hurt, again.”

His hand dropped from your cheek to your wrist. He began to pull you forward, but you dug your heels into the cement, jerking yourself out of his hold. His reaction was immediate, instinctual – a sharpened glare, a deepened scowl, only fazed by your clumsy attempts to stumble around him, to back towards the main road without letting your stiff grin falter. “I’m alright, I—” You cut yourself off, biting down on the side of your tongue. “I just don’t think that’d be such a good idea.”

He took a step towards you. You took one back. “So, you don’t want a superhero escort?”

“It’s late, and I—”

“You’re willingly putting yourself in danger.” You spared a glance over your shoulder. “You asking me to let you put yourself in harm’s—”

“Please.” You shrunk into yourself, shutting your eyes. “Please, sir, I just want to go home.”

You felt his gaze burning into you, for a few seconds.

But, when you found the courage to open your eyes again, he was gone.

His absence might’ve been more comforting, if you hadn’t still been able to see that little, flickering shadow in the corner of your eye.

[missjuno]

⋆୨୧ ₊ﾟ mornings with him ⊹ɞ ↴

⤷ wriothesley x gn! reader

wc: 634

a/n: just a little scenario i thought of while trying to fall asleep! i'm like pretty sure this might be ooc but I can't help but imagine this after seeing the 4.1 trailer!

It’s early in the morning and you’re still dozing off in bed, the warm feeling the comforter provided and the pillows and the bed beneath you felt so soft and comfortable, the white noise that the ac provided, it all felt nice, especially when you’re engulfed in Wriothesley’s embrace.

As much as your lovely boyfriend would love to have a late and lazy morning with you, he really can’t. He needs to be at the Fortress of Meropide early in the morning. Apparently today ought to be busier than most (not like the other days weren’t). 

Wriothesley wasn’t in the best of moods, it’s not everyday he gets to spend most mornings with you and every time he thinks he can finally get to do so, it gets stripped away before him. He already has to leave early mornings but he despises it even more when he has to go much earlier, so he couldn’t really help but to get in a foul mood.

He didn’t think it could get any more worse than having to get up early, yet he was in for quite a ride. First, it seems like the shower is much more cold than usual just to spite him, the coffee maker in your shared apartment wouldn’t work properly, he can’t figure out where he placed his other pair of fingerless gloves, there was a small tear in his cape, his hair would not cooperate,  and for some reason he couldn’t tie his damned tie.

He sits down on the bed, a scowl visible on his features and he lets out a frustrated sigh as he undoes his tie for what seemed like the millionth time. And like magic you suddenly woke from your comfortable sleep, like you sensed his frustration or something.

You rub your eyes in an attempt to eliminate your drowsiness, you look out the window before looking back at your boyfriend who’s back is facing you.  You crawl out of bed and make your way to stand in front of him. You greet him in a soft tone, “Hi there darling.. Want some help hmm?”

He looks up at you and a small smile grazes his face, “ ‘m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up love, but that would be really nice to get a hand..”

You kiss his forehead before fixing his collar and you do his tie. While you’re doing his tie he can’t help but admire the way you look, you look so ethereal even though it’s early in the morning, he also can’t help but think that  the way your morning voice sounds is so hot. He’s too busy admiring the beauty in front of him he hasn’t noticed you’re done, until you kiss him once more. 

“There you go darling, all done” you say as you fix his top and you smile at him.

He takes both of your hands in his own and he kisses it, “Thank you so much love..”

You steal another kiss from him before saying, “It’s no biggie, need help with anything else?”

“No no it’s fine love I can handle myself”

“Hmm you also said that last night and look who’s frustrated just a few minutes ago, so lemme come and help, I don’t leave for work until later today anyways.”

He felt so lucky to have someone like you, your mere presence alone calms him down. He stands up and he holds your hand and you help him with the things he stressed on about.

Later that day he bought flowers and had them delivered to your workplace and it has a note which read: Thank you for today, yesterday, and every other day that was and will come.I love you darling.

He’s down bad for you just as you are for him!

a friendly reminder to check out my other blogs, it's in my pinned post hehe (such a shameless plug HAHAHA)

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა thank you for taking time out of your day to read my works, I really appreciate it and I hope you have a great rest of your day/evening/night! ♡

© 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐎 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐— do not plagiarize, repost or translate any works onto other sites.

[eatommo]

All is Fair [d.d]

Summary: A heated argument lets emotions, and confessions come to the surface.

CW: din djarin/female reader, the helmet stays on, angst, misunderstandings, mutual pining, confessions of love, din leaves bruises on her, marking kink, rough sex, d/s dynamics, use of pet names, p in v, creampie, mentions of gambling/bets, mando'a, oral (m reciving) (I probably missed some sorry)

a/n: This is a little messy, I'm just falling so hard again and need to get some of my own pining out. enjoy :)

You swear you hear the creak of his gloves tightening around your arm, “I told you to stay inside the ship.”  His fingers are thick and robust as they dig into your flesh, properly leaving your skin purple.  Helmet sweeping side to side he scans the crowd for someone showing too much interest, “The imps have eyes everywhere, you're going to get us killed.”

“Right. Because you’re an average man walking around, definitely not  inside your own fucking casket.”  His grip gets impossibly tighter, and he stops in his tracks, halting your movement completely. The adrenaline in your body peaks as his blank, concealed, stare fixes on your face.

“You’re tiresome.  Did you know that?”  His voice is pure vitriol, you’ve never seen him so angry.  “I don’t care if I get killed but you can’t be bringing the kid out for a dessert run.” 

“It was his idea!”  Deep down you know he’s right, but being cooped up in the crest for weeks has made you all antsy, and the kid was very persuasive.  “We didn’t just get cookies.” You try and keep your tone even, emotions mounting in your throat.  “I got some bacta, and a new compressor for the carbonite chamber.” His posture is iron, shoulders, and head still as a rock and you trail off.   

“You could’ve told me to get those things.”  He turns away from you and pulls you back towards the ship.  There are several coos and cries from the pouch now snug to dins hip and covered by his skewed cape.  “You can’t let the baby tell you what to do.” 

He’s been nothing but kind to you, and although you hate him confronting you he would’ve gotten anything you asked for, he always has.  “You’re right, I’m sorry, but you don’t need to scold me like a child.”  

His hand loosens slightly as if he is becoming conscious of hurting you, as he practically shoves you forward with his body while you instinctually resist. “This isn’t the first time you haven’t listened to me.”  

You set your jaw, swallowing more bitter words, and scan the crowd with him, slightly turning your head every few steps to get a glimpse of people behind you, just like he taught you.  Miraculously, you make it to the hangar without another bitter word.  

Even as he pays the balance of the ship repairs his hand doesn’t leave its place on your arm, the man glancing between the two of you suspiciously.  Your cheeks heat in embarrassment, and you begin to feel like a scruffed loth cat.  “Do you have to drag me by my bones?!”  You twist your arm in an attempt to escape, but all it does is shoot lightning through your arm down to your wrist.  

He remains silent until he practically throws you onto the ramp of the ship.  To further your shame, you trip and fall to your knees scraping them both on the rough texture of the ramp.  With a huff and barely-kept tears, you storm up the ramp and drop the sack of supplies on a crate, heading straight to the fresher for a rinse in the shower, in a desperate effort to collect yourself. 

The ship takes off in no time with a lurch and the immediate hum of hyperspace envelops the crest.  Only then, do you feel safe enough to let out a choked frustrated sob.  The cry is relatively quick, and the water does wonders for the tight knot of the new bruise on your arm, but not quite the cleansing of your heart you were praying for. 

You rinse the soap from your hair rigorously and not kindly, in an attempt to shake the need for these bruises to linger until they faded without the use of bacta.  He would think you were being ridiculous, he might even taunt you about being young and dumb if he found out how you felt about him.  You’d be lying if these weren’t tears of heartbreak, he embarrassed and chastised you in front of crowds of people and practically dragged you halfway across town.

Yet, you found yourself wanting to seek him for comfort.  Longing for the long nights of telling him about your childhood on bespin, and the comfort of his laugh as he gave you a simple story about the fighting corps that had your eyes full of admiration and bewilderment.  He had been kind and soft and protective.  Today was the first time you remember him being so assertive with you, with enemies and bounties yes, but never to you.  

Maybe it was time for you to take off.  The thought felt like a slap on the cheek, and you bite your lips as you swipe across the ripped flesh of your knee.  It is not a terrible scrape, but the skin is tender and bruised around the minor cuts.  You wanted him to apologize, and you wanted him to see you bleed, you knew he’d feel terrible, he stepped on your foot last week and apologized three times.

Stepping out of the shower you realize that in your rush to the refresher, you didn’t grab a pair of clothes.  Swearing to yourself, you take a look at your dirty clothes from earlier.  They're caked in sand, and rather than put them on you’ll wrap yourself in -shit- his towel.  Sending a prayer to the maker, whoever she may be, you open the doors and set your gaze on the floor towards your bunk and set course confidently.  Unaware he is watching intently from the container you left your sack on until his boots are in your vision.  

He hears the squeak die in your throat and watches your heart race as he scans your near-naked frame with his visor.  His breath catches in his throat at the sight, his hand still radiating warmth from holding your skin even with his gloved hand.  He wanted you, and his body responded to the small friction of your body against his front like he was a teenager.  Then he starts picking up on the scrape on your knees, and the swell of a bruise on your left arm.  As your heart leaps into your throat, he drops to the floor on his knees, he hurt you.  In his scared frustration, he scolded and towed you around like a misbehaving massiff.  

