#this is the rough and quick of it though!

[writeriguess]

katsuki x reader where they've only been dating for a short period of time and reader walks in on him changing

The door to Katsuki’s dorm is slightly ajar when you arrive, a sign he must’ve forgotten to lock it after his shower. You hesitate for a moment, knuckles hovering over the wood, ready to knock. Your relationship is still new, fragile in its unfamiliarity. The way he looks at you—sharp, yet soft in his own way—keeps you on edge, always uncertain if you’re stepping too far.

Taking a breath, you decide to push the door open gently, thinking it might not be a big deal. You’ve both spent time together in his dorm before. Besides, you’re only here to drop off the notebook he left at your place last night. Nothing more.

The moment you step inside, the soft click of the door behind you is too loud in the otherwise quiet room. Steam lingers in the air, a reminder of the shower that had ended just before you arrived. Your eyes scan the space, expecting to find Katsuki at his desk or lounging on his bed, but instead, your gaze is drawn to something else entirely.

He's standing near his dresser, his back to you, bare and dripping with leftover beads of water that gleam under the faint light of his dorm. The towel slung low on his hips is barely hanging on, and for a brief second, your heart stops. His muscles flex with the simplest of movements, toned and scarred, every inch of his skin telling a story of battles fought and survived.

You don’t mean to stare, but your eyes betray you. They dip lower, tracing the defined line of his back down to where the towel rests, and before you can even stop yourself, you're looking just below it—where the fabric clings to him.

Shit.

The heat rushes to your cheeks so fast you feel lightheaded. You snap your head up, averting your gaze, trying to focus on anything—anything—but him. The wall. The floor. The stupid notebook in your hand. But it’s too late. The damage is done.

Katsuki spins around at the sound of your movement, eyes wide at first before narrowing into a dangerous, fiery glare. His body tenses, muscles bunching as if preparing for a fight, though this one is not against any villain but rather his own embarrassment.

“The hell are you doing here?!” His voice is rough, laced with anger but edged with something else, something uncomfortable. His hand jerks toward the towel, yanking it tighter around his waist as his face flushes a deep shade of red that you’ve only ever seen in the heat of his temper. You’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment or fury—probably both.

“I-I’m sorry!” You stammer, words tumbling out of your mouth as you instinctively take a step back. “I didn’t— I just came to drop this off.” You hold up the notebook like a peace offering, but your hand shakes just slightly.

He growls, a sound so guttural it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “You couldn’t knock first? Damn it, I forgot to lock the door,” he mutters, clearly more to himself, though you catch every word.

“I didn’t mean to—” you start, but he cuts you off, stepping forward, closing the distance between the two of you with quick, aggressive strides.

“Don’t act like you didn’t see anything,” he snaps, his voice low and venomous, but there’s something raw in his eyes—an uncharacteristic vulnerability. Katsuki Bakugo, so strong, so self-assured, now standing in front of you, exposed and… unsure.

“I didn’t see anything!” You blurt, though it’s a lie, and you both know it. The way his jaw clenches, the way his hands grip the edge of the towel tighter… He knows.

“You’re a shit liar.” His voice is gruff, but his posture shifts, ever so slightly. There’s a tension in the air, heavy and electric. You’ve seen Katsuki angry countless times before, but this feels different. He’s not just mad—he’s embarrassed. The faint pink coloring his cheeks betrays the harshness in his voice.

You swallow hard, trying to regain your composure. “I really didn’t mean to,” you murmur, looking anywhere but at him. Your eyes flicker to the wall, to the floor, to your shoes—anywhere that isn’t Katsuki’s half-naked body. But even with your gaze averted, you can still feel the heat radiating off of him, can still hear the sound of his breathing, heavy and uneven.

“I should’ve knocked.” You finally manage to meet his eyes, only for a second before looking away again, unable to handle the intensity of his stare. He’s still scowling, but there’s something softer underneath it, like he doesn’t quite know how to handle the situation either.

Katsuki lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his damp hair, making it stick up even more than usual. “Yeah, you should’ve,” he mutters, but his tone has lost its sharp edge. He shifts awkwardly, still holding the towel tightly around his waist as if he doesn’t quite trust you to not look again.

You stand there, frozen in place, unsure of what to do or say. The tension between you is palpable, thick enough to cut through. It feels like an eternity before he finally speaks again, his voice quieter this time, more gruff than angry.

“Just… get out for a sec,” he grumbles, glancing away as his ears turn an even deeper shade of red. “I need to put some damn clothes on.”

You blink, startled by the sudden shift in his tone. He’s still angry, yes, but now he just sounds… embarrassed. It’s almost endearing, seeing the usually brash and confident Katsuki Bakugo so flustered.

“Right, yeah, of course,” you mumble, turning quickly on your heel. You fumble with the door handle for a second before finally managing to open it. Before stepping out, you glance over your shoulder one last time, and your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. Even though he’s furious, there’s something almost vulnerable about the way he stands there, towel clutched tightly, eyes still glaring but with a faint hint of uncertainty.

As the door clicks shut behind you, you lean against it, your heart racing in your chest. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down, but your mind is still reeling. You’ve seen Katsuki angry before, but this was different. It wasn’t just the anger—it was the way his cheeks flushed, the way his body tensed with embarrassment.

After what feels like an eternity, the door swings open again, and you turn to see Katsuki standing there, now fully dressed in his usual black tank and sweatpants. His expression is still annoyed, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something softer, more vulnerable.

“Next time, knock,” he mutters, looking away, his face still slightly red. But there’s no bite to his words, no real anger. It’s more of a warning, a way to cover up his embarrassment.

You nod quickly, trying not to let the awkwardness overwhelm you. “Yeah… I will.”

He grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Good. Now, give me that damn notebook,” he demands, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

And just like that, the tension starts to fade, replaced by the strange comfort that comes with knowing you’ve seen a side of Katsuki Bakugo that few others ever have.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[hencheri]

18+. mdni.

pairing: mean toxic bf!haechan x fem!reader

warnings: noncon, toxic relationship, gaslighting.

wc: 1.2k

.

you're watching a movie in the living room, but you're distracted, focused on your thoughts instead of the flashing screen in front of you. it's 3 a.m. and you can hear haechan playing video games in your bedroom.

he hasn't talked to you for hours, hasn't said a word or even looked in your way. it's bothering you a lot. you have a constant knot in your stomach and your heart accelerates at the mere thought of haechan ignoring you.

you hate when he does this, it makes you feel bad. so fucking bad.

you get up from the couch, going to your bedroom. you push the door open, hesitantly walking in. you need to talk to him.

"hyuck?"

he stares at his computer's screen, pressing down on the keys of his keyboard, concentrated on his game. his has his headset on, maybe he hasn't heard you.

"johnny!" haechan calls into his microphone, "quick, come save me."

"hyuckie..." you stand beside him and you know he can see you from the corner of his eye. you bite down on your bottom lip, waiting for an answer that doesn't come.

he continues to play like you're not there. it upsets you so much, could he not be petty for once?

"we need to talk, please," you demand, still trying to get his attention. you know he hears you now since he's quiet.

a few seconds pass before he replies back, "we have nothing to say."

you sigh, exasperated. there are plenty of things you need to discuss about actually, and not just what happened a couple of hours ago. it makes you cringe thinking about the previous events, but you can't just brush it off, especially when haechan's still sour about it.

you were both in bed about to go sleep soon. he made a move, touching your hips up and down, pressing his crotch against your butt. you weren't in the mood, so you told him to stop. he didn't at first and you pushed him away, which really offended him.

he then turned on his pc before you could say anything and you went to the living to watch a movie, a poor attempt to forget about this ridiculous fight.

"but-" you begin, a little annoyed, "we do."

your voice is covered by johnny yelling something to haechan, once again ignored by your boyfriend. "here, here, here! i need to heal you," he yells back, fingers hurriedly pressing down on the keys, "shit, these guys are rough."

"hyuck-" you try, placing your hand on his arm, but he grabs your wrist before you can and shoves your hand away.

you frown, hurt by his action.

"what? we won!?" haechan exclaims, brows shooting up in surprise. you hear johnny talking back without deciphering his words. "ah, they missed the base," he laughs, "yeah, it was close."

he removes his headset and puts it on his desk. but he still decides to not acknowledge you, even when his game is done.

"please," you beg a bit desperately.

"what's the matter?" he sighs loudly, throwing his head back against the headrest of his chair.

"haechan! you've just ignored me the whole night! you can't always do that," you explain to him even though he'll probably only understand what he wants as usual.

he rolls his eyes, "yeah and it's always my fault, right?" he says.

"what- no, that's not-"

"it is," he affirms. he turns his head to you, "every time we so 'need to talk' it's about how i'm wrong, how i shouldn't do this or that, how i should just agree to everything you say and shut my mouth."

you're agape. is this really what he thinks you do? that you only want to complain about him?

"that's not true," you deny, "hyuck, i just want us to communicate, it's important."

he scoffs, "no, you're always the one talking. you don't actually want to hear what i have to say." he looks at you like he's hurt and you start wondering if he might be right. are you really that self-centred? "that's not really what i call communication, you know."

"do you ever ask yourself how i'm feeling? how constantly being rejected makes me feel?" he questions, his gaze not leaving you.

"i don't constantly reject you," you rectify. "sometimes i'm simply not in the mood to sleep with you..."

haechan winces upon hearing your words. "because you are for others?"

your eyes widen and your mouth falls open. that's not how you should have said it. "no, that's not what i meant-" but your boyfriend cuts you off, rising up from his gaming chair.

"yeah, no," he shakes his head, "you know what? i've had this feeling that you don't love me like you say you do." he goes around you and you follow him, wanting to reason with him, but he isn't done talking yet.

"we haven't fucked in days and the only thing you let me do is jerk off with your hand. how- how should i interpret that, huh?" haechan sounds genuinely hurt and upset, but that was never your intention to make him feel this way. how could he even doubt your love for him?

"hyuck, please, sit down," you ask, wrapping your hand around his arm to pull him back against you, but he slips away from you.

he turns around and faces you. "are you seeing someone else? is that why?" he suddenly bursts out and you're totally shocked.

"what? no way, how can you think that!?"

he approaches you and this time, you're the one stepping back until the back of your thighs hit the edge of the bed. you look up at haechan, heart beating faster and faster.

"you're not denying it," he points out, now only a few inches separating you from him. "you're cheating on me... how can you be so fucking heartless?"

you shake your head from side to side, gulping down. this isn't true. you've always stayed faithful to your boyfriend, but the knot in your throat prevents you from speaking up, eyes swelling up in tears.

he clasps his hand around your bicep, digging his fingers into your flesh, pulling you flushed to his chest.

"i can't believe it," he breathes out, "my girlfriend is a fucking whore."

you're still in shock when he crashes his mouth on you, smacking his lips to yours and pushing his tongue inside. your whines are muffled, weak hands pushing on his chest to get him off of you, but to no avail.

you fall on the bed and haechan crushes you with his weight, trapping you under him. you squirm around, not liking the way he doesn't listen to your protests and how he forces himself on you.

his lips descend to your neck, planting quick kisses as if he's in a hurry, going down to the valley of your breasts.

"hyuck, please, stop," you cry, but he doesn't listen.

his fingers hook into your shorts, pulling them down with your underwear, too. your breath is caught in your throat, only exhaling when you feel the familiar push of his cock inside of your unprepared pussy.

"you're mine," he moans, the squeeze of your cunt around him making him frown, "when will you finally understand it..."

[miasmaghoul]

WAHHHH AEON CONVINCING EVERYONE THEYRE HIS FIRST. thinkijg thoughts about omega and aether breaking him in and then hes all virgin to whoevers next and after they go to aether like “why did u not fuck the new guy??” and aethers like i did?? and it all comes out but they keep it a secret to see how long/how many ghouls/papas aeon can get with his bit

I think Aether is his first, and he's enough of a gentleman not to let anyone know. Not his information to share - well except for one night when he replays it all for Dew in excruciating detail, but that's easily taken care of with a little quintosis. No harm done.

Swiss is Aeon's second, though, and he's been enough of an actual first to be able to see right through Aeon's coy smiles and the way he bats his lashes. It's easy enough to figure out who was:

"Can't believe I haven't gotten my hands on you yet."

Swiss murmurs it into his throat, both hands shoved into Aeon's hastily undone jeans. One tugging at his semi and the other curled around his bony hip, Swiss' rough fingers petting at his hole. Aeon's gasping already, still half-tangled in the hoodie he was removing when Swiss shoved him onto one of the hotel beds. This is what he gets for spending all evening - hells, all day, really - being a flirty little shit, he supposes. He licks his lips and swallows hard, putting on his best innocent face; wide, damp puppy eyes, pouty lips, the whole nine yards. Swiss stares down at him like a wolf who's pinned a deer, smile sharp even without his fangs, and Aeon's heart skips in his chest. He knew Swiss would be rough, but this is a thrill.

"Surprised Aether didn't get you first," Swiss rumbles with a twist of his wrist, and Aeon gives himself away when his eyes glaze over.

Swiss isn't even sure if the other ghoul knows he does this, or if the others have caught it, but when Aeon really remembers something he sort of...disappears for a second. Just for a heartbeat, very easy to miss if you aren't looking for it, but Swiss has spent more than enough time with the new kid to pick up on it. It's like he's reliving the moment he's been reminded of in a flash. Swiss wonders if it has something to do with his magick; Omega had something of a photographic memory, maybe Aeon has something similar? He doesn't know.

What he does know, is that when he says Aether's name Aeon does that thing where he goes away for a moment, and his cock flexes so hard they both choke.

So that's a yes, then.

Swiss doesn't say a word, lets Aeon play the blushing virgin because, well, it's not like he isn't into that, and holds him close afterwards. Gives him a bath and orders his favorite takeout meal before they go to sleep. He even lets Aeon be the big spoon.

He calls Aether while Aeon's in the shower the next morning, just to make sure, and the silence when he asks Aether if he knows if Aeon's slept with anyone is so, so loud. Swiss says it's kinda hot that Aeon likes to play pretend, and they both manage to squeeze out a quick one and agree to keep this knowledge to themselves before Aeon's even done in the bathroom. Swiss texts Aether a quick video of him blowing a kiss with his cummy hand, and Aether responds in kind.

After that, I think Mountain is next, but he isn't one to brag. Rain comes after that, but is suspicious about being Aeon's first despite his shy admissions while Rain was between his legs. He finds out for sure via a good ol' fashioned footjob, because Mountain would give up nuclear launch codes if it meant having the chance to feel Rain's toes work the head of his cock. Rain doesn't feel particularly miffed - the kid put on a good show, after all, and good sex is good sex. He and Mountain both think they're the only ones, though, so they agree to keep it between them.

Word gets out after Dew has his turn with Aeon and brags about it to Swiss over gas station coffee a few days later. Swiss, who cannot for the life of him let the little guy have anything, and immediately snorts into his styrofoam cup. Rain overhears them and they all share a knowing snicker (as soon as Dew finishes scowling) once they figure out Aeon's little game. Swiss calls Cirrus over to let her know, just in case Aeon's tried the same thing with her, and she looks absolutely delighted.

"He asked me just yesterday if I would "answer some questions about his body"," she shares, accepting a sip of Dew's hot chocolate. "That he's experiencing some "new things" and has "questions about girls." He was blushing like a whore in church and everything."

The squeak of sneakers on slick tile echoes behind them, and a pair of lanky arms loop themselves between Swiss and Rain's shoulders.

"Speak of the devil," Swiss grunts, Aeon tugging him down to plant a good morning kiss on his cheek. Aeon grins.

"Mornin' Cir," he greets with a nod, ignoring the rest of them entirely. The ghouls share a collective eye roll. "I just talked to Papa, like you asked." If the new kid's tail was out, it would be wagging like an excited retriever's. "He said it's $750 for tomorrow and $1250 for Thursday, but if you need more then just use the black card."

Cirrus gives him a warm smile, reaching across their little circle to ruffle his hair. Aeon beams at her, might as well have hearts in his eyes when she cups his chin and says,

"Good boy, thank you."

Cirrus gives his cheek an affectionate pat, and that blush they've all come to know by now makes its appearance.

