but it's better in writing

[wh1sp3rr]

JASON TODD'S WIFEY :: u got a roommate, he'll hear what we do//it's only awkward if u're fuckin' him too

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ೀ whisper! she. 9teen. n/sfw writing blog

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୧ ‧₊˚ belated bday kisses w eiji!

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© WHISPER 2K24 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[onlyren]

i need to read every connie fic on this app

[wh1sp3rr]

arkham knight + [2.4k wc]

🏷️ tags: sfw, hurt & comfort, angst if you squint, black fem coded reader, not proofread

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His throat burns from how much he’s screamed—ordered his troops to obey. Heart heavy and weak in his chest from its arduous pumping, full tubes of blood throughout his cut body: a gnarly gash on his upper bicep he has yet to notice once the adrenaline wears off: small yet viciously deep. Full lungs bursting to the brim of expansion from the deep, laboured breathes he takes, pants really. His mind cloudy and vision fuzzy, missing the warm image of home: you.

He owns a small apartment just along the outskirts of Gotham, most locals wouldn’t even call it that, which he actually prefers: a little distance from the brutal world of the city he once died in. He also feels reassured that it’s where you basically live now too. It was never an official agreement for you to move in, though it never needed to be. Your own little home where you could live, and eat, and sleep and cuddle and study and read and sometimes skip uni to stay in with him.

He liked that you had a normal life. That even though he enjoyed the days of you two fighting side by side as Robin and Batgirl: two teenagers hopelessly in love, soon to have almost all their firsts with each other: love each other, lose each other—even though he misses them a lot, [how he holds those memories so dearly in his heart] he’s still so grateful for finding out that you retired, and how you thought there was more to life.

He still remembers the day his stupid, utterly obedient and absolutely acquiescent troops tried to kidnap you. Scared that you had witnessed whatever atrocity it was that they had committed under the Knight’s order. Jason told them simply that he’d handle it—took you away to some lonesome park you used to visit as kids once their backs were turned marching away, heavy guns perfectly snug in their arms, and stood frozen in front of you, mouth already wobbly from how much he missed you.

It was raining. He remembers that because your mascara was smeared in the corners of your eyes, and your hair was frizzy. You were wearing a turtleneck, he remembers that too because he always thought you looked like a sexy teacher he’d have a crush on in grade school. Glasses were on as well, only helping your case. And your books! Gosh your books were getting soaked in your little tote bag, [it’s no secret how much he adores literature] it pained him.

He took his helmet off first, even though he badly wanted to touch you: cup your cheek, stroke your face. But he didn’t want to startle you because he was still a stranger to you. Not the boy whom you were madly in love with. Not yet anyway.

He didn’t even speak until his helmet was completely removed: didn’t want the Arkham Knight’s grating modulated voice to hurt your ears [too ashamed of this new identity] and you just stared. Stared into the glassy, hyper-tech screen that had dotted lights glow and blink and fade. Over and over till he pressed a button (you think) and all was revealed.

It was difficult. There was a lot of crying—too much almost, your heart had never hit your ribcage that rapidly before [it never will again], language was too insufficient to capture your emotions that talking felt obsolete.

His name though. God, his name and the way it fell from your lips. He hadn’t heard anyone say it in so long. It felt like he was born again. And when you touched his face, soft hands that his own could never compare to were cushioning the tough parts of his jaw and cheekbone.

His heart sank when you touched the ‘J’ on his cheek. Tracing it up and down, side to side, like each time you rubbed it [a magic lamp] you gained a little bit of knowledge on what had happened, what that J really meant.

“Did he do this to you?” Your voice had quivered.

He could only take your hand by his cheek in his and nod: hum a small sound and let the tears meet your palm. You sighed, a breathy one laced with heartbreak: crestfallen, and said his name in that whispery, soft almost exasperated way he always loved.

You guys eventually sheltered from the rain, clothes and armour both sleek with the precipitation, a sad hug that couldn’t last forever. He couldn’t take you with him to the base, he wouldn’t dare even think it, and he obviously couldn’t go with you anywhere no matter how badly he wanted to until he changed out of his armour. So though it killed him to be apart from you even for a mere hour, he needed to be tactful, immediately assuming protection over you, and asked you to meet him in this little diner he knew that was open round the clock in two hours.

And so you did. You wanted to kiss him goodbye, hold his hand a little bit longer [a little bit forever], smell his scent a little bit clearer away from this rain and never leave his side again. But life is unfair; life is cruel [that is its very nature] and you agreed. Somehow, you [shakily] got yourself home to your parents’ place (your body refused to take the train back to your dormitory, stayed a little longer, desperately missed your usual stop) and cried in your room for an hour straight.

You waved your parents off by saying you didn’t do well in an exam (half-truth: you didn’t do great but you weren’t upset by it) and cried even longer till you watched the clocks click, heard the church bell croak and made your way to the diner [fresher mascara failed to conceal your ballooning, soggy eyes. outfit (still simple, an all grey matching set) barely saving you, hair forcefully brushed back].

As for Jason, he was nervous. Tense. Also shaky. His heart (just like your own) was creating music so poignant from hitting itself against his bones [too fast: it became a hum] and put his second-in-command in charge (the night was quiet, still the responsibility remained ever demanding). Boots the only part of what he wore unchanged.

He drove there. Parked his car a mile away so no one in that diner (it was empty besides the janitor and employee) could say they saw the Knight’s real face [unbearably paranoid, this car was completely different from the one the Knight drove]. Walked in the lighter, spitting rain for a short while, thinking about everything, until he arrived and his heart pounded again.

It was a long conversation. Lasted at least a few hours. And there were touches and movements and signals that were for anyone (besides the two of you: a true couple) too much to bear. The few times he made you laugh, the few times he could smile again, he realised how badly he truly needed you, realised how much easier it was to breathe with you next to him.

It killed him to ask you about the years he missed. It killed you to answer. And that’s when you confessed, came straight out with it to break a small silence, you had retired your line of work, danced around the ‘Batgirl’ title so not to give away anything too personal to the general public [now just the one employee: very sleepy, on her phone occupied].

And he was so glad you did. Glad you told him. Glad you did it. Selfishly, it meant he could sleep a little easier knowing you’re not risking your life every day and he isn’t there to protect you.

He didn’t want to talk about Bruce. You respected it. Said only one thing about how much he misses him, and how he’s never been quite the same.

But only that, just that. Jason was [is] still quite sensitive. He was holding your hand and rubbing your fingers, trilled your knuckles like a xylophone with his thumb.

And eventually after a few weeks of long talks that soon became easy banter [tears sandwiched between] he asked you to stay the night. Which turned into you staying every week or so. To every week. To Mondays and Thursdays and Fridays. A few weekends from having sex the night before. Then summer came around and you never left, and you’ve been living there ever since.

To now. Where the Arkham Knight is limping, straightens his back any time he sees a squad of his troops to not appear weak—to leaving in his sleek black trimmed car. Drives home to you. A routine now.

The soft white noise of keys jingling is what perks you up, makes your ears twitch and flick and turn like a rabbit’s, curious and alert. You were up late studying for an exam you were meant to be retaking, but your revision was foggy and holed, your bed cold without Jason beside you.

The brim of your oversized shirt was riding up as you moved, immediately relieved as to hearing the door open so slowly and gently (Jason always assumed you were asleep, though you never are. Still he doesn’t want to startle you) and his heavy combat boots fee-fie-foe-fum in.

He’s dressed in all black, tight compression shirt he’d often wear underneath his armour, keeps him warm, protects his skin. He’s already kicking his boots off, and propping them up before moving to your shared room, immediately alleviated with your elegant and graceful presence coming out through the doorway. Sweet silhouette he’d always miss.

“Hey.” You say with a soft smile, dimples creeping in ever so slightly, head leaning against the frame.

“Hey, baby.” He says, voice dropped in a low hum only you were familiar with. He honestly shocks himself from how starkly different his voice is with you in comparison to how it is when he’s the Knight. Instantly, he walks toward you, kisses you warmly and holds your forearm. “Whatchu been doin?” He asks.

You stay looking up at him [he was quite a few inches taller than you] and your eyes are blooming with love, thin ring of colour in your eyes as your pupils expand. “Just been studying. Well—trying to at least. I hardly got anything done.” You confess.

“Why? What’s been goin’ on?”

You drop your head briefly [slight shame] and walk over to your bed as you speak: “I don’t know. My head’s just…not in the game. I can’t focus without scrolling on my phone or—I don’t know—taking hour long breaks doing nothing.” You look up at him innocently from your bed, stare at all the books and pens and sticky notes splayed about. Bite your lip anxiously, not wanting to be judged.

Here you are, complaining in your perfectly comfortable setting about your incredibly privileged opportunity to even be studying at a decent university whilst your boyfriend is out fighting tooth and nail against Gotham’s worst. You sigh, try to change the topic, “Sorry, I just—“

“Don’t apologise. Why you apologising for?” He sits down next to you, carefully moving some of your notebooks out the way, bed creaking slightly as he puts his weight down firmly.

You pull your knee up to your chest, stroke your calve up and down a bit, slightly hide yourself with your arm: “Cuz it’s dumb. I’m complaining about stupid shit whilst you’re literally fighting fucking—I don’t know—Harley or some shit.” You gesture at his entire body.

“Not even. You stick with it,” he taps at your open notebook, “And I promise it’ll work out.” He guarantees.

“Easy for you to say,” you smirk, putting your leg down, let it sway like you’re on a swing, “You used to get straight As in school.”