This is where his career failed him, he could de-escalate a bar fight, but he had heard apologizing to a woman was not easy, especially when he so desperately needed you to forgive him.  Not to mention the beautiful distraction of his cock twitching in his pants as he settles on your face, trying not to think about your skin smelling like him.  “Focus.”  Fuck. Did he just say that out loud? 

“What did you just say?”  You take a larger step forward, your leg peaks out of the wrap of the towel, wrath keeping you from caring.  “I always admired your bravery, and now I’m wondering where all the audacity came from.”

He stammers, modulator picking up his sharp confused gasp, “No. I mean-”.

You don’t give him the chance to finish.  “I want to go home.”  The words dry your tongue to ash.  But his posture goes rigid again, and for the first time since you met, you’re afraid of him.  

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” As a wave crashes over him, he resets.  His shoulders slumped over, and the helmet hanging as if he is adverting his eyes.  You watch with bated breath as he reaches up in a familiar movement, flicking through types of vision processors in his helmet, and your blood turns cold.  

With a fluid movement, he guides your hand to his shoulder with his free hand and reaches for your calf with the other, pulling your leg free to examine the scuff on your knee.  

You misread him and in your panic pull away, falling over your own feet his grip catches you as your towel parts to reveal almost your entire body to him.  He’s standing slightly, having to abandon his seat in his efforts to catch you.  The helmet snaps to your eyes, and then to the wall beside you as he stands you up.  

You take a step back while adjusting your towel and holding it closer to you.  “I’m mad that you treated me like a child.” He keeps his eyes trained on the wall, “I shouldn’t-” 

“I panicked, I was worried.”  He is defensively talking over you, but also afraid to tell you of his feelings for you so his voice is low. 

“Be carted through the city on a leash like some misbehaving whore.”  The words are pouring out of you as if coating your tongue with honey as they crack across his bleeding heart, far too much happening too fast as he scrambles to catch up.  

“I want to go home.”  You say it again, but this time it's less convincing as he comes to rest on his knees in front of you.  

“I’m sorry.”  He creeps pathetically closer to you, resting back onto his feet and leaning the forehead of his helm against your stomach seeking comfort that's more intimate than you’ve ever offered.  “I’m not good at these things.”  He shifts again, this time looking toward your face until just the chin of the visor is digging into the skin of your abdomen, “I’ve never had the chance to look after something I’ve cared about so much.”  His voice although clear is quiet, shy even, “I was so scared I didn’t even think until I saw you set the bacta on the crate.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, tears slipping down your face wordless as you watch him grovel, you must be dreaming. 

“Ni ceta.”  His heart aches in time with the throbbing pain of his knees on the floor, and for the first time since pridefully placing his helm on his head, he wishes he could abandon it at your feet.

Everything he does is intense, he is fiercely protective, he is lethal, and you might even describe him as passionate when it comes to his creed.  The child, who you assume is somewhere sleeping, was possibly the most fiercely protected baby in the galaxy.  Having come to know him over the last few months, you wondered how he ever survived on his own, he cherished the companionship the two of you have brought and he always seems to welcome your antics, often at his expense.  Like a light in a dim alley, the conclusion flickers in your brain, it's the only thing that makes sense. 

“I’m sorry I brought him into danger.”  You clear your throat, unable to look away from the dim reflection of yourself in his visor.  “I’m just feeling a little like a prisoner.” 

He says that unfamiliar phrase again, “Ni ceta, mesh’la.” [I kneel, gorgeous] In what you assume is Mando’a, “I will do better.” Your hands twitch at your side, as you fight the urge to caress his head. 

“Okay.”  You give a reserved nod, the ice in your heart melted and you feel as vulnerable as ever.  “Is the kid asleep?”

 Mando gives a soft hum, “He ate a few cookies and then promptly collapsed in his pram in the cockpit.”  You realize his voice is hoarse but he clears it, “Can I give you some bacta, and make you some caf? I know you won't forgive me right away.” He trails off, as the glint of his helm holds your stare. 

“I’m not upset with you anymore, you don’t need to get anything for me, I can still walk just fine.”  A small giggle erupts from your chest, surprising the two of you.  There he is. 

He stands but doesn’t do anything but lean back slightly, “I want to.  I feel terrible.”  You take a step back as he stands, he speaks in a hushed tone, “I’d carry you around if that’s what you’d wanted.” 

There’s a glitch in your brain he doesn’t miss, and it's hard to ignore the small sound that you make, suddenly he’s thankful for the privacy of the helmet and the loose-fitting fabric of his flight suit.  “Is it what you want?” This is an interaction he is slightly more comfortable with, albeit a little rusty.

You clear your throat and shake your head as if the intrusive thoughts will fade with the harsh movement.  “Yes and no.”  You settle on a bit of honesty while also playing coy.  “Who doesn’t want to be carried around by a big strong mysterious man?  It’s every girl's dream.” 

“Maybe I should add that to the list of services I provide.”  He is leaning up against the walls of your bunk, subconsciously blocking you from abandoning the conversation and seeking the warmth and privacy in your bunk.

“We probably would make a killing.  But I wouldn’t want you to…” You trail off, not initially liking what the taunting was morphing into, but what the hell? “To carry anyone but me if I am honest.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to?”  He’s tasting the sweetness of your confession on his tongue, processing it while trying to keep the tone light.  

“I want you to want to do those things outside of guilt.” The conversation is far past smooth, nothing like the holodramas you’ve imagined the two of you a part of.  “I want you to like spending time with me.”

“I do feel guilty, but I would do these things for you regardless, and I do like spending time with you.  We both do, or I wouldn’t fight so hard to keep you here.”   There’s an air of caution in his statement, he’s scared of rushing headfirst into his adoration of you and scaring you, even if his face is protected in his bashful admission. 

“You do?”  You squint an eye at him as if scanning him through your own tech-clad helmet.  “Are we on the same page?” You chew on your lip, analyzing his cool, relaxed posture before settling on his pitch-black visor again, in the flicker of your heart you know he’s meeting your stare.  “I like you.”

His chest rises sharply with an inhale as if he’s been injured and you quickly try and find a way to backpedal out of this conversation.  “Well, maybe we aren’t. I was going to say I’m in love with you.”  

If you didn’t know the child was asleep, you would’ve thought he was pushing you toward his dad.  There was a tug at your heart and you rush to embrace him, met with the cool metal against your bare skin.  Your instinct calls for you to kiss him, and you want to terribly, but you’re unsure of what his customs allow.

You let your hands search for the gaps in his armor, looking for warmth and settling right below the gusset of armor on his back and squeeze him so impossibly tight he groans contently.  “This feels so weird, I’m sorry I don’t know what to do.”  Your cheeks heat, and he chuckles.

“What are you trying to do?” He finally seems to have settled into the space in front of you, a pliant but also stiff bundle of warmth juxtaposed by the cool faces of his beskar plates. “I can take the armor off if you’re trying to get comfortable.” 

“I know how to do it, I just don’t know if I’m allowed to.  I want to kiss you Mando…”  The bashfulness in the way you bury your face into the crook of his arm, makes his heart skip to an unfamiliar beat in his chest.  

“I can take everything but the helmet off, I would eventually.  I’m not ready for that.”  Now he’s the insecure one, how could you want to be with him without seeing him? “I know it’s not ideal, I’m sorry.”

You sense the insecurity right away, and rather than letting it fester in his always-thinking brain, you do your best to soothe his worries with a caress and a change of subject.  “Everything else you say?” Lifting your brow, you hook the rim of his chest plate with your fingernail, separating it slightly from its place. “I can wait for the helmet,” you look up through your eyelashes,  “ I want to feel you.”

Lacing your fingers through his, you stroke the palm of his hand silently asking for permission to remove them.  He nods slowly, and you slide beneath the fabric slowly revealing the tanned, callused skin.  Human skin.

You remove the other glove, letting your fingers soak in his radiating warmth.  Drawing long slow circles on his palms, you search for his approval but his head is fixed on your hands in his.  He is rigid and his posture is stiff, as if afraid if he moves you’ll stop.  

Every nerve in his body is alight, he’s practically vibrating as you run your fingers along his skin, your hands are cold and feel wonderfully soft.  It takes everything not to whine when you go to take his vambraces off and the comfort of your touch is ripped away from him.  

“I don’t know how to do this.”  You admit, well aware of the whistling birds that are more than dangerous and you're afraid to set them off.  He laughs nervously, and you’re leaning so close to his face that you can almost hear the air without the modulator. 

“It’s safe.”  He reaches over and shows you how to remove the armor.  As you lift it away you motion for him to remove the other one while you get to work on his chest plate.  The heavy metal plate joins the rest of it in a compartment to his left, and you lay your hands flat on the broad plain of his chest.

He moves, remembering his strength, and tilts your elbow until your hand is resting on the zipper hidden beneath the collar of his cape.  Working in tandem, he removes his cuirass as you unzip his flight suit.  

Your vision rakes over the ripple of his muscles, a few bruises and scars mark his skin, and you without thinking lean in and leave an open-mouthed kiss over a yellow bruise on his left peck.  This time you are close enough to hear the whine that escapes from beneath the helmet in time with his posture going slack with a flood of goosebumps on his skin. 

The noises go straight to your core, the idea of this hard exterior broken by a hint of your mouth on his chest is enough of an invite to step closer.  Slotting between his feet, you press your mouth to the center of his sternum, chasing it as he flinches away from your cold hands brushing against his lower stomach before curling into the fabric to pull him tight against you.  