"Tell you what - come to my room tonight. You can help me pick out where we stay for the next few nights. I can show you all sorts of secrets," she adds, giving him a slow once over that makes Aeon flush down his throat. "About how to pick the right hotel in these smaller areas, of course," she clarifies, handing Dew back his lipstick-stained cup and straightening her coat. "I might even have the girls drop in and give you some extra hints."

Cirrus winks, and Aeon's walk to the bus is slow and awkward. They all have the kindness to hold in their laughter until he's out of earshot, but Swiss and Rain both have tears running down their cheeks by the time they calm down.

"Don't break the kid, Cir," Dew says through a cough, wiping his eyes. "I have at least one more ticket for that ride."

"No promises," she grins, eyes sparkling. "Oh he's going to be fun."

That night, Cumulus and Aurora have him together, with Cirrus guiding them all through a very thorough anatomy lesson because Aeon is just so new to all this and has no idea what he's doing, please don't tell anyone:((((. And they're all just so sweet to him, so giving, even after it starts to hurt because they just know he must have so much stuffed inside those tight little balls of his if this is his first time!

They pinky swear not to tell anyone that he cries.

[bsdawgz]

desperate sex with dazai please! you both had a long day at work and just wanted to indulge in each other. Both moaning messes as you cling onto him as he holds you. You don’t have to do it if you’re not comfortable!

JUST ONE MORE KISS ... armed detective agency: osamu dazai

a/n: anon, i LOVE THIS IDEA!!! you're also so sweet for being considerate of how i might feel. i hope u enjoy + that i did ok!!!

genre: nasty in a cutesy and domestic way

content: f!reader. MDNI! oral sex (f!receiving), pet names (angel, my sweet girl), the sex gets prety rough. he spits in your mouth once. some body worship (f!receiving). established relationship <3 cutesy at the end =)

Pulling away from what was supposed to be a chaste greeting kiss proves more difficult than Dazai would have ever imagined. He finds himself leaving your lips swollen, his own sweetened by the saccharine taste of your mouth melting on his tongue. It's not that you're complaining, though. His warmth is more than welcome, especially after a day as long as this one. You linger where he left you, if only just to bask in the heat of his body for a moment longer. A moment before you return to the mundane – take out the trash, prepare dinner, hang the laundry out to dry. Such menial tasks must be done whether you like it or not, no matter how exhausting work has been today. Truly, you ought to start on them now. Surely, Dazai also has had a tiring day and has chores to get to at home as well. And yet...

"Just one more kiss," he hums absently, as if reading your mind. He's always been good at knowing exactly what to say and when to say it. He's also always been an exceptional liar. When he leans in to kiss you, it's clear that just one won't be enough tonight. Not that he was trying to convince you otherwise, anyway. Then, in a heated whisper that's pressed to the base of your neck, "You know how greedy I am."

You shiver as his lips caress you; so soft, so loving, his mouth so inviting as it closes in on yours. His hand meets your waist, the other stroking the side of your neck, rearranging the tendrils of hair that frame your face. "Is it wrong of me to want more than just this?" he muses, tracing the plump of your lips with his thumb, watching in awe as you part your mouth instinctively to take in his fingers. "I missed my sweet girl at work today."

Leaning in for another kiss, you seal your lips against his, letting him guide you backward until you feel your body press against the brick wall of your cozy apartment. You can feel Dazai's teasing smile through his kiss as he hikes your skirt up, grabbing the plush of your upper thigh and trailing his fingers along your sensitive skin. You writhe and squirm, seeking the warmth of his hand, the sweetness of his touch, and those delicate fingers that you want to feel inside you. "Dazai, please."

He relents – of course, anything for his sweet angel. You feel him push your panties to the side, tracing your folds with his fingers. "God, you're wet," he murmurs, and you can hear the sheer satisfaction in ragged tone of his voice and feel it in the way it makes him grip your waist tighter. Still, you blush profusely, flustered by the fact he's pointed it out so plainly. "My sweet, needy girl," he whispers, stroking the side of your cheek lovingly. "Let's take good care of each other tonight~"

The sight of Dazai getting on his knees for you is always a precious one; and for Dazai, seeing you from this angle is one of this favorites. Though, to be fair, he finds the reverse just as arousing. You make quick work of the buttons of your shirt as Dazai unzips your skirt, slowly peeling your panties down your hips. "That's my needy little angel," he teases, "Wanting me to please her already..."

You hold your breath, gazing down at him with your lips parted as he lovingly places kisses up your thigh. Then, you gasp aloud, feeling the tip of his tongue prod inside you. You reach for his hand immediately, seeking the comfort and warmth of his skin, squeezing his palm tight as you feel the cold wetness of his tongue encircle your clit. He moans hungrily against your heat, lapping at your arousal. His name sounds so perfect in your mouth, he thinks, and as the syllables spill out of you, he can't help but glance up to admire the shape your lips form when you say his name. You'd sound much sweeter with his fingers inside you, he muses as he eases his index into your aching hole, smirking at the way you pulse and the way you stammer out his name once more. "Say it just like that," he coos.

You need him more than ever, "Dazai, Dazai" relentless on your lips as you desperately grind against his hand. "Kiss me," you plead. Tonight, your boyfriend isn't so much of a sadist as to deny your requests; tonight, he'll treat you well – just as promised.

Of course, you'll treat him just as well.

"Take it out," you moan as into his shoulder, unbuttoning his vest and dress shirt with haste, leaving them a mess on the floor to deal with later. "Please. Let me touch you, too."

He nods fervently, undoing his belt with a clatter, then he lowers his slacks just enough for you to reach clumsily into his boxers, where you find him pulsing with need, the tip leaking with precum. Then, he sighs with pleasure, seething with desire as you wrap your fingers around the shaft, throbbing in your hand as you stroke him.

This time, it's him who says, "please," his voice raspy in your ear as he leans in once more, locking lips with you and capturing your moans in his mouth as he curls his fingers deep inside you. Thrusting his pelvis forward to meet each of your strokes, he guides your fingers up and down his shaft with his other hand as he tries to get off on the feeling of being fucked by your fist. “Please,” he pants, breath strained as his hips stutter, as his knees begin to give. “Let me fuck you…”

You nod, and he’s frantically shuffling through his messenger bag for a condom, then tossing you down on your mattress. It’s feels like not even a minute more until he’s shoving himself inside you, groaning as he buries himself between your slick folds. You take him in – all of him, all at once, crying out his name when he starts to snap his hips into you. He’s greedy, so greedy, each thrust faster and harder than the one before. And you want it; you want more, more;

“More.”

You hook your legs around his narrow waist, clawing at his back, scratching at his spine and urging him to fuck you deeper. Dazai's panting into your shoulder, brown bangs falling beautifully into his eyes as he ruts into you like an animal desperate for relief – because for you he is, lips parted as he gasps, as his hand slithers around your neck, fingers squeezing just tight enough to deprive you of enough oxygen that you feel yourself grow dizzy. You kiss him hotly, just as fervently, biting his lips and drinking his moans into your open mouth, clinging to him as his fingers leave your neck. As they slip between your thighs, gathering the wetness between your legs where you're aching for him, where you're so wet that you're dripping onto the sheets beneath your sweaty bodies. You shut your eyes.

Fuck work tomorrow –

This is all you need. Dazai, Dazai, Dazai.

The laundry chime goes off, but you can hardly hear it with the buzz in your ears – "Close."

"Me too."

– Take me to heaven and back.

It's you who comes first, convulsing in Dazai's arms; and you don't feel him slow at all, not even a little bit, just feel his spit fill your mouth, saliva trickling down your chin as he grabs you tighter, as he forces your legs over his shoulders and fucks you even harder until you can barely form thoughts, let alone words –

and you split open, body searing with pain, yet you can't help but grind your hips against his fingers as you teeter on the verge of a second orgasm. You sob out yes, yes, yes, thighs trembling as you gasp for him, as you plead for him to bring you there once more. You spasm, then you feel him spill into you with one final thrust, grabbing you and pulling you tight against his body lovingly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders because god, does he need you closer than ever right now.

Then, he rolls onto his side. Buries his face into your shoulder. Nuzzles his nose into your neck. His lips brush along the shell of your ear. "One more kiss. You know how greedy I am," he whispers, interlocking his fingers with yours. "Then we can order take-out."

© BSDAWGZ Please don't steal or reblog! That's plagiarism! If you enjoyed the fic, likes and reblogs are always appreciated! ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ Beautiful dividers by @ v6que!

[the-raindeer-king]

SELKIE👏SOAP👏 big brain stuff. Don't get me wrong, the Dullahan is my favorite of all mythological creature. I have a whole figurine a foot tall of one on my shelf. But Selkie Soap hits so hard. He'd so be the type to leave his coat out at your house all the time after dating and knowing you're his person. 'Oh, whoops Soap left his weirdly heavy and thick coat here again', 'Oh look, he's calling asking if you can bring him his coat' after a while he gives up and just throws it on you tbh. Let him be yours, damnit!

If selkies are always cold without the pelt, I wonder how important warmth is so Soap. You cuddled up and comment how warm he is, or how warm and cozy it is under the blanket(and pelt cause ofc) with you? Absolute heart eyes. You probably just said the equivalent of something so serious and loving and he's fawning

Big brain shit

AND BEAR SHIFTER PRICE the rumbles the RUMBLESSS takes 'bear hug' to a whole new meaning. Yes he adds honey to his tea, he will bite if you comment on it (if you're not one of the very few he really trusts and cares for that is. If it's say, his wonderful partner, they'll get smothered with a kiss an' a cuddle and maybe a nip at most. Gotta take care of his lil' love after all.) Supreme den to sleep in. Dark room, probably painted like a dark brown or something so it's really dark dark once the sun goes down. California King size bed, so many blankets, heavy ones he can shift around into certain ways. Pillows everywhere, AC cranked LOW low so he can cuddle his sweet partner so so close without them overheating, leaving them clinging to him in their sleep bc he's so warm. Probably loves smelling your scent, and scenting you so others smell him and know to leave you be

ELDRITCH GHOST THO!

He's always there. Haunting those he hunts and those he loves and it's such a rare thing to be so vehemently focused on tbh. As his enemy, it's an endless looking sense. The dark is too dark in certain spaces but not all of them. The quiet is too quiet when they step into a specific spot but take two steps away and they can hear their brain thinking again. On the flip side, you never feel like you're alone. There's always something right around the corner, right behind you that you can't see. Yes, Ghost is there physically, and his body almost feels like there's soft layers and hollow inside. But when hes not there, it's like he is still. A drink on the counter when you wake, a towel on the sink when you shower, the blankets moving and being tucked around you as you settle to sleep, even if you not moving, especially when it's dark.

And 100% I don't see Gaz as a harpy. I think you're on with a Naga though. Notoriously hard to kill (as we've seen with all the shit Gaz gets into (cough cough, helicopter, cough cough)) ruthless on the job but Amicable unless disrespected off the job (usually used as guards in mythology) and I'd go a step farther and say I could see him as either a Boomslang(one of the 10 fastest snakes, cause Gaz isn't super bulky but he's light and quick and snaps to where he needs to go yk?) also a beautiful black/green combo and slimmer species that I feel would fit him well, highly venomous and hang out in trees, idk if that's fitting just a fun fact.

Oooh just imagine going to pick him up after a rough mission. He's still on guard, alert, serious, and once he sees you he's snapping to you, already holding you close, the midsection of his tail winding up to press against the back of your legs, pressing you closer. Mumbling quiet words with a light hiss to them as he draws you in, seeping up your warmth. He's a cold blooded creature, can't you help him warm back up? 🥺

Anon, you and I are on the same wavelength and I love you (platonic).

[salt-clangen]

Moon 6

Greenleaf

This update contains depictions of blood, violence, and animal death.

Wolfstar was busy, her clan was two cats and neither of them truly able to contribute much to the day to day upkeep of the clan. Lynxpaw was studying hard as a cleric, gathering herbs, and preparing remedies. Not to mention nearly every night was spent attempting to communing with Starclan cats for her a lessons, leaving the poor apprentice exhausted most days.

Snowspeckle was very pregnant now, though Lynxpaw suspects she still has a moon or so left before she gives birth. Still the queen tried to help out as she could, weaving baskets and twine. While her crafts were high quality she got tired very quickly, combating fatigue and nausea, some days she could only lie in her nest.

So that left Wolfstar to pick up the slack without complaint. She hunted and cooked, she patrolled and marked the borders often, she even gathered materials for crafting. She felt herself grinding away to dust, wondering if one day she’d just mix with the sand. But she kept those thoughts to herself, putting on a cheery smile whenever her clan mates checked on her. Seeing her clan mates eat and be at peace gave her a warm flush in her chest, easing the strain from her mind.

Until today.

Today had been especially awful, she’d woken up from a nightmare about her and Burnpaw’s argument. Then she found that there was only a few strips of dried mouse left, which she left for Snowspeckle. And while hunting her empty stomach growled so loudly it scared a hare away.

She’d tried switching to scavenging the tide pools, but her paw slipped and she dunked herself in the water. After getting water up her nose, the rest of the day was full of missteps and bad luck.

By late afternoon she’d managed to get two mice and a small basket of clams, a meager amount for how long she’d been out. She could see Lynxpaw’s disappointment when she returned from her long patrol, but they both kept quiet.

Some tension left her as she butchered the mice, deciding to discard the small pelts instead of finishing them for leather. In the distance she could hear Snowspeckle singing from inside the nursery, likely weaving in the shade. The moment, while brief, made her feel a bit better.

It was after she started a fire that she realized the they had no fresh water. Wolfstar slowly counted her breathes and resolved to putting some sea water on for now and running to grab fresh water. Mixing the two waters usually resulted in delicious salty soup, which sounded amazing to her right now.

Her body was aching and bruised but she told Lynxpaw her plan and asked her to watch the pot until she returned. She laid out the prepared ingredients and gave her instructions on when to add what. Lynxpaw nodded along and she hurried to the river, each step felt rough on her paws.

The pot of fresh water felt heavy and she almost wished she just sent Lynxpaw out instead. But slowly she made her way back, only spilling a little along the way.

When she entered camp, the pot was unattended and smoking, the clearing empty. She set the water down and checked the fire, all the water in the pot was gone, only a white crust left behind. Quickly she moved the pot, burning one of her paws as she did. With a growl she stuck her burn into the tide pools, looking around for Lynxpaw.

Just as she was about to shout, the apprentice walked back into camp, carrying some herbs.

“Where were you!” Wolfstar hissed, Lynxpaw set her bundle down, eyes wide.

“I wanted to add more sage to the soup for Snowspeckle.”

“You left the pot boiling alone, all the water is gone. You should never leave a fire unattended! It could spread.” Wolfstar pulled her paws out, shaking them dry.

“I thought I would be quick, I didn’t think it would take that long to find it.”

“You shouldn’t even be out of camp alone! You should’ve waited for me to escort you.”

“Well… you’ve been gone all day so I never got a chance to do it.” Lynxpaw shrugged, eyes downward.

“Oh so this is my fault?” Wolfstar tried to stop talking she really did but it felt like the entire day of misfortune was finally getting to her.

“No! I’m just saying I need to gather herbs sometimes and you’re not always available.”

Snowspeckle poked her head out of the nursery at all the shouting.

“I can’t be everywhere at once, I’m busy hunting and patrolling for this clan. I asked you for one thing and you couldn’t do that for me!” Tears sprung up to her eyes now.

Lynxpaw didn’t respond, eyes wide and misty.

“Wolfstar it’s alright.” Snowspeckle waddled closer, sinking into the sand from her weight. She laid her tail over Wolfstar’s back.

“No it’s not!” Her voice broke a little as she yelled. “I’m trying so hard and nothing is working. We never have enough food and I’m struggling everyday to keep us afloat but I’m not good enough!” She felt like a kit, wailing over a small cut. She felt pathetic not at all like a leader.

“Oh honey,” Snowspeckle gave a lick to her shoulder. “Please, Wolfstar I promise you’re doing so well, you take such good care of us. You’re always checking on me and making us meals. You let me stay in the clan even when you knew I was pregnant and a burden. You didn’t have to do that but you did and I’m forever grateful.”

Wolfstar buried her face in the older queen’s shoulder, just sobbing into her soft fur. Lynxpaw slowly inched closer, brushing her tail along her leader’s side.

“You’re not a burden.” Wolfstar’s cries slowly turned to hiccups. “You’re my friend and clan mate. I’m sorry for shouting, especially at you, Lynx. ” Her stomach let out a loud growl.