“That was a long time ago.” He reminds, still flattered by the compliment you were insinuating.

You shrug, “It’s still you.” You hold his gaze for a few seconds before your eyes wander down and catch his seeping blood, immediately sucking your teeth in feeling a phantom pain near the same bicep area before barely touching it with your fingertips.

Jason whines a bit, so lightly that you wouldn’t have heard it had you not have been sitting right next to him as you were now. “Jesus, Jason,” you say like a nervous mother, still inspecting the deep thing.

“It’s not that bad.” He firmly states [lie]. You look up and meet his eyes, immediately acknowledging the falsehood before dropping your gaze back down to the cut.

“I’ll get the first aid kit.” You say, quickly standing up.

Jason clicks his tongue and groans, he doesn’t like feeling like some sort of burden to you—especially when you shouldn’t be staying up this late.

“Don’t.” You say, glaring at him before leaving the room.

He hears the opening of the bathroom cabinet and the slight, almost out of ear shot rustling before you return, kit in hand.

“Arms up, lemme help you take your shirt off.” You instruct.

“I can take my own shirt off, Y/N.” He says, annoyed: nervous.

You sigh and brush off his petulance, “Don’t be like that, Jay.”

He sighs, out his nose, not his mouth, and apologises, “Sorry. I just hate doing this to you.”

“You’re not doing anything to me, Jason. I want to help. If I wanted to go to sleep, I would’ve been snoring away by now.” You sit down.

“But I’m not. Here,” You help him out and pull the black shirt over his head, finger where the tear is. “Gonna have to tailor this.” Immediately your attention is drawn to the wound, dried blood splatted onto his white skin, little bits of the healing process already evident. You gently press around it seeing if it’ll bleed anymore, it does.

“Fuck, that’s really bad.”

“Don’t be dramatic. It’s only a little cut, I’ve survived worse.”

“Oh, I know you have,” You joke lightheartedly, give him eye contact when you say this and he smiles. You press again and he actively sucks his teeth in and groans. Your eyebrows crease and your mouth slips into a small frown. “I’m sorry.” You rub the skin by his cut in attempt to soothe him, small miniature circles with the pad of your thumb.

You stare at the cut, really hone in and analyse its little intricacies before coming to your conclusion based on the on-the-spot prognosis. “Jay, I think I’m gonna have to stitch this.”

He looks at you then lets his eyes drop down to the cut, “Alright. I trust you.”

You search through the first aid kit and take out a cotton pad and an antibacterial spray bottle before dosing the thick pad with it, watching its tone darken and it’s thickness disappear as it soaks and deflates. You bring your hand just above the cut and warn him, “This is gonna sting.”

He jokes, a little strained: “Do your worst.”

You can’t even smile at the joke with the concern that paints your whole face. Jay told you how much he hated being the Arkham Knight. How he admired your courage to retire and how he wants the same for himself too. His words. So why doesn’t he?

He hisses at the contact and you immediately apologise, “I’m sorry, baby. Just a little more and it’ll be over.” He nods, eyes wrinkled from how tightly shut they are. And again, a wince and a hiss from the stingy contact, hot and tinged.

You swipe your thumb over the cut, cleaning complete. “Okay, done. Good job.”

“Thanks.” He says. It makes you smile, and though you don’t look up at him, he notices this soft upturn of your lips that he quickly emulates, just sweetly content.

You take out the needle and thread. It’s been a long time since you’ve had to do this. “Now for the fun part. You ready?”

“Nah,” he casually throws.

“Okay,” you nod, a little nervous, perhaps more than he is [wrong: you were both equally scared.] You bring the sharp, glinting thing to the broken skin, just above even, and insert: pull it through and hear his little grunt. “Sorry,” you squint out of sympathy, before piercing the skin again: rinse and repeat.

As you continue to suture him, hear the odd thump of pain he sounds, you can’t help but left your mind run a million miles, eyebrows semi-permanently creased as you focus on the task at hand, but also how you hate to do this. Hate that this even has to be a thing. Why couldn’t you guys get to be normal? Normal boyfriend and girlfriend. Go to the movies, or a study date or whatever.

You notice how quiet he is, not that it was unusual, you actually enjoyed the silence but…you didn’t wanna be the one to confront the situation. Feels like you’ve done that enough times.

“Jason.” You say, [few more stitches left to go.]

“Yes?” He clearly replies.

You stay silent for a bit, let the absence of language speak for you. “You…” you start, then sigh, hone in on the final few pulls.

“What is it?” He asks, gently.

Your mouth frowns, you feel your lip quiver, the new company of tears in your eyes that you’re all too familiar with, fat drops collect and fall. He hears you sniffle and stays watching the carpet, too ashamed too face you, your tears a reminder for how he needs to quit this vigilante business asap. If not for him, at least for you.

He feels you kiss his newly sutured skin, then the way your thumb tenderly rubs back and forth, admiring your work but also caressing him, very very slightly. Painful, inside and out.

You grab a bandage and wrap it round a few times, Jason moves to accommodate, looks at you once then internally winces at the pain. Hurts more to see your sad face than a thousand stab wounds.

When you finally finish, put back the first aid kit that leaves the bathroom cabinet more often than not, you slump down next to him. Don’t even look at him when you speak, “I don’t think you understand how painful this is for me.”

“I think I do.” He says softly, looking at you. Your side profile, the way your nose looks so cute to him, and how pretty your lashes are. You pout again, try to hold back the heavy waterfall your eyes give. “C’mere.” He motions for you to sit on his lap, and you do, heavy heart anchoring you to the ground, makes your movement sluggish and slow: begrudged almost.

He smooths your hair by your ear, traces your jaw with his knuckle till he pinches your chin, tilts it up a bit, hurt by the red on your nose. “Don’t cry.” He says in a way that reminds you of your mother, or a beloved teacher at school after you hurt your knee from tripping up in the sandbox. It only makes you want to cry more, and you do, it kills him to watch your expression break into desperate heartbreak. “Oh.” He brings you into his embrace, hugs you and rubs your back, your hair, doesn’t even notice the sting from his arm.

You grab him hard, sob so innocent and kind, “I just don’t want you to die.” He kisses your neck, makes himself comfortable against you.

“I won’t.” He calmly says.

You pull back, face wet and shiny with tears. Tears that Jason wipes away, as he usually does: unfortunate routine.

“I’ll stop.” He grabs your hands, rubs your knuckles, kisses them like Prince Charming: respectful. “I promise you.”

You’re doubtful, but hold onto the little bit of hope you have left.

“I’ll go back to school or get a job, I don’t know, but I promise you, I’m done. Now can I see you smile?”

You give him a sad one, “I don’t think you mean that.” You honestly say.

He kisses you, a quick reminder of his love, “Baby, I swear. Love you too much to lie to you.”

You’re left in open-mouth surprise, give him a smile, and break into a sweet laugh. Genuine music to his ears [one of his favourite sounds, next to rain, and your moans] and you kiss him, gleefully, let that tiny hope bloom into something more, something grander, something bigger, before breaking away and hugging him tightly. “I love you, Jason.”

“I love you too.”

© WHISPER 2K24 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[wh1sp3rr]

belated bday kisses with eiji + [2.4k wc]

ೀ masterlist ೀ requests ೀ

you had gotten up extra early today. wanted to surprise your sleepy boyfriend with breakfast in bed since he'd practically spoil you every other day. you gently slither out of his grasp, his arm slung loosley by your waist, belting you in his embrace. slowly, ever so slowly, you move out of the cozy warmth.

his mouth is slightly agape, you can hear his light breathing and you steal one last glance at him, adoring the way the sun's glow curves and bends around his tan face. his summer freckles fading now in the october air.

you smile to yourself, watch him unconciously shift and tap at your abscence. you slip away before your lack of prescence rouses him.

your suck your teeth at the cold kitchen floor your bare feet meet, shiny and cool.

you were going to make him heart-shaped pancakes. warm and fluffy. you begin by searching the cabinets for the ingredients, careful not to be too loud. eggs, milk, butter, sugar, strawberries you'll be sure to wash and slice into lovehearts too—the obvious. then tap and feel around for the maple syrup.

it was in the back in the top cabinet where everything was too high for you. on your tip-toes, you reach up, stretch your arm to its full length. fingers taut as they touch at nothing.

"need some help?" a familiar voice sounds behind you. deep and groggy—morning voice.

you almost flinch at the voice, so focused on the task at hand that you didn't even hear his heavy footsteps. your hands drop and your caught face shifts into a grin as you walk hurriedly towards him, arms wide as you hug him, chest flush against his bare one.

"happy birthday, baby!" you glee, voice excited and loving. his cheek is warm against your lips as you smack a loud kiss there. his sleepy eyes crease when he returns your soft smile.

his toned arms belt around your waist again like his sleepy self did and he speaks into your messy bedhead, "thank you, pretty."

you playfully push his chest, "go back to bed! i'll be done in fifteen minutes.”

"why? what are you making?" he teases.

"nope! back to bed! off you go!" and push him back to your cool bedroom, now bathed in the morning light with the blinds pulled high. he complies and lets you move his body, crawls back into bed without you, arm now propped up on his knee.