He steps back, maneuvering around the crate and leaning against the wall behind it so he can slot his thigh between your legs gently inviting you to grind against the cool metal plate, only separated by an ever-falling towel his brain scrambles, only thinking about how your mouth feels hot against his skin and wondering what you taste like.  

You lean harder into him, feeling the weight of his cock dig into your stomach and trying to focus on nibbling on the tight muscle of his shoulder as the fabric of his flight suit falls off his shoulders.  You hear a loud clang as he throws his head back, likely breaking something behind him, when you dig in your teeth and suck hard on one of his collarbones.  You suckle and kitten lick at the same time, the groans and shivers only provoke you further, only pulling away when your lips start to feel swollen.

He’s thankful again for the privacy of his helmet, as frustrating as it is to not return the favor he can’t seem to regain control of his limbs and jaw, everything going slack as he fights the urge to rut against your body like a horny teenager. 

The weight of what's left of his armor is dragging the thick fabric to the floor, revealing the rich sculpted muscles of his abdomen and the tortuously scandalous dip of his hip bones.  The dull ache of your jaw is ignored as you trail down his warm skin, laving across his nipples as you take your time kissing him, tasting the salt of his skin. 

You blow across the trail of kisses, knowing that the air will feel cold and feeling a little dauntless.  A shiver rolls through him, bringing his hips forward as if begging for your attention.  His cock struggles against the fabric of his underclothes, its weight heavy and practically weeping a delirious amount of precum.  It's the hitch of your breath at the realization of his size that breaks his stupor.  Digging one hand into your hair and shoving the final confines of his clothing to the ground, he takes his cock into his hand, using the precome to tease the head just above your waiting mouth as you admire.

You finally meet the visor with your eyes again, as he stokes himself tauntingly above you, he’s thicker than any you’d seen before, his fingers not even connecting around its circumference, and the flesh is a tad darker than his skin, with slightly darker veins throbbing for your waiting mouth. 

He swears under his breath, as you let your tongue rest on the underside of his thick tip.  He pulls you onto him, barely pressing into your mouth but the edge of his heady moan is irresistible, you need to hear it endlessly until he begged you to stop.  You take more of him in on the accompanying thrusts, swallowing around him as tears brim your eyes.  There's a sense of desperation as he loses his composure his movements less consistent and his body relaxes into the skilled warmth of your mouth. 

By the time you work your way to the base, his sparse curls tickle your nose as you hum around him in contentment, and drool runs down your chin onto your chest.  You realize in embarrassment that you were holding onto the towel, placing it under your injured knee for padding, and you settle more comfortably onto the ground, allowing you to start caressing his balls with your hand. 

His gasp is sinful, depraved even as his hand furls tighter in your hair, teasing the line between pain and pleasure.  You moan around him as he twitches against the back of your throat.  Gently you shake your head side to side, as you get the last inch or so into your mouth.  You hear another loud smash as his head hits the wall a second time, you pause waiting to hear the hiss of a cracked pipe.  Instead, he tugs your head back and forth, hand griping tight but the pace is teasingly gentle.  

Humming in approval, you look up, watching his body fight for breath between curses and moans.  Maker was he handsome, his skin was riddled with various scars and bruises but remained soft and clean, the muscles of his body taut with pleasure and even quivering in his legs as he fought the urge to cum down your throat.

Surprising himself, he guides your head all the way off him, letting himself get a good look at your swollen wet mouth and your naked body as he pulls you back to your feet.  “You’re so beautiful,” he is practically whispering, and you feel as though he’s caressing you with his voice, “Can I,” you step closer to him, pressing more open mouth kisses to the tender base of his throat, “Kriff, Can I fuck you?”  

You hum against his skin in affirmation before taking his collarbone between your teeth and sucking a fresh mark into it.  His arms wrap around your frame as he effortlessly lifts you and you wrap around him, pressing a few gentler, less hungry kisses to the helm where you envision his hairline.  He manages to open the door to his bunk and lays you down.  

He finally gets your entire body laid open for him, letting his hands caress your sides, committing the shapes of your body to memory as he runs over the planes of your body, stopping for a moment to drag his rough fingers over your nipples.  You arch into his touch, feeling as though he is dragging a heated blade of pleasure across your skin.  Coaxing your thighs open with the backs of his hands, he emits a low groan as he swipes two fingers through your folds.  “You’re so fucking pretty.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but he rolls your clit between two fingers effectively shutting you up.  He nudges against your entrance and then slowly stretches you open while continuously toying with your clit, scissoring two fingers while paying close attention to any shifts in your breath and small noises.  

He pushes his fingers up, and your legs try to close as the new pleasure makes your vision fuzzy.  “Keep those legs open for me c’yare.” He demands, massaging that spot a few more times, and you feel as though you’re gasping for each breath in time with the movements of his fingers.  

Just when you’re about to start begging for him to let you cum, he stops completely, using the moisture on his hands to slick up his length haphazardly before lining up with your fluttering pussy. 

Again, his gentleness stuns you, slowly rocking his hips as he edges deeper into your core.  The stretch is shocking at first, but he gives you plenty of time to adjust, slowly circling your clit with his thumb.  He hooks your legs around his waist, grinding deeper and deeper until his face is hovering inches from yours.  

He presses his forehead to yours in a keldabe kiss.  Each slap of his hips is punctuated by your breathy gasp that fogs up his visor. He’s finally close enough to your skin to smell his soap lingering, and it awakens a part of his brain he didn’t know existed. 

“You’re mine, mesh’la.” He rubs your clit just a fraction harder, “I wanna hear you say it.” 

You struggle to get enough air in your lungs to speak, but the need to please him is greater than your need for breath, “Yours Mando,” His body is fire compared to the cool air of the crest, causing your skin to flush hotly, and a sheen of sweat coating your body, “Anything you want.” 

His grunting is entirely animalistic, the ship could fall out of hyperspace or get attacked by purgills and he would be none the wiser.  The tight grip of your pussy drives him further into insanity, he feels his orgasm creep up his spine and even then he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop. “Yeah? I’m gonna cum inside you baby.”

He sits up slightly, changing the angle of his hips to shove impossibly deeper into you as you tighten around him, your own orgasm brimming.  With each faltering snap of his hips, your whine grows louder until you’re pleading with him to cum inside of you, feeling like it’s the only possible way to bring you relief.

He cradles your head in his arm, needing to feel your moans ripple across his skin as he feels you squeeze him like a vice, your legs shaking and practically bucking him off you with the force of your orgasm.  It’s only a few more thrusts before he’s spilling himself inside you and grinding deep until his nerves are on shot and his body is ready to collapse from the stimulation. 

A few quick moments pass, and while collecting your wits, you search his visor again, longing for just a bit of eye contact, but unable to find anything, you give him a soft smile. “I owe Peli 50 credits.” 

Almost unbelievably bubbly, he resigns “I owe her 150, I think we got caught in a sure bet.”  You feign surprise. “I can’t believe she knew before we did.” 

“Sounds like she was a double agent. Maybe she just thinks she’ll get another baby out of it.” Your cheeks heat before you can finish speaking and he’s blushing profusely beneath the helmet. 

He hums in contentment, letting some of his body weight rest on you as he slips free, before shifting to lay your head on his chest.  “I love you.”  His hand rubs circles at the base of your neck, but he can’t help but stare at the dark bruises on your arm. “I’ll get up and get you some bacta in a moment.” 

“I love you too.”  You listen intently to the steady falling rhythm of his heart, as you come down from your highs together.  “I think I’d rather have them.”  You gently run your fingers over the deep purple marks you’ve sucked into his skin, smiling sadistically at his sharp intake of breath. “It’s only fair.” 

[deadsetobsessions]

Damian Wayne is lost.

An impressive achievement, considering Mother and Grandfather had ensured his thorough education in geography, amongst other subjects.

He’d memorized the cities of Grandfather’s earlier days. He’d even memorized every random small town in Ohio. Damian knew that he had memorized every town in Minnesota just in case he was abandoned there for some reason (a fear that Dick Grayson had long put to rest).

Damian Wayne had never heard of an Amity Park.

“Tt.” He clicked his tongue, quietly glad he was clad in his vigilante armor instead of the banal uniforms of the civilian school he attended. Damian Wayne- Robin- sighed and tossed a line up, zipping to the roof of the building no time.

He tried his communicator.

“Da- bzzzt-! Get you- bzzzt!- wait! Don’t- bzzzzzzzt!- might be long s-bzzzzzzzzzt-!”

Damian tapped at his communicator. “Understood,” he grumbled, with no small sigh of relief. The communicators he used were directly connected to Father’s Watchtower- pardon, the Justice League’s Watchtower… that Father paid for- and reached all around the world.

With a few exceptions that Damian immediately ruled out, it meant that he was in a different dimension. The Robin grumbled, and pulled out a card his Mother had gifted to him. Inter-dimensional displacement was accounted for by his Mother, the daughter of a near immortal evil magician, and the card that could steal local money from anything hackable was the result.

“I might as well enjoy the vacation.”

Damian zipped down, ignoring the strange looks he got from the locals. He walked around to find a vegan place and found one, standing behind a goth girl who was teasing a bespectacled teen.

When he got to the counter, Damian swiped the card after having placed his order. He wasn’t, however, prepared to be accosted a glowing green- irritatingly, traumatizingly close to Lazarus waters- being that looked like a mad scientist.

“TRYING TO HACK-“

A white glove clad fist slammed into the being’s face.

“Oh my god, leave the kid alone, Technus!”

Damian pivoted, sword drawn.

A… floating green being that looked like a teenager grinned at him before opening a thermos.