“Have you eaten today?” Lynxpaw asked.

“There wasn’t much left so I left it for Snow.” She felt embarrassed again.

“Alright how about I start on some food. You just relax and Lynxpaw you find something for her.” Snowspeckle delegated tasks with ease.

While waiting for Lynxpaw to return with a poultice for her paw, Wolfstar picked up the now cooled pot to clean it. She was about to wipe the crusty white debris away when she took a curious lick. It was a burst of concentrated salt, just like the ocean spray and even more so than the coltsfoot she’d used before. Even a small taste was almost too much.

While Lynxpaw placed a comfrey poultice and bandage on her paw she excitedly told her and Snowspeckle about the salt. Snowspeckle even added it to the stew she was making to test it out.

The rest of the evening was subdued, sharing the delicious stew beside the dying fire, then sharing tongues as the sun slowly set. Wolfstar talked of plans to get more salt for trading and whether to bring it to the next gathering. The trio fell asleep under the warm open sky.

This was the first time visiting Capri’s Post since she received her nine lives and Wolfstar was so excited to show her the salt she collected. She formed a small patrol, just her and Lynxpaw, to carry 2 bundles to the loner’s den. Snowspeckle waved them off as they left in the early morning, sluggish from her morning meal.

The two cats were slower this time around, taking time to mark their borders and avoiding getting the salt wet. It was nearly sun high when they reached the twoleg place where the water monsters lived. The area was much more crowded than before, twolegs and even a few loners milling about.

Wolfstar even saw a dog of all things on a lead tied to a twoleg. It was terrifyingly big, it lunged and barked every time it saw a cat, nearly toppling its owner over. They gave it a wide berth, deciding to walk across the scorching thunderpath rather than be caught in its sight.

The heat was painful on her still tender paw, but otherwise manageable until they could reach the grass. The winds were strong which helped with the choking stench of the path, though they still coughed and hacked a bit.

Arriving at Capri’s they find the dead monster empty. Capri and Jade’s scents were strong and all their things were still there, but no sight of the pair. After waiting until the sun started to drop from its peak, finally they decided to leave.

On the way back, Wolfstar managed to ask a kittypet lounging on a fence about the empty post. The cat shrugged and said sometimes Capri leaves to visit her grandkits near by and mentioned she’d likely be back tomorrow. Wolfstar thanked them and they continued back home, a bit dejected.

After crossing the thunderpath again, Wolfstar contemplated next steps for the clan. She’d been hoping to trade their salt for some honey and herbs for Snowspeckle’s kitting. They had access to chervil and yarrow ointment, but Lynxpaw wanted to have raspberry leaves and borage as well in case of an emergency.

A yowl broke through the noise of the twoleg place, just north of the pair. Cold washed over Wolfstar as she realized it was a cat, ducking under a brush with Lynxpaw, she shivered when a deep growl followed the next cry.

“Stay here.” She ordered, darting out of the brush she ran towards the noise, darting around a fence she saw a large red carrion place. The stench was foul, but the sight before her was horrible, a brown tabby cat on the ground, covered in blood and cuts. A large dog stood above him, snarling and barking, the same dog she’d seen before.

A grey tabby cat stood on the far side of the carrion place, the dog between them and Wolfstar. Frozen in the spot as the dog lunges forward to the grounded cat again, movements almost like a kitten playing with a moss ball.

“Hurry, I’ll distract the dog, you grab the cat!” She cried out, running up to the dog to cut it across the muzzle, baiting it. The dog yelped and pulled back, licking its jaws as it loped around eyes sharp on Wolfstar.

But the grey cat turned and scrambled up the wood fence, not even glancing back at them. Her heart sank as she realized she was alone.

“Go,” The cat at her feet choked out. “Get away now.”

She stood in front of them, hackles up, she couldn’t leave a cat to die.

Any playfulness the dog had before was gone, its movements keen and powerful as it charged them. She lunged forward, meeting it head on with another strike to the face.

It’s teeth graze her shoulder as it’s strong head flings her off balance. She twists sloppily, managing to dive over the beast’s head, digging her claws into its shoulder. The dog snaps at her, trying to shake her off, she jumps off of it but it tramples her in the rush.

She digs her claws into the underbelly, yowling as she did, it yelped and ran off of her. As she got to her feet there was only a moment of stillness before it grabbed her again. Its teeth dug into her neck, a cry died in her throat as a rush of warmth flooded from her neck. She dug her claws into its eyes, but the dog didn’t release, just shook her side to side as blood blinded it.

Terror griped her as her vision began to go dark, the pain in her throat almost numb and her body felt fuzzy. At a certain point it felt just like drowning in the moon spring, her body both numb and painful simultaneously. Blood pounding in her ears, the world faded to nothing but the fading pulse in her throat.

Color snapped back before her other senses, brilliant shades a blue and glowing white danced before her eyes. A dull, familiar roar met her ears, the waves indistinguishable from the sky, the horizon bleeding into the water. Slowly she could feel a warm rock beneath her paws and a solid body behind her. She knew who it was, the scent of pine meeting her nose.

They didn’t speak, her tongue thick in her mouth and exhaustion settled in her bones. The pain was gone but she knew it’d return, she hoped it would. She wondered if she would lose more than one life or even all of them, but she felt no fear just clarity.

Lynxpaw shook with terror as she heard the screams and growls of the fight, staying in the brush, she knew she couldn’t risk trying to get closer. She felt weak, unable to help her friend and leader, she had no combat training and couldn’t endanger Snowspeckle by getting killed and leaving her without care.

She saw a grey tabby cat climb the fence surrounding the carrion place, Lynxpaw felt a sense of hope, wondering if Wolfstar would follow behind. But the cat ran off without looking back, passing in front of her brush she tackled the cat. Knocking the, both down the stranger whirled on her, hackles up.

“Where’s the white cat that was in there?” She asked, not worried about the others hostility.

“That idiot is still there, trying to fight that dog.” The tom cat hissed.

“What? Why?”

“My apprentice is in there.” He said coldly. Lynxpaw is shocked at the apathy, especially from a clan cat.

“You’re not gonna help them?” She growled.

“They’re both as good as dead! Why risk my life.” The cat said before running off towards the forest towards the north.

True fear flooded Lynxpaw as felt frozen to the spot, she didn’t even react as a twoleg ran past her, nearly trampling her. The twoleg entered the carrion place, holding a long red lead in its hand, it shouted as it did. Its shouts increased as it was out of her sight, after a few moments it returned, a large tan dog on its lead again. Lynxpaw ducked behind the brush as they walked carelessly by her, she could smell blood all over it and could even see it limp.

The second they were past her she dashed for the fence line, the stench of carrion and blood rolled her stomach. She saw Wolfstar, neck torn open, eyes wide and blank, behind her a brown tabby. The apprentice was bleeding but able to hobble over to Wolfstar, nosing at her with a horror filled face.

Lynxpaw retched, emptying her stomach, she shivered and let out a sob. Looking around there wasn’t much, no cobwebs or moss to stop the blood. Would she even survive this? Her throat slashed open, was it only one life or all of them? Or something between?

“We have to move.” The tabby said, finally addressing her.

Lynxpaw nods and hauls her limp friend’s body up, but she’s too heavy for her alone.

“You can come back for her later. It’s too late.” The tabby said coldly.

“I can’t leave her, she’ll make it. I have to take her back to camp.” Lynxpaw hissed, hackles up. The tom doesn’t speak, but he helps her lift onto their shoulders.

The walk back was silent agony, his shoulder wounds felt like fire and he limped the entire way. Lynxpaw choked back tears, trying to ignore the feeling of blood dripping down her back.

Returning to life was much slower than when she drowned in the Moon spring. The pain was immediate, choking her and she’d have jolted up if she had the energy. The familiar pins and needles filled her body where the pain wasn’t as intense. Her hearing was next, the distant waves and not much else kept her between consciousness for a while.

Slowly but surely Wolfstar came back to her body, barely able to think beyond the pain, she cracked her eyes open. She couldn’t raise her head to scent the air, but the moss under her smelled of sage and rosemary. Blinking slowly to clear her vision, she could see the healer’s den and a dark figure blocking the entrance.

She whined instinctively, it felt like thorns in her throat. The figure turned and she struggled to identify the cat as he approached, her mind fuzzy and sluggish.

“Do… do you recognize me?” The tabby asked, there was a long pause before he let out a huff of embarrassment. “Right, sorry. I’m Shadowpaw, we met at Capri’s post before. You saved me from that dog.”

Wolfstar blinked a couple times, trying to show she was listening. Another whine escaped her, her shame overshadowed by the pain.

“If it wasn’t for you it would’ve killed me. There’s no way I would’ve survived long enough for its twoleg to capture it.” His face turns stormy and harsh, she almost feels fear. “And even if I did… who would’ve taken me to a healer?”

She nearly forgot about the gray oakclan cat that’d left them. Her eyes roll over him leisurely, taking in the bandages wounds, the young tom shuffles a bit under her gaze but he stands stick still.

“I want to stay.” He says firmly. “I want to join Saltclan. You risked your life for me without hesitation and your cleric treated me like I was a clan mate. I’ll remain loyal to you and the clan until I die.”

There was a pregnant silence, his jaw was tense and shoulders squared, she soaked in his words as she looked him over again. He was young but sizable, dwarfing her considerably. The warrior code had rules for accepting entrants into the clan, many rules she’d spent time learning with her mother, rules she’d skipped for Snowspeckle given she was pregnant. As a young and capable apprentice she should be proper with his evaluation, but in the moment she couldn’t be bothered. She could barely move let alone go through the entire process, it’d have to wait for another time.

Instead she only flicked her tail once and let out a raspy, burning purr. She blinked hard at him, hoping he understood. For the first time since he entered, the young tabby smiled, if only briefly.

“Shadowpaw?” Snowspeckle called. “The soup is ready, come get a bowl.” Wolfstar couldn’t smell the soup, but her stomach growled at the mention.

Quietly Shadowpaw left her alone, she closed her eyes to rest, but he surprisingly returned just as she started to doze. He carried a bowl by the twine handles, walking slowly to her. She noticed his limp for the first time as he set the bowl down beside her.

“Lynxpaw is out gathering more herbs, she had Snowspeckle make an herbal broth for you.” He said, she tried to lift herself up but her weak legs wouldn’t let her.

“Hon, grab some moss off the shelves and soak it with the soup,” Snowspeckle’s voice called, she sat at the entrance of the cave watching them with a tired smile. While he did as she said, Wolfstar flicked her ears once and she gave her a playful glare. “Don’t even start, honey, I’ve got an eye on the fire. Just wanted to see you, even from a distance.”

Wolfstar wasn’t sure, but she tried to smile at her friend. Snowspeckle turned back to watch the fire as Shadowpaw placed the soaked moss at her mouth.

Slowly she lapped up drops of the salty broth as the group sat in silence. Shadowpaw got up to get a bowl for Snowspeckle and then himself after she finished a few soaks. The quiet was nice and whatever herbs were in the broth seemed to make the pain dull a little so she could doze.

Lynxpaw was pretty good with change, while she enjoyed the routine and stillness that came with her cleric studies, she didn’t mind when the monotony was shaken up. Wolfstar’s grave injury had been her biggest hurdle yet, but she managed to stop the bleeding and make a bandage on the wound. Snowspeckle mentioned advanced healing techniques she’d seen in Oakclan to ‘tie’ lacerated skin together to heal, but with no knowledge or materials everyone was reluctant to attempt such a procedure on their leader.

So as the days sped by, Wolfstar healed slowly, being paw fed medicated broth. Snowspeckle spent most of her time with the leader, grooming her and keeping her company with songs and stories. She also had taken over the cooking, though Shadowpaw seemed adept at butchering prey for them.

The dour tom fit in surprisingly well with the clan, he didn’t speak much and was very blunt, but it was refreshing and sometimes even funny. He took the lion’s share of duties that Wolfstar had done, hunting and patrolling, and did so without complaint- aside from the occasional sarcastic comment.

This morning Lynxpaw and him had set out to mark the borders together, then visit the cliffs and tide pools for prey and herbs. The walk was quiet, but not overwhelmingly so, though he did grumble about the border placements. He thought they should try to push the border further for more territory, but quieted down when Lynxpaw reminded him Wolfstar had set the borders.

He seemed to have a soft spot for her and Lynxpaw since she saved him, calling them both by their silly kittypet names.

Marking the Duskclan border, they turned west to the river, taking turns veering off trail to mark. As they neared the river that marked the border, they scented cats up ahead.

“Let me keep forward.” Shadowpaw said, voice a low growl.

“It’s probably a border patrol like us.” But she still slowed to let him lead, a little unsure how he’ll act.

He didn’t respond just kept his tail low and head high, straining to keep the lingering limp out of his steps. Stepping over some larger rocks they caught sight of the cats, on Saltclan’s side of the river.

“This is Saltclan territory, what’re you doing out here!” He called out, hackles up at the offense.

The cats turned.

“Snowspeckle?” Lynxpaw stepped before him now. “What’re you doing?”

The pregnant can’t looked tired and worried, the black cat in front of her took off in a run. The cat even managed to clear the river in a single bound. Their white tipped tail disappearing rapidly.

Shadowpaw started to give chase, put Lynxpaw blocked him with her tail.

“What’s going on.” She asked again, noticing a small covered pot in front of Snowspeckle. It was alright reddish color and decorated with flower images, nothing at all like the simple black pots saltclan produced.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” She faltered, glancing nervously around.

“Who was that cat?” Shadowpaw asked.

“That was Nightleap, my once mate. I’ve been meeting with her since Wolfstar’s injury.” She confessed, Lynxpaw just waited patiently for her to continue. “I asked her for help and supplies, she hasn’t been able to bring much, just some food or prey. But today she managed to bring me this.” She nudged the pot.

Lynxpaw gingerly pried the lid open to look inside.

“Poppy seeds.” She stared in wonder.

“Seeds? What’s the big deal?” He asked.

“Poppy seeds are a pain killer, the strongest anyone has ever found.” Lynxpaw explained. “Did you get this for Wolfstar?”

Snowspeckle nodded sheepishly.

“You shouldn’t have left camp, you could’ve gone into labor or gotten hurt.” Shadowpaw admonished her, it would’ve made her laugh if he wasn’t right. “It’s risky plus you left Wolfstar alone.”

“I know, but I felt so bad. I’m the reason why she’s hurt. She was there to trade salt for herbs I needed. I couldn’t just do nothing.” She admitted. “Plus Noghtleap won’t tell anyone, I’m not sure how she got this much, but she’d be in way too much trouble for it if Honeyclan knew.”

“Snow it’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s fault that Wolfstar lost a life. The dog fight was a freak accident, you can’t blame yourself.” Lynxpaw butted their heads together, purring gently as their cheeks brushed. “We don’t blame you, right Shadowpaw?”

She turned away from Snowspeckle and gave him a sharp glare, he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” He said flatly, earning a chuckle from the pregnant molly.

“Come on, let’s get back,” Lynxpaw coaxed her to stand. “I’ll get Wolfstar started on these, I think it’ll really help her.”

Characters:

Wolfstar- a white tabby molly with short fur, heather blue eyes, and two ear notches in her right ear. 12 moons. Leader. Saltclan. Responsible, compassionate, natural intuition.

Lynxpaw- a blue point molly with long fur and blue eyes. 7 moons. Cleric apprentice. Saltclan. Quiet, loving, quick to help.

Snowspeckle- a white molly with short fur and blue eyes. 23 moons. Artisan. Saltclan. Loving, childish, good singer.

Shadowpaw- a brown tabby tom with long fur and a large build. 11 moons. Warrior apprentice. Formerly Oakclan. Blood thirsty, loyal, good swimmer.

Nightleap- a black trans molly with short fur, white points, and yellow eyes. 27 moons. Warrior. Honeyclan. Sneaky, lonesome, learner of lore.

[vrtvyg]

their bedroom headcannons!!