"fifteen minutes." you tap at his nose, and leave without another word.

you decide to clamber and climb atop the countertop to reach the maple syrup. halfway consumed, mostly by kirishima.

soon the kitchen island is decorated with all the equipment you need, the baby pink ones kiri bought for you after you showed him some really cute stuff nara smith had on your phone.

your hands become sticky with the strawberry juice trailing down your wrists as you carefully cut them into deliberate shapes. kirishima hums to himself as the familiar smell of the fruit layered with the pancakes hits his nose.

you plate everything and are sure to pour him and yourself each some jasmine tea, both of your favourite.

a little over fifteen minutes passes before kiri puts his phone down and away when you walk in, hands slightly shaky by each side of the breakfast tray from the collective weight as you place it gently on the duvet.

"voila," you say, proud of your efforts.

"oh wow, baby. is this for me?" he says, almost coy.

"of course," you sit down next to him, the strap of your tank top slipping off your shoulder, he picks it up for you, a gentleman after all. you smile at the gesture as you continue talking, "who else would it be for?"

the smile he offers you is deep and genuine, his dimple appearing.

"and the hearts?" he cups your face, "you're so cute."

you scrunch your nose and lean into his brief touch. he picks up the heart engraved cutlery you put on either side of the cream plate before you cut his action off, "wait! i almost forgot," you giggle sneakily.

you leave the room, and kiri's eyebrows crease in curiosity. he can hear you rustling around, scrounging the place for whatever it was that you were retrieving before the noise stops and you come back within a short minute.

your hands are behind your back before you surprise him suddenly, "ta da!" you sing.

clutched between your slender fingers is a yellow baggie with furry green nugs that kirishima's all too familiar with, "hanta?" he asks, light chuckle breaking up his question.

"hanta and denki! they said it was their birthday present for you." you pounce up on him, bag rustling in your grasp. "well, yeah. you're right, it was originally hanta's present. denki asked me to say it was from him too." you say defeatedly, "don't tell him i told you that."

"roger that," he salutes.

you lean over to the bedside table to grab your grinder and kirishima watches your movements, reaps the way your shorts ride up on your ass, is already excited for the sex today.

you catch him staring at you and feel the way his hand curves around your upper thigh, you blush and put your hand over his, point towards his plate with your other hand holding the bag and and grinder, "come on, eat up. it's gonna get cold!"

"alright, alright," he says calmly, removes his hand from your body.

he moans when he takes a bite, chews it slowly, savouring its flavour. "holy shit, this is delicious, baby! thank you."

"you're welcome," you say sincerely, happy with his enjoyment.

he takes another bite and through his mouthful speaks, "how much is that? he tell you?" he piques.

"um, i think he said it was a half a zip or something?"

he continues with his food, chuckling softly, "my guy," he says thoughtfully.

you fiddle with the papers and try to roll the joint tightly—unconfident. kiri glances at your struggling motion before he takes another bite, "want me to roll it?"

"no, i can do it!" you protest. try again, but watch it fall apart over your tray. "ughhh," you look up at the ceiling annoyed.

he smoothly moves his half eaten plate of food away near his hips and you let him take over, the manoeuvre easy for him.

you sigh as you watch him neatly roll the thing with little effort, like he was almost doing it thoughtlessly. you eye and grab the fork and knife on the table, cut the bottom of the second heart pancake off before feeding the triangle to eijiro. he smiles as he chews, eyes focused on the joint before he swallows and licks the adhesive.

you feel warm watching the action, pink muscle slicking the paper before he lifts his head and twists the top.

"another one?"

"up to you, birthday boy," you sigh contently.

he nods and puts the j behind his ear. rolls another. god, he looked so good like this. when his eyes were still small with sleep and voice deep from the same.

he taps and feels around the drawer for a lighter, succeeds and sparks up. your head lulls at the sound he makes when he sucks his teeth and exhales. he tokes again, doesn't inhale all the way and brings his hand behind your neck, your face already hot from what's about to happen.

his lips meet yours and he breathes out into you, it already hitting you—strong shit.

you exhale through your nose, not letting him pull back as you grab and rake your fingers through his hair, tongue deep in his mouth. he smiles and sucks on your bottom lip, bites it softly before placing the burning joint between your lips. hears you suck and pulls it away.

you eskimo kiss him and playfully breathe out in his face. he shuts his eyes, feels the smoke tickle his face before coolly handing you the jay.

"you still have to finish your breakfast..." you say softly, gently bite the fork, "open wide," you’re aware of the innuendo. and he complies, has you feed him another mouthful, his eyes don't move from yours.

you chew at your bottom lip slightly, cut another piece then slowly bring the glossy strawberry and sweet pancake to eijirou’s lips.

he grabs your hand before you can feed him, and he pushes the fork into your own mouth. you let the juices tingle on your tongue, stretch your jaw to chew your bite.

his hand is still clasped around yours, and the fork’s throngs hang on your lips. he watches your mouth move as you enjoy your creation, eyes honed in on the plumpness of your lips.

“how’s it taste, baby?” he asks, voice warm. pulsating. sexy.

you nod, then swallow. “so good.” you widen your eyes, make them look all glassy and doe-like. innocent even.

his teeth show in the smirk he gives you. hand unclasps your own then lets his thumb brush your bottom lip. pull it down a little bit. then smoothly slide under your ear so his fingers reach your nape and his face is pressed into yours in a kiss.

you moan softly. desire boiling inside you. love the feeling of his large hands supporting your head, massage your roots. you speak between kisses, “touch me later.” you breathe, “i wanna put on this lingerie i bought for you.”

“but i wanna fuck you now…” he whispers wantonly

you giggle, feel his tongue in your mouth. pull away and watch his eyes stay staring at your lips, begging to be drawn in.

“i know you do.” his lips reach for your jaw. then your neck, “but it’ll be so much more fun later…” your smaller hand rests atop his that cradles your face.

you feel him suck, then bite. nibble at your skin and kiss the bruise he leaves. his voices prickles your ear, hot and wanton like before.

his lips graze the outer shell as he speaks, “let me at least eat you out,” he gently reaches for your throat, “sit on my face,” he says before kissing your jaw and slipping the jay between your lips again. watches you suck then blow.

you feel his hand drop from your face and reach down for your pussy, already slick with your arousal. he fingers your over the thin cloth of your thong. slow and patient.

you let your jaw go slack at the feeling, feel eijirou’s words echo again, “come on. it’s my birthday, right?”

you laugh, all breathy and flustered, “shut up.”

“make me. tongue will be all up in you, baby.”

you withdraw from his grasp on your throat, smile at him and look into his wet eyes, pupils blown wide so there’s only a thin ring of red.

he scratches and massages the hair by your ear and you hum lightly. pleasant feeling buzzing around you.

soon, eijiro slides the breakfast tray off the bed and onto the bedside table, tokes the joint a last time before letting it burn out, then dips down and kisses your stomach.

then lower. and lower, till finally his lips meet where he’s been begging for them to.

you lift your hips and he kisses you through the fabric, easily slides you on top of him, breathing cut off but he doesn’t care.

he laps at the soft cotton. feels it getting wetter by the second and you bite your lip and rock your hips forward, letting his noise brush up where you need it to.

he hooks a finger under the thin lacy straps and pulls down, you adjust yourself and help him take off your underwear. when you sink back on him he instantly goes full speed. no slow movement at the start like he usually does but a rapid moment with his pink muscle reaching inside you.

your head is woozy and your body feels funny, the weed definitely not helping (or maybe it was?) and you let your voice sing. moan out everything.

you feel him so close to your core. warmth pooling in your stomach in such a way it has you calling his name in that way that he goes crazy over.

he swears there isn’t anything more sexy than hearing you say his name like that. it’s similar to the way you do when you touch yourself on facetime with him. but nothing could comes close to the way it sounded in real life and not some buzzy speaker.

he’s so passionate with the way he eats you up. passionate and on a frenzy. strokes your thighs up down. scraps your skin with his nails when your knuckles are desperately grabbing at his red locks.

you feel yourself getting closer. that mean tightness coming undone. slowly start to grind yourself on top of him rhythmically.

he suckles at your clit, doesn’t let go and leans in when it’s almost too much for you and you try to lift yourself completely off from him. but it’s no use. he’s completely latched onto you.

he would stay like this forever if he could. airflow barely existing. hands all over you. mouth sucking on nectar. his idea of heaven: you.

it was ironic how good he was treating you on his birthday but that’s what made him so perfect. always so thoughtful and doting on you in a way that’s almost fantastical. something you’d only read in fairytales.

“eijirou…” you desperately moan in that way he loves. voice all high and sexy.

he wraps his arms over your thighs, gluing you to him. he could feel you twitching. getting all wet and feeling you running down his chin.

till finally, your whole body gets hot and buzzes. lip caught between you teeth as you pull at his tufts.

you look down at him with an open mouth that breaks into a smile. you feel insanely good, and have to let out that cutesy little giggle you always did whenever he made you finish.

you move yourself off of him, him giving your pussy own final kiss before you plant yourself over his pelvis and straddle him like this.

your smile is wide when you reach down to his face, his hand is behind you neck and already caressing you, “i’m gonna fuck you so good later.” his lips are barely a few inches away from yours before he pulls you down and kisses you.

your lips stay interlocked when he lifts his back from the bed and has it flush with the headboard, hands planted on your hips. you taste yourself and the strawberries on him. sweet and fervent, tongues partnered.