“Soup time!”

Damian clicked his tongue as the “Technus” was sucked into the thermos. This cape reminded him of John.

“Irritating,” he muttered.

“Hey, kid! Are you okay? What's your name?"

“Robin.” Damian replied begrudgingly. Dick had impressed on him the importance of replying politely and Damian applied the concept in this situation.

“I’m Phantom!”

Ugh, even the grin was annoying. It reminded him of John.

“Apt.”

"You're a mean little kid aren't you?" Phantom grinned. "What's up with the sword?"

"Quiet, plebian. I am ordering my food." Damian turned and completed the transaction.

[decembermidnight]

The sweetest reward

Summary: You take care of the Mandalorian when he comes back after a wearying hunt.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, Dom!Din, sub!reader, thigh riding, mutual masturbation, teasing, body worship, cock worship, praise kink, mando'a speaking kink, masculinity kink (I guess?), creampie

GIF by @thefrogdalorian

A/N: The inspiration came from this beautiful gif set made by @thefrogdalorian 💕 I kinda got Ner Mircet'ad vibes while writing this (Din's old armour, the Mando'a dirty talk...) so feel free to check that out too! See the end for Mando'a translations. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian is comfortably slouching on the makeshift seat made up of ammo boxes and blankets in the hull of the ship, his legs spread wide, tired after his last hunt.

He's still holding the pulse rifle in his hands after unhooking it from the strap on his back. The mere vision of it sends a spark straight to your core.

Warrior, bounty hunter, beroya.

Strong, brave, fearless.

You could observe him for hours in reverential adoration as he cleans his weapons and armour, but the need for him is too strong and aching.

He tilts his helmet towards you when he acknowledges your presence. You, in turn, greet him with a sweet smile and he immediately lays his rifle down when he sees you after so many days.

You look breathtaking wearing nothing but a thin, silk robe that barely covers you, leaving nothing to imagination. 

As you get close to him, he takes his gloves off. He wants to get lost in you, in the softness of your skin, in your delicate beauty after so many days of nothing but dirty cantinas and ugly mugs.

He doesn't say a word when you stop right in front of him and his hands start caressing your thighs, finally something warm and giving after knowing nothing but blasters and knives for what felt so long.

He loses no time in grabbing you by the waist and making you sit in his lap.

His hands immediately start to wander, caressing your body, making you feel worshiped under his gentle touch.

You stay there, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as his hands give you goosebumps all over your body, making you hum and claw your fingers in his cape as he's reminded how soft you are and how much he missed holding you in his arms. The smooth fabric of your silk robe feels so precious to his hands, nothing like he's used to.

As his hand trails once again up your thigh, you instinctively spread your legs for him to touch your needy cunt. You get flustered when his hand slides up under your robe and softly caresses your tummy as his thumb slowly, painfully slowly glides down, teasing your lips. He lets out a long and aroused hum when he notices you are not wearing panties.

"P-please" you sigh, incredibly turned on already.

His thumb moves towards your clit and brushes it once, feeling how wet you are for him already. He doesn't go on, though, making you whimper.

"Already so wet for me and I've barely touched you" he chuckles "you missed me, didn't you?" says in a low, husky voice as he draws a few circles on your clit.

"Mmm - yes. Missed you so much. I want you." you mumble in bliss as he gives you pleasure with his expert fingers that know you like no other in the galaxy.

"You gotta earn it, mesh'la. You know that, right?"

“Yes - y-yes, my warrior.” you can barely stutter as you sink in his shoulder.

"Good girl." he praises you as he caresses your face, keeping you there, in his lap, taking all the time in the galaxy to worship your curves while hearing your sweet moans and looking at your aroused expression. Your eyes cross and roll as his thick fingers alternate drawing circles on your clit and thrusting inside of you. He can feel by the way you clamp around him and the way you breathe how much your body wants him, but he doesn't want you to get anywhere close to an orgasm, not yet, he wants to give you pleasure and to build it slowly, to get you nice and ready for when he can no longer contain himself.

"Ride my thigh like the needy thing that you are, show me how much you want it." 

You immediately comply and straddle his thigh. Your body slightly jerks at the contact of the cold plate with your heated core - a detail that he does not miss, tilting his helmet slightly as you adjust yourself.

"Good girl. Like this." he encourages you as you begin to roll your hips and give yourself pleasure using his beskar armour. There's something about coating his precious Mandalorian armour in your arousal, using it for such a depraved, sacrilegious purpose that makes you feel even more eager and turned on.

"I want you, ner beroya. Please, let me ride you. I'm gonna take really good care of you." you pant in between heady moans, your eyes half closed as your swollen, needy clit rubs against the embossment of the plate.

"Yeah? You will?" he passes his thumb on your lips.

You nod mindlessly, smiling as you keep riding his thigh plate, pleasure slowly building up and making your whole body tremble with lust. You softly bite his finger as you let out heady groans that make him throb in his pants in anticipation. The sinful way your stiff nipples peek out from your skimpy robe is making it hard for him to resist.

"Then come here and show me." he grabs you by the waist and pulls you towards his body, making you straddle him. You feel hot and flustered and let out a gasp at that sudden movement, at him manhandling you as if you were weightless.

"Go on." he tilts his helmet to the side, his gaze locked on you.

As you start unzipping his pants, his hands unfasten the thin robe tie and you can hear him choking a grunt when the fabric parts and shows him your naked body underneath. His hand trails your inner thigh, making you gasp and gulp until his thumb reaches your clit. Your head rolls back and you let out a loud moan when he does that.

"Hey. Don't stop." he says in a cold, firm voice, as opposed to the throbbing, rock hard erection still trapped in his pants.

"S-sorry, ner beroya." you drawl in a moan as you resume your movements.

Once you free his cock, you start stroking it delicately, barely brushing it with your fingers. It twitches uncontrollably when he feels the delicate touch of your hand. It's painfully hard and veiny, hot in your hand and so sensitive as he didn't dare touching himself while he was away, saving all of his load for you. He stifles a whimper, the sound of it barely picked up by the modulator as he tries to keep his cool and appear impassive while never stopping touching your clit.

You try to lift your hips to go sit on his cock but the firm grip of his hands around your waist keeps you there.

"Please. Please, I want you inside me. Please, my warrior, let me ride you." you plead desperately.

He lets out an aroused hum and you feel his cock throbbing in your hand. He surely loves to hear you beg for him.

"Ner kotyc verd, I'm gonna take really good care of you" you say in a husky voice as you spread a drop of precum across his tip with your thumb, making him choke a grunt as you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter "I'll be so, so good to you. Ni lidiba gar." your voice is so seductive as you say it. The way you're teasing his cock as you plead for him in his native language is driving him insane, making him rabid like a beast. He has to have you, now.

"Dank Farrik. K'olar. I want to fuck you." he rasps in a broken voice, impatient to bury himself inside of you, bringing you right over his dick and undressing you, letting your robe fall on the floor.

You slowly sink down on his cock and you both let out a long, satisfied moan when you feel it pleasurably stretching your tight, needy walls with his thick girth.

You start to ride it slowly and smoothly, letting his already drenched cock slip out almost completely, leaving just the tip inside of you before welcoming it back in. You move your body sensually, looking so charming and entracing for his pleasure. You grab his hands and place them on your breasts. He follows your lead splendidly, without ever overriding you, trusting you and the gradually increasing rhythm you're setting.

Fuck - it's so perfect. You're so turned on at the idea of being the sweetest reward, the most beautiful thing to come back to, the best part of being a bounty hunter. You want it to be memorable, you want this every single time he comes back. He doesn't often let you ride him, so you want him to understand how pleasurable it can be, as used as he is to take everything he wants the way he wants. You want him to know how delightful it can be to just rest and let you take care of everything. You want him to burst while he looks at you.

His warm, naked hands start to wander all over your body to touch your hips, your waist, your breasts, making you groan and sigh. You hear his low, modulated moans as you feel his cock deliciously gliding in and out of you, entranced at how good it feels to be on top of him after a hunt. He's still dirty and tired but couldn't wait to fuck you. You love smelling his raw masculine scent, the dirt on his clothes and the burnt smell from his guns, all while admiring the sight below you - a deadly Mandalorian in full armour enjoying the way you're taking the stress out of him, enjoying the way you're riding his cock after so many days of lone hunting. He has always been in control, always on top or behind you, completely overwhelmed by the testosterone from the hunt of his bounties, needing your cunt to let it all out, leaving you wrecked, shaking and leaking with his cum afterwards, but this time is different. This time you're in control, and he relishes the way you're taking care of his needs, letting you handle everything.

"Look at you…" he whispers "So beautiful while you ride my cock, damn." he rasps.

"I love it." you sigh mindlessly.

"I see it. Keep - keep going." says, almost imploring you.

The sounds you are making are obscene - your cunt is drenched and dripping with juices and each time you bounce on his dick you can hear it squelching as it sucks it in avidly, clamping around it as if it can never have enough of it. Shit, you're getting dangerously close to your orgasm.

"Hey. You're c-close, I can feel it." he stutters.

"I am. I am, ner beroya."

"Don't come yet. Hold it there for me, mesh'la." his order has the opposite effect, making your cunt spasm even harder around him. A whimper escapes from your lips.

"No. Not yet. You get so tight when you're close. Let me - let me enjoy it."

"M-my warrior - missed you. Missed you so much. Please, let me - l-let come on your cock." you beg him sensually in between moans, overwhelmed by pleasure.