Soap: Bisexual switch. the type to have a threesome. has a decent amount of experience. that doesn't mean he's some god at sex though, can be too pushy at times, being younger, his sex drive is still pretty fucking high. there isn't a day that goes by without him trying to get some. you probably have to push his hand off of your thigh multiple times a day. in public. definitely a "let's go to the bathroom." kinda guy. he's an amazing top, good at touching you where you need and going at your pace, pretty confident in that area. same with bottoming, except he's extremely bratty, to the point where he's more genuinely pissing you off than turning you on. if he's going to bottom he has to be forced into the position. pinned to the floor, using whatever you can to tie his arms behind his back (probably yours or his belt), and keeping his face against the floor with your hand gripping the back of his neck. even then he's still bratty, taunting you in between whorish moans.

Ghost: Unidentified top. prefers women, very rarely finds a man he's interested in. honestly rare to find ANYONE he's interested in. but when he does, it takes awhile to open up enough to do much sexual. and when he does he's usually in control, hates giving up the upper hand, not just because he's used to being the masked lieutenant, but because of his past traumas. and it's not like he has a meltdown everytime you TRY, it's more like a simply "nah" and moves on.... BUT, if he does agree to let you be on top, he's going to be on his back, legs over your hips, making sure you do it EXACTLY how he wants, and how he's comfortable. sometimes it'll be slow, other times he'll tell you to go quick. he's not the most vocal, either. I imaging it's more quiet grunts and small groans, telling you what he likes and that you're doing good, making him feel good.

Price: Doesn't care about gender, not too picky. Will NOT be letting you fuck him. he'll let you ride, order him around, hell, he'll even let you edge him. but he's not letting you do him. it's not some manly pride thing, just isn't into it. doesn't feel good to him. though he WILL let you fuck his thighs, as a reward. doesn't feel much from it, but loves to watch you desperately thrust into his thighs like it were his hole. always treats you amazing. makes you feel good. is usually gentle, praises the fuck outta ya. and similar to ghost, isn't very loud. soft grunts and an occasional moan. might get TOO into it and stop talking completely.

Gaz: Fucking gorgeous man. whether he wants to rop or bottom, he's going to look great doing it. probably sounds the prettiest, not as loud as Soap but definitely loud. He'd probably like being on his knees, whether it's giving you head, getting fucked, or just kneeling to kneel. he eats that shit up. very loving and affectionate during it, not one for degrading. likes to hold your hand when he's the one giving. definitely ALWAYS starts with a sloppy make-out session.

Graves: Fucking hates being fucked. (he loves it, but will threaten to send his shadows after you if you bring it up.) He likes to top, of course, who doesn't love sticking their dick into something. He let's out the most pathetic moans, trying to cover them with grunts or coughs. almost slapped you when you teased him about how loud he is, denied it profusely. (you recorded him taking your dick, just so he could hear himself. he definitely jerks off to it when he's on base.) He can be a bit too rough when topping, definitely has some sort of thing for powerplay, wants you to call him by his rank. (almost cried when you made him do the same. good crying, of course.) is affectionate afterwards, but from a distance. will be on the opposite side of the bed, demanding you scratch his back, but stay over there. he's too hot to cuddle right now. but he still loves you. but from a distance.

König: Honestly, he seems like the type to be really cocky going into it, then gets really embarrassed when you have to move his hand to the right place constantly. If he's into men, (this is a male reader page, of course he is.) he's a less confident, dated mostly women in his younger year, very reluctant to give you a hand job, let alone head. but with some pushy encouragement he'll take the tip into his mouth, face flushed the whole time. probably keeps his hood on during it, gets embarrassed if you look at him while he's sucking. probably won't let you cum in his mouth, thinks it's gross. (spits aggressively when you do it anyways.) He prefers to be the one doing the fucking, but if you somehow convince him to switch, he wants to do it in a spooning position, too embarrassed to be on his knees or back. going to be more grinding than fucking him. definitely a whiner.

Bonus: adding onto bratty Soap, if you praise him, instead of punishing him, he'll slowly melt into being more manageable. more quiet, nodding along to whatever you're saying, pushing back against you for more, instead of mocking your every move.

"Silly boy Johnny, good boy's aren't supposed to bite back. be good for me, kay? perfect..." He'll shut the fuck up and simply nod.

[chestersturniolo]

ℭ𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔰

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

~ vampire!matt ~ based on this request

warnings; mentions of blood

~

The house is quiet, you're curled up on the couch, wrapped in your favorite blanket, flipping lazily through channels but not paying much attention. Matt had gone out to the gas station for snacks a little while ago, insisting he’d be quick. You didn’t feel like braving the cold night air, so you stayed behind, waiting for him.

A familiar click echoes through the house as the front door opens and closes.

“Matt?” you call out

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart” he replies, his voice warm as he makes his way up the stairs toward the living room.

You smile to yourself, rising from the couch as he appears at the top. He gives you a smile, one that makes your heart flutter. “Hey” you greet softly as he comes closer, burying your face into his chest. “Where are the bags?” you say pulling away.

Matt stutters slightly “Oh-uh…must’ve left them in the car”

You let out an understanding hum, but as you pull away, you notice something strange—a small, crusted crimson spot near the corner of his mouth. Your brow furrows.

“Oh no, did you hurt yourself?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern. You lean forward slightly, reaching toward his face,

“What? No, I’m fine” he says quickly, turning his head slightly, almost instinctively pulling away from your touch. "Hang on” you say, turning on your heel and heading into the kitchen. You grab a wet cloth to clean him up.

When you return, Matt is standing where you left him, but there’s a strange tension in the air now. His posture is too stiff, too controlled.

“C’mere” you say softly, reaching up to gently take hold of his jaw. He hesitates, his muscles tensing beneath your touch, but you’re already dabbing at the blood on his mouth. “Really, it’s nothing” he mutters, his voice low, almost guarded. But you keep cleaning the spot, waiting for the cut or scrape to reveal itself.

Except it doesn’t.

You frown as the blood wipes away cleanly, revealing nothing but flawless skin beneath. “T-there’s nothing there” you murmur, pulling back in confusion. Matt exhales sharply, tension rippling through his frame. "See? I told you I’m fine” he says, but there’s something off in his voice now, something almost… strained.

The dampness of the cloth seems to react with the dried blood, lubricating its scent. A metallic tang flows into matt’s nose,sharp and overwhelming. His nostrils flare slightly, and his eyes, once soft and familiar, darken. You see something flicker in them—something primal, something dangerous. Veins beneath the skin by his eyes begin to darken, spreading like black tendrils beneath the surface. His irises shift, black swallowing the blue, turning his gaze predatory.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch his transformation, your body freezing as fear engulfs you. “Matt?” your voice trembles, your fingers slipping from his jaw as you stumble backward. “What’s happening to you?”

He blinks, trying to force himself back, but the veins remain, his eyes dark and hungry. “Y/N, wait—”

You take another step back, your heart pounding in your chest. "What is this? What’s going on?"

He takes a slow step toward you, hands raised as if to calm you. “I-I didn’t want you to find out like this” he says, his voice rough with guilt.

Your mind races as you try to make sense of what you’re seeing, your body trembling. “Find out what?” you manage to choke out, though part of you already knows the answer. The late night disappearances, his unbelievable strength, his icy skin, the blood, the way his eyes had darkened, the way his body had reacted—it all pieces together in your mind, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to accept it.

“I-I’m…” he starts, finding it hard to say out loud, he runs his hand through his messy head before continuing “a vampire” he admits in a whisper, almost sounding ashamed.

The room spins. You stumble back, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps as the world tilts around you. "N-no…no, you can’t be” you whisper, shaking your head as tears blur your vision. "This isn’t real, Matt. You’re not—"

“I am-” he says softly, his voice pained. “-I didn’t want you to see me like this”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you take another step back, your legs weak beneath you. "Stay away-” you cry, your voice shaking, panic swelling in your chest. "-just…just stay back!”

Matt’s face falls, hurt flashing through his dark eyes, as he takes a small step forward, trying to reach you, you immediately flinch at his actions. "Y/N, please-" he pleads, his voice breaking.

"-don’t be scared of me”

You shake your head, overwhelmed, your legs just about ready to give out "T-this can’t be real" you whisper, your hands trembling as they rise to your face, wiping at the tears that won’t stop falling.

“I love you y/n” he whispers, his voice filled with desperation. “That hasn’t changed. Nothing’s changed. I’m still me…” he pleads "Please, don’t be afraid of me. Please don’t look at me like that” he hesitantly takes another careful step forward, resulting in you quickly backing away, creating more space between you

“Stay away from me!” you wail, your voice trembling, barely holding together. Your legs shake as you back away, your fingers clenching into fists.

Matt freezes in place

A million different thoughts raid your head as you stand there hyperventilating, before you do the only thing you can think of. Run. You bolt for the door, your breath coming out in ragged gasps.