© WHISPER 2K24 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[wh1sp3rr]

giving katsuki a massage! + [1.6k wc]

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he’s sat by his oaky desk, shiny finish decked high with towers of books. his back congruent with the soft cushioning of his chair. black-rimmed glasses tipping of his nose as his laptop’s screen burns into his pupils. twenty or so tabs open, completely organised in his eyes, and the click clackity click of his keyboard. a hum that’s been prolonged for hours.

you get up from your comfortable place in his bed, leaving the snuggly warmth your body had adjusted itself to and move behind katsuki, peering over his shoulder to see what exactly he was working on.

he’d told you it was the latest assignment aizawa had set out and, against your better judgement, rather than set out to finish it promptly like a good student, you procrastinated and wandered into your boyfriend’s dormitory 'by accident’ so you say and found yourself already eased by his presence.

though you did have to beg him to let you in.

“you’re gonna distract me.” is what he said, his reading glasses already on and arms crossed.

but you argued and pleaded with him, “no, katsuki, i won’t! please, just let me stay. i’ll be on my phone the whole time, you won’t even know i’m there.”

but he wanted to know you were there he thought. he stared at you for a minute. pondered on whether or not this was a good idea. and he knew it wasn’t. he knew that.

but then you brought your hand up to his, pinkie finger stuck out and said in that cutesy voice of yours, ‘promise.’

he glanced at it, eyes meeting yours then your little finger again and his tough facade cracked with a sigh, not long before he locked his pinkie with your own then smoothly brought your hand closer and laced his fingers with yours, squeezing firmly and affirming a soft, “promise.” the word having a light airy feel on your knuckles as he brought his lips to your hand.

so now, two hours later, katsuki still very much locked in on the task at hand you decided enough was enough.

your careful eyes watch the words he types. aloud, you read the passage he’s just completed, “and thus agrarian economies shifted to industrial productions ultimately redefining labor dynamics within an early britain still used to traditional artisan roles.” you look down at him, still as ever, almost as if waiting for your verdict.

“feels like a good place to call it, kats. the end?”

he shakes his head, answers without looking back at you and continues typing, slightly adjusting the wording so it sounds smoother. “nah. still needs another paragraph.”

“katsuki, your paragraphs are like 50 lines long!” you complain, slight whine in your tone. he didn’t like when you did that.

“well that’s what a paragraph is.” he moves his head to the side so you can hear him better.

“no, it’s not!”

he deletes a few words and types again, reworking the sentence.

“and so, agrarian economies moved to industrial production, redefining labor dynamics in early britain still familiar with traditional artisan roles.” he mutters, rereading it to himself to test it’s fluency, see if it sounds the way he wants it to.

“baby, you need a break.” your words are laced with genuine concern. “look at how tense your shoulders are.” you bring your hands to them and immediately he relaxes, your touch alleviating him.

you take this as an opportunity to run your fingers through his hair, deep pulls of tufts from the roots at his scalp to the very tips. he leans into your touch, groans quietly as you knead and massage his head, something very much needed, but then he remembers he’s still got this paper due and forcibly shocks himself up.

“promised me you weren’t gonna be a distraction.” he says firmly, hands gently pulling your own away from his hair.

“did i?” you playfully remark, squint your eyes a bit. you bend your knees and bring yourself to his level, paw at his hair once more and rake it behind his ear. his side profile was so handsome, jaw sharp and clenched.

“why don’t you take five and chill with me for a bit? maybe i can give you a massage, okay?” you kiss below his ear and watch his jaw loosen slightly. not as tight nor as tense.

“i’m gonna need more than five. especially if you’re gonna give me a massage,” he finally breaks, giving you that eye contact that made the butterflies in your tummy flutter at long last.

you giggle, “exactly!”

you sweeten your tone, drawl your vowels, “come on, please?”

he knows what you’re doing and it’s working. he smiles in a ‘you’ve got me, hands up’ sort of way and (falsely) begrudgingly turns his chair to face you with said smile.

you pull him up easily and he lets you drag him to his bed. happily flop down on it.

his hand finds its place on your thigh, the other by the dip of your waist. you enjoy the feeling. how firm his hold was and yet still ever so careful, like he was only focusing on you and how small you were in his large hands.

soon you lift your hands and cross them at the wrists behind katsuki’s neck, keep a close proximity between your noses. “lie down,” you simply say, quickly eyeing the mattress, crimson cover pulled tightly over it, very katsuki-esque.

defeated, he obliges. lets his chest meet the bed and stretches his long legs out, you kneeling to the side to make room.

once he’s finally sprawled out, you let your pelvis sit atop his, “sorry if i’m too heavy.”

he laughs heartily, the one that always makes your heart melt and you weak in the knees, “oh, shut up.” his sentence rumbles with the buzz of his laughter to which you offer him a soft smile, despite the fact that he can’t see your face.

“mmm, can you tell me where you feel the most tightness?” you ask politely.

he hums, then gestures to his upper back, around his shoulder blades, that sort of general area. “it’s mostly just my shoulders like you said. and a bit down here too.” he hovers his hand over where your knees rest on opposite sides of his waist.

without saying anything, you quickly start. first spreading your hands over the tight muscle by his shoulders repeatedly. you know you’re doing a good job when you hear katsuki’s relieved groans. letting out all that pressure and stress that’s built up in his body.

your hands slowly drag down the form of his body, thumbs kneading in on his lower back. again, another groan sounds from katsuki’s lips. “ahh, just like that, baby.”

you blush, thinking of the many times that sentence has been uttered in a very different context but you enjoy making your boyfriend feel good in any way. enjoy how his breathing becomes deeper the more you move your hands.

“it’ll feel better if you take your shirt off,” you suggest.

“mmm, yeah…" he nods, "yeah, you’re probably right.” he gets up and you slide off him easily. watch him coolly tug the black cotton material over his head, eyes glaze over when you see his taut body underneath, finally unveiled.

katsuki flops back into the mattress face down as soon as he chucks the fitted tee away, he’s clearly enjoying his break.

you chuckle, “didn’t i tell you? you should’ve stopped over an hour ago,” you step back over him so your pelvises are connected again.

he grabs your thigh, face still deep into the mattress so his voice is muffled, “i know, you’re right, baby. ya always are.” your cheeks grow warm at the sincerity of his tone.

you repeat your massaging motions with your soft hands, feel the vibration of his moans through his flesh before bringing your lips close to between his shoulder blades. “awh, baby,” he says, “gotta pay you back for this somehow. maybe i’ll marry ya after we graduate.”

“yeah? that a fact?” you tease.

“yup.” he rubs his hand up and down over your leg. “can take your last name or you can have mine. whichever you prefer.”

“hmm. hyphenate?”

“your choice, darling.”

you sigh contently, “always love when you call me that,” you say quietly as you continue pressing into his tender tissue.

“i’ll call you it more often then,” his hand slips down and easily wraps round your ankle, his thumb rolls circles into the bone as his fingers clasp against the slight dip in your foot.

“you mind getting up so i can kiss you?”

you giggle, “nope,” holding your ground.

he moves from underneath you anyway and quickly grabs you before you can run away. “come here, you,” he playfully grunts.

your laugh is melodious in his ears, he’d do anything to hear more of it. his favourite sound. among others.

he cups your face before you can escape and kisses you passionately. you grab at his wrists, smile still lifting your cheeks and stretching the skin around your eyes taut.

it’s heated at first but then slows into something more intimate and raw, almost innocent. he then pulls away from your lips and plasters smooches all over your face. each kiss louder than the last as you simper each time.

when he stops, he’s still holding your face. his eyes watching how the highlights in yours grows, iris thin in how full the pupils are, he sees his own reflection in them and your pretty smile.

“i love you.” he says, unabashedly.

you lean into his touch, kiss his palm, “i love you, too.” your small hand over his much larger one holding your cheeks. “let’s go to sleep?” you ask, looking at him through your lashes.

his smile is sweet when he strokes the skin by your eye for no particular reason other than to just feel more of you, “yeah.” kisses you there. “let’s go to sleep.”

© WHISPER 2K24 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[wh1sp3rr]

I love ur writing sm so I was wondering if you could pls pls pls write about Jason experiencing Hanahaki disease because he is so in love w the reader but thinks she just views him as a partner for missions/friend. You can make it angsty or fluff, up to you :)

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ofc!! i’ve just finished it, here’s the link!! thank you for the request love 🤍🤍

[wh1sp3rr]

HANAHAKI DISEASE + jason todd; 2.8k

you're his only cure...

based on this ask!

🏷️ cw/tags: sfw, fem!reader, angst, happy ending, hanahaki disease, dialogue heavy, not proofread

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He sees the way you and Dick talk. The way you laugh together, smile together, leave together. He hates the way Bruce or Tim or Barbara make quips about how you guys were clearly meant for each other and it splits his heart. It’s not like you necessarily spent more time with Dick, but he just knew, deep inside his tormented head that was once silent and cold and dead, that you valued your time with him a great deal less than you did with his brother.

You’re all standing around the Bat-computer, he’d notice the iridescent blue glow softening your features and the way your eyes retained a certain colour, newer and just as pretty as before, discussing whatever mission you had been on. He can’t even focus, was it Riddler or Penguin? His brain complete static surrounding the image of you, and just you, before Barbara (now Oracle) asks your small select team of three a question in regard to your mission. A question directed at all of you. So why did you two have to sideline him like that? Have to completely forget that he was there…

“Ten crates.” You and Dick both say at the same time. You turn and smile at each other, Dick puts his large hands up in anticipation for a double high-five. Your grin is wide and you jump up to reach. The sound is crisp and clean, and just as the high-five connects, he locks hands with you, brings them down to your sides and kisses your cheek loudly.

“Dick!” You’d yell out, scrunching your eyes and smiling sweetly.

“Cut it out, lovebirds.” Oracle would eyeroll.