“So, so fucking tight.” he grunts when he hears you plead like that, when he feels your cunt getting tighter, your chest heaving in front of him. His mind gets dizzy at the way you're squeezing around him, bringing him dangerously on the edge, too.

"M-mesh'la, shit, I'm-" he whimpers, the grip of his hands on your waist gets firmer.

"Come inside me, my warrior."

The Mandalorian wouldn't want it to be over so soon, but he can't help it when he sees how much you want it and how you’re begging for him to fill you with his load.

"Mesh'la. Come. N-now." he stutters, trying not to burst inside of you immediately, not before he's satisfied you first.

Hearing him begging for you to come like that draws the orgasm out of you. You completely lose control as you come hard around him, going on riding him as you feel his seed spurting inside of you and dripping down your cunt causing a mess of fluids between your legs and drenching his pants, your voices moaning loudly filling the hull of the Razor Crest for those few seconds of pure, astounding bliss.

You slow down the rhythm as the orgasm fades out and you rest your heated forehead on his beskar helmet, the both of you panting heavily as you hold on tight to each other.

"You… you have been so good, cyar'ika." says in a ragged voice as he starts to rub your clit again, lubricated by both your sleek and his cum. "You deserve another."

His expert thumb circles your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves in such a perfect way that you feel ready for another immense wave of pleasure, gripping the cape on his shoulders tight in your hands.

"Copaani haa'taylir tug'yc. Ke'dinui ni. Jate, bid mesh'la." he whispers as he drives you over the edge once again, making you uncontrollably scream and tremble, your eyes rolling up as this astounding second orgasm obliterates you. He grunts when he feels how tight you get around his spent, sensitive cock, still hard for you.

You collapse in his arms and he holds you there, your face buried in his neck while he's still inside of you.

Mando’a translations: I have used mandocreator.com as reference

Beroya = bounty hunter

Ner = my/mine

Mesh’la = beautiful

Ner kotyc verd = my strong warrior

Ni lidiba gar = I need you

K’olar = come here

Cyar'ika = darling

Copaani haa'taylir tug'yc. Ke'dinui ni. Jate, bid mesh'la = I want to see it again. Give it to me. Good, so beautiful.

[amaramizuki666]

Dp x DC crossover

Soul speak part 1

"CONSTANTINE NO! IF YOU SUMMON HIM YOULL DIE!!" Zatanna screamed clutching her side red blood seeping from the gaps between her fingers. "I have no choice if I dont we wont be able to stop this thing" john says in an almost terrifyingly calm voice. Batman lay on the ground barely conscious with a hole in his shoulder. Red hood next to batman putting pressure on his injury.

"What are you two doing, the door isnt going to hold much longer!?!" Red hood yelled his free hand griping his pistol tightly figer on the trigger regretting not bringing live rounds.

"John PLEASE dont do this" zatanna pleads looking at her freind "sorry but this is our only chance at bringing down that, that THING" Constantine says as he finished drawing a summoning circle in his own blood. "I'm going to miss you zatanna your a good kid, watch over the others for me" john says, then starts chanting.

"ƙίภg ๏Ŧ t♄︎є ίภŦίภίtє гєคl๓ร, ί j๏♄︎ภ ς๏ภรtคภtίภє รย๓๓๏ภ y๏ย. ί ๏ŦŦєг y๏ย ๓y ร๏ยl Ŧ๏г t♄︎є єxς♄︎คภgє ๏Ŧ y๏ยг Թгєรєภςє. ๏♄︎ ๔คгƙ ๏ภє ๏Ŧ t♄︎є ภєxt Թlคภє. Թคгίค♄︎ ๔คгƙ ƙίภg ๏Ŧ t♄︎є ๔єค๔ Թครร t♄︎г๏ยg♄︎ tί๓є คภ๔ รԹคςє t๏ ♄︎єє๔ ๓y Թlєค."

John on his knees crying silent tears as he chanted. He chanted the same thing over and over till finally the sigil of blood started to glow and turned from red to Lazarus green. A green fog lifted from the circle high in the air. The others in the room held their breath looking at what was happening. And with a snap the fog set ablaze like air born gas as a match it lit.

As the flames flickered out a blurry figure came into sight. A young man? Slender but muscular build but was slightly obscured by what seemed to be a cape, snowy white hair with something floating slightly above , pointed ears, and glowing green eyes where all that was visible of the being.

"ฬ♄︎y ๔๏ y๏ย รย๓๓๏ภ ๓є?" The creature asks, its voice echoy as if multiple people spoke at once. John looked at the thing in the circle clear confusion on his face. "Yo-your not pariah dark" John's voice craked. The being tilted its head "ภ๏ ί ค๓ ภ๏t Թคгίค♄︎, ภ๏ฬ ฬ♄︎y ๔๏ y๏ย รย๓๓๏ภ ๓є?" The being sighed. "No, no, NO, how did I mess this up, i needed to summon the king of the dead, now thanks to my fucking screw up that monster outside is going to kill everyone!" John panicked, he felt the blood in his veins freeze everyone in this building no in this city where going to be slaughtered by that demon outside starting with the people in the room with john.

"ร๏ y๏ย ภєє๔ t๏ ๓є t๏ รt๏Թ ค ๔є๓๏ภίς ๒єίภg, t♄︎คt ίร คll y๏ย ภєє๔є๔ t๏ รคy" the being says and steps out of the fire and smoke, its/his figur becoming fully viable. Adding to what they could already see, they boy looked to be early to late teens, had light green skin and white freckles. He was wearing a skin tight black body suit with white gloves and white boots, the chest area having an odd symbol on it. His cape looked to be made of the night sky its self and his crown floating above his head looked to be made of stars and green fire.

The boy walked past Constantine to where the door was. "ί ฬίll ๒є ๒คςƙ ίภ 10 ๓ίภยtєร, ๔๏ ภ๏t lєคvє" the being stated and fazed through the door leaving the room of shoked and injured people behind.

"What the hell was that!" Red hood hissed at john. "I dont know" john says quietly "what do you mean YOU DONT KNOW!!" Red hood snapped. "That was not what I was trying to summon" is the last thing that is said. The next 8 minutes quiet and tense.

When the entity fazed back through the door all eyes where on him. The boy staired back at the heros, eyes slowly dissecting each one though they seemed to stay on red hood and Constantine the longest.

"lєt ๓є ♄︎єlԹ y๏ย ฬίt♄︎ t♄︎є๓" the boy said and out stretched his hand two green blobs flew from his hand. One floated over to zatanna and the other to batman, they landed on the heros and both seemed to relax slightly.

"t♄︎๏รє ๒l๏๒ g♄︎๏รtร ฬίll ƙєєԹ t♄︎є๓ รtค๒lє tίll t♄︎єy гєςєίvє Թг๏Թєг ๓є๔ίςคl ςคгє, คร Ŧ๏г y๏ย j๏♄︎ภ ς๏ภรtคภtίภє ฬє ภєє๔ t๏ ๔ίรςยรร Թคy๓єภt" the boy says looking at the blond in question. "The payment is void I offered my soul to the king of the dead not some child demon" john argued.

"ί ค๓ t♄︎є ƙίภg ๏Ŧ t♄︎є ίภŦίภίtє гєคl๓, ƙίภg Թ♄︎คภt๏๓, ๔єคŦєtєг ๏Ŧ Թคгίค♄︎ ๔คгƙ" the being said his eyes narrowed at john. "You defeated pariah?!?" John questions. The boy simply nods. "ภ๏ฬ Ŧ๏г ๓y Թคy๓єภt, y๏ย ๏ŦŦєгє๔ ๓є y๏ยг ร๏ยl ίร t♄︎คt รtίll ฬ♄︎คt y๏ย ฬίร♄︎ t๏ Թคy" the boy king asks.

John sighs feeling tired to his bones "there is no way out of this one, yes my soul is yours, king phantom of the dead" the blond mumbles. "ί єxєԹt t♄︎ίร Թคy๓єภt, y๏ย คгє ภ๏ฬ ๓ίภє, j๏♄︎ภ ς๏ภรtคภtίภє. ภ๏ฬ Ŧίгรt t♄︎ίภgร Ŧίгรt" the being says and gently lays his gloved hand on John's shoulder. John suddenly feels an overwhelming since of wholeness. Like a puzzle just got put together.

"What did you do?" John asks phantom. "ί гєợยίгє๔ t♄︎є Ŧгคg๓єภtร ๏Ŧ y๏ยг ร๏ยl y๏ย ร๏l๔ Թгєvί๏ยรly คภ๔ гєคttคς♄︎є๔ t♄︎є๓ t๏ ฬ♄︎คt lίttlє ๒ίt ๏Ŧ ร๏ยl y๏ย ♄︎ค๔ lєŦt" the boy says "wait how do you have the other fragments?" John asks. "ฬ♄︎єภ y๏ย ร๏l๔ y๏ยг ร๏ยl t๏ ๓є คll ๏t♄︎єг ς๏ภtгคςtร ๒єςค๓є v๏ί๔, ί ค๓ t♄︎є ƙίภg ๏Ŧ t♄︎є ๔єค๔ คภ๔ คll ฬ♄︎๏ гєรί๔є ίภ ๓y гєคl๓, ภ๏ภ ���Ŧ t♄︎є๓ ฬίร♄︎ t๏ ςг๏รร ๓є" phantom explained.