“Wait!” Matt calls, his voice breaking, but you’re already out the door, the cold night air hitting your face as you flee down the steps. You don’t stop, the fear burning in your veins, pushing you farther away from the house, from him. The world blurs around you as you run, not knowing where you’re going—just knowing you need to get as far away from him as possible.

~~~~

a/n; thankyou for the request anon!! i can’t wait to delve deeper into vamp!matt, i kinda already have part two to this concocting in my head so lemme know if you guys want it, luv ya !

- 𝑺𝒂𝒈𝒆 ♡

MASTERLIST

tag list; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh @phone4pills @demzzz @dripgodnay

@sturniooolos @monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @slutforsturnioloss @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4

@brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @fratbrochrisgf @mattslolita

[storyscribeforthesentiment]

The Detective & The Dark Knight - Chapter 6

Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal murders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!main character

Author’s note: I've been meaning to post this for days! Prepare for lots of tension & anxiety as Marie finds out who the man behind the mask really is.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings/tags: mentions of gun violence, police bribes, fighting, murder

Chapter List

Marie stumbled into the precinct, barely managing to down her coffee in one gulp as she weaved between desks. The place was alive with the usual chaos of the early morning shift — phones ringing, papers shuffling, cops yelling at each other over case files.

Her head throbbed from lack of sleep, her body protesting the nonstop grind, but this was Gotham. There was no pause button.

“Another late night with your millionaire boyfriend, Manning?” Harvey Bullock’s gruff voice broke through the noise. He was leaning back in his chair, half-smirking, a toothpick hanging from his mouth.

His desk was a mess of takeout containers and open case files, but that was Bullock for you — rough around the edges but sharp where it mattered.

Marie shot him a sideways glance, her exhaustion momentarily lifting as she fired back, “Billionaire boyfriend.” she corrected, her voice dry but playful. She couldn’t help the small smirk that followed, despite the exhaustion gnawing at her.

Bullock raised his hands in mock surrender, his lips curling into a grin. “My mistake! Didn’t mean to downgrade Gotham’s golden boy.”

Marie rolled her eyes, shaking her head at his usual banter. As much as Bullock could be a pain, his sarcasm was one of the few constants around here, and she appreciated it more than she’d admit. Passing his desk, she noticed the grease-stained paper bag sitting atop his mess of files.

“Already on the burgers, Bullock?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Breakfast of champions,” he shot back with a wink, holding up a half-eaten sandwich.

“Gonna kill you one day,” she muttered before walking on, though she couldn't help but shake her head at the man’s complete disregard for his arteries.

“Manning.” Gordon’s voice cut through the banter, calm but firm. He was standing outside his office, arms crossed, a thin layer of weariness clinging to him.

Marie straightened, her mood instantly sobering as she met his eyes. He gave her a quick nod, signaling her to follow. She took a breath, nodded in return, and made her way to his office.

Once inside, she saw the mess of Red Lotus case files scattered across his desk. The room smelled faintly of old coffee and paper, the remnants of long nights spent chasing ghosts and leads that seemed to disappear the moment they were found.

She slumped into the chair across from Gordon, her body still sore from last night’s kickboxing session. Bruce had volunteered to be her sparring partner, and to her surprise, he was far more skilled than she’d expected.

She knew he worked out, but the way he moved—fluid, precise, like a seasoned martial artist—had caught her off guard. Turns out, Bruce Wayne was full of surprises.

“Have you slept at all?” she asked Gordon, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. He didn’t answer immediately. He was rubbing his temple, his focus glued to the papers in front of him, his glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose.

“Not much,” he finally muttered, leaning back and exhaling deeply. “We’re close on this one, Manning. Too close to stop now.”

Marie glanced down at the files, her brain kicking back into detective mode despite the fog of fatigue clouding her thoughts. "You piecing something together?"

Gordon leaned forward, hands resting on the desk as he rubbed his temple again, clearly tired but determined. “Cobblepot’s little outburst at the Iceberg Lounge got me thinking. He said something about someone using the chaos of the Red Lotus murders to settle old scores... leverage it, even. They’re covering their tracks while making moves of their own.”

Marie’s brow furrowed. She recalled Cobblepot’s cryptic words, the way he seemed to almost enjoy dangling just enough information to stay out of trouble. “Right. He practically confirmed the murders are part of a bigger plan... someone trying to frame Falcone.”

Gordon nodded, his jaw tight. “Exactly. Someone’s orchestrating this whole mess, using the killings to throw us off. Falcone’s empire is a mess right now, and whoever’s behind it is taking full advantage.”

Marie bit her lip, her mind already working through the possibilities. “It’s gotta be Maroni. He’s the only one with the guts to make a move like this against Falcone. The way these bodies keep showing up? It’s too convenient.”

Gordon let out a tired sigh, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, well, if we push too hard, Maroni’s going to know we’re onto him. He’s not the type to sit back and wait. We’re talking about a full-blown war, Manning. And he’s not afraid to put a bullet in a cop’s head if he feels cornered.”

Marie clenched her fists, feeling the frustration bubble beneath her skin. “That bastard’s not getting away with this.”

Gordon raised a brow, his expression softening a little. “I know you’re eager to take him down, but we have to be smart about this. If Maroni even suspects we’re closing in, he’ll disappear, and we’ll be back to square one.”

Marie slumped back in her chair, rubbing the back of her neck. “I get it. I just... I can’t stand feeling like we’re always one step behind.”

Gordon gave her a long look before shifting the conversation. “How are things with Bruce?”

The question caught her off guard. Her posture stiffened for a moment, and she hesitated before answering. “It’s... good.” She smiled before continuing, “Almost too good, you know? Feels like something’s bound to go wrong.”

Gordon gave her a knowing smile, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. “Listen, Manning. Life’s messy. It doesn’t hand you perfect balance on a silver platter. You’ve got something good going on right now. Don’t spend too much time worrying about when the other shoe’s going to drop. Enjoy it while you can.”

Marie felt a pang in her chest at his words, a sense of dread she couldn’t quite shake. “Yeah... I hear you. It’s just... complicated.”

“Life always is, especially in this career.” Gordon said, his voice softer now. He glanced at the case files, then back at her. “But complicated doesn’t mean it’s not worth fighting for. You know that better than most.”

Marie met his eyes and nodded, appreciating the brief moment of humanity in the middle of their relentless pursuit of Gotham’s worst. The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of both their words and the case looming large over them.

"Alright," Gordon said after a beat, his tone shifting back to business. "We need to be careful about our next move. If we’re right, and Maroni’s behind this, the whole city’s gonna blow up. We’ve got to be ready. I’m heading to his side of town today, I’m planning to interview him about the cases."

Marie frowned, crossing her arms. "You don’t want me to go, boss?"

"Absolutely not," Gordon shook his head. "If Maroni’s involved, he’s probably been tracking everything. The moment you walk in, he’ll know he’s under our microscope. You’re the lead on this case—he’s got eyes on you. But he doesn’t know I’m in the loop yet. I can play it off like I’m just checking in on folks who know Falcone, make it look routine."

Marie nodded, her exhaustion fading as determination set in. "Just be careful. He’s not the type to leave loose ends."

Gordon grunted in agreement, giving her a knowing look. As tangled as their lives were, as grueling as Gotham’s streets could be, backing down wasn’t an option. Not for either of them. Not now. Not ever.

—-------------------------------

At Wayne Manor, Bruce stood in the Batcave, his eyes fixed on the glowing monitors that filled the room with their eerie blue light. Crime reports flooded the screens, each one a new reminder of the chaos that plagued Gotham, but his mind was elsewhere. Tonight, he had made a decision that had been weighing on him for weeks. He was going to tell Marie the truth.

For too long, he had lived with the lie, balancing his double life with increasing difficulty. But Marie wasn’t just another person in Gotham. She mattered to him, and he couldn’t keep deceiving her. She deserved to know who he really was.

Bruce stood from his seat, his heart racing as the weight of his decision settled over him like a heavy cloak. He cast one last glance at the case files spread across the Batcave’s central table before closing them.

Alfred stood there, waiting as though he could sense the inner turmoil swirling inside Bruce. He raised an eyebrow, his usual air of quiet wisdom about him.

"Are you sure about this, Master Wayne?" Alfred asked, his voice calm but tinged with the concern of a father figure who had seen Bruce through too many dark nights. "Once you tell her, there’s no going back. The truth... well, it has a way of reshaping everything."

Bruce clenched his fists, the tension in his muscles taut, as if the armor he often wore had seeped into his very being. "I’ve been lying to her for too long, Alfred. Every time I look at her, I feel like I’m betraying her. She thinks she knows me, but she’s only seen half the truth." His voice wavered slightly, betraying the raw emotion he so often buried deep inside. "Marie deserves to know everything."

Alfred studied him carefully, his gaze softening as he took in the sight of his surrogate son, visibly struggling. "And what if the truth isn’t what she wants to hear?" he asked, his voice gentle but pointed. "Are you prepared for that?"

Bruce swallowed hard. "I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me for hiding this from her. She trusted me... trusted Bruce. What if... what if she hates me for lying to her like this?"

Alfred’s eyes softened with empathy. He stepped closer, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. "Miss Manning is a strong woman, Bruce, and a fair one. I don’t believe she’ll hate you. She may feel betrayed, yes, but hate? No. It’s not in her nature."

Bruce’s jaw tightened, but the vulnerability in his eyes betrayed the fear he’d been carrying. "What if this is it? What if I ruin everything? I can’t... I can’t lose her, Alfred."

Alfred exhaled softly, squeezing Bruce’s shoulder reassuringly. "Master Wayne, love is a complicated thing. It’s messy, as you well know. But if there’s one thing I’ve observed, it’s that Miss Manning cares deeply for you—for Bruce and for Batman, even if she doesn’t know they’re one and the same. You’ve fought battles, both of you, in your own ways. This will be just another one to face together."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, the weight of Alfred’s words sinking in, though the anxiety still gnawed at his core. "I’ve faced criminals who would kill me without blinking. But this? Telling her the truth?" He shook his head. "I’m terrified, Alfred. She’ll look at me, and everything will change. She won’t see Bruce anymore."

Alfred’s lips curled into a faint smile, though it was tinged with sadness. "Perhaps, Master Wayne, it’s time for her to see all of you. The man beneath the mask. The one who’s been carrying this burden alone for too long."

When Bruce didn’t respond, Alfred stepped forward, his calm demeanor grounding Bruce’s chaotic thoughts. "Bruce, Miss Manning is no stranger to the complexities of Gotham. She’s seen her share of darkness. I dare say, she’s faced it head-on in her line of work."

"That’s different," Bruce snapped, but the desperation in his voice was clear. "She deals with criminals, with the scum of this city, but this... this is me. She’s never seen me like that. I’m not just handing her the truth—I’m giving her everything. The rage, the guilt, the weight of it all. And I don’t know if she can handle that."

Alfred remained still, his eyes never leaving Bruce’s. "You underestimate her, sir. Miss Manning is stronger than you think. She might surprise you."

Bruce shook his head again, more frustrated with himself than anything. "She deserves better than this—better than the lies, better than the secrets. I don’t know if I’m being selfish, wanting to keep her close, knowing what it’ll do to her once she knows."

"You’re afraid she’ll run," Alfred said quietly, his words cutting to the heart of the matter.

Bruce met his gaze, the truth of it settling heavy in his chest. "Yes."

Alfred sighed, walking closer, his expression softening even further. "Master Wayne, you may carry burdens too heavy for most, but that doesn’t mean you need to carry them alone. Miss Manning... well, she may be more prepared for that than you think."

Bruce swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the conversation. He wasn’t worried she’d see him as weak. He was scared that when she saw him completely—both Bruce Wayne, with his broken facade, and Batman, driven by vengeance—it would ruin the image she had of him. He feared the truth might be too overwhelming for her and that it could drive them apart.

—-------------------------------

Marie stepped into Wayne Manor, feeling the familiar warmth of the place wrap around her. The stress of the day began to slip away as she spotted Bruce standing near the foyer, his tall frame dressed in dark slacks and a wool sweater, perfectly casual but still effortlessly composed. The sight of him always had that effect on her, like her world could pause for a moment just by being near him.

She smiled, her steps quickening as she closed the distance between them. Without hesitation, she slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him into a hug, pressing her cheek against his chest. Bruce stiffened for a second, then slowly relaxed into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, holding her close.

“God, I needed this,” she murmured into his chest, her voice muffled but content. “You wouldn’t believe the day I had.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Bruce’s hand gently stroked her back, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles that made her melt further into him. She could feel his heartbeat under her cheek, steady and strong, but there was something different about it tonight. A slight tension, an unease she couldn’t quite place.

Marie pulled back slightly, her arms still around his waist, and tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked softly, her brow creased with concern. “You feel... tense.”

Bruce didn’t respond right away, his eyes flickering with an intensity she rarely saw in moments like these. Instead of answering, he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss, his hands sliding up to cradle her face. The kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant, as though he was trying to lose himself in the moment. But it deepened quickly, the unspoken weight of what he wasn’t saying bleeding into the way his lips moved against hers.

Marie sighed into the kiss, her hands tightening around him as she leaned up on her toes to pull him closer. She didn’t mind the sudden shift; in fact, she welcomed it, feeling the connection between them grow stronger with each passing second. For a brief moment, everything felt right—the world faded away, and all that existed was the warmth between them.

But when they finally broke apart, Bruce’s eyes were still clouded with that same tension. His forehead rested against hers, his breath heavy as if he’d been holding something in for far too long.

Marie’s hand slid down to his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath her palm. “Bruce,” she whispered, her voice filled with both tenderness and concern. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

He hesitated, his grip on her tightening. “I’m fine,” he murmured, though the strain in his voice betrayed him. “I just want to hear about your day first.”

Marie frowned, studying his face. She knew him well enough to tell when he was deflecting. She pressed her palm more firmly against his chest, her thumb brushing over the fabric of his sweater. “No, something’s wrong. I can feel it. Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

Bruce exhaled slowly, his jaw clenched as if he were fighting an internal battle. His hand dropped from her face to hold her hand, squeezing it lightly. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice low, almost reluctant. “Something I’ve been keeping from you.”

Her stomach tightened at his words. She stared up at him, her mind racing as she tried to read his expression. “Bruce, whatever it is... you can tell me. I’m here.”

His eyes softened for a moment, but the weight of what he had to say was clear. He brought her hand to his chest, holding it there like an anchor. “I should’ve told you a long time ago, Marie. This... changes everything.”

Before he could continue, Marie’s phone buzzed in her pocket, startling them both. She sighed, reluctant to break the moment, but when she saw Gordon’s name flashing on the screen, her heart sank.

“Shit,” she muttered, glancing at Bruce with an apologetic look before answering the call. “Gordon, what is it?”

“Marie, we’ve got another body at the docks,” Gordon said, his voice serious. “You need to get down here. This one’s big.”

Marie’s chest tightened with frustration as she glanced back at Bruce, her heart torn. “I’m sorry, Bruce,” she said, her voice soft but filled with regret. “I have to go. It’s the case.”

Bruce nodded, his tension evident in his clenched jaw. “Of course. Be safe.”

She stepped away, but not before placing one last lingering kiss on his lips, as if to reassure him. “We’ll finish this, I promise,” she whispered, before heading out the door.

As she stepped out into the night, Bruce watched her go, the words he’d intended to say still trapped in his throat. The silence of the manor pressed in around him, heavy with unspoken truths. With a deep breath, he turned and headed straight for the Batcave. If Marie was going to the docks, he’d follow—but not as Bruce Wayne.

—-------------------------------

The Gotham Docks were shrouded in an oppressive fog, the mist wrapping the scene in a ghostly pallor. Marie’s footsteps echoed eerily as she approached the deserted crime scene, her pulse quickening with each step. The eerie quiet felt wrong—no flashing lights, no yellow tape, no usual hum of police activity. The stillness was unsettling.

As she approached, her heart dropped at the sight of Gordon, slumped in a chair, his face swollen and bloodied beyond recognition. Panic surged through her veins as she rushed to his side.

“Gordon!” she gasped, grabbing his shoulder, her voice laced with urgency. “What the hell happened? Where’s the body?”

Gordon’s head lifted slowly, his swollen eyes barely open. His voice was a raspy whisper. “Marie... it’s a trap. Maroni... he made me lie. There’s no body.”

Before he could finish, a voice, as slick as oil, cut through the fog. Maroni emerged from the shadows, his grin sharp and menacing, his goons flanking him.

“Ah, Detective Manning,” Maroni drawled, relishing every syllable. “So glad you could join us. Gordon here has been very cooperative. His acting was almost believable, wasn’t it?”

Marie’s eyes narrowed, her fingers twitching around the grip of her gun. “What are you talking about, Maroni? What the hell is this?”

Maroni’s laugh was low and guttural. “The Red Lotus killings, Detective, were my little work of art. A way to shake up the city. You and your little friends kept sticking your noses where they didn’t belong, and now... you’re going to pay for it.”

“Why? Why kill all those people?” Marie’s voice cracked with anger.

“It’s simple,” Maroni sneered. “When you control the chaos, you control the city. Falcone was getting too comfortable at the top, but now... I’m the one pulling the strings.”

“You’re insane,” Marie spat, her hand tightening on her weapon. “You won’t get away with this.”

Maroni’s smile widened. “Oh, but I already have.”

He gave a small nod to his men, and they descended on Gordon, beating him with merciless precision. The brutal sounds of fists meeting flesh echoed across the docks, making Marie’s heart race. She aimed her gun, her mind focused only on survival, on taking out as many of them as she could.

A shot rang out, and one of Maroni’s thugs fell, but there were too many. They closed in, forcing her back. Maroni was still laughing, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Suddenly, a shadow moved in the fog, swift and brutal. Batman appeared like a force of nature, emerging from the darkness with calculated precision. His cape whipped around him, cloaking Marie as he positioned himself between her and the advancing thugs.

"Stay behind me," Batman growled, his voice low and protective, a command more than a request.

