#now he’s interesting in the ‘wrong’ way

[yan-randomfandom]

Heyyy! I was wondering if you could do yandere saja boys x reader where the reader hangs out with a guy and they get very jealous

Yandere!Saja Boys x GN!Reader

a/n; the day im satisfied with writing a yan!saja boys and/or yan!huntrix one shot is the day i'll retire because this is still lacking 💔

warnings; uncomfortable, stalking, possessive behavior, more spotlight on Abby! no Jinu here, sry!

— 🌇

That's weird.

You're not anywhere in your house. You haven't responded to their messages yet.

"Think they finally had enough of us?" Baby mutters, looking through your snack drawer—nothing of interest—before closing it harsher than intended. The loud bang echoes in the empty kitchen.

Abby narrows his eyes as he looks through the window. The sun is going to set soon. "That can't be right. Maybe they went to buy something."

"Without telling us?" Mystery growls, his fingers fidgeting together. Well, it's not like you need to tell them every action you'll do. He's not even sure himself why he's so irritated.

After all, they were already planning to take your soul after the whole thing is over. But now that he's thinking of it again, the idea doesn't feel so good anymore...

The front door suddenly squeals open. All of them turn, expecting you, but instead meet Romance's face.

"Don't look so disappointed," Romance scoffs with an eyebrow raise. "I found the human. Come on."

— 🫧

First, they felt relief, then anger, then sadness, then nothing.

They found you alone, as Romance said you were, but then you started laughing. Your gentle laughter stopped them from getting any closer. A smile curls on your lips as your eyes consistently follow something.

"What?" Romance mutters, confusion scrunching his face. They can't see well from this angle—but they can't move either without being seen.

"I told you it's slippery," you snicker, walking over and extending your hand. Ah. So you weren't alone. "Come on. I'll help you up, I guess."

"Thanks," a voice replies, matching your energy, causing all of the boys to glance at each other. They watch as a hand takes yours. "I guess."

The person gets up—a man. Not a demon, but a human. Standing too close to you and still holding your hand. Or maybe it was just a normal distance, and time felt like forever watching you touch that thing—but, oh, Gwi-Ma. They feel like boiling their human forms.

You finally let go of him, using your hand to fish your phone out of your pocket. A frown snakes across your lips after a while. "Oh, no."

"Oh no?" your friend asks, tilting his head. "Is something wrong?"

You begin chewing your bottom lip, looking around. "No, uh, not really. But I have to go now. Nice catching up with you, man!"

"Aw, really?" he says, glancing at his phone. "Oh. It is pretty late. Isn't your apartment like right over there? I can—"

"There you are!"

You and your friend turn your heads, both of your eyes widening for entirely different reasons.

Abby approaches you with a charming smile, settling an arm over your shoulders. He hums as he takes a good, innocent look at your companion. "Who's this?"

"Saja— Abs—Abby? From Saja Boys?! Uh, I mean— Hi! So nice to meet you!" An unexpected blush blooms over your friend's face. He glances at you with nervousness and fascination before bowing his head.

Your friend shows off a crooked grin. He's a big fan already; he told you moments ago how he had Soda Pop on loop. You huff and remove Abby's arm from your shoulder, barely able to hold your flinch at the way he looked offended.

You gaze at Abby in anticipation.

Abby immediately gets the hint and masks himself. "Oh, a fan! Thank you for your support!"

They took a picture, Abby did his autograph, all the while giving him fanservice with his abs. Your friend giggles cheerfully as they shake their hands goodbye. You didn't miss the way Abby wiped his hand on his shirt when your friend wasn't looking.

"Take care!" you call to him, waving a hand before turning to a blank-faced Abby.

He stares at you humorlessly.

You blink, avoiding his eyes. "Uh, hey. Sorry about... not replying. I ran out of—"

Abby chuckles, smiles like he wasn't just judging your entire being, and shakes his head. He returns to draping his arm around your shoulder protectively. "No need to explain. We're glad you're safe. Let's go home."

Your brows furrow as Abby guides your walk. We're? We?

It's an obvious thing that once a member is involved, all of them are. Just... where are the others? Abby is the only one here.

You stray your eyes, landing on a window.

In the dim reflection, three pairs of glowing, golden eyes point at you in the distance. Ah. There they are. Watching, waiting.

Ugh. You look away. Jinu's never this level of creepy. He's not present again, as always.

You don't notice Abby nodding his head curtly next to you.

— need .. need to include more horrors..... ngl I'm stuck between funny or horrific yan!saja boys ,,

— also if you're wondering why Jinu isn't here, I just prefer not to include him in general! yeah my bad, in my other fics he's just kinda hanging around

— why's it so hard for me to write yandere (says the yandere blog)

[themathomhouse]

I have to assume you're deliberately misunderstanding prev at this point, but on the off chance you're not I will repeat what they have explicitly said one more time, with some of my own emphasis because tbh Lucas isn't an especially bad example of what I was talking about. He's just the best known on tumblr. He is, however, awful at acknowledging the work his first wife did on Star Wars and how much that contributed to the success of the trilogy, and, exactly like prev said, has tried to take the reins himself in the subsequent years and demonstrated exactly why she was needed in the first place.

George Lucas isn't a bad film editor. He's also the person who wrote the script and directed (the first) Star Wars. I think it's fair and accurate to say that the (first three) Star Wars films are a product of his vision - and where he was inspired and helped by other directors and collaborators, he's actually great at acknowledging their contribution!

With one exception.

Marcia Lucas is an excellent film editor. She isn't the only editor who worked on Star Wars at all, but, as prev said, the team who worked on the films overall win awards for being particularly good - and Lucas himself acknowledges that he's not the best editor or director! He didn't direct episodes V or VI because he is actually capable of understanding where his strengths lie. This is why he hired other people to edit his films!

One of those people was his then-wife. They are now divorced. Likely because of this divorce, and also because the divorce was partly caused by Star Wars, he now fails to tell the story of how the Star Wars films were kind of a mess when they arrived at the editing suite. Marcia (who had also edited his previous films, because she is a professional film editor and an excellent one) understood his vision and also made several changes without which most people who worked on the film say it would not have come together. George had great ideas, the effects would have been great, but it just wouldn't have sparked a phenomenon the way it did without her work. And he himself used to acknowledge this!

Until they got divorced. Which was right as Episode VI came out. And now he doesn't acknowledge her as much as he really should - and if I remember correctly, Spielberg has called him out on this!

Like I said, I actually don't think he's a particularly egregious example. He's someone who usually is great at acknowledging his collaborators and he's often good at acknowledging where he needs someone else to do something because they are better at it. He hasn't made a film that's anywhere near as good or interesting as the original Star Wars honestly in no small part because he actually has taken a producer role or co-writes or generally just doesn't want to be the director as much since Star Wars. Where he has done, like prev said with the tinkering with the original trilogy, and like EVEN HE says about episodes I - III, the result is just not as good as it could have been.

I'm basically commenting here because your misunderstanding of prev comes off as incredibly bad-faith, especially as this post is constantly just tagged as George Lucas in a way that honestly? I don't think is fair. But prev was actually very specific as to what they were referring to with him, and they're right! Like. Famously right. But I'm hoping that I'm wrong about the bad-faith and this will help both you and others see where prev was coming from, as well as tbh maybe people could tag this as F Scott Fitzgerald because that man literally stole segments out of his wife's diaries without telling her until she read it in his published works, that's more what I was getting at.

I've also just spent all these paragraphs giving context to Lucas mostly because of other posts, when what you're saying is that not only do accolades mean nothing, but it apparently also means nothing that he is not actually a professional film editor. The editing team, of which Marcia was part, was composed of people whose entire job is to edit films. That is why he hired them instead of doing it himself.

okay but if you ever see a male creative who had a string of great work and then everything else he did was dogshit, go to the "personal life" part of his wikipedia and look at his relationships. you'll either find a major tragedy he didn't recover from (completely understandable) or, more likely, there was a woman in his life doing uncredited shit editing his stuff or contributing generally and she's not there anymore.

I told a friend about this phenomenon in literature and he called me weeks later like, I remembered what you said about women doing uncredited work when tim burton came up. he made a string of bangers then everything else just was nowhere near as good. the timeline matches perfectly to when he was with this german visual artist (lena gieseke). he's done some good work in collaboration, but if things were dug into I suspect we would find she did a lot more than people realise.

so yeah whenever you look around like wow women didn't work in history, or, women aren't auteurs, or, there just aren't as many great female writers - societal reasons for that aside, half the time they absolutely did.

[honeybeegashii]

Feral Devotion

⋆˚꩜｡Note: My first time posting something like this. But this fandom needs more Yautja x reader content. Please bear with me as I improve more in the future

Summary: Used as bait for the Elder Hunters. Instead of the intended hunters, you caught a different hunter interest. Despite not understanding each other, the warrior became fiercely protective.

You don’t remember being taken. Not exactly.

Just the after.

Heat like breathing inside a furnace. Metal walls and no windows. A hiss of hydraulics and something moving just out of sight. Bigger than anything on Earth. The air here tastes wrong. Heavy. Wet with ozone and blood.

Your wrists still ache from the way they strung you up, bait on a hook for something ancient and cruel. Tech-slick cuffs, research collars, chemical fog burned into your skin. You were never meant to survive. Just scream loud enough to lure something out of the trees.

Pheromones, they said. You’re appealing. Not because you’re beautiful—but because you’re biologically interesting. Like a scent that sets off alarms in a predator’s skull. You’re the kind of soft that makes instincts break down and violence feel holy.

But it wasn’t the elder hunters that found you.

It was him.

Didn’t expect the Young Blood who found you first. Young, yes. Raw, yes. But deadly. Already decorated in the blood of creatures older and meaner than he had any right surviving.

You remember the scream of something dying. Not yours.

You remember the drip of blood onto the metal floor, the snarl he made when he sliced you down from where you hung.

He didn’t kill you. He should’ve.

But instead, he touched your hair. Strange and clumsy. Just the very tips of his claws. He watched you the way humans watch lightning, awe and danger, like getting too close might kill him. And then, he took you.

Scooped you up in those terrifying arms like you were a prize. A trophy. A thing to be carried off and hidden in the dark corners of a starship.

You were unconscious most of the journey. The air too thin. The gravity too heavy. But sometimes you woke up long enough to see him, kneeling beside you like a shadow, fingers twitching near your face. Like he wanted to touch. Like he didn’t know how.

He doesn’t speak your language. But you feel what he means when he looks at you.

He wraps you in fabric stripped from his own gear. Tucks you into the warm belly of the ship like you’re an egg he means to hatch. He growls at the others who come too close, real warriors, Blooded ones. They snarl back, laughing, until he nearly kills one of them. Over you.

They think he’s gone feral. You think maybe he has too.

He shouldn’t have touched you. Should’ve left you strung up like a carcass. Should’ve let the others take the kill.

But he didn’t. He claimed you.

And now you live in the eye of a hurricane made of muscle and blood and devotion that doesn’t make any sense. Now you sleep on the pelt of some slain beast in the belly of his quarters, under the eye of a warrior who’s too young to know better and too wild to care.

You were bait. Meant to be hunted. But he got to you first.

And gods help you—he won’t let you go.

Next Part

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 12

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.6k

cw: angst, very vague allusions to self harm, semi-crash out from em i guess (?), hurt/comfort technically, yearning tbh, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns (i try to avoid that but sorry), im getting really casual with these content warnings, mostly bc i think no one reads what i actually write up here

Synopsis: While you talk with Rafayel, Sylus gets a visit from someone he thought had disappeared. (i’m bad at synopses)

author’s note: this took me a little longer to put out so im sorry >_< im really looking forward to writing zayne next though! then caleb and then its reader and em again and its gonna get crazy and then im gonna put up a poll so y’all can decide how i end it! i hope y’all are excited lol im getting closer to the end and its making me kinda sad cause i love this series but i have multiple ideas for different series so i might have multiple ongoing after this <3

taglist: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @vigtore @ph1lo-s0ph1a @ameili @babyx91 @sadsaidthesadthing @bidisasterforevermore @liz9898 @iconoclastoc @elegantdeerlady @lifumi @auraficial @plzdonutpercieveme @dolledbunnytail @junebuggz @mangooes @anatherone @skulzooka @yuhuahuaaa @nm4565natty @feikyuu @lunia-likes-pomegranet @xfangirl-trashx @glitterykingdomangel @eialovescats @mimiu3usoft @alyssac9 @000rpheus @novaisbebita @coffeedragonhobbyist @udejoenrlddo @lanxianschoenheit @paper--angel @xyzbeloved @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @myheartfollower @nightmarewasteland @feralwolfkat @junni-berry @chiikasevennn @lethalasylum @loudpiratepirate @sweetnightowl @rafaissance @white-wolves-and-golden-sunrises @iunse @asilaydead

Series Masterlist

Onychinus’s base was quiet. Its occupants were comfortably off fulfilling their own tasks, no last-minute crises disrupting them. An unexpected peace settled, though an air of anticipation filled the space.

Sylus had been eyeing the door since you left this morning. Just like he had when you left yesterday.

He knew he shouldn’t worry. He knew you could handle yourself.

He also knew he was going to worry anyway.

You came to him after your talk with Xavier last night, a serious, somber expression painted on. You were quiet at first, sorting through the conversation. He let you. You’d filled Sylus in then, just enough to keep him updated, to know everything was fine. He respected your privacy, the distance you kept with such a sensitive subject, though he wished you’d confide in him.

Allow him to give you shelter from the storm in your eyes.

You’d stopped him, before you left for bed. Told him not to worry. It was sweet of him, you’d said, but unnecessary. That he didn’t need to give Luke and Kieran a task as boring as watching you talk to Xavier, that you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

Sylus didn’t tell you that he knew that, too. He didn’t tell you that he wanted Luke and Kieran to watch you with Xavier to see if you were interested in him, interested in a way Sylus couldn’t compete with.

Instead, Sylus told you he’d let you be. Not before making you promise to tell him if something goes wrong, though. He’s only a phone call away, after all.

Even a panicked look to Mephisto would do.

You nodded, assuring him that he would be the first person you’d call if things went haywire.

He wasn’t quite sure if he believed you, but he relented nonetheless.

So, when you left the base early this morning, just as Sylus’s business day was ending, he’d told Luke and Kieran to simply drop you off where you asked, no need to watch you.

Of course, now his eyes hadn’t wandered from the front door.

Even as the dark circles under his eyes sunk deeper and his shoulders drooped, Sylus stayed. Waiting patiently.

He wasn’t sure when you’d be back. He just wanted to see you as soon as you were. Make sure you were okay under the guise of a smug smile and a teasing remark.

It wasn’t worth risking the raw vulnerability embedded in his worry if you had another man in your heart, after all.