"ภ๏ฬ ί ๓ยรt ๒є g๏ίภg" the boy king says then looks at John then to red hood "ί ๔๏ ภ๏t ฬคภt ๏г єxԹєςt y๏ย t๏ ๔๏ ๓y ๒ί๔๔ίภg ๏г ๒є ค รlคvє, jยรt ๔๏ ฬ♄︎คt y๏ย ยรคlly ๔๏, ๒ยt t♄︎є ภίg♄︎t ๒єŦ๏гє t♄︎є ภєxt Ŧยll ๓๏๏ภ ί ฬίll ς๏ภє ๒คςƙ t๏ รєє y๏ย คภ๔ ฬ♄︎єภ ί ๔๏ t♄︎คt ๏ภє ๓ยรt ๒є ฬίt♄︎ y๏ย" the king says and looks over at red hood pointedly then turns away from them.

Phantom walks over to the glowing green circle and stands inside "ยภtίl ภєxt tί๓є" are the last words he says before fading away. The sigil of green turning back to red. "What have you gotten us into?" Red hood mumbled "I have no clue" John says back.

[nerdranttheories]

Okay I’m going to geek out about Toshinori’s costume designs because I’m an English major and analyzing tiny details in text is what we do and also I love??? The designs! And each one tells us so much about All Might and his focus during each costume.

Costume 1 (Young Might):

So first off, despite young All Might’s longtime dream of being a hero, his suit is mostly black. A stark difference from comics books and his later self which tend to be bright primary colors. The few dashes of primary colors he has are desaturated, even in the second instance where we see this costume. This would have likely been the only costume Toshinori designed himself, as David became his designer in college.

Obviously, others have pointed out the similarities to Nana’s suit, just like how Izuku copied AM’s, so I don’t think it will be necessary for me to point that out. But this suit is also very practical. Something the flashy All Might isn’t really known for, but let me point the details out. He has boots, gauntlets, as well as what appears to be protection for his upper torso, and even for his neck. A decent balance between more protection and more weight, which would slow a hero down. Also, unlike Nana’s suit, his extends completely down the arms. The only skin surface available is that of his hands, something that stays the same through all of his costumes and as such, must be something he personally insists on. In media, gloves often represent someone with secrets, or a guarded personality. All Might not wearing gloves shows how open he is, not just with his friends but strangers too. And it’s humble, too. It’s not an unfeeling, covered hand extending to you when you’re in danger, it’s the bare-handed reach of a friend, and I fully believe that’s why Toshi goes without gloves. Also it’s possibly a sensory thing for him as well, which goes with my canon-supported theory that this man has ADHD, but that’s a nerd rant for another time.

The colors are important because while obviously they mimic Nana, you can practically see through the color choice that Toshinori is not in his right mindset here. While later the oversaturation of colors serves to show how his own heroism has made him into something Else, and outside of his own head, leaving the man inside to shrivel away, these muted colors show that Toshinori has not yet blossomed. Also in the brief scenes we see of him when he is younger, Toshinori is very solemn. The one scene we get of him smiling when he’s young is when Izuku is comparing them at the same age, and even then, it’s more of a smirk as opposed to the signature All Might grin we all know and love. Black also is just a reasonable color for something like crime-fighting. Black shows the least grime/dirt, so he could reasonably spend more hours out in this costume without having to come home and wash it/trade it out. (Which is something that I love that this series includes, by the way!)

Costume 2-ish:

Toshinori adds some shoulder pads for the fight with AFO, probably expecting to stand side-by-side with his mentor. I could give a more full-body image but this is really the only difference I could pick out.

Costume 3 (College Might):

This is the first costume of All Might’s that is designed by David Shield.

First off, props to David. He’s an awesome designer. He not only made a new design, but incorporated several choices from AM’s previous suit, and definitely conferred a lot with Toshi on how he wanted his suit to look while still ensuring its functionality.

Black is traded for a dark, unsaturated blue, giving AM a more peaceful look, as navy blue is considered to be a calming color. (Even Endeavor wears it! But maybe copying AM and not wearing it for the same purposes?) All Might’s cape is also changed from red to blue, taking away the dark look and making it the color of the sky, again adding to that Symbol of Peace idea that is Toshinori’s dream. The gauntlets and boots remain, but the chest-piece has been removed, offering up more mobility. The yellow of his belt has been brightened, and added in place of the blues on his gauntlets and boots, giving him an overall more friendly look as opposed to the more subdued one he had before with the blue accents. The red has been removed as well, and by moving it to his body, it gives the impression of veins and the blood that is pumping away through the heart of this hero, which is fantastic for someone who cares as much as Toshinori does. White was also added vertically on the sides of the suit, thinning out the very intimidating form of Toshi and making him more approachable, while adding a more pure look to his overall form. This appears to be in part, a stylistic choice on David’s end that follows through to the other suits, though it’s hard to know if it remains on the Bronze Age Suit as well.

Overall the brighter colors telegraph that Toshinori is doing much better mentally at this point. He now has A Friend, and for the time being, is safer from the troubles at home, until he has to return.

Costume 4 (Bronze Age):

We don’t even get a full look at this suit, indicating that its time in use was likely short-lived. As I’ve seen others suggest, it seems very likely that when All Might returned to Japan, he went straight down to business and began doing vigilante work as he tried to track down AFO. However, possibly due to a combination of not finding him and All Might’s rising popularity, he seems to abandon this track and move on to a different form of heroism, which his suit symbolizes. I’ll briefly point out that Toshinori returns to the primarily black suit he had as a teenager, as well as the shadows of his face that add to the idea that as soon as he got back to Japan, he reverted to the mindset he had when he left.

Costume 5 (Silver Age):

This suit indicates to me that this period was All Might’s prime, despite his later suit being considered the Golden Age of All Might. (And even though it’s my least-favorite design.) He has the typical cape of a hero, and the bright colors are now fully of typical comic book style. The circular design on his chest indicates a target, but with being cast in white and surrounded in red, gives the impression that he himself is not the target, but the villainy around him is. Or at least, that is likely the thought process for this design. Other than the dashes of white here and there, the colors are very solid, possibly indicating a more stable, but single-minded train of thought, something AM is notorious for. No offense to Dr. Shield, but I would have mixed the colors better in here, and the cape connection is too bulky for someone who’s as jacked in the shoulders as Toshinori is. Alas, I am not the designer. We shall move on.

Costume 6 (Golden Age):

I love this suit. Plenty of analysis has been done on it already, but I think it’s a fantastic representation of how Toshinori’s been crushed under the very image he had originally wanted to create. His shadows are darkest and most severe here, reminiscent of how body-builders dehydrate themselves to get the best appearance of their musculature. His posing is also more inward, as opposed to the silver age, with the angles of his elbows being less directly out and more in, and instead of appearing confident, it’s more of how a cat puffs out its hair to make itself appear larger when it’s scared. I had a long bit to go with this but it was eaten by the Tumblr gremlins. Basically I believe this suit was made post AFO-battle. All Might is declaring he’s not finished yet, all while knowing his time is running out. This suit has several callbacks to the original suit David designed for him, with the navy, though more saturated base and the red lines running throughout the form, though the gauntlets and boots from before have been integrated into the suit itself. This could reflect David’s mindset as well, as he reminisces about the days when Toshinori was healthy and happy, when now Toshinori’s health is rapidly fading.

Anyway, here’s my costume analysis! I think it adds a little more insight to Toshinori’s mental state and situations in the years outside of the show as well as in them, and I hope you enjoyed this read! I’d love to hear other ideas too, if anyone has them!

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: How the M6 hurt you

~ I hope you're ready for some angst >:3 Even the healthiest relationships have painful moments when one hurting, flawed person hurts another hurting, flawed person. Moments like these are not signs of closeness. They are alarms that signal a need for growth, and a healthy relationship will take those signals seriously - brainrot ~

Here's the sequel!

How you hurt the M6

TW for yelling, references to canon death events, descriptions of panic attacks, abandonment, losing one's home, accidental gaslighting, burns, PTSD, violent outbursts (not character on character) and general trauma

Julian

It happened after a series of busy weeks. Julian had been pulling long hours at work, always gone before sunrise and back just in time for bed. You haven't been able to catch up with him in days

You're rather fed up too. Mazelinka and Portia had both stopped by multiple evenings to catch up, increasingly irritated with his absence while you hosted them and apologized on his behalf

And now he's home early, for the first time in what feels like a month, and you can see the toll he's taken on his body, and he's asking you to - spend the night working at the clinic with him?

"Julian, why do you want me to do this? I'm not a doctor."

"I know, I'm sorry, but there's a nasty cold spreading around. Right now the only treatment is to let the fever run its course, but with your help, I'm sure we'll able to find something!"

"Is the fever dangerous?"

"Well - it's not killed anyone, no - but what if it does? We need to be prepared. Just come with me for tonight, please?"

He's already shrugging his cape on at the door, holding your own coat out to you impatiently. You look at the exhaustion in his eyes and take his hand instead.

"Julian, you're tired. I'm tired. Why don't you rest for tonight? We haven't had a moment alone together in weeks, and people are worried about you."

Something about those words sets him off and he yanks away

"Worried about me? I'm not the one to worry about, people are sick, dammit!" His voice is rising in volume, a gloved hand waving around in angry desperation.

"They're asking for help and I'm the only one still trying! What was even the point of sticking around if you won't let me do anything useful with my life?!"

You would respond, but your throat's closing up in your effort to hold back tears and you don't want to look at him right now. You can feel his angry words sitting heavy in the silence, until he swears under his breath and slams the door

Moments later there's two de-gloved hands hovering by your face, a wavering voice full of regret trying to get your attention

"MC. MC I'm so sorry, I - I didn't mean it, please forgive me. You mean everything to me, and - and you're right, I shouldn't have yelled, and you're crying I - I'm so sorry, can you ever forgive me?"