Marie’s heart raced, but she didn’t argue. She knew better than to question him in the middle of a fight. Batman was already moving, a force of nature unleashed on Maroni’s men. His body twisted and turned with brutal precision, blocking a punch meant for her and retaliating with a strike that sent the thug crumpling to the ground. The sound of bone crunching under his fist was drowned out by the chaos of the battle around them.

The docks echoed with the grunts and shouts of Maroni’s crew, but none of them could stand up to Batman. He was a whirlwind of motion—disarming guns with a single swipe, breaking limbs with ease, and flooring anyone foolish enough to challenge him. Thugs came at him from all angles, but he fought them off like it was second nature, each strike efficient, each movement perfectly calculated.

Yet something wasn’t right.

Marie noticed it first in the subtle shift of his movements—still powerful, but slower than she’d ever seen. His strikes weren’t as sharp, his dodges not as precise. And then she saw it—the flash of a blade in the midst of the brawl.

One of Maroni’s men had gotten too close. Too close for Batman to react in time.

The thug plunged a knife deep into Batman’s side, the sharp edge slicing through the armored fabric with a sickening sound. Marie’s breath hitched as she saw the blade sink in, the shock of it mirrored in the sudden pause of Batman’s movements. He staggered for only a moment, his gloved hand instinctively pressing against the wound, but in the chaos, he didn’t stop. There was no time to register pain, no time to falter.

But the damage was done.

Blood seeped from the gash, staining the dark fabric of his suit. Each punch, each kick, pulled the wound open wider, and though he fought to keep going, the toll it was taking on him became clear. His jaw clenched in pain, muscles tensing under the strain, but Batman didn’t let up. He couldn’t—not with Marie still in the thick of it.

Marie’s eyes darted between him and the thugs swarming around them. She could see it now—the way he was favoring his injured side, the subtle stumble in his step as he tried to push through the pain. Batman was still dominating the fight, but he was weakening, his strength fading with every passing second.

A thug wielding a steel pipe rushed him from the side. Batman blocked the blow with his forearm, but the effort cost him. He grunted in pain, his hand instinctively clutching his side as his body swayed. The thug seized the opportunity, landing a brutal kick to his ribs.

The impact sent Batman stumbling back, his boot scraping against the concrete as he struggled to stay upright. His vision blurred for a moment, the edges of his focus dimming as the pain from the wound radiated through his body. He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, but the pain only grew worse. He could feel the blood soaking through his suit, warm and sticky, making every movement a challenge.

"Batman!" Marie’s voice cut through the chaos, filled with alarm. She saw the blood now, trickling down his side and pooling beneath him.

Another thug came at him, swinging wildly with a crowbar, but Batman was slower this time. He managed to deflect the first hit, but the second strike caught him square in the shoulder. He staggered again, his balance faltering, and for the first time, Marie saw something she never thought possible.

Batman was losing.

“Batman!” she called out again, her voice more urgent, but he was already in motion, his focus locked on his attackers despite the obvious strain. He gritted his teeth, lunging forward to drive an elbow into one thug’s face, sending him crashing to the floor. But it was taking everything he had left.

Batman faltered, dropping to one knee. Another hit landed—this time a solid punch to his jaw that snapped his head to the side. Marie’s heart raced as she watched him stagger, his strength quickly draining. She could see the blood trailing down the side of his face, and the way his chest heaved in uneven breaths. He was hurt. Badly.

With her remaining rounds, Marie was able to shoot a handful of Maroni’s men, though more were advancing on them.

“Get out of here!” Batman growled, his voice strained, almost pleading. “It’s not safe. I can’t hold them off much longer.”

“I’m not leaving you!” Marie shouted, her voice thick with fear. She could see Batman staggering, the blood soaking through his suit, his strength fading.

The remaining thugs, sensing their chance, converged on Batman and Marie. He fought back with everything he had left, but it wasn’t enough. A vicious blow knocked him to the ground, and he didn’t get back up. Just as they closed in for the final strike, a sudden round of gunshots rang out.

Gordon, with a final burst of strength, lifted his weapon and fired. The bullets found their marks, dropping the remainder of the men in rapid succession. The recoil sent a jolt through Gordon’s already battered body, and as the last thug fell, he slumped over, unconscious.

Marie’s heart raced as she watched Gordon collapse, but her focus shifted instantly to Batman. She had half a mind to look for Maroni, though she figured he was probably long gone. The real priority was Batman, who was losing blood fast.

She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands trembling as she pressed them to his wounds, trying to stop the bleeding.

“No… no.” Marie’s voice shook as her trembling hands pressed down hard. “You’re gonna be okay. Just hold on.” Her voice broke despite her best efforts to stay calm.

His breaths were shallow, pained, each one more labored than the last. When he finally lifted his head, it was slow, almost too slow. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, were glassy with exhaustion and pain.

Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out everything but the sound of Batman’s ragged breathing beneath her fingers. 

“I can’t do this job without you.” She said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Placing his hand over hers on the wound, Batman spoke, “Marie...” His voice was a rasp, barely audible. He winced, his mouth twitching in a grimace. “I wanted to tell you... I wanted to...”

“No.” She shook her head, her vision blurring with tears that she couldn’t hold back any longer. “Don’t talk. Just save your strength. Help is on the way. You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

But Bruce’s eyes were starting to lose focus, his gaze drifting as though he were looking somewhere far beyond her. His hand, slick with blood, trembled as it lifted, reaching up weakly toward his mask.

The motion was slow, hesitant, as though he were still deciding whether or not to go through with it.

Marie’s stomach twisted at the sight. “No... no, don’t.” Her voice was barely a whisper now, thick with fear and confusion.

But he kept going, pulling weakly at the mask with trembling fingers. His hand faltered, and for a moment, Marie thought he didn’t have the strength to finish.

She reached out instinctively, catching his hand as if to stop him, but Bruce shook his head, a soft, barely-there motion.

“Marie,” he whispered again, his voice cracking with the weight of everything he hadn’t said. “You need to know...”

Her heart stopped as she watched him. Her mind raced, trying to process what was happening, but it felt like the world was collapsing around her. She watched helplessly as, with a final tug, he pulled the mask off, revealing the battered face of Bruce Wayne beneath.

For a second, Marie just stared. Her breath caught in her throat, and her mind struggled to connect what she was seeing with the man she thought she knew. “Bruce?” The word slipped out, barely a breath, as if saying it would somehow make it less real.

Bruce’s eyes met hers, bloodshot and full of pain. “I wanted to tell you,” he repeated, his voice hoarse. “So many times... I just couldn’t.”

Marie’s tears fell freely now, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. “Why didn’t you?” she choked out, her hands still pressing against his wound, desperate to keep him here, to keep him alive. “Why didn’t you trust me?”

“I did trust you,” Bruce whispered, his hand weakly gripping hers. “But I was scared... scared of losing you... if you knew... everything.”

Marie shook her head, disbelief and hurt swirling with the fear that now coursed through her veins—the fear of losing not just Batman, but Bruce too. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, the weight of the betrayal cutting deep. “All those times... Bruce, why didn’t you just tell me?”

Bruce’s breathing grew shallower, his strength fading with each passing second. “I didn’t want you to be a part of this... of my world. It’s too dangerous. You deserve better.”

Marie bit her lip, fighting back a sob as she leaned closer, her hand cradling his face gently. “I don’t care about being safe. I care about you, Bruce. You didn’t have to carry this alone.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, his body trembling under her touch. “I couldn’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Stop,” she pleaded, her voice breaking as she leaned down, pressing her forehead against his. “You’re not losing me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. Just hang on. Help’s coming.”

Bruce’s hand reached up to brush the tear from her cheek, his touch weak but filled with tenderness. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “For everything.”

Marie shook her head, her tears falling onto his face. “Don’t apologize. Just stay with me. Please.”

But Bruce’s eyes were drifting shut again, his breathing growing more shallow.

He was slipping away, and there was nothing she could do but hold onto him, her heart breaking as she watched the man she loved fighting to stay alive.

“Damn it, Bruce. Don’t do this,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. Her tears fell freely, mingling with the sweat and grime on his face.

The sound of sirens approached, their flashing lights cutting through the fog. Marie scrambled to her feet, waving her arms frantically to flag down the approaching ambulance.

She felt a brief surge of hope as the sound of approaching ambulances cut through the night air. But when she turned back to where Bruce had been lying, her heart plummeted—he was gone.

The spot was empty, the blood on the ground the only trace that he’d ever been there.

Her eyes darted frantically through the thick fog, searching for any sign of him, her breath quickening as panic set in.

But there was nothing—only the swirling mist, thick and unforgiving, swallowing everything in its path.

“Bruce!” she cried out, her voice breaking with fear and desperation. She strained her ears for any response, but there was only silence.

The fog closed in around her, heavy and oppressive, and with it came the gut-wrenching realization that he had used the last of his strength to disappear into the night.

[luboy7rt]

Trios You Would be in Within COD Ghosts Headcanons - (GN Teammate!Reader)

Note: These are Headcanons of what trios including you would be like.

(Includes: Elias Walker & Gabriel T. Rorke, Logan Walker & David ‘Hesh’ Walker, Keegan P. Russ & Alex V. ‘Ajax’ Johnson, Thomas A. Merrick & Keegan P. Russ and Kick & Neptune.

Elias Walker & Gabriel T. Rorke

(Pre-Federation) 

- In the past before Rorke was brainwashed, Elias, Rorke and you would indeed have been a trio. What happens in this trio? Chaos. Pure chaos, Rorke Is a stern leader, who keeps smugly bringing you and Elias into everything he does. You don't have much choice in the matter even if Rorke gives you a ‘choice’, you and Elias are going along for the ride.

- You three would be on missions together always, even if Merrick, Ajax or the others were There? You three always ended up grouping up together, sometimes separated from the group but you all always just.. pop up at the end of the missions.

- There is some funny moments involved with being in a trio with those two, like Rorke just says.. the most cursed shit (no warning involved, could just be random by just glancing at something and blurting out whatever he suddenly thought confidently with no regret no matter how cursed), Elias just looks unamused by it all and you are there either making it worse or better.

- Elias does look up to Rorke, you probably do too If you also follow his command. Rorke tries his best to be a good leader, he's confident in his skills and does try to keep his teammates, Elias and you safe.

- During battles, even if you don't need help or to be watched over by Elias or Rorke. They end up watching over you, and each other. You three always have eachothers back, but the two can end up being aggressively overbearing over the years. Such as: 

“Are you fuckin’ alive?” - Rorke would groan out over the comms everytime he loses sight of you.

“I don't know, – might be? Probably. They'll pop up sooner or later” - Elias would be quick to attempt to reassure Rorke that you were probably fine.

“Fuckin’ great. Might my ass. Get your ass over here..! The fuck you doing all the way over there!?” - Rorke when he spots you from afar, giving you a firm middle finger, wags it about so you could see it. (He won't care if he also gets enemy soldiers attention with that move either)

That's basically how conversations go, constantly. On field and off field. 

- Bar buddies, even if you don't drink. That's alright, but just enjoying each other's company. The other two are drinking but slowly. Elias drinks slower while Rorke would start slow but end up drinking faster and more throughout the night. (The walk back to base? takes hours of pure military stupidity. No common sense, just stumbling between each other giggling like children) 

(After the Federation)

- Things were never the same between you three, Elias and you drifted apart a bit, Rorke... of course wasn't himself. He hated you both but also had a deep obsession. Rorke makes snarky comments whenever he does see Elias and you, making sure you both know how you ‘betrayed’ him. Elias could never end up killing Rorke, that is his weakness, his regrets… and You? You have to watch it all.

Logan Walker & David ‘Hesh’ Walker:

- Being in a trio with these two is rough, Hesh is the leader, anything Hesh says Logan does and you follow. It's basically a big game of ‘we are doin’ this guys’

‘Sure.’ and nods in response. No questions asked.

- Play fights are a thing, off field only though. Where it's usually Hesh teasing or attempting to pick on Logan, like pushing his head down or elbowing him. Making Logan stumble into you, then you tripping over Riley and it just turns into a hectic ‘sparring’ match between you four. These are the moments Hesh enjoys most, just laughing and grinning with the people he is close with.

- You would definitely take a few road trips whenever there are no missions, it's a chaotic mess, the car volume blasting out songs, the windows rolled down all the way, snacks half open or half eaten. Riley in the back trying to ‘fight’ the wind to keep his face out the window but Hesh is driving a bit too fast so it just looks like the wind is assaulting Riley's face and making the dog do the weirdest faces. Logan gets some photos from sticking his phone out the window. 80% chance he drops his phone and you all have to take a U-turn to go get it back.

- Logan would gently bonk Your head whenever he walks by, because Hesh does the same thing to him. Even if you look un-amused, he just does it a bit harder to push your head down. Even if you start doing it back to him, it becomes a ‘battle’ of wills between you three, who could give the most head pats/head shoves. It's the way they show affection. If you don’t end up liking this habit? He just awkwardly hovers his hand over your head, like he really wants to do it, but also respects you enough to fight himself and not impulsively smack your head,

- Clothes go missing or get stolen all the time between you three, a hat? Shirts? Jackets, gloves? Any type of gear? Whatever is yours is also theirs and whatever is theirs is also yours. finding Riley flopped on top of a pile of missing belongings is the norm as Riley ensures to steal anything he could get his paws on too.

- You would get used to the way Logan and Hesh can communicate with looks, at first you would be like what the actual fuck? But over time you start understanding and using it too. The side-eyes, twitches of an eyebrow, when they bite the inside of their mouth. There are all ways to get the point across, sometimes Logan just blank stares whenever he thinks someone has said something completely stupid, like he will slowly turn to face you and just blank. Nothing across his face except a small eye glance toward the person before staring back at you and he knows you know what he's already thinking. It takes all willpower for Hesh and you to not full-blown cackle. 

Keegan P. Russ & Alex V. ‘Ajax’ Johnson

- Keegan ‘can't’ drive, Ajax can (Safer Option). But somehow, Keegan always ends up driving, you end up in the backseat and Ajax holding onto the car handle for dear life in the passenger seat. Ajax always, doesn't matter how many times he has been in the car with Keegan, glances back at you with a look that says are we seriously letting Keegan drive? Yes. You three end up surviving, Keegan can drive but it is also hell depending on the time of day and the mission. Keegan is relaxing when you and Ajax are having the adrenaline rush of your lives. 

You can't even suggest someone else drive as Keegan puts his attention on you instead of the road. Looking at you offended while Ajax grabs the wheel because Keegan is too busy giving you a nasty look with a raised eyebrow. Are you really suggesting he can't drive? He can drive, you want him not to drive? He's hands are off the wheel. But he laughs and puts them back when Ajax smacks him for that and he will go back to driving. No one brings up Keegan’s driving skills after that as Keegan… Doesn't seem to care how dangerous it is when he ‘stops’ driving suddenly. (But he does do his best to keep you all safe, even if he drives crazily he still knows what he is doing despite scaring you and Ajax)

- Have you ever seen two grown men (+ you) cuddle? Now you have. Ajax, you and Keegan probably have known each other for a long time, it started with Ajax and Keegan just sharing a bed. Keegan taking the cold side alone, Ajax not minding where he sleeps but it started off like this, You somehow joined at the right time and now it’s just the norm to sleep in the same bed. Even if it's not always cuddling (Keegan likes his personal space, Ajax wouldn’t mind though as long as you're not being overbearing). Keegan’s leg always sneaks over the two of you during the night anyway, like he's trying to ensure you're still there with him. This tactical sleeping habit ensures no enemy will suddenly take you three out (That’s what Keegan says anyway. You three end up referring to this as tactical sleeping habit in front of others, and never once do you all admit to what this actually means.) (Everyone else just assumes you three just never let your guards down and actually have tactical sleeping habits to ensure your safety, but nah its just the homies sharing a bed)

- Keegan randomly shit-talks people, just randomly shows up between you and Ajax he would be quiet for a moment, a pause of a moment to wait for either of you to notice him. When neither of you two notice him, he just starts talking about some stupid shit he saw a rookie do. Ajax usually listens along and maybe does encourage Keegan to keep going, because when Keegan starts complaining, he usually comes up with unique and hilarious insults that Ajax loves to hear. You are usually dragged right in between them because they also want to hear what you think and if you would also join the shit-talking.

- Pats. Pats are a big thing between Ajax, Keegan and you. Ajax walks past you or Keegan, you'll be on the receiving end of a back pat from him to just silently let you know he is there. Keegan would nudge the butt of his weapon against your upper back as he walks past or his knuckles brushing your lower back. Its juet small touches like these that you three would exchange often.

- They also head to the bar often, if you don't drink that's alright with them, you can be their ride home because they get absolutely hammered. It starts off easy, then Ajax makes a bet that he could do more shots than Keegan, then it gets competitive then you're hauling both their asses back to base at the end of the night.

- Ajax used to drag Keegan home for the holidays, knowing Keegan didn’t have a place for himself. He ended up seeing you at base one year before they left and dragged you along. You and Keegan end up meeting Ajax’s family and are invited every year until… Ajax dies. Sometimes after his death, Keegan and you would still visit to pay your respects and care for Ajax’s family despite the fact Keegan always turns down invitations to join the family get-to-together, he feels like it wouldn't be right to join when he 'let' Ajax die in his arms. (:Sorry)

Thomas A. Merrick & Keegan P. Russ

- Honestly? It's Merrick who is the most protective in this trio, he doesn't stand by someone trying to start shit with you or Keegan, he will just put his own body in front of yours or Keegans if he thinks you are in some sort of danger/trouble. 

- Keegan is a silent protector, he has yours and Merrick's back, always. No issues for him, he simply always ensures that you're both cared for under his watchful eye.

- Merrick always calls for you or Keegan to do tasks, he knows the other Ghosts could do it, but he relies on you both the most because he just knows he could always trust your judgment/calls. It's his first instinct to call for either Keegan or you.

- Merrick does take Keegan with him on holidays (Especially after Ajax's death). (Whoever said Merrick is definitely a widower I agree so much. I'm sorry I can't remember/find where I first saw the Headcanon). But yes, Merrick usually brings Keegan with him, and he would invite you along as well. Usually takes you both out for breakfast, or a small trip just the three of you. Merrick refuses to let you or Keegan pay for a thing, he just waves a hand at you and shrugs you off if you even attempt to while he pulls out his wallet.