The soft click of the back door pulled Sylus’s head up, listening carefully to the barely audible footsteps padding through the hallway behind him. Two sets, he noted. Luke and Kieran.

The tension in his shoulders relaxed again as he turned to see the two boys unceremoniously drop onto the couch.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep, Boss?” Kieran asked.

“I’m alright,” Sylus answered shortly.

“You sure, Boss-man?” Luke pushed. “Looks like the bags under your eyes could carry the weight of the world.”

Sylus stared at the twins. “Don’t you two have something better to do than worry about my sleeping habits?”

“Oh, that’s right!” Luke starts, sitting up. “I almost forgot why we came here.”

Kieran sighed. “We’re here to give you a report on the tracking.”

Sylus nodded. “Continue.”

“Looks like Em and Caleb have been staying at his apartment in Skyhaven since Little Boss came here. Haven’t been outside much,” Kieran explained.

“Yeah, they’ve just been holed up in there together. From what we could tell, things looked pretty tense,” Luke said. “But it was pretty much the same thing for a week. Except today. Em left early, about 7:30. Caleb left at 8:00. Went to the Fleet, a new mission or something. We couldn’t track him very far, too high of surveillance on the Colonel.”

“We could track Em after she left, though,” Kieran continued. “She boarded the Coelum Express at 8:00, arriving back in Linkon at 10:00. She first went to her apartment, where she checked every room before leaving. Then she went to the Hunter’s Association.”

“She went to her desk immediately, and she was stopped by Tara and Simone. They talked for about five minutes before Jenna called Em over,” Luke listed off. “Em reported on her most recent mission and then said she had to go. Then she went to Research, talking to Nero very briefly where he gave her very vague answers. Em then sought out Xavier, who seemed more worried about how panicked she looked then answering the questions she asked him.”

Sylus nodded. “Seems like everything’s following the plan,” he muttered. “Where is Em now?”

Kieran shifted on his feet. “That’s the thing, Boss,” he confessed. “We lost her.”

Linkon was incredibly lively.

Bustling streets filled with locals and tourists alike. The chatter rose, echoing through the city so that even the quietest corners were filled with the hum of connection.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

You navigated the busy streets, wondering just how anyone could manage to live here permanently.

Wondering how the you from before you landed in Love and Deepspace did it.

You’d almost forgotten it, how this life wasn’t really your own. You were filling in the slot of a life already lived, already planned, that you had no recollection of.

Was that person from before really you? Or did you steal the life of another, taking what they deserved?

Feeling your chest tighten, you tried to focus on your breathing instead.

In through the nose, out through the mouth.

It wasn’t like the feeling was new. On the contrary, you often felt like your life wasn’t really your own. Like it wasn’t real, you weren’t real. That all that you’d experienced before was just a precursor to what life really was, what it was supposed to be. Almost convincing yourself that the life you had couldn’t be real, because wasn’t life supposed to be more than that?

Maybe you were still that kid reading Narnia, waiting for a world at the end of the Wardrobe to find her.

You were almost getting better, you thought as you sat down at a cafe. Your hands itched at your thighs, the lengths you’d gone to feel real again a constant reminder.

But then you got dropped into Love and Deepspace. A world that, as far as you were concerned, was just a game come to life.

This wasn’t real, you told yourself. Which is why the fulfillment this life brought hurt all the more.

You thought of what Xavier had said when you told him. How he wasn’t really surprised.

That had caught you off guard at first, but it all clicked when you thought about it later.

Xavier hadn’t been your favorite Love Interest, but there was always something there you connected to. Something quiet, lurking there but not making a show out of itself.

Xavier was never really present, it felt. He was quiet, reserved, always lost in his mind or his dreams.

Always thinking of something else, always something taking his focus, never truly being in the moment.

It made sense he would almost expect a twisted reality, after all he’s seen.

But then you thought of what he’d said after.

It’s real to me. That’s enough.

You hadn’t understood at the time, hadn’t gotten how he could so easily live with that doubt.

How could you live with the possibility that this life might not completely be your own?

But maybe that’s what you were missing. That doubt is just a part of life. No one’s ever really sure, you thought, and that’s okay.

Our reality is what we make it.

It seems this is your reality now. If this is what you have, it’s time to make the best of it.

Sylus was now settled in his office, eyelids still feeling heavy as he watched the security screens. He watched as you made your way to Mo Art Studio, Mephisto patiently watching you from a distance. He wouldn’t know what you were talking about, but he could see if anyone laid a hand on you, and that was enough for him.

Luke and Kieran had run off to who knows where, to sleep or to prank Sylus didn’t know. It was negligible to him, what they did. They had limits, he knew, and he could clean up any messes they made.

It had been a while since their last prank, though, so Sylus kept an eye on the door behind him. He wouldn’t put it past them to do something now, especially since he’s so tired and out of his element.

Sylus didn’t flinch when the door slammed open. Didn’t flinch when his chair was aggressively pulled back from the desk.

What gave him pause was, instead, the click of heels against the floor.

The feeds were immediately cut, any glimpse of what they had shown gone as soon as the door opened.

A security measure Sylus was now thankful he’d implemented.

“Where is she?” Em hissed.

Sylus rose from his chair leisurely, letting out a deep breath. “I don’t know who you’re referring to.”

“You know damn well who I mean!” she exclaimed. “I saw Mephisto outside that morning. I shooed him away, but when I came back she was gone.”

“What a shame.” Sylus smirked. “If you’d let him be, he might have seen who took her.”

“I know it was you, Sylus, just admit it! I saw your stupid bird outside, and that same day she was gone!”

“And obviously, that means I took her.” Sylus raised an eyebrow.

“Well, who else would have?” she asked.

“Enlighten me,” Sylus sighed. “What reason would I have to take your little friend?”

“I don’t know,” Em groaned. “All I know is she’s gone. I—” Her breath caught, eyes watering ever so slightly. “I lost her,” she whispered. “And now I can’t find her.”

Sylus inhaled sharply, staying quiet for a few beats. “You lost her,” he began softly. “Have you ever considering she doesn’t want to be found?”

Mo Art Studio was bright, elegant, a seaside paradise. The soft crash of waves could be heard throughout the grounds, a view of the changing tides almost always visible. You checked your phone again, seeing Rafayel’s latest confirmation that it was okay for you to stop by. The gates in front of the studio were intricate and, most noticeably, open.

You hesitantly made your way through the grounds, stopping just before the front door. With a deep breath, you pushed it open, immediately met with the smell of paint, canvas, and seafood. Rafayel was easily spotted in the open floor plan, situated in an awkward position in front of a canvas.

“Great timing, cutie,” he said as he cast his paintbrush aside. “If I stayed in that position any longer, I’d probably be stuck like that.”

You chuckled as he stretched, white shirt opening slightly. You remained silent as he walked towards you, leaving down slightly to match your height.

“Now, cutie, why did you need to see me so urgently?” he asked.

“I’ve got something important to tell you,” you said, wringing your hands.

Rafayel straightened up. “Do you want to go walk on the beach for this?” He pointed back towards the opened French doors behind him.

Nodding, you took his hand as he led you out onto the sand.

You both discarded your shoes once you got off the boardwalk through the dunes, allowing the sand to shift under your bare feet. The incoming waves nipped at your heels as you took a deep breath.

“Do you remember the first time we met, that painting we were looking at?”

“Of course,” he nodded, “I loved that piece. So did you. But, it didn’t sell.”

“And you remember what you said about when you painted it? How that afternoon was really weird, like the universe was trying to fit in something new?”

Rafayel nodded again, the crease between his brows growing deeper.

“That afternoon was weird for me, too.” You exhaled. “See, I’m not from here, not like you are. I’m from a— a different world. I think that was what was weird about that day. It was me coming into this world.”

Rafayel stared at you. A few beats of silence passed. “So… so what? You’re saying there’s other worlds? Other dimensions? How did you even get here?” he sputtered. A deep sigh. “I knew something weird happened, I just didn’t think…”

“I don’t know how it happened. All I know is, I was there one moment, and the next, I was in Linkon,” you explained.

“Is it that Deepspace tunnel?” he muttered.

“There’s another thing,” you said sheepishly. “In my world, there’s this game, Love and Deepspace.” You tried to explain it slowly, carefully. You explained the events of the Main Story, everything that had happened that even he didn’t know all about. You left out the memories, the romantic moments stolen away that hadn’t happened yet.

You told him about the past lives, though, all that you knew. You watched as a myriad of emotions passed through his eyes, the ghosts of past loves haunting him.

“You know what’s going to happen, then? How it’s going to end?” he asked quietly.

“Not really,” you admitted. “I just know a lot about what has happened, even the things other people haven’t noticed.”

With barely a nod, Rafayel turned to the incoming ocean. Treading the water, his pants were soaked, up through the calf with salt staining the silken black.

“She had my heart,” he whispered, keeping his back to you. “I guess I never had hers, though.”

You took a step forward, the waves lapping at your legs. Pearls dropped, one by one, to the ocean, their tiny splashes becoming lost in the moving tides.

“Rafayel…” you began.

He turned to you, eyes bright and swirling like the eye of a hurricane. “She was never really going to be mine, was she? Not wholly, not completely.” He let out a dull, empty laugh. “Not in this life, not in the last, not in the next. I guess I was never really meant to have a love like that. All I get is something not meant to last, but something that can’t seem to let me breathe without aching.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking.

“Do you know… what happens to me? The bond, it’s still—”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, I really don’t know.”

“Then… did she ever really love me?” His hands trembled at his sides, the hurricane in his eyes nearly spilling out.

You rushed forward, taking your hand in his. “Of course she did,” you murmured. “She’s always loved you. I think she always will.” You laughed lightly. “I don’t know if it’s ‘meant to be’ like you say, but I think anyone would be foolish not to love you.”

Rafayel chuckled, looking back to the sun’s rays across the ocean before his gaze met yours again, leaning down once more so he was eye-level with you.

“Well, well, cutie. Does this mean you love me, too?” He grinned.

You glanced away, feeling your cheeks warm up. He moved next to you, pulling you against him with an arm around your shoulder.

Pressing a kiss to your hair, he whispered, “Thank you, cutie. That’s more than I need. She was never meant to willingly give me her heart. Maybe its time I find a new muse.”

comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3

masterlist

[pastelchelle]

Jason and Damian prank the fam

Damian: *eating a burger*

Dick: uhm Damian aren't you vegetarian?

Damian: yes I am

Dick: that burger...

Damian: do not fret Richard, it is not animal meat I am eating

Dick: oh okay...... wait, is it a vegetarian patty?

Damian: no. It is one of Todd's specialties, though. Since Grandfather found the idea of being vegetarian disgraceful in the League, Todd came up with a sure way to get me to eat meat without harming any animals.

Dick: I'm a little confused

Damian: *annoyed sigh* Todd used the leftover remnants of the gladiator scraps to make me meals that consisted of meat without actually eating animals. It was a very inventive idea and passed by Grandfathers inspections every time.

Dick: ... *slowly* Damian... were you eating human meat?

Damian: was that not obvious from what I just told you?

Dick:.... I think I'm going to be sick.

Tim, *see's a Tupperware in the fridge labeled with Damian's name, from Jason*: well, I'm sure a little bite won't hurt~

Dick *walking into the room*: Hey Tim, whatcha got there?

Tim: SHHH I don't want Damian to hear!

Dick: hear what?

Tim: I'm just taking a little bit of the food Jason left him, I'm so hungry.

Dick, *now alarmed*: from Jason?!

Tim: mhm *opens container* and yknow what I'd be doing him a favor beacuse there's meatballs in here!

Dick, *who is suddenly across the room in a flash*: TIM NO!

Tim: what!? WHAT!!??

Dick: you DON'T want to eat that.

Tim: jeez, you could've just said that you're a killjoy...

Dick: no tim, I mean... *leans in* that's not beef. Or pork or any animal meat.

Tim: so it's vegetarian??

Dick:.... *shakes his head with a horrified expression*

Tim:..???......... *realization* oh...

Dinner Time with the Fam

Damian: on the topic of random chatter, I find it very interesting that my food is no longer being stolen as often as it used to be.

Dick: oh... someone's still stealing your food? *panicking*

Damian: yes, unfortunately, but it's not often anymore so I find it not to be much of a bother.

Bruce: that's good, son, maybe they'll stop food snatching soon.

Tim:........... okay we need to talk.

Jason, suddenly picking up his head, from where he was trying to hide his smile: about what?

Tim: Damian... I know that in the league you weren't allowed to not eat animals, but cannibalism is not any better.

Bruce, *extremely alarmed*: wait, repeat that?

Dick: yeah, and Jason, I don't know where you're getting your meat from, and I know you don't kill anymore, which begs the question on where you're getting your sources and if it's even clean!

Jason, affronted: hey, fuck you?! My sources are plenty clean.

Bruce: guys can we go back to what you said about cannibalism--

Damian: I don't see what the big problem is. I am getting a good amount of protein, and compared with Todd's Michelin talents, I know that I am getting more than what is needed for average children my age! I am eating healthy.

Tim: BUT NOT FROM PEOPLE! That is extremely grey area!

Dick: actually it's EXTREMELY black area, and MORALLY wrong!

Bruce, quickly scraping his chair back quickly and bolting out of the room:

Stephanie, who has been sitting idly and in amusement the whole time watching everything unfold: uhm... is Bruce throwing up?

Jason: well, I guess we found out who's been stealing Damian's food.

Dick: oh god.... Bruce has been unknowingly been participating in cannibalism.

Damian: actually, you've been Had, Richard. And Drake.

Tim and Dick: huh?

Damian: I was rather unimpressed and very angry my food has been getting stolen, Todd has superb cooking skills and having that taken from me has made me extremely spiteful.

Tim and Dick:... oh!

Bruce, finally coming back: we need to talk about this.

All the kids collectively in their heads: yeah, we're not gonna tell Bruce.

[casavanse]

I need to talk about this.

Misha, I think you're a brilliant actor, I love supernatural. But sometimes you really don't know what you're talking about.

This post needs some context. It was posted at 22.6.25 (yesterday) - just a few days after Trump bombed the three nuclear sites in Iran. Now, don't get me wrong, I am not a Trump supporter in any way. This isn't about him.

Now, I'm not only talking about him. This is a message to all of ya'll who think he's right.

The point is that that post is condemning America for the decision to bomb Iran. Iran, or the IRGC, who have publicly stated their intent to bring the destruction of America (and Israel). The IRGC, who had for years illegally continued in research and development of nuclear weapons. The IRGC, who supported and funded terrorist organizations like Hamas and Hezbollah for years.

Which, I'm sorry, but What The Fuck.