The whole team turns instantly at the sudden hacking and coughing from Jason. His hand balled into a fist trying to cushion the sound, his shoulders jerking as the, unbeknownst to him, flowers clog his airways. “Jesus, Jason.” The world is fuzzy and his eyes water, can’t even tell whose voice that came from.

“God, go to the kitchen! Get some water.” Barbara points, and though she’s helping, it feels like to Jason she’s shooing him off. He wanted to hear something like your voice offering to take him, or just to immediately follow behind him. But that doesn’t happen. And he leaves for the bathroom instead.

The buzzing from the cold, white light sounds so eerie to him. He grabs each side of the sink and stares at the drain, sure that something will come out. Maybe blood, or mucus or vomit but instead, these deep purple bellflowers come out, sprinkled with splatters of blood. The petals are wrinkled and the flowers are mostly closed. He reaches in, touches them and paints his fingertips red. There’s a lot of them and he rubs them between his finger and thumb, “What the fuck…” He can only whisper to himself.

Poison? Magic? Maybe Ivy’s doing? He’d been on a mission dealing with her last week so maybe the effects were delayed or whatever it was that this is. He rubs a fake palm at his chest as the options whiz through his mind, his pragmatism becoming more desperate and flawed with each thought and every possibility.

There’s a little knock that comes from the door. It’s your voice. “Jason, are you okay?” You sound frightened, and even pitiful. He wants to open the door, let you in to both his heart and the room but then he hears another voice, his brother’s voice, and it’s not even talking to him, it’s talking to you.

“You think he’s alright?” His deeper voice asks.

“I don’t know, Dick. But you saw how he was coughing—“ His hack starts again, wheezing and desperate for a window of air. The flowers are red this time, still bellflowers, but dipped in blood rather than just merely splattered.

It hits him. There’s only one reason. And it’s because he can’t have you, you don’t think of him the way he does of you, dream of him the way he does of you, touch yourself the way he does…to you.

He looks up slowly. Stares at his wicked reflection in the mirror, pale and sweaty, pupils blown full like he’s just done a line. He breathes in sharply and washes his face, splashes some cold water on it a few times before washing and during his hands. He opens the door. It’s just you out there.

“God, are you alright—“

“I’m fine.” He cuts you off, you’re met with that familiar iron wall he’d put up. No matter how much of a good time you’ll have with him, it always feels like you’re starting at square one with him whenever he does that. But you swallow your pride, and hold your tongue, you know how boys can get in general, let alone Jason.

“I know you’re not,” he stays staring down at you, watches the way your eyes are fixated on him, and for a moment, he feels alleviated, like the presence of the flowers are all gone. “Let me help you.” His eyes flick to the empty space next to you, his voice monotone.

“Where’s Dick?”

“Ugh, I don’t know,” you say slightly irritated, kind of grumpy, you didn’t want him to change the subject. “He said he was gonna get Alfred or something.” You dismiss, try to hold on to his hand, worried it might be worse than what he’s leading on. “Please, Jason. It’s me.” Your voice slightly cracks when you say ‘It’s me’ and it paws at his heart, makes him feel bad for you even though he’s the one suffering, little did he know that you thought of your relationship with him as paramount to your one with Dick. Only your friends outside of the Bat family knew, and even then, you didn’t even tell them his name. Just this guy that you’ve sort of had a crush on for a few years now and you’re scared that you’re growing apart. You were so close when you were younger.

He’ll admit, it did feel nice for you to touch him like that but he just can’t give himself false hope and he sighs, tries to let you down easy, “I told you, I’m fine. I…” he tries to search for a word he’s okay with blemishing, not ‘swear’ or ‘promise’ but something not as...poetic. Before he can even think, you cut his train of thought. A little angry.

“Okay. Sure, let’s just not tell me anything again as you usually do. Fuck sake.” That last part was to yourself, breathy and a little bit crestfallen. Did he really not trust you enough with the truth? Is that how far you’ve grown apart?

As you turn your back to leave you feel his heavy hand on your shoulder, “Wait.” You turn around, hopeful he’ll open up. He stares at you, though this was his habit of when his cogs were turning. He gives in.

You give him a begging look, wide eyes pleading. “Please, Jason.” You say softly, so only the two of you could hear.

“Let’s go outside.”

You’re both leaving together and as you do you call out to Barbara, “Tell Dick we’re just going on a walk.” He winces at his name, “Don’t. Bother us.” You stare at Tim, “That goes twice for you.” He nods, chirpy.

Out the door, then out the gates, there’s now newfound freedom. It’s dark but the wind is absent so the air is still. The thick swirls of grey-white in the sky warn of forthcoming rain. “Shit, I think it’s gonna rain.”

“We can head back inside if you want.” He shrugs.

You smile, “You’re not getting rid of me that easy. And besides,” you lean into him briefly, intimately, dropping your voice, “It’s been a while since we’ve been alone together.”

“Cuz you’re always with that new boyfriend of yours.”

Your mouth hangs open as your jaw goes slack, remnants of a smirk still evident on your face, “He is not my boyfriend. God, why does everyone think that?” He hates that you immediately knew who he was referring to, though it’s so painfully obvious.

“You’re always with him, that’s why.”

“So? What happened to being friends? I can be friends with people you know.”

“I know.” He states clearly, looks at you for the first time and watches your face before he turns back to face the path.

You chuckle, “Whatever.”

The small then heavy sound of footsteps becomes obvious to you when silence falls on your conversation. A few hums of loud motorcycle engines peppered with birds’ singsong trills.

“Let’s go down here!” You excitedly say. It’s a pathway with so many flowers and trees that Mother Nature herself could reside there. It’s also where you and Jason would skip school a lot just to sit and talk for hours. “We haven’t been in so long.” He merely shrugs and you pull his arm to follow you, though no encouragement is needed for that. He’d follow you to the end of time.

Your footsteps are crunchy now, sticks and leaves scattered all about till you reach the bench you’d always sit on. Sakura tree umbrella. It always smelled so nice. “God, it hasn’t changed one bit.”

You sit down first then Jason. You smile at him and kick your feet a little, let them sway in the small distance they have from the ground, before pulling them up and sitting comfortably to face him. “So…” You start.

“So…” he copies.

“Ugh, Jason. Come on.” You hastily say, desperate smile now leaving your face. You’re worried look returning. “I’m listening.”

“I’m…” he looks at the ground when he starts but spots you move closer to face him when he begins, quickly made alert. He sighs, doesn’t know how to approach it without sounding crazy.

“Mhm?” You hum, sweet and soft and dulcet. A reminder as to why he loved you. You were always just so keen and present and had these ways of getting to him he couldn’t understand why.

“I’m coughing up…flowers.” The ground completely occupies his eyes, he doesn’t dare to face you till he does, until you make him at least, softly bringing his face to yours with your gentle, caring hands. His eyes are big like a deer’s and he looks so beautiful. You wanna push at the boundaries, brush his lip, kiss his mouth—breathe his air. But you stop yourself, and slowly remove your hand.

“Do you think it’s Ivy?”

“I thought I did but…mmm,” he sighs, makes a giving up gesture with his hands, “Doesn’t make sense.”

“We’ll go to a doctor. I’ll tell Bruce.”

“Don’t tell that asshole anything.” He dismisses, looks away from you and back down at the ground.

“Well what do you want me to do, Jason?” You say slightly, very slightly, raising your voice, worry crease still slotted between your brows.

“I’ll figure it out. I’ll run an analysis or, I don’t know, do a ton of research.” He’s searching for his words as he speaks, unrehearsed. You pick up on it.

“What’s wrong with going to a doctor? I won’t say anything to Bruce.”

By this point, he’s sure that this isn’t something a doctor could cure. This is something psychological. But somehow also physical. His gut tells him that it’s you, or the lack thereof and it sounds ridiculous in his head but it’s the only thing that lines up with the evidence. It’s you.

“No. A doctor won’t help.”

“A doctor won’t help?” You repeat, exasperated. “What do you mean, ‘a doctor won’t help?’”

“It just won’t!” He raises his voice a little, “Trust me,” he says to himself.

“Don’t keep me in the dark here, Jason. At least tell me why.” You reason.

“I can’t.”

“God, why!?”

“I just can’t!” He raises his voice like before. “I just…can’t. Please respect that.” He says softer.

You sigh and back off, feels like you’re at a dead end, and stare up at the sky, and how the pink blossomed tree covers most of it. You hear the click of a lighter to your right and shift to see Jason lighting up a cig.

“Thought you quit.” You say, watching him.

He holds the cigarette between his two fingers, shakes his head no with it stuck between his teeth then sucks and blows away from you.

“When’d you start?” You ask, somber.

“Now.” He says, clearly. You laugh and shake your head, you did always love his dry humour, how he’d keep his face deadpan no matter how funny he knew he was. Though this time, he smiles. Not big, but small and honest.

“I’m disappointed, I can’t lie.” You say.

“You always say this and then ask for one too.”

“You’re right. Can I have one?” Right on que, you reply.

He shakes his head and you drop your jaw in feigned shock. “Really?” You ask.

He nods once, “You just berated me for smoking one.”

“I did not berate you. I just said I was disappointed.” You’re almost flirting, almost.

“Yeah, well,” and he mumbles half-heartedly to himself. You scoff, light-hearted, but still a scoff nonetheless and face forward, before you hear some rustling to your right again and he hands you a cigarette. You smile bright and take it from him.

“Thank you!” Your voice high pitched, slot the stick between your fingers before looking at him, he flicks his lighter on before cupping it and slowly lighting your cig. You breathe in; smoke, and let the cloud out.