- Picnics. Definitely between the three of you, just taking a moment to yourselves away from the constant chaos that is your lives. It usually just happens in silence, after a few hours. You would be laid in the grass together watching the sun set, then stargaze. During these rare moments of silence, it’s just you three. A rare moment of happiness just you three share, while Merrick calls out whatever constellations he could spot. Even moves his hand infront of your eyes to lead your eyes to also seeing it. Keegan ends up pointing out a few he knows from the last time you guys did this, making sure to remember whatever Merrick points out. 

Kick & Neptune

- Kick is the chaotic one in the trio, Neptune the blunt no bullshit guy and you? Are you along for a chaotic ride with these two?

- They will also judge others together. If you are not around they wait for you just to spill any dirt (they find alot of things on people that they shouldn’t know) they dug up on a poor soul.

- They definitely have some intel/technology talks. (Even if you can or cannot fathom what they are talking about). They don't mind to much, well Kick would try and explain it (if you can't understand still he tries again.. and Again.. and again) Neptune would just sip his coffee in the background listening, doesn't even offer his input even if he could help You understand.

- I can't think of anything of these two as they aren't very known but I just wanted to let you all know that I wanted to add them anyway.

(Might add more to this, might not. Thanks for reading)

[zaldritzosrose]

Joyride (Sihtric x OC!Sigyn)

Hello! This is fic number one in my Milestone Celebration! Thank you to the amazing @foxyanon for requesting this and for giving me the chance to debut my OC Sigyn (Uhtred's eldest daughter with Gisela).

Summary: Sigyn is the eldest daughter of Uhtred and it's safe to say she's nothing if not wild. As for Sihtric? He finds himself drawn to her. A draw that could only have a carnal, explosive end. And they are both happily going along for the ride.

Song - Joyride by Kesha

Sigyn Face Claim is Bruna Marquezine

CW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, use of OC (Sigyn), mentions of alcohol and drinking, Sihtric being down bad for his woman, Sigyn being a wildchild, p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), car sex, using a belt as a restraint, rough sex, breeding kink, Finan giving older brother energy, Osferth being the little bro, Uhtred being oblivious.

Words: 4434

Joyride

Are you a man? ‘Cause I’m a bitch. I'm already rich, just looking for that (Mm)…

If there was one benefit to her parents owning a large house, it was the parties they were willing to throw. Inviting their friends and their children’s friends – though her little brother didn’t actually have friends old enough to attend.

There were rules, of course. More directed at Sigyn over her sister Stiorra or her younger brother, ‘Lil’ Uhtred. Not because her younger siblings didn’t misbehave, it was just that she enjoyed acting out just a little more.

Sigyn willingly gave herself the description of…messy bitch. A lifestyle she dove headfirst into. If there was a party, she was there. Dancing, drinking, smoking, you name it. Uhtred did what he could to control his daughter, but even he knew Sigyn wasn’t to be reined in.

So, when it came to the parties, Uhtred would keep an eye on Sigyn, but he did little to truly stop her from doing as she pleased. In reality, it was the lesser of two evils to just ignore it.

Tonight’s party was potentially the one she had been looking forward to for quite a while. Sigyn didn’t hide many things from her father, but her interest in one Sihtric Kjartansson was absolutely one of them.

Sihtric was the second youngest of Uhtred’s friends. Each of them had served in the Army together and had remained fast friends when they came home. Her father ran a building firm, hiring out contractors. And of course, his three new friends were first on the list to be s

It wasn’t long before the boys were coming to Uhtred’s home, eating dinner with the family and finally attending the regular and well heard of parties.

And tonight would be no different, Sigyn hoped.

This party sucks, I'm ’bout to ditch. Don't-don't-don't-don't even try to gi-give me shit…

But as it turned out, there were more of her father’s work colleagues, her mother’s book club friends and the like. Not the parties Uhtred would usually throw. But Sigyn had promised to attend and despite everything, she wouldn’t argue with her father – promises were law in their home.

The boys were there, which was a bonus. The party had been going for at least a couple of hours now. Sigyn had done the rounds, introducing herself as Uhtred’s eldest. Listening to people she barely knew prattle on about things she honestly didn’t really care about.

It wasn’t long before she was granted a reprieve, slipping outside for a moment of fresh air (or a cigarette that Uhtred pretended she didn’t smoke). Passing Osferth and Finan as she went, the elder with his arm wrapped around the younger. Sigyn could tell they were drunk, Osferth swaying a little more than Finan. Both called out to her, and they got a quick hug in return.

“Enjoying yourself boys?” Sigyn asked and they both laughed and made it well known just how well they were enjoying themselves.

“You looking for Sihtric, wee one?” Finan asked, pushing Osferth to the fridge for more beer as he focused his attention on Sigyn.

Sigyn rolled her eyes. There wasn’t much that Finan seemed to miss, it seemed. And the Irishman took her silence as a yes. The smirk was contagious, however, as he pointed to the door to the garden.

“Already outside, can’t imagine he’ll deny your company,” Finan continued, suddenly cheering as Osferth gave him another beer.

Sigyn turned for the door, not before leaning to whisper to Osferth. She had a soft spot for the youngest of ‘the boys’, it was like having another brother with only a few years between them in age.

“Be careful, okay, go get some water and some food.”

Osferth gave her a smile, taking a swig from his beer as he wandered off in the direction of the main throng of the party. Finan soon followed and Sigyn continued her path outside.

The second she stepped outside, she saw him. Silhouetted against the lights Gisela had strung up around the garden, cigarette already tucked between his fingers. She could tell he’d seen her by the slight tilt of his face in her direction.

“Took your time,” Sihtric chuckled.

He’d seen her over the last few hours. An expression of clear irritation on her face whenever some stranger decided to talk to her. Sihtric knew her well enough to know she’d rather be anywhere now but a party like this. And it was only a matter of time before she’d hide away or seek him out.

Sigyn plucked the cigarette from between his fingers and smirked as he watched her take a long drag of it. Their relationship was one of flirty words when they were together and longing thoughts when they were apart. Though neither would admit it.

I've earned the right to be-be like this. Oh, you say you love me? (That's funny). Well, so do I…

“Why did you miss me?”

Sihtric rolled his eyes, but the smile he gave her was enough of a clue. He was, however, quick to pull the cigarette back out of her hand.

There was no one else outside, the dulled thrum of the music inside the only sound know except for the click of Sihtric’s lighter.

“Think you know the answer to that, hmm?” Sihtric asked, letting the smoke trail from between his lips.

Sigyn sat down on the short, brick wall that separated the garden from the driveway and garage. Legs stretched out and crossed in front of her. She was already a few drinks deep, but it wasn’t quite enough to have her buzzing. Yet. But when Sihtric turned, standing with his legs either side her crossed ones, she felt like she’d just taken a shot. Skin flushing despite herself.

He always had this effect on her, and he knew it. Standing, sometimes, just a little too close. Just to watch her blush and try to hide her reaction. Despite her bravado, Sihtric had a way of making her feel like a lovestruck teen.

But not tonight. Tonight, she had a plan.

I'm just looking for a…Joyride, joyride…I’m just looking for a…Good time tonight…

Sihtric hadn’t hesitated to agree when she asked him to come back inside with her. Grabbing two beers as they hurried through the kitchen and into the dining room come dancefloor.

Nevertheless, it was the look of mischief in her eyes that had him curious. The loose lacing of her fingers between his. Normally, Sigyn was a lot more cautious than this. Finan and Osferth had clocked on to her relationship with Sihtric pretty quick. And she was sure her mother had noticed how she’d look at him.

Uhtred, however, remained none the wiser and Sihtric had assumed she planned to keep it that way.

But the moment an upbeat song began to play, the bass pounding through the floorboards, Sigyn had his hand tight in hers and made quick work dragging him to the dancefloor. Sihtric’s eyes moved to find Uhtred anywhere in the crowd, but it was like luck was on his side when he was nowhere to be seen.

Plus…they were only dancing.

Sigyn’s arms hung loose around his shoulders and neck, his own coming to rest on her waist. He stayed respectful, for now. Paranoia at being caught still sitting heavy in his stomach.

Soon though, the music eased his mind. The heat of Sigyn’s body so close to his had him entirely lost. Forgetting the world around them.

It wasn’t long before she closed the small distance between them, turning and pressing her body flush to his. His hands coming to rest instinctively on her body. Splayed over her stomach and biting back a groan at the warmth of her flesh beneath his palms.

Sigyn’s head rested against his chest, arms raising to hang around his neck again. Sihtric nestled his head into the crook of her neck. Breathing in her sent as his lips brushed against her heated skin gently.

Even that simple touch had desire burning in her veins. A sudden need to have more of him pressed against her, in any way she could. And she knew he felt it too. The hard bulge that now pressed against the curve of her ass told her that.

They had never gone further than heated kisses hidden away from prying eyes. But the need was also there. The longing looks the next time they met. Lingering touches when they would pass in a room.

It was only a matter of time.

The song ended and Sigyn didn’t even look at him before grabbing his hand and tugging him back out through the crowd. It was like he could feel what she wanted without words, helping her push a little more through the crowd, though he had no idea where she intended to go.

His confusion continued as she passed the stairs and continued on back outside. Thankfully, no straggling guests lingered in the kitchen to catch them passing.

“Where are we…”

But his words were cut short the second they got outside, her lips pressing to his with a hunger he hadn’t experienced from her before. He quickly had his tongue passed her lips, quickly overpowering her own and groaning at the taste of booze and tobacco.

Sihtric wrapped one arm around her waist, tapping her thigh to signal for Sigyn to jump. Her legs wrapped around his waist with ease, and Sihtric only broke their kiss to ask what he had tried before.

“Where? Tell me where?”

She could hear the desperation, the lust in his voice and she knew what he was asking without any more details.

“Driveway. Dad’s car.”

Sihtric should have stopped, questioned her. But he was too far gone with need. His feet were hurried as he made his way over, only putting Sigyn down to open the door.

The music inside was loud enough to cover the sound of the car door opening and closing. Sihtric hovered over her, the back of the car just big enough for the two of them. He was quick to connect their lips again, pushing her legs wider to slide his hips between them.

Sigyn’s hands tugged at the tie holding his hair, letting the strands fall loose and tickle at her face. She preferred him with his hair down, if she was honest. Her feet locked at his back, heels digging in.

Sihtric’s hand slipped beneath her shirt, pushing it high enough to expose the expanse of her stomach. His hands rough and warm on her skin, only fuelling the desire that burned between them.

Baby, I want you to…Rev my engine ’til you make it purr. Keep it kinky, but I come first...

Her hands were already tugging at his belt. His lips trailing down her jaw and finding heir home on her neck. Usually, Sihtric would avoid leaving marks on her. But right now, he wanted nothing more than to lay his claim.

His belt clacked open, hanging heavy his waist before he tugged it through the loops. Sihtric could see her glance at it, before looking at him. It was like their thoughts collided, her hands raising to grasp at the handle behind her. They weren’t in the perfect position for restraints, but what they got was good enough.

The thick leather wrapped around her wrists, just tight enough to pinch but not painful. The remainder of the belt hung down, just enough for Sihtric to grab on to and hold.

Her eyes trailed up to the belt, flexing her hands in fascination. But a harsh tug brought her back to reality.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” Sihtric whispered, his head lowering to nip and lick at the skin of her neck.

The words, the low timbre of his voice had her hips rolling up in search of some kind of satisfaction.

“Sihtric, please…” Sigyn whined, digging her heels into the small of his back.

Beep-beep, bitch, I'm outside. Get in, loser, for the joyride…

His chuckle was low against her throat, his tongue laving over the already reddening bite marks.

“What do you want, baby?”

Sigyn tried to lean up, to find his lips for a kiss. But Sihtric only chuckled again and pulled back. His hand released the belt, and he smiled when her bound arms stayed put.

“Say it, and you might just get it.”

She whined again, but she knew he was serious. If there was one thing she’d learned over the past few months, Sihtric liked control. To watch her squirm when he’d whisper the dirtiest things in her ear.

“I want you. I want you to touch me. Please…”

Sihtric smiled again. She’d learned his weaknesses, that was for sure. He hummed his approval as his hands found their path under her shirt again. The lacy black crop was rough under his hands as he pushed it up, exposing the plump swell of her breasts.

“Touch you where?” Sihtric whispered, his hands beginning to trace the outline of her bra.

Her body arched to meet his hands, her fingers twitching in her bindings as though she wanted to grab his hand and move his hands where she wanted them. His hips rutted against her instinctively, forgetting himself for a moment.

“Here, maybe?”

A large hand squeezed at her breast. Kneading the soft flesh in his hand. Sihtric grunted his approval as her nipple hardened under his touch.

But when her hips rolled a little more insistently, the heels of her boots biting into his back, he knew exactly what she wanted.

“Or down here? Shall I give you what you want, beautiful?”

If she wasn’t so desperate for some kind of contact, if her skin wasn’t prickled and hot with desire, Sigyn probably would have told him to shut up and stop teasing.

But she’d be damned if it didn’t feel good.

“Hands…I want your fucking hands anywhere.”

There it was. The first thing Sihtric had ever noticed was how Sigyn would look at his hands. And when they started seeing each other, how she’d always want to be able to hold them or be held.

Without a word, Sihtric trailed one hand down her body. Fingertips light as her traced the line of her skirt’s waistband. Her hips pressed up again and Sihtric was fighting against his own instincts, his own needs. Fighting a war between giving in and burying himself inside her and teasing her just that little more.

His lips followed his fingers, tracing the same path as best he could. But it was like she could read his mind, shuffling herself back just enough to give him room to fit his head and shoulders between her spread thighs.

“So, you don’t want my mouth? I thought you quite liked my mouth?”

His words were punctuated with nips and laps of his tongue against the skin of her inner thighs. Letting his free hand now grab and knead at the flesh as Sihtric rested her legs over his shoulders. His fingers hooking in the thin fabric of her panties and tearing them.

Sihtric let his lips move higher. Hot breath fanning over her already slick folds. It was torture for him as much as her, wanting to give in and taste.

“For fuck’s sake, Sihtric…” Sigyn snapped, and he knew she was as much at the end of her patience as he was.

He didn’t say a word as he licked a stripe over her slit, circling the tip of his tongue over her swollen clit. His groan of satisfaction vibrated through her body, adding fuel to the already burning fire.

“You always taste so good, baby, always so sweet and delicious.”

Sihtric’s words went straight to her core, moans slipping from her lips like the sweetest music he’d ever heard. His tongue made the same path once more before he let it delve inside. Mapping out her inner walls with well-practised ease. It didn’t matter how many times he ended up buried between her thighs, he always felt like he was as close to heaven as he could get.

Making every motherfucker turn. Fell from heaven, no, it didn’t hurt…

Sigyn’s hands twitched again, desperate to tangle in his hair as she usually did. But Sihtric’s lips suckling at her pearl was enough to distract her again. The knot in her stomach tight as she let her hips roll own against his face. His tongue lapping up everything she gave him as his fingers joined it. Slipping in and replacing his tongue as he pressed kisses to her heated skin.

His fingers were quick, impatient. The air around them was hot enough already to have windows steamed and wet. His own arousal pressed tight against the fabric of his jeans as his fingers worked her faster and closer to release.

“Yes, oh fuck…yes!”

Sihtric could already feel her walls spasming, his fingers getting immediately sucked in as her orgasm took over her body. Her hips grinding against his hand as she rode out her high. He was quick to capture her lips, swallowing the volume of her moans.

When he felt her body relax, he let his fingers slip from her. Bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean with a groan.

“Such a good girl, and so, so pretty when you come.” Sihtric praised, nuzzling his face into her neck as she panted.

Sigyn was still buzzing on her high, her head falling back as Sihtric’s lips renewed their attention on her neck. Her skin felt slick and warm, but the thick bulge pressing against her body was enough to have her stirring in desire again.

“I need you, please?” She whispered, lowering her arms and hooking them around his neck.

Sihtric’s nose traced a line up her neck, letting his teeth tug at her ear lobe before pulling back.

“Are you sure?”

They both knew it would change everything, but Sihtric couldn’t deny he had thought about finally fucking her more often than he didn’t think on it. Sigyn was quick to nod, pushing her bound hands to the nape of his neck and urging his face up to hers. They both knew each other well enough to know they were clean and Sigyn assured him she was on birth control.

Their kiss was slower, Sihtric’s hands fumbling with his jeans before slipping beneath her skirt again. She was still so sensitive that her hips chased his hand the moment his fingers grazed her mound. His free hand wrapped around his cock, soon leaning up to hover over her. Guiding his reddened tip between her folds with a drawn-out groan.

“Don’t be gentle.” Sigyn whispered, letting her legs spread as far as she could.

It was like those three words lit a spark behind Sihtric. Burying himself deep within her core in one sharp thrust. The stretch had them both groaning in unison. Sihtric’s hips beginning to rock faster and faster.

One hand gripping her thigh while the other pushed her hands back up against the car door. His breath was already heavy. Sweat beading on his skin as he grunted out her name.

“Keep your hands up and keep your eyes on me.”

His voice was already rough and thick with desire. But Sigyn did as he asked, wanting nothing more than to feel every beautiful inch of him.

Beep-beep, best night your life. Get in, loser, for the joyride…

Joyride. Get in, loser, for the joyride…

Sihtric’s pace was brutal. Pounding into her with enough force have her hands tapping against the car door. His fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh. His hand planted against the window behind her, the slicked imprint of his palm left behind.

“Sihtric…” Sigyn moaned, her eyes hardly staying open but she tried her best to keep them on Sihtric.

The clenching of his jaw as he tried to keep his desperation in check. Neither of them wanting this to end too soon.

Keep your eyes on the road. A label whore, but I'm bored of wearing clothes…

Her eyes were rolling as Sihtric dipped his head, taking her bra covered nipple into his mouth. His hips slowing just a little as he tried to prolong their pleasure.

He was thankful for the still pounding music coming from the house. He wasn’t about to be caught before he could finish what they’d started.

But Sigyn wanted more.

“Harder, please…please…” Her voice was hoarse and tight, her words barely pushing out of her throat.

Sihtric’s hand came up, loosening the belt on her wrists. He needed to feel her hands. To feel her nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders. And the moment the leather loosened; her hands were in his hair. Tugging his hair in a way that made him hiss out a mix of pleasure and pain.

Her hands continued their path down, reaching the hem of his shirt and sliding her hands up and under the fabric. Nails tracing patterns over his skin.