He's shaken, shocked at his own words and full of shame at causing you pain, but refusing to leave until he knows you'll be okay. You're too tired and hurt to unpack everything right now so you grab a bit of his sleeve instead and make your request:

"We can talk in the morning, but can we sleep? Please?"

He'll nod and help you up the stairs and into bed, offering to exile himself to the couch if the space would help

You'll both fall asleep fairly quickly, but he's going to keep waking up through the night plagued with guilt and fighting the urge to leave so you can save yourself and move on

He'll let you know in the morning that he's really sorry and wants to talk about it too, and will take the next few days off of work to focus on resolving things and finding a way back to normal

Asra

You know for a fact that they're loyal to a fault and that they would never abandon you, but you two have been together for over a year now and they still forget to communicate with you ahead of time

He'd been unusually all over the place for the last month - disappearing with little notice for several days at a time, coming home to spend the night loving you, and gone the next morning

Every time they come back they're so happy to see you that you don't get the chance to ask how and where they've been, and every morning there's only the breakfast they made for you as evidence that they were even there in the first place

You've started to forget what it feels like to see him in daylight, so you decide to try bridging the gap. The next time you have him lying next to you, you ask for him to stay before dozing off:

"Have dinner with me tomorrow. I've missed you."

The next morning there's Faust and a note by your pillow, saying they'll be back at sunset and they'll bring food so you won't have to cook

Dinner is fun. He fixes you with that adoring gaze and gets you to tell him all about what you've been up to, even apologizing for not asking sooner. You get up to clear the table and brew some tea, and when you turn around he's at the door with his back to you

"Asra?" You can see the excitement in their motions as they shrug on their coat, eager to be off. They barely spare a glance over their shoulder as they heft their bag - still packed - onto their arm

"It's a moonless night, my love. The perfect time to start an adventure. I know you've been busy recently, so I won't push you to join me. We'll go together next time. Faust?"

The snake somehow notices your stricken face better than your beloved does. You barely get the chance to grasp what's happening as he bustles across the room to press a quick farewell to your frozen lips, heading out the door with an "I'll miss you!"

It's the sound of the door closing and the resulting, all-too-familiar silence that undoes you. You numbly put the half-filled teapot down and quietly curl up in Asra's chair, no longer fighting your tears as their lingering warmth begins to fade

"Haha! I forgot my hat. Why is the door still unlocked, M - MC? You're crying. What's wrong, what happened? Are you hurt?"

You can hear him rushing across the shop to get to you, sinking to his knees in front of the chair to get a better look at your lowered face. He's got a warm hand on your cheek, brushing your tears away while the other runs through his hair in concern

You can't move away before a hand comes to rest over your heart and you watch the face in front of you twist in pain and concern "MC - what's hurting you like this?"

You're not sure how it's not obvious to them, but you try to explain the best you can anyways: "You said you'd never go where I can't follow again, so - so why do you keep leaving? At least tell me when it's going to happen so I know what to expect."

It's clicking together in his mind now, and he's dropping his bag to clutch you to his chest and murmur apologies between kisses

They'll hold you as close as you let them that night, and stay home for the next few months to reestablish their missed connection with you. You'll be able to tell them eventually that you love their wanderlust - you just wish they'd do better at communicating

Nadia

One of the things that hurt the most when you first met her was how deeply her faith in herself had been broken. Always second guessing herself, doubting her intuition, and hesitating to act

She's the opposite of that now - a Countess more than worthy of leading Vesuvia out of its shambles - but sometimes you wish she would stop to think twice about things. Sometimes you wish she would stop to think twice about you, instead of just assuming

Like hearing her casually mention over lunch that she had received an offer for your shop and would need you to sign the paperwork tomorrow afternoon to confirm the handover

"Come again? Hand over my shop?"

She's still so deep in decision-making work mode that she forgets to read your tone, only pausing to sip from her cup and nod

"Nadia, why would I sell my shop?"

She smiles at you indulgently and calmly explains her reasoning, clearly under the impression that she's doing you a favor:

"You don't have any more need for it. You no longer use it for employment, as you are my lovely magician, you no longer use it for housing, as you are my partner, and you no longer use it for income, as I am committed to providing all your heart's desires. What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine, my darling."

You're beginning to feel panic well up in your chest. The way she speaks is so certain, the deal she mentions has already been struck, and you are about to lose the last piece of your life leftover from before the plague, and -

"MC, whatever's the matter? Are the dishes not to your taste?"

"No, I - Nadia, what's mine is still mine."

"Of course it is, dearest, now what's troubling you?"

You don't know how to explain this. It's as if you're slowly going crazy, panicking at the thought of losing something that is apparently so worthless to the rest of the world, and you're running out of calm ways to explain: "I don't want to sell my shop, Nadia."

Her eyebrows raise in concern. "Are you not adequately provided for?" You shake your head. She sighs in newfound understanding and takes your hand. "I understand that leaving an old house can be disquieting. I assure you, the freedom is entirely worthwhile."

"Nadia," you croak, "Nadia, it's not just an old house." You're rapidly losing the ability to see your plate clearly, but you need to speak before your voice fails. "It's all I have left from my family. It's all I have from before the plague. It's all I have -" your breaths are getting shaky, but you need her to understand, you need her to understand what she's doing - "It's all I have. It's my home."

You can tell the truth's caught up to her when you hear her knife clatter to the table. "MC, I'm so -" she chokes and stands. "I'll resolve this at once. I hope ... I hope you can forgive me."

That night, the relief on her face when you join her for dinner is plain as day. She brings it up as soon as you're alone together, determined to talk things through and reach an understanding so she can properly resolve things with you and do better

Muriel

Certain times of the year are particularly difficult for Muriel. Dr Nazali explained it to you once, how ex-soldiers will have worsened symptoms of combat fatigue on the anniversaries of major battles

For Muriel, it's the dates for all of the new festivals that the ex-Count introduced. City wide celebrations meant thousands more in the Coliseum stands, which in turn required more than double the opponents and cruel spectacles he had to participate in

Whenever the old festival dates roll around, you watch him revert to who he was when you first met him - a shell of a man handling his own haunting in the privacy of the woods

It's been especially rough this week. He rarely speaks and barely eats. He doesn't have the energy to pull his hair back anymore, and he's taken to sleeping on the ground so Inanna can have the bed again. Even the chickens seem concerned

So you try to pick up the slack. You keep the hut clean, offer to comb and braid his hair for him, bring him meals that are easy to keep down, and decline any activities that would force him to socialize

His response is to take the safety as his cue to mentally hibernate through the worst of it. It's afternoon now, and you haven't seen him move since he used the bathroom and ate this morning

"Muriel?" You see his shoulder twitch, but his chin stays sunk to his chest, eyes hidden by the curtain of his hair. "Muriel, can you eat?"

You walk over, purposefully slow so he can see you coming, and crouch next to him with a steaming bowl of broth. "Muriel, you need to eat something. You don't have to get up, just ... please try to drink at least a little of this?"

He turns to you with a sullen glare, completely unlike the gentle green you're used to getting lost in, and Inanna whines from her corner. His voice is gravelly from misuse when he speaks:

"Leave me alone."

"Muriel -" you make the mistake of touching his shoulder, and he flinches violently away from the touch. His flying elbow upsets the bowl in your hand and he turns to you with his arms hiding his face

"Leave. Me. Alone, MC. I don't want you here."

You'd normally try to be understanding, but the bowl he accidentally knocked over landed on your feet and the boiling liquid has splashed up your legs, soaking into your trousers, first burning and then steaming the stretch of skin beneath

It's the way that you're clenching your jaw to hold in a scream that snaps him out of it. He knows that look - he's seen it a hundred times before, but it's the first time he's seen it on you

"MC?" His eyes drop to the upended bowl, to the steam rising from your legs, and his face goes slack in horror

Acting purely on instinct, he swats the bowl aside and tears away the clothing burning into your skin. He has you in his arms and submerged in the cold spring outside in seconds

He's a lot more intentional about staying open to you during his bouts of PTSD now, but he doesn't drink broth any more

Portia

Ambassador trips get draining very easily, much more for Portia than for you. Nothing makes her happier than making everyone else happy, and diplomatic negotiations aren't necessarily the best place to be a people pleaser

It's been three straight days of back-and-forth. During Nadia's coma, a nearby city-state had been slowly encroaching on and taxing Vesuvian territory. If the injustice wasn't enough to get her blood boiling, it didn't help that one of the courtiers had it out for her Aunt Tasya

You, on the other hand, have been busy since you landed helping out the neighborhood around the dock. Magic users seem to be in short supply here, and your days have been tiring but fulfilling

You're sitting in the cabin now, struggling to keep your eyes open, when Portia thunders into the room and begins changing for bed while aggressively ranting

"Those bastards! The farmers have been working on less than two meals a day for the last year and half! And did you hear what they said about Aunt Tasya? Why, I oughtta -"

You're listening to and watching her, concern tugging at your heartstrings, but when she turns to look at your face she doesn't seem to see the reaction she was hoping for

"MC - are you even listening?"

"Yes, you were saying about your Aunt Tasya?"

She huffs and you see her upper lip curl into a sneer. "Oh, I see how it is. I'm just supposed to stand back and let you handle everything, right? Am I just some side character to you? Is that what you think of me?"

She's angrily shoving her hair out of her face, trembling with rage, and all you can feel is shock. Is that what she thinks of you?

"What is it, MC? Cat got your tongue? Are you too important to talk to me now?"

You rear back, head spinning from the hurt in her tone. "No! I don't think that about you at all!"