You say you don't want war. You don't think it's a good idea to bomb a country into stopping creating bombs as self defence. But that's not what Iran is doing.

Iran wants to build nuclear weapons. That's not the fucking same. That's not "using bombs to defend themselves". That's a nice and easy way to annihilate a country, like they were saying they were going to do, without facing consequences, 'cuz the rest of the world is terrified they're going to do it to them.

(Or worse, inciting another world war. I don't think we would want that either)

the current Iranian government is not only dangerous to America and Israel, it's also oppressing it's own people. Ever since the Iranian Revolution in 1979, which resulted in the rising of Khomeini to power, the regime had oppressed its citizens and violated their human rights countless times. Try to remember the protests for Mahsa Amini that everyone talked about not so long ago. Have you all forgotten what the IRGC is capable of?

Of course, I hope the people of Iran will be free of the oppressive government. I hope this will end with as little civilian casualties as possible. But that post isn't about them.

Misha, I assume you were talking about America attacking Iran - because you always conveniently ignored Israel when it came to anything political - but. America didn't just bomb civilian areas. They attacked, very specifically, only nuclear sites. There were no civilian casualties. This wasn't America saying Iran couldn't have any bombs at all, it was trying to make sure they didn't have nuclear weapons. I really, really hope you see why no one would want that.

On a slightly different topic, I have something else to say.

So you don't want war. Okay. You don't think it's a good idea to bomb a country to convince them they don't need bombs to defend themselves.

Interesting.

Hamas and Hezbollah - Iranian proxies, as I'm (not so) sure you know - have threatened Israel for decades now. They are terrorist organizations. They have had a lot of bombs they were more that willing to send against Israel, many times against Israeli civilians and civilian areas.

Israel had been forced to develop an exceptional defence system - Iron Dome, the Arrow system, etc. - in order to protect itself from those threats. In a way, Israel is the perfect example that bombing a country won't convince them that they don't need bombs to defend themselves. But did you ever say anything about that? No?

On October 7, 2023, Hamas had entered Israel, kidnapped more than two hundred people and murdered more than a thousand. Most of the dead were civilians. 50 hostages are still in Gaza. We don't even know how many of them are alive.

But let's see, Misha, what did you say about them? What did you say when all these people were killed and kidnapped?

Oh, right. You didn't.

If you really wanted "No More War", supporting countries that want exactly the opposite maybe isn't such a great idea. And if you don't know what you're talking about, you really should just shut up and find something you know better to talk about.

[finniestoncrane]

You know what I'll bite first(?)

I want reader to convince Hector to let them care for him instead in the bedroom tonight and it's basically a mix of body worship and general praise while jerking him off

Hector x GN!Reader, word count: 1.4k ooooooooh ok i had to write this, he was living in my brain and skittering around in my pipes up there!! i've not finished his storyline yet, so no spoilers for me please!! but i know regardless of what happens next, he deserves a bit of praise and pleasure >:3c request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: a lot of praise for this boy, body worshipping, masturbation/handjobs, tiny bit of hair pulling, pre-ejac, little bit of yandere dialogue because it's hector...

"You told me you couldn't relax for yourself, so please, please let me help you. You need to learn to embrace your body. That way, I can embrace it too."

Hector's heart skipped a beat at the emphasis on your pleading, and he found himself unable to catch his breath in enough time to respond. Instead, he let himself be pushed back towards the bed in your room, sinking down into it as the back of his legs hit the edge.

"Good boy, Hector. This is the first step to changing how you see yourself. Let me show you how I see you."

The bed shifted as you sat down next to him, hand on his chest as you gently pushed him backwards, waiting until he was laying down, his dark curls resting on the pillows, before you began to stroke your fingers through his hair, twirling the locks around your fingers and hoping to soothe him. But he was still nervous, enough that he began to tug at your sheets, trying to hide himself with them out of his instinctual urge to conceal the things that he disliked so much.

"No, no. Don't cover yourself up. I want to see all of you."

"Are you sure? I still find it so hard to believe that someone as magnificent as yourself would be interested in any aspect of me."

"Really? When you're so handsome, and so sexy. I'm almost angry that you'd hide yourself away for so long, Hector. Seems wrong to keep this a secret."

It was all he could do to keep his smile from widening, but he'd warmed up to you so quickly that it was impossible to hide himself from you. And you were determined to keep things moving in that direction, so positive reinforcement was required. Luckily, you knew now how he worked, and you were able to pull the sheets away, uncovering his body and noting the slight tenting of his cock underneath his clothes. It was distracting, but not more so than his satisfied grin.

"Such a sweet smile, it makes your eyes light up. Your cheeks are so warm, so cute. And your lips, so soft... so welcoming."

"Only for you..."

Each milimetre of the tiny distance between you was tension filled and wrought with a dire need that was immediately turned to passionate satisfaction once the kiss begun. Hector was content to lay back and let you take over, offering no resistance as you deepend the kiss, and even less when your hands began to travel down his front and to the stirring below his waist. Your fingers teased below the material, skimming over the skin above his erection, feeling the contrasted texture of his thick, black pubic hair. And as the kiss broke off, Hector struggling to catch his breath, you let your lips follow his soft jaw line to his neck, your pecks and the gentle nips of your teeth interspersed with words that amounted to yet more compliments.

"I know you've felt so comfortable behind the security of the grate, but I need you, Hector. More than you could imagine, more than I think you're willing to accept. But I can show you. Let me heat you up for a change, I want to see your skin flushing, that sparkle in your eyes."

His cock was freed now, and it protruded into the air as you wrapped your fingers around the length. Average, but thick, and just a few shades darker than his perfectly clear skin. You leaned your head against him, angling your view to watch the way your hand fit so perfectly around his length. Hector shuddered, stuttering out something, but you assuaged whatever concerns he was fabricating.

"You've given me so much, all of those years, unappreciated. Now I want to pay you back, it's only right."

Your gentle strokes firmed up, quicker movements as your determination took over. You wanted him to be happy, to see him satisfied, relieved, and to at least offer him something physical in the way of evidence of your attraction to him. With your tempo set, you kept up the motions, noting that Hector's hips began to shift, pushing his cock upwards into your fist as his body squirmed slightly against the mattress.

"I'm... This is... Wow..."

With a giggle, you whispered against his skin, still loud enough that he could hear you past his own hushed whimpers.

"That sense of contentment? Of pure joy? you deserve that. You work so hard to make me happy, and I think you deserve the same back ten-fold."

"I live to please you. I ask for nothing in return. Your pleasure is just as ah... ah..."

Your other hand reached for his balls, cupping them before gently squeezing.

"All of that time you spent watching me, I think it's fair that I get to see you as you reach complete ecstacy, too, no?"

As Hector let out a sigh of relief, his body giving in finally to the looming and certain orgasm that was beginning to wash over him. A little coaxing was all it would take to get him to finally let go of the last of his tensions.

"All that stress, the nerves, your worries and concerns about how I'll perceive you? I'm going to make them all... go... away."

It sounded like a stifled groan, a strangled sound that he was trying to cover up. And you weren't having that.

"I want to hear your sweet voice, Hector. Your moans, your sighs, your screams."

Hector's stomach was tensing, the slight hint of muscles below the softness of his stomach as he clenched in response to his quickening climax. Each stroke of your fist down the shaft of his cock had him quivering, and you relished in the view of his body that you had from this perfect position. One of his hands rested in your hair, occasionally gripping at the root as he became overwhelmed with arousal. Even without the firm placement of his palm against you, there was no way you would have lifted your head from his chest. From there you could see your own hand working, pumping at his twitching cock, his precum leaking, dribbling from his head down to the visible frenulum as you pulled back his foreskin with your movements. And as you watched his body react to your stimulation, you could hear his heart beat thudding in his chest against your ear.

You were worried for a moment when his gentle whining turned into a sharp shriek, concerned that in your distractions you might have become to firm or too quick. But as you felt the warm, yet quickly cooling, liquid begin to drip over your fingers, you understood.

"Ah... I, I've ruined it. A moment so perfect, so pure. I'm so sorry. Faced with your charitable gesture, the idea that you would be so willing to help me seek the same satisfaction as I've helped you with so many times... Well, my excitement got the better of me. Yet another reason that you could do far better in-"

"Did it feel good?"

He paused his nerve driven rambling, all desire to self-flagellate superceded by his need to offer you an answer when one was asked of him.

"Of course! It was marvellous. For all that I've dreamt of how your hands might feel on my body, it was better than I ever could have guessed."

When it seemed as though he might start apologising again for something that in truth you found flattering, quite endearing to his adorably desperate nature, you placed a finger on his lips and hushed him.

"Then there's nothing to apologise for, Hector. We both got what we wanted."

You lay your head next to his on your pillow, watching his eyes scan the room, as if he were looking for the final bit of confidence to say what he said next.

"In that case... perhaps it wouldn't be too much to ask if I could lay here a while longer. I could warm you in a more manual manner than either of us are accustomed to."

Hector lifted his arm, offering you the space between that and his chest, and you willingly dove into it, wrapping your arms around his body and settling in with a sigh.

[outtathisworld-imagines]

Call for a good time

——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x F!Reader

Warning: Smut! +18 MDNI!, intercourse (F & M rec), fingering, masterbation, dirty talk, phone sex, mild drug mention, swearing, unprotected sex- pls wrap before you tap. Not proofread

A.N: been wanting to do this idea for a while because I am a sucker for a sweet oblivious Bob

Please let me know what else you guys would like! I do have a few other fics on the back-burner (for now!) that I'll start to post soon and just let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in further works too ✨

——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——

You struggled to get comfortable one evening on the sofa, shuffling from side to side and then groaning. You flicked through your phone, boredom and tiredness settling in your bones so you decided to head to your room.

You bumped into someone on the way “Oh, hey!” Bob smiled. “I’m grabbing a soda, you want one? Anything?” He asked.

Your heart fluttered at how much he put effort into the little things. Even if it was just offering a soda to anything at all in the world- you were certain he would have done anything to get it for you. You shook your head no. “I’m a little tired so I’m just heading to bed,” you told him. “I’ll watch some Netflix until I fall asleep- thanks though.”

His head bobbed up and down with the same smile on his face. “Well, goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Bob,” you turned away and headed to your room.

He stood there, watching you walk away, a piece of him desperate to ask you to stay. To stay with him.

He murmured a swear under his breath and went to grab a soda before tossing himself on the couch. He wish he could just let you know how he felt. How you brought a smile to his face every time he saw you, how you’d do your own dishes to be more considerate to him, how you’d sit with him for sometimes hours on end whenever he felt himself being drawn back into the void.

Bob unknowingly sat where you had, he could almost smell the faint traces of your perfume. It drove him wild. The sweet smell that lingered around you, how he would smell it with his eyes shut, his head sunk onto his pillow and using his hand to pleasure himself wishing it was you.

He also tired to make himself more comfortable, that’s when something jabbed the back of his thigh. His brow creased as his hand went between the two cushions on the couch and pulled out a baby-pink coloured business card that read ‘Call for a good time’ followed by numbers and a time between 12am and 3am.

Bobs interest peaked and he tucked it carefully into his trouser pocket. He turned on the TV and then pulled it out again. The corners were a little frayed, but the numbers were taunting him to the point that he almost reached for his phone there and then.

He snorted at himself, putting the card away and wondering whose card it belonged to. He could place every single penny he had on a bet that it was John’s. He glanced in the direction of his room and shook his head, of course he’d carry a card like that. 

After an hour, Bob went to his bedroom, the delicate card in his pocket was almost weighing him down. It was reaching midnight, he wondered if putting a voice to his fantasies was wrong, knowing that he was visioning you while someone else talked to him through the phone.

But at this point, after months of pinning, he was desperate, and he was too nervous to actually admit to you how he really felt.

He took out the card and practically punched the numbers into his phone, his thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, swallowing hard and almost deleting the number and calling it a night.

But he pressed dial.

It rang three times and then the person on the other side answered. “You’ve called for a good time?”

Bob was already sweating, he wasn’t quite sure from nerves or internal embarrassment that he found himself in this predicament.

“Hello?”

He realised he hadn’t actually spoke. “H-hi! Hi! I’m here,” he swallowed “I’m here.” He said releasing a shaky breath.

A giggle floated through his speaker “Well hi, how can I help you tonight, honey?” The voice was almost as thick and as sweet as it.

Bob cleared his throat and scratched his head. “I…I don’t really know. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

That giggle again. It was gonna be the death of him. “That’s okay, I’m here to help you with whatever you need.” Bob nodded, as if the person on the other side could see him. “If it makes you feel any better, this is relatively new to me too so we might be in this together.”

Bob let out a sigh of relief “It does.”

“And we don’t have to go through anything you don’t wanna, this is your call. We can be as filthy or as mild as you want. Or we can even just talk. I’m all yours.”

Bob settled back on his bed and closed his eyes “I think I wanna tell you to touch yourself for me.”

There was a pause then that knee-weakening giggle “You think?”

Bob began palming himself over his jeans “I know I wanna tell you to touch yourself.” He placed the phone between his head and shoulder as he quickly unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to his knees, finding a surge of confidence. “I want you to sink those fingers so deep into your pussy that you think they are still gonna be there when you pull them out.” He heard the breath hitch on the other side “C’mon baby,” Bob began stroking himself, pre-cum already oozing from his cock and his eyes squeezed tight enough that he could see you. “Tell me what you’d do to me. Tell me what you wanna do to me.”

A soft whimper left the lips of the person on the other side of the phone. “Oh honey, I’d have that huge cock of yours hitting the back of my throat while you watched me playing with myself just like I am now,” they said and Bob sunk deeper into his mattress, about to cum already at this heightened experience he was going through. His grip tightened around both his phone and his cock. “Then I’d give you my pussy to fuck. Fuck me all night if you wanted. Want you to fill me up baby, can you do that for me?”

The begs mixed with the moaning and gentle slick nosies in the background sent Bob over the edge “Oh fuck! Yes! Fuck yes I’ll fill you so good.” He groaned as a rush of pleasure filled his body. His legs and feet stretching out as he tried to hold on for a little longer “Shit, I’m gonna cum so soon.”

“You can always call me again, honey.” The voice sounded gentle, reassuring.

“I want you to cum first, please.” He said in a broken voice, beads of sweat dripping down his face. “Please- fuck!”

“I’ll let you listen baby,” the phone went from a soft whispering voice to wet, slick, sloppy noises. Bobs whole body jolted at the noise of the pussy being played with for him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum, you wanna hear me cum for you baby?”

“Yes!” Bob gritted between his teeth “God yes! Fuck!” Moments later, Bob’s ears filled with the sound of a stranger cumming for him over the phone, loud moans softly subsiding into laboured breaths.

“Cum for me baby, I know you wanna. Imagine you’re cumming all over my tits, cumming all over me.”