Silence fills the air between you two and you relish in it briefly. Watch the sky get darker and the clouds get pulled apart. “We were lucky,” you gesture with the cig between your fingers up to the sky, “It was defo going to rain.”

“Mmm.” He hums.

More silence passes and this time Jason starts: “Can I ask you a question?” You perk up.

“Sure, anything.”

“If you and Dick are just friends then how come you flirt all the time. I mean like…” He swallows, “Do you like him or something?” He feels the flowers growing in his throat, ready to burst out depending on your answer.

“Oh my god, can’t a girl just have some fun?” You pull from your cigarette once more before putting it out, let it fall to the ground. “I don’t like Dick in that way. I really don’t. But Jesus, I’m young. I like that there aren’t any consequences to my actions. It’s just me being silly.”

“How come you don’t flirt with me like that?” The question strikes you in your heart and you’re taken aback a bit, confused face on and everything. Does he know that you like him? Is it that obvious?

“Why are you asking? You jealous?” You challenge.

“Kind of, yeah.” He honestly remarks and your confused face drops into something kinder.

“Oh.” His heart is beating against his chest like crazy, it feels like an entire forest is growing in his lungs, sprouting then blooming almost instantly till they are all inevitably sure to come out.

It’s a stupid question and you okay with your fingers to soothe yourself, “Um, why are—why are you jealous?” You stutter.

“Cuz I liked you first.” He smoothly says, eyes staring into yours, so much so that your face can’t take it, your cheeks feel like a hot oven and you look down briefly, though his eyes follow you.

And then you pick your head back up and you give him back the same energy, still a little starstruck and your voice is now whispery. You glance down at his lips briefly then back up to his staring eyes, subconsciously you bring your face closer.

“What about now?” You ask, quietly.

He glances at your lips, shameless with his stare then looks back up with his smaller eyes, holding back his lunging cough, scared you’ll kill him. He takes the leap of faith and jumps: “The same.”

You lean in closer and flick between his eyes, search for any cruel game he might be playing and your lips are just a few centimetres away from connecting. “Don’t you dare make me regret this, Jason Todd.” You finally close the gap, satisfy and cool his burning lungs, his beating heart. He cradles your face after a few seconds, feels your neck, meets the beginning of your hair and kisses back so wantonly and desperately. You bring yourself over to sit on his lap, only a few pieces of clothing forcefielding between yourselves, and grab and rake his hair, swallowing his air and kissing him so deeply. When you pull apart, Jason’s hand still rubbing your back up and down, your foreheads meets and you gracefully admit, “I’ve had a crush on you since highschool.”

“Since highschool?” He smiles, feels the clearness of his throat and how good oxygen tastes.

You nod once, “Since highschool.” Your smile emulating his.

He clasps at the back of your head and goes all puppy like on you, his smile so deep that his eyes become slits. “I feel better now. You’re my cure.”

You roll your eyes light-heartedly but give in, “I guess I am.”

© WHISPER 2K24 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[luvacookie]

mr steal ur girl.

eren notices an unfamiliar face at one of his frat parties…

❥ warnings : reiner bein a dick, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), nicknames, squirting, porn w a plot, intended use of lower case, mildly proof read, shy-ish reader, black fem coded.

❥ cookie for ur thoughts ? : my first post, my first aot idea >~< ! idk how people will respond to this. i need to write a lil sum sum for con, i will work on it…

“pleaseee ! you never come out with me! plus you get to be around reiner.”

pieck stared at you through the floor length mirror, adjusting her black skin tight dress as you ignored her and continued to scroll through your phone. as per usual, she was going to one of her parties hosted by her friends and as per usual she was asking you to join her.

normally you declined, opting to stay wrapped up in bed, catching up on one of your hour long k-dramas episodes or looking over work you did in a lecture.

parties were not your scene and they never had been.

“pieck… i don’t know…” you responded sceptically, curling the end of your braid around your finger.

“i can set you up with reiner, he talks about you all the time you know,” pieck said walking over to your bed.

you sighed, you knew she was just using your delusional crush on reiner to lure you in and unfortunately it was working.

you pushed your glasses up, exhaling defeatedly. pieck smiled and clapped her hands together, jumping up from the bed.

“we have to make sure you look cute as fuck so shower, skincare, makeup, whatever you need to do and by time you get out i’ll have a cute fit for you!” she said happily, digging through your clothes.

you hauled yourself out of bed, grabbing your towel and headed to the shower. you cleaned up nicely, freshening yourself up for the party. you put your braids into a half-up half-down with a side parting, laying your edges with a decorative heart.

pieck had picked out a two piece pink set for you with white string heels, you matched your accessories accordingly with pink hair clips and white glasses.

she smiled at you in awe. “you look so fuckin’ good right now! you seriously need to get out more.”

you looked down shyly, “are you sure pie’? this is so out of my zone.”

“oh my god, of course i’m sure, now come on. reiner won’t wait all night,” she giggled.

she grabbed you by the hand and dragged you to her convertible, making sure to let the top down so the warm night air hit your faces. the ride there was filled with vibes and giggles, your nerves slowly disappearing.

soon enough you arrived at the frat house, the musics blaring through all the open doors and windows. people were dancing on the lawn, cars pulled up in every direction. pieck dragged you through the crowd, stopping for a couple seconds at a time to say hi to her mutuals.

soon enough you found your way into the kitchen with her where the rest of your friend group was.

“hey guys!” pieck called out over the music and they all greeted her back.

“no fuckin’ way you brought y/n,” connie said, licking his paper and putting the blunt behind his ear.

you waved at him, smiling lightly.

“well damn, who woulda thought,” annie said from beside him, holding a red solo cup.

“she finally managed to convince me soooo…” you trailed off leaning against the counter.

“you look hot though,” sasha commented, a lazy smile on her face as if she was already high.

“mmm, cheers to that,” reiner said from behind you.

you turned around, looking him up and down. he had a simple white tee on that hugged his arms perfectly, a pair of black cargo’s with a silver chain. he handed you a cup and knocked it with yours, tipping the contents of it back.

you stared at him briefly, watching his throat move as he swallowed. you followed shortly after, pulling a face as the liquor burned your throat.

everyone spoke amongst themselves, pieck catching up on all the lost drinks, leaving you and reiner to have a sweet conversation.

“why don’t i see you out enough?” he asked, looking down at you.

you turned your head to the side, the eye contact making your stomach flip, “not really my thing.”

“they should be,” he followed up quickly, “you’re too pretty to be kept hostage in your dorm.”

you looked at him, smiling. “thanks.”

“no problem sweetheart,” he poured himself another drink, refilling yours too.

“you drink a lot?” he asked, sipping on his mix.

“not really, only when i come to these things, which is basically never,” you chuckled lightly, tasting your drink.

“i’m gonna have to force pieck to bring you out more, you’re too fuckin’ pretty darling.”

“rei, stop you’re making me feel shy,” you sighed, looking at him with obvious heart eyes.

he made a noise in his throat, a cocky smirk on his face. “dance with me?”

you stared, your brain slowly registering before you nodded. you turned to pieck, gesturing that you were going with reiner and she gave you a massive thumbs up in encouragement.

reiner took your hand in his and lead you to where the music was the loudest, putting your hands around his neck as his met your waist. he stayed with you like that for the majority of the song, his eyes holding yours.

your acrylics danced at the nape of his neck, as the grip on your waist slowly became tighter. he pulled you close enough for your chests to be touching, forcing you to look up at his height.

“are you even listening ? hellooo?”

“yeah..yeah, who’s that?” eren asked, ignoring whatever armin was saying.

armin looked around, “who?”

“her,” eren said, nodding in your direction.

“oh, y/n l/n. she’s in my english major,” armin said dismissively.

eren nodded, watching how you were slowly grinding on reiner, or realistically how your tits were moving in your dress. he had never seen you before, so how did you know reiner of all people?

as the song ended you pulled reiner down to your height, muttering something to him in which he nodded. you left the room, leaving reiner to join one of his other group of friends, though he didn’t see where you left to as porco joined him and armin.

you returned to the kitchen where connie was left on his own, tapping the ash off his blunt into the sink.

“you and reiner?” he asked, his words slightly slowed.

you poured a shot, smiling to yourself. “maybe. i don’t know.”

you tipped it back as he continued talking to you. “he likes you, you know that right?”

you reapplied your lipgloss, “does he?”

“for real, he talks about you all the time,” he inhaled slowly.

“that’s cute. i like him too,” you smiled at connie.

he exhaled and turned the roll to you, “you smoke?”

“no… i’ve only hit once before,” you admitted, staring at it.

“you don’t wanna hit that shit, probably laced,” came a deep voice from behind you.

you turned to see eren leaning on the door frame, staring at you. he was wearing simple grey sweats and a white tee, his hair pulled back into a messy bun.

“fuck off yaeger,” connie muttered, rolling his eyes, smoke exhaling his mouth with a string of cusses following.

he ignored connie, focusing his attention on you. “you’ve never been to one of these before have you?”

“do i stand out that bad?” you shook your head, the sound of your acrylic tapping the glass following.

eren walked round the counter, pouring himself straight whiskey. “oh you stand out… would’ve remembered your face.”

you tip your head to the side and glance back at connie who stares at you blankly. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“means your cute, your boyfriend is lucky,” he comments swiftly.

“my boyfriend ?” you question, toying with the curly end of your braid.