She slams her fists down on the table, the clatter of the plates on it chiming in with a broken sob. "What, so I come from nothing? I'm nothing but a - a shipwrecked orphan whose older brother couldn't even stick around?"

You're rooted in your chair, heart twisting at her words. Is that what they've been saying to her? "Portia, you're not nothing. You're out here making such a big difference in people's lives -"

"Oh, you mean like you? Like how everyone in town can't take their eyes off of you while I do the grunt work? Like how I save the world with you and you're all people can see? I may as well be invisible next to you!"

You're both frozen, staring wide-eyed at each other. You've known Portia could get jealous. You haven't seen this before. Your hands begin to shake under the table as her eyes go from shock to grief

"MC - MC I'm sorry, I'm so sorry ... I didn't mean it, I swear I would never mean it, it's those bastards who keep looking down on me and I thought ... maybe you were ... I'm sorry -"

It's a long night of whispered sorry's before you're in the space to hear her explanation. She's better at being open with you about her insecurities now, but any time her volume changes she walks away to cool off before continuing

Lucio

Lucio has a level of resilience that will never fail to surprise you

Of course, most of that comes from his tendency to live in the present. It makes confronting the past rather difficult, but once it's been dealt with, he sees no reason to dwell on it and can drop it faster than a hot potato

The only issue is that sometimes he's so quick to drop the past and stay in his present comfort zone that he's blinded to people who still need to spend time thinking about it

Even when it's you. Especially when you walk through a town that's been ravaged by a plague locals refer to as the "Yellow Death"

While Lucio seems antsy to pass through, you find your feet dragging slower and slower as you look at the carnage. Houses marked with a white circle are burnt-out shells in an effort to be rid of the plagued bodies within them and entire blocks are rubble

It's when you stray too close to one of them that your foot knocks against a charred child's toy, painted a strangely familiar pattern

You may not remember, but deep down you know that you knew someone who had one of these. Maybe it was you, maybe it was a friend, maybe it was a cousin?

"MC! Hurry up, we're walking here!" You can barely hear Lucio's voice over the dull roar in your ears, but you know he's nearby when two wet noses nudge themselves into your palms and an impatient hand nudges at your shoulder

"Come on, MC, you don't wanna stay somewhere this depressing."

A hand tugs on your elbow and you're finally able to shake your gaze loose from the eerily familiar blackened doorframe. Your eyes travel down to your palm where the toy still sits

Lucio follows your line of sight and flinches, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple as his smile gets tight

"MC? Let me take that, you don't want it. It's worthless anyway, whoever had it's been gone a long time." His grip is considerably rougher than yours, and you watch in horror as the little toy splinters between his fingers

"Ha! Look at that, gone like smoke. Let's go already, there's nothing worth looking at here. The town's empty, nobody's around to care about whoever died here. MC? MC you're shaking -"

You haven't felt this angry at him in a long time, and you know he's speaking from his stress and not from his mind, but you can't take another invalidating comment from him -

"Nobody cares about whoever died here? Gone like smoke?"

You see the blood leave his face and the fear take over as he realizes what he's said. "MC -"

"I was a person, Lucio. I had a life. Is that smoke to you too?"

"I'm sorry!" He's got your wrists in his hands, tugging you away from ruins that could too easily be your childhood home. "I'm sorry, but we need to get out of here first!"

You follow numbly, unsure of how to proceed while he drags you away from the ghost town. You're barely able to accept his touch as he holds you through the first panic attack of many

Lucio doesn't like dwelling on the past, but he's learning the hard way not to trample on others for needing to

[ghouljams]

Spare Warmth Rating: G tags: Hesh x reader, established relationship, snowed in(sort of), Hesh being handy, domestic fluff Summary: You and Hesh take a trip up north to enjoy the ice and snow, everything is perfect. Except that your rental is a little... colder than you expected.

There's a little cabin in a wide dense forest, just butting against a lake. Snow covers the roof and sticks to the needles of the ever green trees that surround it. It's cozy, but old and a little run down. Still, it's beautiful, picturesque in a way you only see in paintings. When you got here yesterday you couldn't believe your eyes, couldn't fathom that somewhere like this existed outside of your imagination. The frozen lake sparkled in the blinding sunlight, and your breath puffed excitedly in front of you. Hesh had pulled your knit cap further down over your ears and tugged you inside to get the place warmed up.

It's funny, he grew up in California, moved to Texas after his military career, he's never really known the cold. So why he wanted to go north and see the snow for Christmas was beyond you. If anything the man should be avoiding the cold at all costs, but it's sort of sweet. Just the two of you, playing house.

You wake up to thick, heavy, arms holding you close and Hesh snuggled against your back. The little cabin you rented is just on the wrong side of chilly, and your nose is cold where it sticks out over the quilts. You wiggle back down under the blankets, back against Hesh who only hums and hugs you tighter. You tug the blanket up over your ears and enjoy the trapped heat of your bodies. Until Hesh pulls away to scratch his nose and a rush of cold hits you. You shiver and curl a little closer in on yourself.

"Fuck it's cold," Hesh grumbles, turning to grab his phone and check the temperature outside. You're honestly more worried about the temperature inside, but you suppose one informs the other. Hesh lets out a low whistle and turns back to you so you can get a look at the screen. Minus 15(-26 C). Ouch.

Hesh tosses the quilts aside as he gets up and you yelp at the frigid air. He laughs and tucks you back in nice and snug, kissing your forehead with a gentle apology. "Gonna check that the heat's on, be right back." He tells you.

"Take a jacket," You mumble from under the blankets. He kisses you again, properly this time, when you tip your head back and pucker your lips. His skin is already starting to get cold. "And hurry back," You smile when he pulls away.

"Always." He promises.

You sneak your phone under the covers as he leaves the room, your warm fingers scrolling over the cold screen. You stretch your legs out into the cold part of the sheets and then pull them back to the warmth. You can hear Hesh fussing about in the little living area at the front of the cabin, muttering to himself in the silence before you hear the click of the front door.

The front door? You sit up in bed, almost immediately shiver against the cold of the room. Fucking hell it's freezing in here. You tug the quilts around your shoulders, wrap yourself up in the warmth as best you can. The snow outside the window seems impossibly deep and cold, not the sort of weather your man should be going out in.

You fish around over the side of the bed for a pair of socks and carefully slip out with your blanket cape. You pad into the living area and see Hesh tramping around past one of the big windows. He's got his coat and hat, warming his fingers against his mouth as he kicks snow by the cabin wall. You settle on the couch to wait, and grab an extra flannel blanket just for the trouble of getting out of bed.

There's a lot of banging going on outside, and at one point Hesh disappears, only to reappear looking significantly dirtier. His hands have black on them when he makes his way back inside. He spots you on the couch and grabs his leather gloves off the kitchen table, a little sheepishly.

"Furnace is out of oil," He tugs his gloves on, flexes his fingers, "I'm gonna grab some wood for a fire, then head to the gas station."

"You want me to put a kettle on?" You offer. He gives you a grateful glance.

"Coffee, you know how I take it."

You nod and hop off the couch to start your kitchen prep. You might as well make something warm while you're up. No sense in being cold and hungry when you can help it. You tap an egg against the cast iron pan you'd found, grateful the furnace didn't seem to impact the gas stove. It takes maybe 15 minutes for you to get a decent breakfast together, and Hesh still isn't back yet. You frown, glancing out the window, and decide to brave the cold(just a little) to find him.

You tug on your boots and shuffle out the door. The snow crunches wonderfully under your feet, and you follow Hesh's footprints around the house, careful to keep your blanket from dragging in the snow. It's definitely worse out here than inside, but not by much. You hear the thunk of an ax as you turn the corner to the back of the house. Hesh looks up from the thick stump his ax is lodged in and a smile splits his face.

"Look'it you," He laughs, grabbing the split wood on either side of his ax. "Here, make yourself useful baby," He holds the wood out to you and you hurry forward to grab it, picking up the bucket he offers you as well. It looks like plenty for a fire, it's certainly heavy enough. Hesh tugs the ax free and follows after you back to the front door. You wonder where he found that thing.

"There's breakfast," You let him know, shaking off some of the snow clinging to your boots as you walk up onto the little porch, "eat while I get the fire started." Hesh shakes his head but beelines for the kitchen as you haul the wood over to the little wood stove in the corner of the living room.

It's easy busy work feeding wood and kindling into the little iron mouth of the stove, striking a match and making sure the flame catches before stuffing your starter in with the rest of the mess. Fires are easy, you're good with fire. You still sit in front of the open door to make sure that the fire actually catches on the wood Hesh broke up before closing the stove up. Amazing how quickly that little thing can heat up the room.

You glance over your shoulder to find Hesh watching you. His eyes sparkle over the rim of his coffee mug, absolutely smitten with you. Another man might complain about the heat going out, or being forced to fix it on his vacation, but not him. It's nothing worse than he's dealt with in the military, and you're here.

He sets his mug down on the table and comes over to kiss you. You tip your head back, not bothering to get up off the floor as he leans down to meet your eager lips. He's wonderfully warm from the coffee, and you can taste its bitterness when his tongue slides against yours. You can weather any storm as long as Hesh is here with you. What's a busted furnace up against the two of you?

You still call the rental people when Hesh leaves, you doubt one canister of gas is enough for the furnace and you'd rather not go the rest of the week without heat. You might not notice the cold when you're wrapped up in your partner's arms, but you certainly notice it when he leaves. You can't spend all week being held, or- no, no you should get the heat on. Then you can just... turn it off as needed.