Sihtric’s face buried itself back into her neck, panting and growling out his pleasure. Her walls were tight around his cock, pulling him inside until he was so deep, he pulled a heavy moan from her lips.

The feel of her around him, plush walls and slick skin had his brain foggy with desire. His only focus know was filling her. Hearing his name fall from her lips, coated in desire.

You want kids? Well, I am Mother. Don't-don't-don’t-don't even try to gi-give me shit…

The mix of her hands on his skin and her core squeezing his cock, he could think of nothing more than letting himself come and spill himself inside her. To coat her walls in his release.

With a hand on her breast, squeezing hard, he began to whisper into her ear.

“Can you feel me, baby? So deep inside…I could fill you up so easily…”

His words had her digging her nails in harder. Was he really saying what she thought he was? To fill her up and coat her walls with his pearly seed?

The thought sent an unexpected wave of desire down her spine. Sigyn had never thought of herself that way. Or that Sihtric would find such things so arousing. But the idea of feeling it. Of feeling the ropes of his release painting her walls had a fresh gush of slick leaving her cunt.

“Please…fill me. Oh my god, let me feel it.”

Sihtric growled in response. Teeth scratching against her neck as his pace only quickened in a desperate need to do just that. They both knew it was just a fantasy, but it was a fantasy that had them burning even harder.

I've earned the right to be-be like this…

There was barely an inch between them. Sweat soaked bodies pressed tight against each other as Sigyn began to feel the beginnings of her second orgasm quiver through her body.

Sihtric could feel it too, the way her walls pulsed around him had his own desires curling tight at the base of his spine.

Rev my engine 'til you make it purr. Keep it kinky, but I come first…

Beep-beep, bitch, I'm outside. Get in, loser, for the joyride...

Sihtric knew he wouldn’t last much longer. But he needed to make Sigyn come again first. To feel her squeeze his cock so tight as she came around it.

“Fuck, I can feel you squeezing me…you want it that bad, babygirl?”

Sigyn could only moan his name in response, her hands tight around his back as her orgasm had her hips rocking harder against him. Seeking just enough friction to push her over the edge.

“Sihtric, oh, I’m gonna…”

Her orgasm ripped through her. Her walls so tight he could barely move as she pulled his own orgasm out of him. His hips continued to pound, the wet slaps of their joined bodies filling the car. Sihtric was sure that even the car was rocking slightly with the force.

Making every motherfucker turn. Fell from heaven, no, it didn't hurt…

Beep-beep, best night your life. Get in, loser, for the joyride…

Her name fell from his lips like a prayer. Chanting it over and over as he felt his cock pulse, spurting his seed deep inside and painting her walls for what seemed like a lifetime.

“Fuck…Sigyn…” he sighed, his forehead resting against hers.

Hair sticking to his forehead as his hips stilled. Sigyn’s hands moving to push the damp strands from his face.

They stayed still for a little while, basking in the afterglow. But they both knew their absence would soon be noted. The next question was how to…air out…the car.

“Dad won’t notice if I leave the windows open till the morning.” Sigyn whispered, feeling empty as Sihtric pulled out of her.

His seed dripped from her folds, and she was quick to find the rag Uhtred usually had in the car for cleanups to clean herself down and the seat below. She’d put the rag in the laundry before the night was over.

Sihtric made quick work of righting his clothes, before helping Sigyn with hers.

The air remained thick between them, but it was like a weight had been lifted. And at the same time, like they were now tied together intrinsically.

The windows let some fresh air in, and Sigyn breathed in a sigh before tugging Sihtric’s lips to hers in a softer, gentler kiss.

Don't even, don't, give me shit. Don't even, even, 'cause I'm a bitch…

Don't even, don't, give me shit. I'm a bi—, I'm a bitch…

They walked slowly back to the house, deciding to stop and smoke before returning to the party. Sigyn’s legs felt sore already, her steps just a little unsteady.

The two sat in a comfortable silence, free hands entwined. The only sounds coming from the clicks of the lighter and the soft exhales of their breaths. They were so lost in their thoughts that they didn’t notice two sets of eyes staring at them and giggling.

Finan and Osferth.

Sihtric was the first to notice, Osferth’s louder snicker drawing his attention. Had they seen them? Or was the aftermath just that obvious?

But Finan was the first to speak. Sigyn’s eyes went wide, and her suspicions were quickly confirmed. Finan had only a look of mischief. Sigyn and Sihtric both knew they’d owe him something big to keep his mouth shut.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell…”

Joy—Joy—Get in, loser, for the joyride…

Sihtric taglist:

If I have missed anyone, apologies. As always, let me know if you want to be added/deleted!

@legitalicat @foxyanon @thenameswinter99

@sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower

@sihtricsafin @gemini-mama @alexagirlie

@multyfangirl

Stay tuned for my next milestone fic!

[whimsicmimic]

if you want to! tell us more about your lizard PCs because i’m so angry on your behalf from those tags

ohhhh i will HAPPILY talk about my old lizards, Especially the First Lizard, Avra Ree, because Avra Ree went on a fucking Journey.

So this! Is Avra Ree, she was a copper dragonborn and a death cleric, and she was my First Ever DnD Character. She was a fucking mess, both wrt stats (because none of us knew what we were doing; fucking TAZ:Balance taught me more about mechanics than my group at the time, and Balance was. Hooo boy.) and in terms of group cohesion, but that’s okay, because I loved her!

The gist of Avra was that she came from a clan of dragonborn that worshipped a goddess of death and rot. It was a heavily isolated group, and in leaving it to go on a pilgrimage, this would be Avra’s first time encountering the new world around her. She was full of love and joy, and she was Terrified of rain and water. She was a mortician, and regarded death with a certain gentleness and love. She also had a brother, who died from illness at a young age; she never really moved on from the grief, and kept his skull, which she kept with her and used as a spell focus.

The core themes of Avra’s character were isolation, love, and grief.

I’d play her like a few more times over the years (once in another campaign that never really took off the ground, and a few more times in one-shots) but it wouldn’t be a while until she came back.

In February of 2019, my buddy Hollis wanted to run a campaign. We were RP partners at the time! I went yea sure count me in!!!!!!

I knew I wanted to play Avra again, but I kinda wanted to mix up her design after the last few years of Lizard. so ENTER!!!! Marvey!!!!!!

Avra Ree would be rewritten as a firbolg grave cleric named Himemiya “Marvey” Llue.

Over the course of Everything, there’d been more lorework and detail given to her backstory and the setting of it.

She’d be from a clan of firbolg living in an archives that once was the hoarde of an ancient silver dragon, which was regarded as the savior of their people. They were dedicated to the preservation of knowledge above all else. Though the Great Dragon was long dead by the time Marv came about, the logul people were dedicated to the preservation of the hoarde and its expansion! On occasion, people would leave the mountain to go back out into the world and gather more books, articles, papers, newspapers, paintings — anything they could get their hands on, really. Go out, learn more about your field of study, come back and report what new discoveries had been made, if any.

Marvey’s mother would leave on a pilgrimage. She’d leave her kid and her husband behind with bright eyes and promises to be back in a few years, and then she never came back. So! Later on. Marvey would also leave. Head out into the world, find out what happened to her mother and maybe find some closure.

She’d become a cleric of Jergal, after finding a dilapidated temple of his that’d been taken over and inhabited by all sorts of imps and other nasty critters + helping clearing it out and tidying it up.

Core themes of her character were once again love, death, grief, and isolation, and some of her central conflicts revolved around trauma as a result of heavy childhood neglect, (more) grief, and also unlearning harmful shit from your upbringing and environment.

Also? Anger. Oh my god. Anger.

Marvey had ! Many, many issues. There was a big conflict between her and another party member early on that neither one of them really recovered from, and it ended up becoming a big issue that was slowly driving the party apart. Marvey was also fucking, deeply deeply angry and felt things VERY intensely, which ended up causing a lot of problems vis a vis character bleed for me, and it ended up negatively impacting my mental health to the point where we made the hard decision to let Marvey go + start playing another character.

We never found Marv’s mom, and Marv never got her closure.

Instead, Marv joined the mafia. She now — post campaign — acts as a doctor for the mob + runs a small community clinic by herself. She’s a fixture of her newfound community, and she’s fiercely protective of this small corner of the city she’s made for herself.

HOWEVER.

Avra Ree had a Real Cute Design, didn’t she? And I kinda wanted to play a lizard again after so many years. I made a lot of mistakes with Marvey; she was a source of conflict, when I wanted her to be more soft and warm, the glue that holds the party together. So when Marvey and Ish (Marv’s replacement)’s campaign ended, we decided to return to lizard.

Enter: Tamara Bhatt

This is Tama, my sweet beloved Tama. I love her So Much. She’s a brass dragonborn gunslinger/rogue. She is!!! Just A Guy! And i’m Insane about her.

She’s the oldest of five, and she comes from a very small town. She left home to head north into her country’s capital to apprentice under a weaponsmith. The way that she joined the party/campaign? Her mentor was having her deliver a package in person to one of their clients (an npc named Yu Huang, a famous actor and important political heir a few countries over. Tama and Huang would later become Best Fucking Friends.)

She’s Just A Fucking Guy, but she’s got some of The Best characterization I’ve EVER done, and I just really have a fucking blast playing her. I love this lizard so much. She’s just a guy. Just a small town lizard who went into the Big City to deliver a package, met some people, and now she’s so thoroughly entangled in this deep web of conflict with no way out. To protect one of our party members, our only options are to Get Famous, or Die Trying, and now? Tama’s in far too deep.

If I had to assign her core themes, they’d be identity, what it means to be brave, family, and isolation vs community. And Love, of course. You can fit So Much Love in this lizard.

It’s been really interesting though! Because Avra most certainly became Marvey, but Tama’s character was certainly informed by mistakes I made with playing Marv. Marv was a character who would’ve been really fun to read in a story, sure, and I love her to bits! But ultimately, she wasn’t a character well-suited for an improvisational cooperative game. She was too heavily developed, and it made her incredibly rigid. She was sweet and friendly, but INCREDIBLY stubborn and Driven. I wanted her to be a stabilizing force for the party, but she ended up becoming a source of conflict.

With Tama, though? I’ve actually managed to succeed! Tama is likeable! She’s the Big Sister of the party, the one people turn to for comfort, the mediator. There was a two-session gap where Tama actually died during combat, and her body had to be left behind, causing a lot of uncertainty and grief in the party because That’s Tama, and We Left Her Behind, and What If We Never Get Her Back? and ngl, it was genuinely Fascinating to see the hole Tama left in the party, because her absence was VERY MUCH felt!!!! You could see the arguments play out and all the spots where Tama would usually step in and help work things out, and it was ROUGH!!!!!!

But ! Idk man, I just think its Neat. That’s the story of my first DnD character, Avra Ree, who paved the way for Marvey and Tama, all three of which who are Distinct, but also kinda overlapping still. Its neat!

[harbingersglory]

Hello, could I have transfem Signora x fem!reader smut? Any scenario is fine, just need dom Signora railing me 😩

{☆} characters la signora {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, dom la signora, transfem la signora {☆} warnings 18+ content, restraints, temperature play, face fucking, degradation, pet play

There's a moment of silence that lingers for far too long, the cold nipping at your exposed skin until you feel shivers wrack your body. You squirm instinctively, seeking out the fading warmth of the thick furs laid out beneath you, yet finding nothing but the cold that chills you to your bones. You can't even see, your eyes covered by black fabric, silk tying your arms together behind your back.

It's almost torturous waiting like this. Your knees sink further into the fur as you lean your weight forward slightly, exhaling a shaky breath. You begin to wonder if Signora left you there– maybe you'd annoyed her earlier and she was punishing you. You hoped not. She wasn't known for being lenient when it came to punishments.

But the brush of her fingers along your jawline squashed that fear, your breath hitching as her thumb glided over your throat, the heat of her skin making you shudder. The contrast of the cold room, of your freezing body, to the unnatural heat that simmers beneath her skin is immense– your knees would have definitely buckled if you hadn't been kneeling already.

"Did you think I'd left you here all alone? You're shaking like a dog." The soft, biting lilt was nothing more than a murmur, but for you it was impossible not to hear the pleased tone beneath the roughness of her voice. Your heart leaps into your throat when her fingers trace back up along your jawline, lifting your head and tilting it back just enough to be uncomfortable.

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are silenced by her thumb slipping past your lips instead– you don't fight back, even though the sudden intrusion catches you off guard enough you almost bite her finger instead. You almost consider doing it anyway, but she's so rarely in a good mood it feels rude to spoil it.

"Pets don't speak until they're told," She chides, pressing down on your tongue slightly and laughing at the way you almost choke in surprise. "And I don't remember giving you permission."

You can only manage a garbled whine in response, your face burning in embarrassment– but it's quickly silenced by the click of her tongue and the creak of the old chair you know sits by the fireplace, her thumb sliding out between your lips to drag you closer. Close enough to feel the rush of heat across your skin as your cheek is pressed against her thigh, her hands resting on the back of your head. You can't see it, but you sure can imagine the smug smile that must be tugging at her lips right about now.

"Let's see about fixing your little disobedient streak, darling." She murmurs, digging her nails into your scalp and tugging you even closer, the furs beneath you doing little to prevent the ache in your knees from kneeling. But you don't complain– you know what she wants, and you want it too. "Open."

Like the dog she seems so fond of treating you as, you listen– you're not as surprised this time when her fingers fill your mouth, forcing it open even further until you can feel the saliva collecting and dribbling down your chin. She doesn't seem to mind, even laughing at how pitiful you probably look, drooling all over her fingers.

But Signora is a hard woman to satisfy, and this will hardly do anything other then work her up enough to really break you in. You can just barely hear the rustle of fabric over your heartbeat, gloved hands tugging you closer and forcing you to press right up against the edge of the chair. It's almost uncomfortable, the way the chair presses against your chest, but she always has you teetering on that fine edge.

"Perhaps you can be trained after all." Signora's voice is like a balm, the heat of her body driving away the cold and urging you impossibly closer, until you feel her hand guide you down just as her fingers slip out of your mouth again– right up until you feel her cock against your cheek. "Show me that you can be obedient, mutt, and maybe I'll let you sit on my lap."

You know she's just dangling a treat just out of reach, but you can't help but reach for it anyway.

Your tongue drags across the underside of her cock, so slow you can hear the hiss that rattles in her chest halfway between pleasure and impatience. You take your time anyway, lingering until you reach the tip and press a kiss against it. You almost wish you could see her face, but she's never been fond of expressing anything outwardly when you can see it– just the idea of her brows furrowed, of her face flush and her lip caught between her teeth..it's enough.

It's not hard to imagine it anyway when the heat grows hotter, nearly turning the room into an oven before she catches herself. You aren't stupid enough to mention it, but your smile must be enough, because a low growl makes you shiver– so you drag your tongue from the base to the tip again, revel in the way it throbs beneath your tongue. For a moment you almost have something like control, your saliva dripping down her aching cock as you lap at it like a mutt.

But you're both growing impatient– the sharp click of her nails against the chairs arms makes you shudder, urging you to lift yourself up just enough to wrap your lips around the head with a muffled groan. You consider dragging it out just a moment longer, just to see if you can get her to whine, but she knows you better then you do– before you can even blink, her hand shoves you down. You, predictably, gag. Your throat burns from the stretch, but it's not unpleasant, eased by the pleasured hiss that tumbles from her lips. Signora at least has the mercy to let you get used to it for a moment before she drags you back up, the emptiness in your throat making you whine before she's shoving her cock back down your throat. Your eyes sting with unshed tears, your own sounds of pleasure muffled and garbled as she does it again– and again.

"Finally quiet, mutt?" She laughs, but it's strained– her voice quivers slightly as she fucks your throat like your nothing but a toy to her, drool dribbling down your chin and tears staining the blindfold. "If I knew it was this easy to shut you up, I'd have done it a long time ago."

You so badly want to do something, but with your hands tied behind your back and her fucking your face so rough, so fast, you can barely even think..there's not much you can do but let her, your cunt clenching around nothing. You really hope she wasn't lying about that reward, for once. You're practically dripping on her floor while she uses you, just barely able to squeeze your thighs together for a fraction of friction.

It only serves to make you more desperate, though.

"Fuck– or maybe you're too stupid to know better. You'd just let any pretty woman with a cock use you," Her breathing was getting heavier, more strained, but her grip on your hair didn't relent. Neither did the harsh thrust of her hips, her cock constantly hammering into your throat until you felt dizzy. "You're lucky I'm even willing to train a mutt like you."

Your mind starts to feel fuzzy, the words blending together until she digs her nails into your scalp and forces you down again– and keeps you there. You nearly gag again when you feel her shudder, her cock throbbing in your mouth as her cum spills down your throat, your hands straining against the silk binding them together. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, nostrils flaring and your body tensing– you don't even realize you'd briefly lost consciousness until your find yourself on her lap, rather then on your knees, her hands brushing the strands of hair stuck to your face with sweat out of your eyes.

It's the most gentle she's been all night– and likely as gently as she will be tonight. You lean into her touch anyway, groaning softly and shuddering at the taste of her on your tongue mixed with her cock throbbing against your thigh.

"I'm not done yet, darling. Did you think I'd let you get away with a little light training?" She laughs, cupping your jaw and pressing a kiss that's far too gentle to your cheek, the warmth of her body almost suffocating– but you welcome it, like you always do.

So you nod, smiling drowsily and spreading your legs like a good pet should.

[doodlesdreaming]

Quick 💀🧼 before I call it a day.

[sukibenders]

"I understand why Penelope didn't tell Colin about LW, that was a huge risk and could have put her in an uncomfortable situation." So, for some that I've seen with this rhetoric, you can understand her not wanting to tell Colin about a gossip blog she wrote that, not only, made repeated digs at the queen (who's on her neck mind you) but HIS OWN family as well but can't understand why Marina, who was pregnant and left out of options, would conceal her pregnancy from him to protect herself and her children from the threat of being thrown out? Hmm.

[sunny-and-the-flowers]

hey, remember that conversation we have about what boomer listened to. Do you think he listens to man at work because i saw a lot of edits of him with that song and i think it suits him.