“Oh, fuck- gonna- give you it all,” Bob’s voice was strained, he was convinced he was going to have a sore throat tomorrow. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m cumming,” he said as warm white sticky streams coated his own stomach wishing it was yours. Wishing it was your voice. Wishing you were here with him. “Fuck…” Bob drawled.

“Better let you go and get cleaned up.” The voice said and Bob softly smirked.

“Wish you were here to help,” he said almost cumming again at the fluttery giggle. “But seriously, thank you, I needed that.”

“Well whenever you need it again, you got my number, honey.” They said. “Trust me, with how wet you got me, I’ll pick up within one ring for you.”

Bob caught his breath as he said “I’ll be having you on speed-dial.”

—•—

It had been almost a month since Bob had used the services of a stranger, most nights with his cock in his hand picturing you as a voice encouraged him on.

“Hey Bobby!” Johns voice brought him back to the room. “You good with this movie?” The team were curled up on the couch. He mindlessly nodded and then looked at the time, it was 11:30pm and he always called his phone-sex stranger on the dot at 12am.

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message. ‘I’ll be calling a little later tonight- sorry.’

“I’m just going to grab a drink, anyone want anything?” You asked standing up and received a choir of ‘no’s’ in return.

You pulled out your phone, it buzzed with a text, you smiled as you text back.

Bob pulled out his phone, he could feel you sinking down beside him upon your return with a drink in hand.

‘That’s okay,’ the text began ‘You’re gonna just have to make it up to me, baby 😘’

He turned to you and sent you a small smile, if only you knew what he did behind closed doors.

Yelena groaning in disgust brought everyone’s attention to the scene on the screen. “Oh god,” you muttered as two people practically broke the bed, you and your dysfunctional family watching on. “Of course you’d put on a film that’s essentially porn, Walker!” You chided.

“Oh come on! That’s soft-core at best!” He tried to defend.

“Fast forward it!” Yelena had her eyes covered.

Bob’s eyes glanced from the tv to you, your head softly shaking with a small smile. You caught him and shrugged with a nervous smile, not seeing how red his face really was thanks to the dim lights. The scene playing was a similar scenario to what he and his mysterious stranger over the phone reenacted alone in his room.

You pulled a pillow to your chest and hid your head in it “At least mute the TV! Jesus, these noises are so fake!” Your voice was muffled by the pillow.

John snorted “Girls always moan like that.”

“No they don’t,” Bob said quietly thinking that no one would hear him. But everyone did. You blinked in surprise. “Well at least the ones who aren’t faking it.”

The soft gasps and ‘oohs’ from the team made John shift in his seat. “Good one,” you stuck your hand out for Bob to high-five, his hand against yours sending a spark of electricity up your arm. You remained on the sofa cuddling the cushion, wishing it was him instead.

An hour and a half later Bob ran to his room and pressed his recent call log. The affectionate fake name of ‘Honey’ at the top. And the most called.

“Someone’s a late boy…” a soft chide from the other line gave him a hard-on already.

“I know, honey, I know. I’m sorry.” Bob said as he skilfully removed his bottoms. “But I’ve thought about us all day, been wanting this all day.” He shakily breathed into his own phone as he gripped onto his cock. “Wanna cum for you, want you to cum for me.”

“Steady baby,” the voice cooed “Wanna take my time with you tonight since you were late…”

Bob groaned in desperation, ready to implode. “I’ll try, honey, I’ll try.” He hissed giving his swollen cock a gentle stroke. “Shit I’m so pent up.”

“Tell you what, baby,” the smooth as silk voice said. “Let’s get you out of this pent up state and tomorrow night we can draw this out a little longer? Huh?”

“Fuck, are you sure?” Bob asked, already quickening his pace.

That giggle again. “Of course I am, wanna make you happy, baby. Let’s make you happy.” Bob barely made it to his bed before being brought to his knees in sheer desperation for release.

“Fuck, you got me on the floor, baby.” He was breathless speaking to the person on the phone. “Gonna cum so quick.”

“Yes baby! Cum for me, just imagine me under you with my mouth open and my tongue out ready for your big load just for me.” Bob yelped in pleasure visioning it was you under his body and his cock against your tongue as he came, how he would have pained your face, and neck, and tits, and stomach with how much he came.

He looked down and saw the spray of white in front of him. “Shit,” he hunched forward “The mess I’ve made baby,” he laughed, laced with exhaustion. “The mess I’ve made because of you.”

“I should let you clean up.”

Bob paused for a moment “Can I actually just hear your voice for just a little longer? Please?”

Bob couldn’t see the smile through the phone but it was there. “Of course you can.”

“Thank you,” he sat back a little, still on the floor. “What are you doing right now?”

“Talking to you of course.” The voice replied amused. “Just lazing on my fluffy sheets wishing it was your fingertips grazing me,” Bob bit down on his lip. “Wish I had you all over me.”

“I need to see your body,” Bob blurted out. His internal thoughts being spoken.

There was a silence, Bob pulled the phone back to see if the call was still connected. It was. He then wondered if he had crossed a line.

“That’s extra.”

Bob’s eyes widened, his palms suddenly sweating at the thought that this could happen. “I’ll pay. Whatever it is I’ll pay.” His voice spilled out, almost desperately.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Bob snorted. “Why’s that relevant?”

“Just tell me.”

“I like pink.”

“Ohh takes a real man to admit that. Why pink?” The voice fluttered.

“Because I dream of your perfectly pink pussy. That’s why.” His voice was rough, ready to see a glimpse of the person finally, further enhancing a vision of you for his fantasy.

“Fuck, honey, don’t say things like that because I’ll soak my sheets.”

“Good. God, I wish I was there to lick it up,” the voice moaned at his words. “Tomorrow. Midnight. I want you ready for me.”

—•—

Bob was shaking as the clock struck 11:59pm. He was in nothing but his boxers because if the other person was going to be half naked then he would be too, making it a shared experience.

His level of phone sex was about to be taken to another level entirely.

He pressed his FaceTime button instead of the call option, pointing it away from his face. It rang and then connected.

“Fuck,” Bob’s eyes were on a baby pink lingerie set that hugged the curves of the body it was on perfectly. There was his honey, body engulfed in that furry sheet mentioned before with a hand toying with the hem of the underwear. “Holy. Fucking. Shit. You’re so gorgeous.”

“Well if I was gonna have that greeting I would have done this sooner with you.” The voice laced around him and his own hand moved down. “You’re stunning, I wish I was really there with you.”

Bob softly exhaled “If only.” He nervously ran his sweaty palm down his abs. “I’m pretty nervous…”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” The comforting tone of the voice made him nod.

Bob looked at the phone, the beautiful body before him and swallowed hard. “Please touch yourself for me,” he asked “I’m begging you.” He pleaded.

He imagined it was you on the other end as he watched slender fingers trail towards the pink panties. Bob began touching himself through his boxers and closed his eyes momentarily. “Wish it was your fingers teasing me…” he watched as the fingers traced over the material.

“Fuck yeah, baby, that’s it,” Bob moaned as his eyes fluttered shut and then, before he knew it, got so lost in the moment he murmured a name he kept hidden behind his lips all this time. “Yes, Y/N, fuck!”

Bob didn’t notice the hand freeze.

“You…know my name?”

His eyes snapped open. “Sorry?”

“You said the name Y/N?”

“I didn’t- ah shit,” Bob fumbled with his phone and his face was now on the screen.

“Wait a second…BOB?!” The camera turned around, your face suddenly looking his face as you sat up quickly in bed. “Y-you’re the one that’s been calling?!” Your voice was tight and quick, you tried to hide your semi-exposed chest with your hand. “What?!” He was pretty sure the entire tower had heard his name being screamed at the top of your lungs.

“You’re her?!”

“Oh I’m gonna kick your ass!” You grumbled and hung up the phone. You grabbed your dressing gown and threw it on over you, you paused for a moment, a feeling of conflict now swirling inside you.

You had always wanted Bob to be more than a friend, spending countless mornings waking up breathless and in a pool of sweat after having a dream about him having his way with you, your ache remedied by touching yourself at the thought of him. Your feet however quickly rushed to his door, battering on it with a closed fist. “I know you’re in there!” You banged again and Bob opened up, you strode into his room as he shut the door behind him.

“Y/N-“

“Oh no, no, no,” you pointed a finger at him. “Do not open your mouth.” You warned. “Not after you’ve been getting off on me for weeks!”

Bob blinked and his jaw dropped “I’m not the only one here doing that!” He now pointed to you. “You’ve had your fair share of good times courtesy of me!”

Your chest was heaving and your body shaking from rage and something more seeing him in the flesh in nothing but his boxers. “How’d you even get my card anyway?”

“Oh like you didn’t give it to Walker?” Bob snapped back, a slither of jealously laced in his words. “Bet he’s always the next one on the line…”

Your brows furrowed in confusion “WHAT?!” You yelped “Walker has never called me?”

“Oh yeah? How come I found your card in the sofa then?” He asked folding his toned arms over his equally toned chest.

You groaned and tapped your hips, imagining your jean pocket there instead of your dressing down. “Ah fuck, must have fell out my pocket…” you turned on your heel away from him.

The room was silent, thick with tension. The pair of you internally debating who should speak first. “I’m just as unsure what to say now from the first time I called.” Bob finally broke the silent sound barrier. “Your voice sounds so different over the phone.”

You glanced to him over your shoulder “You were the first,” you admitted “Tried to feign some confidence through that call.” The memory of it sent a chill down your spine. “You were the only one that ever called.”

Bob twiddled his fingers “What made you do it?” He asked and you turned to give him your full attention. “What made you set up a line?”

You perched yourself at the end of his bed, you had spilled enough with each other, one more confession wouldn’t make it any less strange than it was now. “A friend suggested it. They said it might have helped, and to get a bit of money too,” you smirked. “So I got a new phone and followed their advice. In all honesty, I did it because it thought it would help me.”

“Help you how?” Bob asked, his feet bringing him closer to you.

You looked up to him through your lashes, surprised at how close he had gotten. “Help me release some…tension…” you carefully admitted. “Release the tension I had of you.” Bob gulped hard, you heard. “Why did you call?” You asked while shifting on the spot, the fabric of your dressing gown slipping down your shoulder and exposing some skin. Bobs mouth went dry.

“I-I- uh,” he scratched the back of his neck. Your eyes flickered down to his growing bulge in his boxers.

Another wave of confidence washed through like it did on that fateful first night. “Did you want a good time…honey?” Bob’s eyes quickly looked at yours then fell to the rest of your body. How he touched himself mere moments ago over it dreaming it was you.

His dreams had come true.

“Y-yeah…” he just about managed to choke out. “I had tension built over you too.” He stepped closer, you extended a leg out and brought him towards you with it. “Every time I came,” his hands gently moved the fabric from your other shoulder, exposing the lacy material you wore for him underneath. “I came thinking of you.”

You craned your head and with your own hands slipped off your dressing gown, a soft gasp left Bob’s lips. “I came thinking of you too…” you whispered. It didn’t take much force for Bob’s fingertips to push you to the bed, your foot still wrapped around the back of his calf. “Long before those calls…”

Bob watched as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, he watched you shimmy out of your robe “You’re so beautiful,” his hand reached out, tentatively tracing his fingers over your bare skin and coming to a sharp holt when he reached the edges of your underwear.

His eyes flickered up to yours from the noticeable wet patch on your underwear that he was almost drooling over. “Will we make our phone call a reality…?” You softly nodded, a soft gasp leaving your lips as his fingers slowly moved to your clothed core. “Is this the way you’d touch yourself?” He rhetorically asked, fully knowing from the moans before it would have been. “Is this the way you tease yourself waiting for me?”

“Yes,” you brokenly admitted, gasping when he applied a delicate amount of force.

“Shit, so wet already,” his voice was gruff at the warm, wet feeling on his fingertips. How he wanted to lap it up desperately. How he wanted his cock to be coated in it. “Fuck,” you watched him lick his lips and you smirked.

You hooked your thumbs under your panties and slowly dragged them off for him, a string of swears leaving his lips like he was chanting a prayer. You went to unhook your bra but he stopped you. Bob leaned forward, his lips inches from yours as his eyes looked deep into your own as he undid your bra for you. The material falling down onto your lap as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

He went to pull back, your hands wrapped around the back of his neck bringing him back to your lips with an almighty force. He moaned as he collapsed on top of you, giggling at your eagerness. “No teasing me now, Reynolds.”

“No teasing, got it…honey.” Your heart fluttered at the nickname, you tossed your bra to the side and Bob’s hand grabbed your tit, rubbing your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. You moaned as your tongues battled for dominance in each other’s mouths, soft moans becoming louder and hands becoming widely uncontrollable.

You felt Bob’s cock twitch against your thigh and you smirked. “You’re overdressed,” you teased and he playfully rolled his eyes, capturing your lips with his again before pulling back and stripping off. You propped yourself up on your elbows, your jaw almost hitting your chest at the sight of him. “Jesus, I don’t think my phone screen would have fit you. Would have done you a great injustice.” Bob turned away with a blush on his face, rubbing a nervous hand through his hair. “Hey! Don’t be bashful,” you giggled.

‘God that giggle’ he thought. The same one that brought him to his knees every night.

He jumped back on you, his hands roaming every inch of your skin. “So beautiful, and all mine,” he murmured against your lips. “Needed you for so long, Y/N,” he admitted and let his hand roam to your pussy. “You ready for me, baby?” He asked, almost sounding drunk on the fumes of lust that filled his room. He stroked his fingers over your slit and you moaned at the contact. “Oh, you’re really ready for me.” Bob brought his fingers to his mouth and groaned as his tongue wiped away the glossy mess you had made off of himself. “You even taste like fucking honey.”

You giggled again, Bob couldn’t take it any more and sunk his cock inside you without any warning. “Fuck! Bob!” Your voice being ripped apart by your lungs as he stretched you out.

“Oh fuck, fuck!” He lay there for a moment feeling your pussy squeeze around him. “Couldn’t wait any longer for you. Shit, I need you so bad.” He breathlessly admitted.

“Well,” you batted your eyelashes “I’m all yours.”

He started grinding his hips, slow and gentle, a string of moans escaping his lips at the sight of you under him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy. Gonna do what we talked about in our first call. Gonna give you all my cum, gonna soak you in it.” He started to quicken his pace and you gripped onto his wrists. “Is this even real, good fucking god, are you real?” His voice was dipping up and down, almost sounding delirious. He felt delirious. He felt like the room was spinning in the best way. He had never felt like this before, about someone and how they made him feel.

It was like he had taken ecstasy. Bob was higher than he had even been before.