“reiner. i would think so anyways after the way you were dancing with him,” he responds, a glint in his eye as if he was digging for information.

you look up and make eye contact with him. “he’s not my boyfriend—”

“not yet anyways,” connie interrupts.

you felt your face flush, unsure if you had turned a shade of red or not. you shook your head and had another shaky shot, the alcohol seeping it’s way into your bloodstream.

“what’s your name ?” eren asks, sipping vodka straight from the bottle that was left on the counter.

“y/n,” you responded. “don’t worry, i know who you are eren.”

he tipped his head to the side slightly, he liked the way you said his name.

he hummed, continuing his drink when his friend armin entered the room.

“are reiner and annie fucking or something ?” he asks, a twinge of annoyance in his tone.

you turned to look at armin, your heart slightly dropping. “what do you mean ?”

armin looks at you as if he hadn’t registered you were in the room, “n-nothing. just the way they were talkin’ and dancing and shit..”

you were sure you felt your heart drop this time. annie and reiner ? they had never gave an indication that they liked each other.

you looked off to the side, your throat slowly going dry.

connie noticed and sighed. “they like siblings, don’t stress it.”

you nodded, “y-yeah of course, i just need some air or something.”

you used that as your cue to leave, eren’s eyes following your figure as you walked past him towards the back garden.

you were slightly embarrassed, choking up in front of three boys, two of them you barley knew. you sat on a chair in the corner, taking a shallow breath and texting pieck.

y/n : i think i’m ready to cut pie

pie 🙇🏾‍♀️💓 : y ? e oksy?

you looked at her message and knew she was drunk, yet she still tried her best to check in on you.

y/n : yh dw abt me imma jus take an uber or smthin

pie 🙇🏾‍♀️💓 : olay

pie 🙇🏾‍♀️💓 : grt home sfe iky <3333

you sighed and turned your phone off, looking at the people in the garden. you heard giggling and saw reiner and annie trip over one another, clearly having a good time with themselves.

you turned your phone on and scrolled through your missed texts when you felt a person stood behind you. you looked up and saw eren’s green eyes looking at annie and reiner.

“what a prick,” eren sighed, looking down to meet your eyes.

“it’s cool. annie’s better than me by like tenfold so i’m not really shocked,” you responded, dropping your phone in your lap.

“don’t be fuckin’ dumb, reiner’s a blind asshole. he always has been,” he comforted you. “here.”

he handed you his lit joint and you took a hesitant hit, careful not to get lipgloss all over the paper.

eren watched you as you exhaled into the air, swallowing nothing. “you good?”

you nodded, “ ‘m good.”

you guys stayed like that for a while, exchanging useless comments and smoking. eren was glad that your mood had been lifted. at some point you had ended up back in the kitchen with your group of friends, high and definitely drunk.

pieck had everyone do body shots off of her stomach and made you dance round the counter like an idiot, something you were too drunk to question.

“where’d you go?” reiner’s voice said from behind you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.

you tensed uncomfortably, though reiner was far too gone to notice. you wriggled out of his grasp, turning around to look at him. “s-sorry, i ended up getting distracted by eren and connie.”

eren nodded at whatever words mikasa was saying, his eyes focusing on the way reiner was forcing a conversation after abandoning you to fuck around with annie.

“yaeger? what were you doing with that bastard ?” reiner said, ignoring the way you rubbed your arm rather nervously.

“n-nothing, we was jus’ talking and shi—”

“fuck that, don’t hang around with that kid,” reiner cut you off, staring at you rather annoyed.

“reiner, i’m sorry he just—”

“why shouldn’t she hang around with me ? i’d say i’m a pretty fun time,” eren said lazily, sitting on the counter beside you.

reiner glared at him, “don’t start your bullshit with me yaeger.”

“i’d say you’re starting problems with me braun, tellin’ pretty girls they should steer clear,” he responded.

eren looked unbothered whereas reiner had become rather agitated.

he ignored reiner, turning to you, “wanna go some where else ?”

you looked at reiner then at eren before nodding, following his lead and taking his hand as he lead you somewhere else.

“fuckin’ hell. rei just got his bitch stolen by yaeger,” porco muttered, reiner still heard it.

“you good princess?” eren mumbled, the sound of his door clicking shut.

“mhm, thank you,” you responded from his desk, untying your heels as he pushed himself up on his bed.

“for what?” he asked pointedly, his eyes locking with yours.

“the reiner thing—”

“anybody with working brain cells could see that you were uncomfortable, i was just helping out,” he dismissed, his hands resting behind his head.

you nodded, holding eye contact with him. the room went silent, the only sound being the tapping of your acrylics against the wood of his desk.

eren sighed, patting the cover of his bedsheets. “c’mere, you too far away.”

you let out a little laugh, hopping off his desk and standing in front of him. he grabbed you by your hands and pulled you on top of him, settling yourself on his hips. he was less than bother by the sudden added weight of your own body, his hands meeting the side of your thighs.

“you really are mad pretty,” he mumbled, squeezing the fat of your thighs that was closer to your ass.

you exhaled, turning your head to try and hide your smile. he grabbed your face and turned it back to him, his eyes hooded with lust.

you stared at him and your eyes dropped to his lips and unfortunately for you, he didn’t miss it. you took a deep breath and leaned forward, encasing eren’s lips in yours.

his hands instantly moved to your ass, squeezing roughly. he kissed you back hard, pushing his hips upwards.

your hands travelled to the back of his hair, your acrylics burying themselves in the nape of his neck. he sat up properly so he could flip you over, a shear display of his strength.

he bit at the bottom of your lip, taking advantage of the whine you let out to slip his tongue into your mouth. his hands wondered down the front of your top, though he pulled away, inspecting your face.

“why’d you stop ?” you mumbled, your eyes darting towards his swollen lips.

“nothin’, just checking to see if you’re actually sober. you alright with this though ?” he asked and you nodded eagerly, tugging at his hoodie.

he laughed. “you’re a desperate thing aren’t you.”

“eren, please,” you mumbled, pulling him forwards with more force.

“fuck. whatever you want princess,” he groaned, grabbing you by the neck and pulling you into a deeper kiss than before.

you moaned quietly as he untied the front of your shirt, revealing your lacy white bra.

“please tell me you weren’t wearing this for reiner,” he begged, rubbing on your tits.

you shook your head. “thank fuck for that.”

he pulled your skirt off, revealing your matching set, throwing the skirt somewhere in his room.

“fuck sake, y/n,” he muttered, eyes trailing the whole of your body.

you tugged at his zipper, “off, i want it off.”

he unzipped his hoodie with a chuckle, removing his shirt too, revealing his muscles. “makin’ demands now ?”

you rolled your eyes and pulled him back in for another heated kiss, your hands trailing down his body and palming his dick through his grey bottoms. he groaned, kissing you harder as you continued to stroke his growing hard-on through the material.

he pulled away and began kissing down your neck, leaving deep hickies as he went down, kissing all the way down your stomach till he got to the top of your lace thong.

he made eye contact with you as he placed a light kiss on your cover clit, watching as your mouth slightly dropped open. he pulled your panties down, stuffing them in his pocket whilst he rubbed on your clit with slow circles.

“you’re so fuckin’ wet for me right now angel. did you know that?” he asked, continuing with his agonisingly slow circles.

“mm fuck, eren, please—” you whined, your hands gripping his sheets.

“please what princess?” he teased, watching your body squirm under his touch.

you whined even louder. “fuck, i want more—” you cut yourself off with a shallow moan as he dipped his middle finger inside of you briefly before pulling it out.

“more what?” he teased.

you looked at him with round glossy eyes, “please eat me out.”

“that’s all you had to say princess,” he laughed, finally giving you what you wanted.

his tongue made contact with your clit and he licked eagerly, making his middle and ring finger stretch you out nicely.

“gotta make sure this pretty pussy is ready for my dick hm,” he mumbled on your clit, sucking on it roughly.

you babbled incoherent sentences, scratching as far as your hands could reach down his shoulders. your moans gradually increased in volume as his slender fingers worked your insides deliciously, finding that soft spot your own couldn’t reach with ease.

“f-fuck eren— feels so fuckin’ good,” you moaned gripping on his sheets harder.

just as you could feel your orgasm approaching, you could feel your phone vibrate beside you.

pieck was calling you, your thighs began to close but eren forced them back open. “answer it.”

“b-but—”

“i said answer it and be quiet.”

you looked at him before doing as he said, his fingers working harder than before.

“y/nnnn! where did you gooooo?” pieck shouted down the phone.

“i-i went with— mm-fuck, eren—” you struggled, pulling at eren’s hand.

“to do whatttt? you guys are missing the party” she yelled, giggling shortly after.

you struggled to hold back a moan as eren sucked more feverishly on your clit, “ ‘m s-sorry pie’, w-we’ll be — fuckfuck— we’ll be b-back soon.”

pieck stayed silent on the other side for a moment. “ohmygodyouanderenarefucking?!”

eren laughed, the vibrations on your clit causing you to let a loud whine slip past your mouth, one pieck definitely heard.

“OHMYGOD YOU ARE! GUYSGUYS EREN AND Y/N ARE—”

you hung up on her and threw your phone on the floor some where, focusing back on eren. “that is y-your fault.”

he pulled up and looked at you, the lower half of his face covered in your slick. “i told you to be quiet princess.”

you rolled your eyes as he continued finger fucking you, his tongue slipping to your hole every now and again.

a strange feeling built up in your stomach, making you push him away by his shoulders. “mm— eren wait, f-feels like ‘m gonna—”

his dick twitched at the thought of you squirting from him eating your pussy, so he pushed your hands away. “stop, let me finish.”