“I’m real,” you panted out between loudening moans. “This is real,” your hand reached up to cup his cheek. “Bob, I’m gonna-fuck!” Your hand fell from his cheek, your limbs frantically reaching out and gripping onto his sheets. He watched you cum with a loud moan, spread out like an angel before him with your arms acting as if they were wings.

He opened his mouth to speak, tell you how ethereal you looked. For him, under him. But the only thing that left his mouth was a guttural scream as he came inside you, pulling out in just enough time to also coat your stomach and tits too, painting you like you were his masterpiece. He stroked himself until every last drop was on you, he sat back and watched as he poured out from your pussy. A perfect ribbon of white against a pink canvas.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, steadying himself on his knees as he watched you become more composed. He lay down next to you, the pair of you wanting to share a moment of bliss before getting cleaned up.

“Well, you called for a good time,” you tirelessly giggled. “Did you get one?” You asked fully knowing he got that and more.

“Oh trust me,” Bob turned and looked at you “I got the greatest fucking time of my life! I’ll be calling again.”

“I’ll always pick up for you.”

[4pp135]

Cheating

Sae Itoshi x Reader

You knew Sae wasn't one to play with stuff toys, but you were proven wrong.

One night, right before you went to bed– you were roleplaying with your old, worn out toys you found while cleaning. He was reviewing match footage, you knew he would say no even if you were to ask so you didn't bother.

Suddenly, the urge to pee hit you and you dashed to the bathroom, leaning some of the stuffed toys on Sae so they wouldn't fall and get hurt.

As he didn't feel you next to him instead– he was met with creepy little creatures leaning on him, like they purposefully chose to just to freak him out.

Now, he may have seemed like he wasn't paying interest but oh boy he was. He somewhat knew the plot, he just messed up few of the names.He took the most masculine looking one, which was a brown bear and a pink rabbit. He had heard something about cheating so he played along.

“I can't belive you would do such an outrageous thing and think– think, you could get away.” he held up the pink bear shaking it to his words, his voice remained normal, which was a funny sight for you at the door way.

“Babe, I swear I didn't cheat.” he makes his voice deeper, moving the brown bear slowly as if he was trying to prove his point.

“Save it.” he sighed out dramatically.

“You must be hallucinating.” he shakes the brown bear aggressively and brings it closer to the pink rabbit.

“We're over, never contact me agai–” you can't help but laugh, it was a shame he heard which means the show was over.

“I did not know you had it in you.” you sat down beside him. He immediately let go of the stuffed animals, turning his face away.

“I was just looking at the designs.”

“Part two?” you poke him with one of the bears making him turn his head.

“Tsk..” he takes the pink rabbit, indicating it's a yes.

a/n: occ but I like my men like that

[mattsundaes]

suna rintarou x f!reader — 18+, period sex, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, blood, and they were roommates

roommate!suna who never fails to notice when you’re upset. who’s all snark and flirting until the moment that the downturn of your mouth seems genuine.

who hates the dickhead you’ve been sleeping with.

who hates him even more when you try to wipe away the fresh sheen of tears that coats your cheeks when you quietly slip in the door just past midnight.

who doesn’t even have it in him to make a teasing remark about your late night booty call not even letting you sleep over, not when you collapse on the couch beside him in a heap of sniffles. not when he recognizes the sweatshirt you’re wearing as his.

and when suna asks what’s wrong, you find that you’re too tired, too annoyed, too flustered to make up any excuse other than telling him what really happened—you got your period, and he thought it was gross. gross enough to make it abundantly clear he didn’t want you spending the night in his bed, either.

and because it’s suna and the boundaries of conversation between the two of you are nonexistent on a good day anyway, you dig your hole even deeper as you pathetically lament into a throw pillow, “i’ve been so horny all week and my vibrator broke and i kind of feel like i’m losing my mind so now i’m going to have to go use the shower head so i don’t make a gross mess—“

maybe it’s just because you’re exhausted.

maybe it’s because you know the guy you’ve been hooking up with hates suna just as much as suna hates him.

maybe it’s because the ache between your thighs has reached a maddening fever pitch.

“—i have a better idea.”

maybe it’s because you’ve been fumbling beneath a suffocating blanket of sexual tension with suna for years.

whatever it is, when suna interrupts you, your mouth snaps shut, and you tilt your head with interest.

he huffs out a quiet laugh at the way you perk up, thumb wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “you’ve just got to trust me.”

trusting him, as it turns out, looks like you sitting on top of a towel on the couch with your legs spread, suna kneeling on the floor in front of you. and you don’t even have time to feel yourself burn with embarrassment over the mess he’s looking at, not when suna outright groans as he sinks a long finger into your soaked folds.

“stop covering your face,” suna murmurs, his gaze boring a hole into your own when he starts pumping two fingers in and out of your wet hole, every thrust met by the filthy squelch of blood and arousal.

you let your hands drop back down to your sides, head falling against the back of the sofa as he curls his fingers inside of you and strokes your swollen clit with his thumb.

“and don’t ever let anyone tell you this is gross,” he breathes out, free hand caressing your inner thigh as your blood coats his fingers.

“isn’t it, though?” you exhale, hips twitching as pleasure ricochets through your nerves, the coil in your gut winding tighter as you feel the towel beneath your ass grow wetter by the minute.

suna breathes out through his nose, an amused exhale, and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, just shy of the smear of blood that’s dripped all over it. “do you know how hard i am right now?”

you inhale sharply at the implication, and suna grins, pumping your soaked, filthy cunt even faster.

“if anything, you’ll think i’m the gross one for what else i wanna do,” he murmurs, teeth grazing your skin.

something bright and hot slides down your spine, and you swallow hard. “show me.”

if suna’s fingers in your blood-soaked pussy had you squirming, his tongue has you on the verge of sobbing, desperate tears clinging to the corners of your eyes as his name tumbles from your throat in gasping, hiccuping breaths.

fingers buried in his dark hair, suna moans as he eats you out, one hand clearly palming his dick through his shorts as he laves at your wet slit, sucks on your throbbing clit, and thrusts his tongue into your tight hole.

you think you’re begging for something, anything. you don’t even know what at this point. suna sounds just as wrecked as you feel, your blood smeared all over his lips and chin as he fucks you relentlessly with his tongue like he’s trying to devour your pleasure whole.

your orgasm tears through you, shoving a scream of pleasure past your lips while suna thrusts two fingers back inside of you and laps at your clit until you’re shaking and whimpering from the overstimulation.

—but it’s not enough, somehow.

not when you see the sticky, red mess all over his face and hands.

not when you watch him lick one of his fingers clean.

not when you see the wet spot of precum that stains the front of his shorts, his erection still straining against the material.

suna seems genuinely surprised when you rise from the couch and push him to the floor, eyebrows shooting up as you pull down his shorts and boxers and let his flushed cock spring free.

you stare down at him for a moment, the unspoken words written clearly across your face—but will you think i’m gross for what else i want to do?

suna smiles, hands sliding over your thighs as you straddle him, and he mouths, show me.

it’s filthy—the way you slide your soaked folds up and down the length of his cock. the blood and arousal that soaks his dick as you tease him until he’s gasping.

until he’s groaning your name and panting as you ease his thick cock into your aching pussy, his hips twitching with each wet, sticky inch.

you ride suna until you come all over his cock, until the feeling of your tight cunt contracting desperately on his length is what finally sends him over the edge, stuffing you deep as he fucks his cum up into you with sloppy, jerking thrusts.

you’re both a mess when it’s over, blood and cum sliding down his dick and dripping from between your thighs, the carpet somehow spared from it all as you reach behind you for the towel.

“shower?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirked upward.

you raise a brow, “now you think i’m gross?”

“no,” suna smirks. “i was just hoping you’d show me how you were planning on using our showerhead.”

[destinysbounty]

I think I wouldn't mind Zane's NPC-ification quite as much as I do, if it didn't feel like they were also retconning the fact that he was ever a person to begin with.

Like, sure, I totally understand. Dragons Rising has a huge ensemble cast, and the RGB trio + new ninja are the clear focus. And I don't mind that! Everyone who does get proper narrative attention is written so wonderfully and I adore what we have. But...sometimes it feels like they're just kinda divvying up everything that makes Zane who he is and giving it to everyone else, and never even briefly acknowledging Zane's ties to those traits.

Remember when Zane used to have prophetic dreams foretelling future events? Me neither. Hey Lloyd, how are your visions coming along?

Or, y'know how one of Zane's most integral plot lines, character details, and motifs is his struggles with memory and identity? Remember that time he got amnesia and was then both manipulated and magically corrupted into being a villain? Nah that never happened, anyway check out what Jay is up to now

Or, does anyone recall how Zane is a canonically really good cook with pies so delicious they made Jay cry on screen? No that's Arin's thing, actually

Heck, we even have our quota of ~Silly Robot Beep Boop Bop~ jokes fulfilled by Lobbo!

Don't get me wrong, I'm not hating on any of the other characters for having these traits. Nor am I arguing that Zane should have a singular monopoly on these types of storylines. But when they take traits that have for so long been primarily associated with Zane, like cooking and visions and amnesia, and share them with someone else without even briefly acknowledging Zane's prior involvement...idk. It just feels like they're trying to repackage all the things that make Zane interesting while still writing him out of the narrative. It feels like they're going "whaat? Zane, have personality outside of being a generic robot character?? That never happened!" Like they're just trying to have their nindroid and kill him too.

And I mean, to some extent I can understand their hesitation. It's the same reason the Mr. E/Echo reveal got scrapped in s8 - theres just way too much going on right now, and the narrative load required to explain somwthing this complicated during a reboot/sequel would just bog down an already very complicated story. Zane has a very convoluted backstory that, for new fans dropping in to the sequel series for the first time, may be difficult to explain. How do you recap Zane's history with amnesia in a neat an tidy way for the next gen story, when there's already so much going on?

Like i said, i get that. But they could at least make, like, brief blink-and-youll-miss-it allusions, yknow? Like how they played the Ice Emperor theme during Zane's existential crisis during drs1, or when Zane told Zanth not to follow dancing birds in drs3. Tasteful, subtle, doesn't require much insider knowledge and newer fans could easily interpret it as a noodle incident comment without losing out on their comprehension.

Maybe after Jay gets eliminated from the Tournament, Zane offers to go after him saying, "I've lost myself once or twice before. If anyone understands what he's going through, it's me." And if you want to preserve the plot unobstructed, maybe you can have it so that either Zane fails to get through to Jay or Jay is gone without a trace before he can get to him. Maybe there's a brief scene of Zane making a pie to try and cheer Sora up, but she can't eat it because it reminds her too much of Arin. Or maybe Lloyd has a panic attack over his visions and Zane is the one to offer him the advice about not fighting the vision and letting it come naturally.

Don't you see how easy that is? You would change literally nothing about the story at large, and you're not detracting from the main plotlines or character arcs that are quite validly dominating this series. But you're also throwing a bone to the people who actually like Zane. Like???? I'm not even asking for much here, man :/

Idk. Maybe I'm just bitter and need to touch grass, who's to say

[emily-escott]

Jedi Master Lene Kostana

I’ll admit, the format of Dooku: Jedi Lost was really hard for me to engage with. Because it reads like a script, it felt to me like all the characters were going 😐 at each other the whole time. I know I probably should have listened to it to get the full effect, but I have a really hard time locking in for audiobooks, even if it’s a whole production ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it’s one of my flaws. But anyway! Lene is so fascinating to me because she really is cut from the same disaster cloth as Yoda’s lineage. Almost every decision she made had me going “why would you do that” or “thats just going to make things worse” but we really do love to watch someone who’s technically not wrong about the fate of the galaxy continuously make questionable choices that harm the ones they care for and undermine their reputation with the Council. It’s an age-old tradition.

Here’s my headcanons for her -

- After getting to know Thame Cerulian through their shared interest in the Sith, she initially viewed him as an irritating, pseudo-intellectual bother. His belief that the Sith could return comes more from a place of (by her estimation) frivolous academic conjecture rather than actionable concern. However, when he’s offered a seat on the High Council, she realizes it could be advantageous to involve him in her research. He is incredibly knowledgeable, and as long as she puts up with him, he can intercept most of the prying questions from the Council. (To be clear, I don’t ship these two - Thame likes guys)

- She watches as Dooku, Sifo, and Jocasta all develop a big stupid crush on each other and goes out of her way to foster whatever that is. She does this largely because she thinks it’s cute, but also to confuse Thame and spite Yoda. Thame isn’t sure why these boys are always hanging out in his apartment, but he doesn’t really mind. Yoda knows exactly what’s going on, but is frankly relieved Dooku even has friends.

- While training Sifo, she quickly learns her words carry a lot of weight and anything she says could potentially end up being extremely impactful to her apprentice. This is advantageous most of the time - Sifo only needs to be told something once for the lesson to stick, and it warms her heart to see him basking in her praise, even over something small. The downside? Lene is horribly foul-mouthed, and Sifo is a sponge.

In terms of visual references, there’s obviously not much to go on. The book basically says she’s purple, she’s got a shaved head, and she has a curl of hair behind her right ear… The lil baby version of her in that one comic I haven’t read at least shows what the species looks like. @ junchan_nyan_art has a couple gorgeous drawings of younger Lene on insta, and @bolithesenate more or less captured how she looks in my mind! idk what the curl of hair behind her left ear is supposed to mean or look like. So I’m giving her a sick faux hawk. idc. I was pretty much happy with her design right off the bat, it just took a few drawings to really nail her features. What do we think, is this something?? I feel so late to the party. She’s been on my to draw list foreverrrrr but I just wasn’t getting around to reading the source material 💀 we’re really in serious blorbo territory now, this ain’t an entry level Star Wars blog anymore, if it ever was

[clairewritesfanfics]

civilian au: vtuber shiesty mark

I headcanon that Shiesty struggled financially growing up. Unlike the others, he didn't have access to a secure house and Debbie struggled to put food on the table. She juggled multiple jobs and her son getting labeled as a troublemaker at school and hanging out with the wrong crowd made it difficult to be the ideal mother.

Eventually, she died and Mark dropped out of school. He committed petty theft with his friends, but he never killed anyone and avoided physical altercations. He was the type of robbers who are all bark and no bite, which is still a bad thing but he didn't like hitting people.

He lived in a dingy apartment with barely any furniture. He kept it clean, but not neat. He also taught himself how to cook decent meals under 25 dollars because he got sick of eating instant noodles everyday.

At some point, Mark gets his hands on a gaming laptop. He always wanted one but Debbie couldn't afford any, but now he can finally play.

He started streaming for fun, just his voice. He didn't expect to blow up in popularity. He has a handsome voice plus he can be funny without trying so he has a lot of fans.

He uses most of his money on his friends and to get better gaming equipment, but he never intended to move to a better place. 

A lot of fans want him to do a face reveal but he's too shy, plus he knows that if his looks don't match their expectations they'll abandon him, so instead of showing his face he saves up and commissions for a really cool-looking Vtuber model. (I haven't decided what that would look like. You guys decide your own headcanons.)

He avoids drama and keeps a professional distance from everyone, fans and colleagues. He just wants to play, he isn't interested in dating, and if he were, he wasn't going to use his job to find a partner. All in all, he's a successful dude.

He can be toxic though in that he shares a lot of male players’ cozy games aren’t games mentality. He doesn’t go out of his way to bully others for calling themselves gamers for playing The Sims or Infinity Nikki, but you just know he’s one of those guys.

But then he meets you. (How? I’ll leave that to you.) Love happens and you become his first and only serious partner.

He starts branching out from his typical content (fighting, action, racing, shooting, RPGs–the so-called “serious” games) and tries cozy and casual games. 

He loses a portion of his original audience for this but he ends up attracting even more fans, especially since he gets so serious about the silliest things, like building the perfect house and decorating the best office for his partner’s in-game character.

He’s a puritan when it comes to gacha and discourages spending as much as he can. When he does pull for a new character or weapon or costume, he has you sit with him.

During streams you would knock softly on his office door (yes, you eventually moved in together) and if he can, he’ll pause his game and greet you. When you “interrupt” his streams it’s usually to give him a snack or drink. His viewers like to make bets about what’s on the menu because that’s how often you do it.

He always tells you his schedule so you know when he can’t open the door. During those times, you will knock to let him know and then leave the tray outside for when he gets a break.

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[suzukiblu]

istg youve awakened something in me w your jaykon agenda and im so here for it

Jaykon is an interesting pairing to me because if Jason had lived, he absolutely WOULD have been Kon's Robin, which, you know, could've gone either real bad or real WELL or real "oh god I regret ever even BREATHING near Metropolis" for Brucie Wayne, lbr. For one thing, Jason would've been . . . what, seventeen-ish when Kon dropped? Give or take. Which means he would likely NOT have been as "obedient" to his DAD as Tim was to his BOSS at FIFteen-ish, because from Jason's point of view that's his fucking DAD and his dad is just being goddamn paranoid and controlling and a total antisocial ASSHOLE again and ANYWAY he's like six months max from going to college and getting himself his own hero identity a la Dick getting Nightwing so fuck it, what's he care!!

( "I NEVER EVEN GOT TO BE A TITAN, B, YOU DON'T GET TO FUCK UP THIS YOUNG JUSTICE THING FOR ME, FUCK OFF. THEY'RE MINE NOW." )

And also, like, that's a very different Bruce, is the Bruce who didn't ever LOSE Jason. So hell, that version of Bruce literally might not've even TRIED to make Jason keep his name to himself in the same exclusively-just-on-HIS-terms "literally I will fucking NEVER let you tell them your name no matter WHAT" way he was acting with Tim, who he also would not let tell his LITERAL FUCKING GIRLFRIEND his name, but HE was totally fine telling her HIMSELF once it was convenient for him. Not even giving Tim PERMISSION to, just doing it HIMSELF without even telling Tim he was GOING to, Bruce Wayne you are the literal worrrrrst jfc--

ANYWAY OFF-TOPIC. Whatever that Bruce's opinion was, I can't help feeling that if JASON-Robin wasn't telling YJ his name or showing them his face at least after the first suicide pact or two, it'd be because HE didn't want to, and that is what he'd SAY to them. And I kinda think Kon would've taken that better than being told "we've been through all this shit together now and Batman is STILL more important than you" over and over and OVER every single time Tim found another excuse to hide his face or showed up in a new mask/disguise/set of glasses/goggles/whatever. Because like, that would be Jason choosing what he wants for himself, not Tim choosing Batman over literally every single member of Young Justice time and again and AGAIN and actually NEVER willingly telling them, they only found out in the end because of some dumb reality-getting-fucked shit selling his ID out accidentally.

I actually think Jason and Kon would have gotten along STUPID-well if they had met under those circumstances and it is SO rich an AU concept that I have literally never seen a single person even touch before. Though also in more canon-accurate land frankly the only understandable reason that I think Jason has Bizarro for his Super-buddy system is because Young Justice is just too insane about each other for Kon to have ever gotten put on a book like Outlaws, hah. Also, like, Kon is obviously not very murder-happy and Superboy has very different moral standards than Red Hood does, also that. But you absolutely COULD do some real interesting shit with Kon's character on a team like that, that's all imma say.

Like Kon is a dude who HAS and KNOWS that he has been convinced to be murder-happy a couple times/timelines before, is all--knows he's psychologically SUSPECTIBLE to being convinced of that--and THAT I think would be a much more interesting moral/ethical dilemma for his character development than "oh god I have Westfield/Luthor DNA so am I genetically DOOMED to be a bad guy??" No, you're not, and you are a grown-ass clone who KNOWS that!! But you are also a grown-ass clone who knows you have the CAPACITY to be a bad guy, and to actively CHOOSE to be a bad guy, to actively JUSTIFY being a bad guy to yourself, and who does NOT necessarily think Jason is wrong about dudes like the Joker never changing and the balance of that and the concept of fucking HARM reduction, if it comes down to it! Black Zero and future!Superman BOTH started out as good guys; that Superman in fact started out as HIS VERSION OF HIM EXACTLY, even! And then the two of them saw enough shit out in the world doing their superhero thing that they changed their minds ABOUT what being "good" even meant or entailed or if it was even possible at all, so if he's here and doing this, and doing this with someone like JASON who keeps KILLING people every time he takes his eyes off him, whether those people are unforgiveable bastards or not, is he gonna change his mind too? Is he gonna start thinking he's figured out what they "figured out"? Is this how "figuring out" that STARTS??

And Knockout saw SOMETHING in him, he knows, and he knows she wasn't wrong because he almost killed her. Because he WOULD'VE killed her, if she'd kept fighting when he'd held her under.

God I could do so, so much with Kon on the Outlaws and with JAYKON on the Outlaws. So, SO much.

But like, Tim Drake exists and I just cannot divorce Kon from his ride-or-die loyalty for his ride-or-die bestie so basically any time I wanna JayKon it up I gotta somehow make it Weird, hahaha.

. . . anyway, someone had something awakened in them or something??

[saphronethaleph]

Love Language

“So, uh… Dad?” Hiccup said, nervously, but that was mostly just normal for him. “I’ve got a… question.”

“What sort of question, Hiccup?” Stoic replied, not unkindly – for him, anyway.

That was sort of how their family relationship went a lot of the time, as it happened. The two of them being at pains to be normal with one another.

“So… how exactly do we know that dragons are, uh… monsters, evil, want to hurt us, want to destroy us?” Hiccup asked, rattling off the normal dragon description from the Book of Dragons. “Extremely dangerous, and so on?”

Stoic blinked, then looked at Hiccup with the sort of look that – normally – would be reserved for a relative who’d said something extremely thick.

He wasn’t used to turning it on Hiccup.

“They keep… attacking us,” he said. “Raiding us. Carrying off our sheep.”

“Yeah, about that,” Hiccup replied. “Because, I’ve been a Viking teenager for a while now and the general impression I get is that that’s how Vikings show that they want to become friends.”

Stoic snorted.

“Not getting on well with your friends?” he asked.

“That plural is assuming a lot, Dad,” Hiccup replied. “That… word is also making some assumptions, actually! Though you did keep telling me that all the punches and stuff were just a way of making friends – but, I wasn’t actually talking about my friends, I didn’t mean them, I was meaning to talk about the dragons.”

“And?” Stoic said.

“The point I’m making, Dad, is that… so, uh, I tried putting myself in the place of the dragons,” Hiccup said, shaking his leg and leaning awkwardly on the door frame. “And I wondered what Vikings would think if we went somewhere and the people there were firing catapults at us and shooting flaming rocks at us, and that sort of thing, and… I’ve met Vikings, dad. I’m pretty sure you’ve met Vikings!”

Stoic paused, to actually consider that.

It was one of the increasingly large number of things about this conversation which was not Normal, but he was willing to give it a go.

“...hm,” he said. “That sounds like a pretty good night out, actually.”

“That’s what I’m getting at!” Hiccup agreed, now leaning over more. “Hold on.”

“What is it?”

“Not you, I mean-” Hiccup said, then gestured at someone Stoic couldn’t see.

Or possibly just nearly fell over, the lad was gangly.

“Anyway – uhm – I think the dragons just want to be friends,” Hiccup went on, speaking very quickly. “And that they’re enough like Vikings that all we’re doing is just making them more interested.”

“Nonsense,” Stoic replied.

“Really?” Hiccup asked. “Because – uh – are you at least going to think about it before you decide that I have to be wrong?”

“I don’t need to think about it to know it’s nonsense,” Stoic said, firmly.

“Yeah, that sounds pretty Viking too,” Hiccup muttered. “Stubborn and unwilling to admit that you might be wrong about something… so, uh… what about an experiment?”

“Is this some of that scientific method stuff Gobber had you learning?” Stoic checked.

It sounded a bit suspect, to him.

“Yeah, actually,” Hiccup agreed. “But if something happens you can’t say it’s impossible, right?”

Stoic carefully considered the question.

If something happens, you can’t say it’s impossible.

“All right, so let’s accept that for the sake of argument,” he allowed. “What kind of thing?”

“So I gave a Terrible Terror a fish,” Hiccup said. “Once. And now I literally cannot get it to stop rubbing against my ankles, making a kind of purring noise, and curling up next to my bed when I go to sleep.”

Stoic blinked, looking Hiccup up and down.

“...there doesn’t seem to be a Terrible Terror rubbing against your ankles,” he said.

“Yeah, because I can’t stop it, but Toothless can,” Hiccup explained. “Because, uh, there’s this Night Fury…”

“A Night Fury?” Stoic repeated, then went back over the conversation and reprocessed this new information through it.

“...are you telling me you befriended a Night Fury?” he asked. “How?”

“I shot it down,” Hiccup replied. “And, uh… since then I’ve kind of been testing the hypothesis, that’s more of the whole science thing, and it took like eight seconds to convince the Monstrous Nightmare in the training pens that I was a cool guy to be around. I just kind of smiled and that was it?”

He shrugged, then finally lost the battle against keeping the Night Fury out of the doorframe, and the Unholy Offspring of Lightning and Death Itself slowly pushed the leaning Hiccup across the doorframe.

Then spotted Stoic, groonked something, and sat on his haunches like a giant, attentive dog mixed with a curious cat possessed of a penchant for pushing things off tables.

Stoic spent several seconds contemplating what to do, then – experimentally – threw his hammer at the beast.

It ducked, letting Hiccup topple over with a thump, then loped off after the hammer. A few seconds later, a Terror sat on the prone Hiccup’s side and curled up before visibly and very quickly going to sleep.

“You, uh… see what I mean?” Hiccup asked.

The Night Fury came back, tail swishing from side to side, and deposited the thrown hammer eagerly in front of the door before making a pleased sort of gronk-chirp.

Stoic gave up.

This was now Normal.

Making that new categorization was going to save a lot of time.

“My working theory is that, to dragons, we’re friend shaped,” Hiccup said, still trapped under the snoozing Terror.

[crowfish-brainrot]

Mistakes Were Made Part 3

Adrenaline can make people lusty, and that's what inspired this fic. Also, if I was MC, my sexy self would be fuckin' all five of these men until I got into a relationship bc I am weak and they are too hot to not. Soooo, this might get kinda messy, but it'll end in a good (poly?) place.

CONTENT NOTES FOR ALL PARTS: 18+ MDNI. LaDs men x MC (you), Casual Sex, Pre-relationship, Complicated Feelings All Around. Smut & Angst. Smut with Feelings. No use of Y/N. Possibly ooc bc I'm still getting back into fanfic. Oral f&m receiving, p in v, unprotected sex bc its fiction, creampies, softdom!Xavier, brattamer!Zayne, brattyswitch!Rafayel, switch!Sylus, dom!Caleb brattyswitch!MC, but it's all fluid imo. light bond*ge, sp*nking, size difference, overstimulation, improper use of evol, semi-public sex. Nicknames used in all parts: canon nicknames as well as bunny, princess, love, & darling. F reader. MC is described as being curvy and strong with some fuller titties bc I love titties. Possibly MMF if I get to a part 6 Unedited. You get this raw (just like our Lads!)

Xavier | Zayne | Rafayel (this part) | Sylus | Caleb

It was meant to be a simple gallery event. No wanderers and minimal drama. You expected the worst part of the evening to be pulling Rafayel out of the house by his ear. How wrong you were.

The only lights faced the paintings themselves, each one stunning and beautiful in a way that surpassed any words you had. Rafayel literally turned his nose up at the endless praise people gave him. He wasn't interested in talking to anyone but you, much to poor Thomas' displeasure.

He dressed in a stunning black suit with fine rose gold embroidery. It fit his lean frame like a glove, and the blush pink button down he wore underneath his jacket brought out the warm pink tones in his eyes. Rafayel was a beautiful man, anyone with eyes could see that, but tonight he looked like some sort of ancient god given form, and it took a significant amount of focus to keep your eyes off him.

Your dress matched his suit, and he insisted you wear it. Made of sleek black silk, the dress hugged every curve of your body. Rose-gold embroidery dipped down the sides until it met your hip. The blush elements came in the makeup on your face, and the pale pink pearls that made up your necklace.

Your guns were holstered under your dress, hidden around the curve of your inner thigh. The dress left little room for hiding weapons, but you never went out without your trusty guns. For good reason.

One minute, Rafayel was pouting beside you because you told him you both had to stay for at least one full hour before vanishing. The next, he was gone. As if he vanished. He loved to slip away. Hide and seek seemed to be a favorite game of his, so you didn't immediately worry. At least not until you found a trail of blood leading toward the back of the exhibition hall.

Twenty minutes later, you held onto a woozy Rafayel while authorities led the two assailants out the back door of the gallery. The blood was theirs. Rafayel was safe and uninjured. However, being unable to find him, seeing the blood, and the fight all sent your adrenaline sky-rocketing. He made it worse when he told you they stabbed him with some sort of injection, but he refused to go to the hospital.

"Don't worry, cutie. This isn't the first time this has happened. I'll be fine in a bit."

You didn't ask how he knew that, or when this happened to him before. You doubted your nerves would like the answer. Your time with Rafayel at the Nest proved to you he wasn't all sassy remarks and dazzling smiles, and you were content to leave that mess alone. For now. You were almost certain Rafayel and Sylus knew one another somehow, and you weren't quite sure if you wanted to open that can of worms. So, you held Rafayel upright as you waited for your taxi to arrive.

"You can't take your eyes off me, Miss Bodyguard. They almost got me." Rafayel rested his head on your shoulder. His bottom lip jutted out in a soft pout. "I could've died, you know?"

"I know," you said, your voice flat. "I take my eyes off you for one second, and you disappear."

"It's that bounty. You really should be more alert."

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't disagree with him. "Next time we go out, we should have earpieces. Maybe something with a tracker."

"You don't need a tracker to find me, do you, cutie?" He batted his long lashes at you. Gods. He was so fucking gorgeous. And annoying. Sort of like Sylus in that way. They both irritated the shit out of you sometimes, but somehow their irritating behavior also made you wet. You sighed. You were in fact a hunter. You obviously liked a challenge.

You didn't respond. The cab showed up and you helped Rafayel in before sliding in beside him. The driver headed toward Rafayel's studio, and your eccentric employer-turned friend slumped against you. "You're gonna take me inside, right? I'm still dizzy."

You bit your lower lip as you thought about what to do. The battle and almost losing Rafayel had your heart thrumming and with that came the slick wetness between your thighs. You needed to take care of yourself before you made another mistake. You already had Xavier as your regular fuck buddy, and you stopped by Zayne's place some nights to work extra energy out of your system.

You had two sexy men you could visit, either one would be happy to take care of you, if they were available. You did not need to add a third to your roster. This would probably be the worst yet, because you worked for Rafayel. Sure, you already fucked your co-worker and your doctor, but the Lemurian you were hired to protect? Yeah, that was a step too far, even for you. Also, with his fame, there was a chance things could go public and you didn't want that kind of attention.

Still, when he looked up at you with those big, sapphire-rose eyes, you couldn't deny him. He did need you, and he was only inebriated because you didn't do your job right. You just had to keep it together long enough to see him to bed. Then you could leave Rafayel alone to recover, get laid, and check on him in the morning.

"Yeah, I'll help you get inside and settled."

That seemed to please him. Rafayel kept his head on your shoulder the entire drive back, sometimes whimpering softly and mumbling about being dizzy. You did your best to soothe him with gentle words and rubbing his head, both of which he seemed to like. He nuzzled against your shoulder, and his nose brushed against a sensitive spot on your neck. You almost moaned, but you caught yourself before it happened. His hot breath brushed over your neck, seemingly content to stay put.

Each breath and soft, contented sigh against your neck brought goosebumps to the surface of your skin. His lips were so close. If he kissed you there? You would be done for. You tried to keep your mind from wandering down that path, but you couldn't stop the thoughts, and you grew even wetter on the too-long drive back to the studio.

Once you got back, you helped Rafayel inside. He seemed more out of it than he was when you got in the car. He clung to you like he needed you to be able to stand, and that sent your worry spiking up.

"Are you sure you shouldn't go to the hospital?" you asked.

"I'm sure. Help me get to bed. I'll sleep it off."

You led him inside and helped him through his house to his massive bedroom. Sketchbooks, drying canvases, and countless candles dotted the floor. You carefully dodged every obstacle and pulled back the sheets, setting him down in bed. Moonlight poured in from the glass ceiling above, settling over the bed and haloing his lithe form.

"I can't fall asleep in my suit. Won't you help me get these buttons undone, cutie? I'm too dizzy, I can't see them." Rafayel pouted.

You didn't believe him at first, but it did take him a solid thirty seconds to kick off his shoes. The gods were truly testing your self control. It was time to be brave. You could do this. He was obviously not sober, you wouldn't touch him right now if he begged. No matter how beautiful the flush of his face would be when you -- nope. You cut that thought off before it could finish, refusing to go down that rabbit hole. You undid the buttons of his jacket, released his tie, then unbuttoned his shirt. He lifted his arms, and you peeled the clothing off his body.

His bare chest came into view. Rafayel's body was as much of a work of art as the rest of him. You knew he was a Lemurian and lived part of his life in the sea, but damn. Built but lean, his shape was made to cut through the waves. His waist made your mouth water, but you restrained yourself from sinking too far into your depraved mind.

He leaned back on his arms and looked down his torso at you. "I need help with the belt, too." You hesitated, for just a moment, and his brows drew together. A moment later, his lip curled up into a smile. "Miss Bodyguard."

He caught where your mind wandered off to, and you narrowed your eyes at him. "What?"

"Someone is having dirty thoughts when I'm weakened. That's bold, even for you."

Your mouth opened. Then it closed again. You had nothing to say for yourself, and your cheeks heated.

Rafayel grinned. "I promise, I'm being a good, honest boy. I really do need help."

You took a deep, steadying breath and your fingers made quick work of his belt. One handed, you slipped it off his waist. "You have to do the rest yourself. I'm going to get you some water."

"Don't be gone long, I might need you again," he said.

Your body buzzed as you all but ran out of his bedroom. You took your time going to the kitchen, grabbing a glass, and filling it with ice water. Rafayel loved to play games. It was in his nature to tease and needle you, to make flirtatious jokes then pretend he didn't mean them like that. You accepted it for what it was. A Pisces man being a Pisces man, some fun banter, and a slight headache. He didn't talk to a lot of people, and you were easy to get a rise out of. That's why he teased you so much. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't mean anything. You would not add a third man to your roster. Especially not this man. Is his dick like a human's? Nope. Stop thinking about his dick!

To calm yourself down, you splashed cold water on your face. It didn't matter how much you two bantered. It had to stay banter.

You wouldn't put it past him to fake something like this, but who were you to question him? He was drugged because you failed to do your job right. How much of it was an act, and how much was real suffering? Only he knew.

You slowly made your way back to his bedroom. He was right where you left him, leaning on his arms, looking at the sky, only now his pants were on the floor, leaving him only in thin underwear that hid nothing.

"I was starting to worry you forgot about me," he said. "Again."

You hated how hard it was to not look at his crotch. As calmly as you could, you handed him the glass. "Drink."

"So bossy." His tone was teasing, but he did as you bid. He drank fast, and a drop of water seeped out around the glass, dripped down his plush lower lip, his chin, then lower. You pulled your eyes toward the ceiling before you followed that drip all the way down his abs.

"Thank you, cutie." He handed the glass back to you and you placed it on a coaster on his bedside table.

"Is there anything else you need before I go?" you asked.

"You're leaving me?" He looked up at you, his beautiful eyes wide and brows drawn.

You looked down at your dress and the room around you. "I was going to head home."

"But what if I die? Thomas won't find me for days."

"If you're so ill you think you might die, then I should call an ambulance." You pulled your phone out of the clutch around your wrist to dial for medical services, but he stopped you.

"I'm not," he confessed. "I'm...nervous. There was an attempt on my life less than an hour ago, you know?"

"And those who tried to carry it out were arrested. You're safe here."

"What if I don't want to be alone?" he asked, his voice low.

Your eyes fell to his face and you knew it was a mistake. The puppy eyes did you in every. single. time. He could murder someone in front of you, give you those eyes, tell you he didn't do it, and you'd find a way to believe him. Those big, beautiful eyes of his were dangerous things, and he used them as well as his dagger.

"I can't exactly sleep in this," you said.

"Raid my closet, then. I'm sure you'll find something," he said.

You did as he suggested. You found the brown hoodie he wore on more casual days. It covered your ass and hit low enough you were fairly confident you wouldn't accidentally flash the scrap of fabric that barely covered your lower lips at him. You hung your dress up beside his suit, then wandered to his bathroom to wash the makeup off your face. Clean and ready for bed, you stepped back into his bedroom. "I'm going to sleep on the couch downstairs."

"Nope. Too far. What if an assassin gets to me before you?" he crossed his arms. "You need to stay here."

"Whatever gods can hear me right now, please grant me the mental strength needed to not hop on Rafayel's cock tonight." You sent the prayer out into the aether, hoping that someone was listening, and that you would find that strength. When you looked back to Rafayel, the grin on his face signaled danger. "What?"

"Nothing, cutie." He patted the side of the mattress. "Come here."

Setting your guns and clutch on the nightstand, you peeled back the covers and got into his bed. The cool sheets caressed your skin, and the down-filled pillows were plush and soft. His bed might've been the most comfortable you'd ever laid in. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you hummed a low, pleased sound.

"Comfy?" Rafayel asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You opened your eyes and gasped. He hovered a breath away from your face. Any sign of inebriation or dizziness vanished from his expression. Only the playful glint in his eyes remained, and his lip curled in a devastating smirk.

"Yeah," you said, breathless. "Very comfy. Goodnight."

His gaze burned into your skin, and you tried to ignore him. You rolled to your other side, away from him, but his gaze never faltered. Your heart raced. Loud in your ears, it eclipsed all other sounds. Slick arousal soaked through your thin panties, and you squeezed your legs together for some sort of relief. You found none.

"Having trouble sleeping?" he asked, his voice light. "I can practically hear you thinking over there."

"You're staring at me," you deadpanned. "Kind of hard to sleep when I'm being watched."

"My artistic eye is always drawn to beautiful things," he said. "It's in my nature. I can't help it."

You looked over your shoulder at him. Dressed in his hoodie, your hair tossed in a messy bun, with no make up on you didn't exactly feel stunning. You scoffed. "I would've believed you if you told me that when I had that dress on."

"You looked gorgeous tonight, but you're the most breathtaking like this. It's your natural beauty, ya know? Stunning simply because you exist. Like the moon, or the sea."

"What the fuck did they inject you with?" You flipped over to face him. "You sound like a lovesick poet."

"The injection is wearing off. I feel fine, I'm just telling you the truth." Rafayel rested his head on his hand, propped up slightly on his pillow. His sapphire-rose eyes were soft. Honest.

Your stomach flipped. Butterflies took flight and your heart thrummed faster than hummingbird wings. You swallowed past the lump in your throat. "Um. Thank you. Goodnight."

Your squeezed your eyes closed, and you heard him chuckle beside you. The sound soft, full of mirth and something like contentment. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach, and your pussy fluttered in time. Gods, his laugh. His eyes. His fucking everything.

Why did every man in your inner circle have to be so damn hot, charming, and downright perfect in every single way? Oh no, you had a mysterious knight-in-shining armor type with a fat cock, a handsome renowned doctor who made you scream and beg at the curl of his fingers, and now you were in bed with a sexy, famous artist merman who spoke poetry about you. Truly, you were suffering.

"If you're having trouble sleeping, you can always ask me for help," Rafayel said. "I'll do whatever you want, even if it means using my body."

His voice dropped into something low and hot. It filled the space between you with the warmth of a sinful promise. Your pussy clenched hard around nothing, and gods, it hit you just how empty you were.

He laid flat on his back and patted his bare chest. "Come here, cutie. Let me help you fall asleep."

You knew it was a trap. The way his eyes burned with heat. The low, heady siren song of his voice. He laid back with an arm behind his head, stretching those stunning muscles of his taut. Your throat dried. It was a trap, and yet, you willingly slipped into it. Your head settled on his pecs, and your arm naturally draped across his body and rested over his heart. His arm wrapped around you and cradled you against his chest.

He smelled like the sea breeze, something fresh and calming to your senses. You breathed him in, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you did so. Rafayel always ran a little cooler than humans, and the difference in temperature was a balm over your heated skin. Yet, despite your comfort in his arms, your clit throbbed. Needy and aching, it brushed against your too-slick panties and you had to stifle a whimper.

"You seem uncomfortable. What's wrong?" Rafayel stroked your spine in gentle, lazy patterns that did nothing to help the ache between your thighs.

Damn it. You couldn't hide this for much longer. Rafayel had a sensitive nose. As a Lemurian, he picked up on every subtle change in perfume, body wash, or detergent you used. For some reason, thinking that he knew how wet you were only made it worse.

"I get like this after hard battles, or nerve-wracking situations," you said, keeping your voice matter-of-fact. "I was worried about you, and now I'm having a hard time relaxing. My body is tense. That's all."

Rafayel hummed. "I can help you relax, you know. If it will help you sleep, I'm happy to use my body in any way you need."

"Raf," you warned.

"What? I'm serious. You can use me however you like, cutie. My face is an excellent seat."

"What?" you squeaked, sitting up slightly.

"Have you considered that you might not be the only one who gets tense after high-stress situations?" Rafayel pulled you back against him, and threw the blanket off. His cock strained against the fabric of his boxers, a wet spot at the head. Holy fucking gods. You didn't expect Rafayel to be packing a fucking sea monster in his well-tailored pants. Were all Lemurians so well endowed, or was he just blessed?

"Won't you help me, princess?" Rafayel looked down at you, his eyes dark and wide. Your hand absentmindedly traced down his stomach, and he whimpered.

That fucking sound did you in. You swallowed hard. “I’ll help you.”

Rafayel closed the distance and captured your mouth in a heated kiss. He devoured your lips like he was starved and desperate, like he needed only you and nothing else. Your head spun, dizzy with the pure need that passed between you. His large hands settled on your hips and he effortlessly lifted you on top of him. You straddled him, your lips still connected with something that caught like gasoline. Deft fingers gripped the hem of his hoodie and lifted it off your body, parting from your lips just long enough to toss it to the side.

He took in your body. Strong from all your training, but soft and yielding to his firm grip. Your heavy tits heaved with your panted breaths, and your nipples hardened in the cool air of the bedroom. “Beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

Coming from him, the artist, the one who knew beauty and how to pull it from nothing but pigments and brush strokes, the words carried a weight. They resonated through you and you found yourself unable to breathe. His fingers toyed with the thin scrap of lace around your hips.

“Can I rip these off?”

“Yes,” you said.

They were gone, torn off your body an instant later. He held them off to the side, and his eyes trailed between the soaked scrap of lace and your now bare pussy.

“Fuck. You need to come bad, don’t you princess?”

“Maybe,” you huffed.

He chuckled and tossed the pillows behind him to the side and scooted down the bed. “Sit on my face. Use me to make yourself come.”

“Are you sure?” You asked.

“Yes. Sit on my face. I need to taste you, please.”

You nodded and you settled over him, one leg on either side of his head. Strong arms locked over your thighs and he pulled you down to his face. You let your full weight settle on him, and he groaned into your soaking cunt.

You gripped the headboard for leverage and ground into Rafayel’s face. You looked down your body, meeting his heated gaze from between your thighs. Hair mused and face flushed, he was a devastating sight. So gorgeous it punched the air out of your lungs.

His nose rocked against your clit as his tongue slipped inside you. You were so wet, so needy, the simplest brush of his tongue sent a shock of pleasure dancing down your spine. He barely touched you, and you were already on the brink.

You ground into his face, chasing the coiling spark of pleasure building in your core. His eyes never strayed from your face, and you couldn't look away. The intensity of his gaze and the skilled roll of his tongue forced broken gasps out of you. Your thighs trembled, but he held you steady, nuzzling into your cunt like he belonged there.

His talented tongue curled just right, and you were lost. Your back bowed and your knuckles went white on the headboard in an attempt to steady yourself. You cried out his name as you came. His answering moan as he drank you in only extended the wave of intense pleasure. You tried to lift your hips away, but his arms locked around you, keeping you in place as the overstimulation hit. You whimpered and leaned forward, still trying to lift your hips.

"Where do you think you're going, cutie? I wasn't finished with my meal." Rafayel nipped the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "Do you really want me to stop?"

Your head spun. His voice, husky and playful did dangerous things to your insides. Your stomach flipped. You were sensitive, sure, but his tongue was heaven.

"No," you said, breathless. "Keep going."

He pulled you back down, fully on his face the second the words were out of your mouth. You whined at the sharp edge of overstimulation wearing on your nerves, but gods, his face made the perfect seat. He ate your pussy the same way he kissed you earlier. Starved, full of need. Like you and your pleasure were the only things that mattered.

You rode his face, rolling your hips to chase the burning pleasure he stoked within you. His moans matched yours in desperation and intensity, as if tasting you, pleasuring you, did the same to him. As if he got off on being used by you. Your hips rolled back, and his lips wrapped around your clit. He sucked, and you gasped.

"Right there, fuck! Raf you feel so fucking good," you praised, your voice high and breathless.

He shuddered under your praise, and he sucked harder. Between the steady suction of his lips and the steady roll of his tongue over your clit, your second orgasms came crashing down far faster than you expected. You tried to hold back, for just a moment longer, but his talented tongue wouldn't let you.

Rafayel shoved you over the edge of your second release with a firm suck that stole your breath. You gushed over his face, the release hitting you so hard you could only scream his name. He worked you through it, his sucks softening as the wave ebbed. You slumped against the headboard, too worn out to hold yourself upright.

You lifted your hips, and this time he let you go. You pushed yourself up on trembling thighs, and blinked around the stars in your vision as you looked down at him. Fuck. His pupils were blown wide with lust, cheeks flushed, and face coated in your come. Wet skin reflected the pale moonlight, showing just how much a mess you made. His smirk sent aftershocks of pleasure skittering up your spine. He planted soft kisses to your inner thighs, and you shuddered.

"Oh gods," you sighed, your body so senitive that even the softest touch bordered on too much.

"Gods?" Rafayel chuckled, the sound dark and teasing. "No. I'm the only one here with you, princess." He flipped you over so fast you were dizzy. One moment you clutched to the headboard for dear life, and the next you were pinned beneath him, his lean, muscular frame looming over yours. One hand held both your wrists and pinned them over your head. He leaned down, stealing all the air from your lungs. His eyes flashed a vibrant blue as he spoke. "If you're going to call out to anyone, you call out to me, and me alone."

Your pussy fluttered, empty and needy. "Yes, Rafayel."

"Good girl," he cooed. The teasing, playful note in his praise only made the husky tone of his words all the more tantalizing. You shivered, suddenly hyper-aware of him. The heat between your bodies, the weight of his eyes, and the sensation of his hard, hot length pressed into your core shattered all thoughts outside of him.

He released your wrists and captured your lips in another kiss. This one was more consuming, more dominating than you expected from the man who told you to use him not twenty minutes ago. Yet, you surrendered to it, and to him, all the same. Your dynamic with Rafayel was fluid, all teasing and banter, always changing who came out on top. It seemed your dynamic in bed would follow a similar pattern, and you couldn't help but moan into the kiss.

Rafayel pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes. "Can I fuck you, princess?"

The way he said it, his voice husky and dripping with the same amount of need you felt nearly made you come. You both needed this, needed each other, so you said the only thing that mattered. "Yes, please!"

His lips met yours again, and in one fluid roll of his hips, he was bare above you. The hot length of him dripped his need all over your stomach. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into your neck. "Let me hear you, cutie. Don't hold back."

You nodded, unable to form words. With one last kiss on your neck, he reached between your bodies and lined himself up with your entrance. Not quite as long as Zayne, but somehow thicker Xavier, your head spun just looking at it. That thing was a monster, and you weren't sure it was going to fit.

"Don't worry, cutie. It'll fit just fine." Rafayel notched the head at your entrance and hummed. "Now, if I was in my true form? Then you'd have something to worry about."

Your mind reeled from that bit of information and while you were distracted, he pressed forward. The stretch of his cock stole your breath. It burned slightly, not painful, just heat, as he pushed deeper inside you. He cursed as your fluttering cunt squeezed around him, but he didn't move any faster. He slipped in slowly, giving you his cock inch by inch until your hips were flush.

Your legs wrapped around his hips and your hands clutched his forearms to steady yourself. He rested his forehead against yours, a low moan falling from his mouth. You struggled to breathe. Buried inside you as far as he could go, the tip of his cock brushed your cervix. Stretched around him so wide, there was no room for anything but sensation. You moaned, high and breathy, as you adjusted to him.

"Fuck, Rafayel, yes!"

"Do you feel how deep I am, cutie?" Rafayel rocked his hips forward, forcing a loud moan out of your mouth. One hand traced down your side, then to your clit. He rubbed it in a small, tight circle, and your back arched off the bed with a sharp moan. "Look how well you fit around me. My princess."

The slight edge of possession in his voice made your eyes roll back into your head. You rocked your hips, seeking more friction, but he held you still.

"You want me to move? Beg." Rafayel's command came with a weight that forced your eyes open. His eyes held the same playful mischief as normal, but his tone was serious. Sharp. "Tell me how much you want this. Let me hear you. Otherwise, I'll stay right here all night."

You blinked. His brow raised. You swallowed hard, unsure. His hips pressed forward, applying more pressure on your cervix while his fingers abandoned your clit. Your resolve broke.

"Fuck, Raf, please!" you whined. "Please fuck me. I need you to move. I need you to pound into me, to make me come all over your cock, please. Fuck. I'll fuck myself on your cock if you don't want to move. Please, please, just fuck me. I need it. I need you!"

"Fuck yourself on my cock, huh? Is that how you want to use me, princess?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"Maybe I'll let you next time. Right now, I think I'll use you."

"Please, Rafayel! Please use me!"

"Fuck. If you insist." His devilish little smirk made your heart flip, and then he moved. The drag of his fat cock along your walls hit just right, stealing your breath. Your vision blurred, and you made a low, desperate sound as he fucked into you.

On his knees, he held your hips in his strong hands, keeping you in place as he pounded into you. His eyes drifted from your face, to you heavy, bouncing tits, to the place where you joined. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the pleasure too intense, but you also couldn't look away from him. Strands of amethyst hair clung to the thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His muscles rippled with every thrust, and the veins in his hands strained under his tight grip. His beautiful face contorted in pleasure with each deep stroke.

One hand reached up to grip your bouncing tits. He kneaded the soft flesh in his hands, then rolled your nipple between his deft fingers. You cried out, the added sensation nearing too much for your already overstimulated body.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he moaned. "A stunning work of art. A Goddess given flesh. Look at you, my beautiful br--princess."

"Raf-ay-el!" you screamed his name when he slammed in hard, forcing the very air out of your lungs.

"That's the sound I'm looking for. Again."

He thrust in hard a second time, and you gave him the same cry of his name. High, breathless, loud. Edged with a hint of desperation.

"Fuck yes. Keep singing for me, cutie. Just like that."

You did as he commanded. You couldn't help yourself. Not when he fucked you so thoroughly. He moved his hips in smooth, fluid motions, pulling back and slamming in over and over at the exact right angle. The wet sounds of your fucking filled the space between your screams, both getting louder the closer you got to your third peak.

"Are you going to come for me, my princess?" he asked.

"Yes, Raf, please!" you moaned. "Keep fucking me just like this. Please, I'm so close. You feel so good!"

"Come for me. Let me feel you."

You broke. Shattered. Came apart as you gushed around his fat cock. White hot pleasure burned through your blood, and stars filled your vision. You screamed his name so loud your throat burned, and yet, he didn't stop fucking you. Each roll of his hips only extended your release, and by the time the wave ebbed, another already beckoned. Overstimulation burned at your senses, but you didn't want him to stop.

"Where do you want my come, cutie?" he asked.

Your brain screamed only one answer. Probably the dumbest answer you could give him, but logic went out the door awhile ago. Plus, you weren't technically the same species, so it was fine. "Inside me. Come inside me, Rafayel. Please."

Whatever threads of control he had snapped in that instant. He fucked you hard, loud, needy moans falling from his lips. He lifted you into his arms, holding you tight against him as he buried his face into your neck. He came a moment later, and as the first slightly cool spurt filled you, his teeth bit into your neck. Your back bowed and you came with him, the sensation too much for your overstimulated body.

Rafayel stilled only as long as it took him to come. His still-hard cock rocked in and out of you, just enough to hit your sweet spot before fucking back inside until he hit your cervix. Deep, firm strokes that sent your mind melting out of your ears.

"Raf, I can't...'s too much!"

"Yes you can. Come on, cutie, give me just one more. Then we'll take a break."

The fleeting conscious thoughts you had stalled. A break? He planned to keep fucking you after he came a second time? You were too fucked-out to think too hard about it, so you moaned. You were so sensitive, too sensitive, but the drag of his cock, the way his body enveloped you, how he held you against his chest, you didn't want it to stop, either.

"One...more," you agreed.

"Good girl," he praised. "I know you can do it. Come one more time. Just for me."

His pace, his gentle praise, and the way he clutched you like you were something precious added to the overwhelming wave of pleasure that built within you once again. Your orgasm hit with all the warning of a lightning strike, and burned twice as hot. You screamed his name once again as you convulsed around him, the pleasure rising out of your very bones.

"That's it, princess. Good girl. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I'm gonna fill you up again."

"Please," you whined.

Rafayel groaned and held himself all the way inside you. His lips found the other side of your neck and he bit down there, too. He filled you a second time, somehow with more come than the first. Each spurt extended your release. Finally, the pleasure stopped. Your ears rung. You panted your breaths. Sweat slicked very inch of your skin, and your thighs were sticky with your combined release.

Rafayel set you down on the bed gently, and he kissed your forehead. "Such a good girl. Do you feel better now, princess?"

You nodded, words too hard for you to manage. He stayed inside you for a few minutes as you both caught your breath. He pulled out of you slowly, and to your surprise, he was still half-hard.

He promised to be right back, and all you could do was lay there. Fucked out, full of come, and realizing that mistakes were made yet again. You really needed to stop getting into situations like this, though, you wouldn't say you were upset to be here. You were so fucked out you felt like you were high, and you had a sneaking suspicion that if you asked him to, Rafayel would fuck you 'till you passed out and keep going until you woke back up.

You had two nights of marathon sex with Xavier, each time after he came back from a secret mission he couldn't bring you on. Still, even he tired after round three. Rafayel looked like he could go for six more. Probably because he was Lemurian, or something.

He came back with a warm cloth and cleaned you up, his touch gentle and words soft. Soothing in a quiet tone as he tended to you. Once you were both clean, he settled back into bed and pulled you onto his chest. Your head rested over his heart, and it beat steady and strong in your ears. You nuzzled into him as he pulled the blankets over you. Ignoring the call of sleep was a hopeless task wrapped up in him, so you gave in and fell into a deep slumber full of dreams of a world beneath the waves.

Your phone alarm blared at far-too-fucking-early-for-this o'clock. You blinked at the blinding sunlight that poured in from the glass ceiling above. Rafayel groaned under you and hid his face in a pillow.

"Turn it off! It's too early."

"It's my work alarm," you mumbled. You rolled off of him, and he made a pouty noise in protest as you scrambled to find your phone. You turned off the alarm, then sent a quick text to Jenna, telling her that you aided in an arrest last night and would be late coming in.

You still needed to get home, shower, eat something, get dressed, and get to work. Hopefully, Xavier would already be gone by the time you got back to your apartment. He was jealous normally. If he knew you spent the night with someone who wasn't him?

Yeah. He'd throw a fit, despite the fact that you weren't exclusive. Which is why, you usually went to see Zayne when Xavier was off on missions.

"I gotta get going," you said.

"You should call out." Rafayel propped his head up on his arm as he looked over at you. "You came down with something. You're sick. Only I can take care of you, so you have to stay here. With me. All weekend."

"I can't call out, Raf. We've had this conversation before. Don't give me that look!" you whined. "That's not fair!"

"What's not fair is having my cuddle time interrupted because someone has to clock in somewhere," he huffed.

"Yeah, well, not all of us can be millionaire artists." You rolled your eyes as you tried to gather yourself. You couldn't not talk about what happened last night. You couldn't have him thinking this meant anything more than it was. Silence stretched between you, and you could practically feel him sulking from across the bed. You turned to face him. "Listen, about last night..."

"What about it?" he said, his voice cool and detached.

"I'm really busy. I don't exactly have time for a relationship. You're busy too. And I technically work for you, which makes this kind of complicated." You caught yourself rambling so you took a deep breath, then continued. "I just want to be sure you know this is casual. Probably not an all the time thing. It was great, really fucking great, but I don't want to overcomplicate things between us, you know? We're friends, and if you really need me like that, I'm happy to help but it can't be more than that."

Rafayel looked at you, his face too neutral to be good. You knew his expressions well enough by now, and that one never meant anything positive.

"Alright. If that's what you want. We'll keep it casual. But, you should know something important, Miss Bodyguard."

"Yes?"

"I've been stroking my cock to thoughts of you for months, and now that I've had a taste of you? My hand isn't going to be enough anymore. If you're worried about the ethics, we can work that out later, but casual or not, I will need you like that again, and again."

Your stomach flipped and your sore cunt clenched. Damn it. "I'm fine with that. We'll need to talk about this more, but I really do need to get going."

"Take the hoodie," he said. "A designer sent over some matching couple sets. In the back of my closet there should be some pants that fit you. Want me to drive you home?"

You thought of how Xavier turned off the streetlights on your block that one time you spoke to a co-worker that wasn't him outside of your apartment for ten minutes too long. "You don't have to. I can call a cab. I know it's early for you."

"You sure? If you're already running late, waiting for a cab will only make you later."

He had a point. Fuck. "Alright, but I live close to the Association building. Walking in will give me time to eat."

Rafayel smiled like he won, and your stomach flipped again. You prayed to whatever gods were listening that Xavier would not be anywhere near your apartment when you showed up.

A/N: Our fishie is tied for my #1 with Sylus, so obviously I love him & had so much fun with this part! I want to do one of these with each LI before we start getting into overlap territory, and if we get there or not really depends on how much y'all want that. So, lmk! Either way, the next part of this series is going to be all about our favorite Dragon. I hope y'all are ready bc I'm already melting!

Masterlist | Next Part