“no— eren—”

he grabbed your arms with his free hand and held them to your side, licking at your clit more needly as he could feel your cunt clenching around his fingers. “i got you princess.”

you moaned loudly and the clear liquid drenched your thighs and his sheets, eren’s fingers still working you through your orgasm.

“f-fuck, eren— please—” you moaned desperately, tears sliding down the side of your face as you tried to squeeze your thighs shut.

“give me one more, i know you can y/n,” he mumbled, pulling your thighs open as his fingers working faster, grazing your soft spot every time.

you shook your head, feeling your second orgasm approaching harder than the first one.

“fuckfuckfuck, eren please—” you came around his fingers a second time, moaning loudly.

“there you fucking go,” eren smirked, feeling your cunt squeeze him. he slipped his fingers out and kissed your clit gently before coming back up to kiss you.

“you okay princess?” he asked quietly, looking you in your eyes.

you nodded lazily, fucked out from the two orgasms he gave you. “ ‘m good.”

“good cause i’m not done with you yet,” he exhaled, kissing you again.

he pulled his bottoms down, revealing his white calvin klein boxers that hugged his straining dick.

“this is your fault,” he said mimicking the words you said to him earlier.

you ignored him and palmed at his dick, feeling it twitch under the contact. you pulled his boxers down and let it free, continuing to rub it bare.

“fuckk—” he groaned, “shit, let me get a condom—”

“i’m clean,” you interjected, “and on birth control.”

eren looked slightly taken back. “are you sure ?”

you nodded desperately, “i need you please—”

“well shit. i’m clean too don’t worry,” he reassured you.

you nodded and continued rubbing his dick.

he moaned lowly before grabbing your face, “open.”

you opened your mouth and he stuck his fingers down your throat, the same ones that had been inside you.

he pulled them out and rubbed them on his dick, mixing your spit and his pre-cum.

next time i’ll have to get head, he thinks to himself before lining his dick up with your cunt. you moan loudly as the tip slowly pushed past your pillowy walls, hugging eren tightly.

“shit—” eren cussed as he felt your nails dig into his bicep, “you’re never fuckin’ getting rid of me princess.”

he bottomed out, making you whimper. he stilled, allowing you to adjust to his length. he watched your face for any signs of discomfort before slowly moving in and out of your cunt.

“fuck eren— you feel- so good—” you babbled incoherently, clawing deep marks down his back.

he nodded, lifting your leg to put it over his shoulder to get a better angle. he increased his speed, rubbing at your clit, making you squeeze his cock.

his hips stuttered. “stop doing that, gonna make me cum.”

“i want you to cum in me though,” you said, looking at him through your lashes.

eren scoffed and went deeper, thanks to the angle his tip kept assaulting your sweet spot.

you whimpered, “fuck eren— gonna cum—”

“no you’re not. hold it,” he grunted, gripping your hips and pulling you down to meet his base.

“eren,” you whined.

his pacing slowed down, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he neared his high.

“fuck— princess, i’m gonna cum—” he muttered into your ankle, nibbling slightly.

you squeezed around him at the sensations. he let out a deep moan, his cum painting the insides of your pussy white.

you came as you felt him empty inside of you, digging a crescent shape into his back.

“f-fuck,” you mumbled, watching him pull his dick out.

you whined at the empty feeling, though eren chose to ignore it. “imma be back.”

he picked his boxers up from the floor and pulled them on, walking to his bathroom. he walked out with a warm cloth, gently wiping the insides of your thigh.

“is your back okay? i noticed all the scratches and some were kinda bleeding…” you said sympathetically.

“don’t worry about me, i’ve had worse,” he smiled.

when he finished he put it on his desk and walked back over to you, kissing you gently.

“you good princess?”

you nodded dazed, causing eren to chuckle. he pulled you up and helped you get dressed, allowing you to fix your makeup and hair.

when you left his bedroom the party was still full swing, people dancing and drinking.

“ayeee ! there they are,” porco called out, clapping eren on the back when he sat next to him.

you were about to walk off to sit with pieck and sasha when eren grabbed your hand and pulled you into his lap.

you looked at him confused when he muttered in your ear. “didn’t i tell you you’re never getting rid of me ?”

you were sure this time you were blushing, especially when he kissed the dark hickey on your neck.

“alright, we get it, you fucked, get a room,” sasha fake gagged, giggling after.

eren made eye contact with reiner. “she won’t be able to walk next time we get a room.”

[wh1sp3rr]

literally so fucking omg??? love love LOVE.

[wh1sp3rr]

hate sex with arkham knight!jason

ೀ masterlist ೀ requests ೀ

he’s so mean and mocking, has you pinned to the wall, hand shackling your neck, your head getting fuzzy and your vision going blue.

feels like ur on a drug, chasing that high more and more with each thrust he gives you. he’s got this sexy half-smile half-smirk thing going on, and he’s sweating so much, it slicks his hair back and makes his curls wet with it’s salty sheen: sharp glisten as they bounce up and down every time he moves.

you can barely get a word out, feel the sentence bubble up in your throat for what feels like hours before you finally manage to hear it vocalise and ring in your ears, each word cut off by a hiccup and jason’s still so cocky and mean but also tender, wipes the corners of your eyes, likes to see the mascara smear on your face and his thumb, before cradling your face and shutting you up with a kiss. lips soon swollen and eyes wanton.

“you talk too much.” he’d simply say to ur desperately and pathetically feeble attempt at dismissing the eye rolling feeling of his dick so deep inside fucking you so good rn.

before you manage to say anything he shushes you and puts a hand over your mouth, “thereee. that’s betterrr.” he’d coo, feeling you drool from the inside of his palm.

“fuckin’ horny bitch. didn’t realise you wanted to be fucked this bad.”

he kisses your cheek. barely sucks the flesh when he lets go. “jesus fucking christ. god, look at what you’re doing to me—fuck.”

his forehead leans against yours, his voice now quiet and whispery, sounds almost like a whistle, “wish you’d said something earlier. telling me i could’ve fucked you months ago?”

you give in, eyebrows crease and u nod your head with a muffled cry. he laughs, mimics your nod and says through a broken chuckle, “yeah? i could’ve? tell me i could’ve, baby. tell me i fucking could’ve.” he removes his hand. waits for your response, though his hips don’t stop.

he gets impatient, watches at how you look down shamefully, slaps your face a little to get you to look at him, “come on.”

miserably and moaning you bite your lip—a sort of nervous panic and tell him what he wants to hear, “you could’ve fucked me forever ago. anytime you wanted.”

he gets so hard. like, way harder than he already is and he connects your lips again, both pleased and amused then compliments you so sincerely, almost to himself, “so fucking fine.”

© WHISPER 2K24 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[wh1sp3rr]

js wanna keep u guys posted n say that my requests r open !! i’d love to hear some of your ideas or js to talk & chattt <33🤍🤍

[wh1sp3rr]

sickly sweet romance of u & jay

ೀ masterlist ೀ requests ೀ

“jay,” you softly say.

your legs are stretched long on the soft beige duvet cover, blanket pulled up to jason’s chest, it riding just by your waist with you sat up straight. you look out the window, prickly raindrops sound as they hit the double panned glass, moonlight bathing your skin blue.

he’s breathing softly, body facing you so you watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest as his eyes stay shut in rest. he doesn’t hear you yet the sleepy sight of him makes you warm inside: hot and in love. you bite the inner part of your bottom lip and rake your fingers through his hair so to rouse him, he always did like when you did that. “jason.” you whisper shout, a little more playful than before and stroke his jawline quickly from ear to chin.

“mm?” he monosyllabically hums, still half-asleep. his mouth hardly moves but his eyebrows curiously wrinkle.

you drop down to his level and watch him like a puppy, eyes big and pupils wide, you just have to kiss his nose. “come on, baby. wake upp,” you slightly whine.

he doesn’t answer but smacks his lips a little and his entire expression creases briefly then reverts back to his sleepy, frozen self. he reaches for your face, feels around to grab your cheek since he refuses to open his eyes and awake from sleep, and cups your cheek. you smile, knowing this was his way of letting you know he was listening, even if he maybe wasn’t. you kiss his inner palm: the fatty part below his thumb— peck his wrist and then slide on top of him, kissing his cheek and his temple and near his eyes and by his jaw but not his lips, not yet.

with each kiss jason gains a little bit more consciousness, a little more happier and charmed by your excessive showering of affection he so tenderly loves. he groans, breathes out deeply and plants his hands on your hips, eyes squinting open, “alright. you’ve got my attention now.” he announces.

you smile and giggle, “so you’ll only listen to me if i’m kissing you?” your laugh reverberates through the thin cotton of your top into jason’s chest—deep in his bones, with your hearts only layers of skin, flesh and muscle away from touching.

he shakes the insinuation off, “nah baby, it’s not even like that.” he wraps his arms around your waist, belts them up real tight and pulls you in—hugs and rests in the little crook of your neck, breathes in the foggy remnants of today’s earlier perfume, kisses your cheek. loud smooch. “just tired.” he stays nestled in that tiny space by your neck.

you pout. want to whine at the fact that jay’s defo not gonna wake up and you’ll have to go do something on your own. you get that sleep is important to him and whatever it is that he does that requires him to come home absurdly late smelling a lot like blood and cigarettes but still it was only midnight on a friday, basically 8pm on any other day.

“you smell nice,” his lips tickle your neck and you shyly half-smile at the compliment.

“thank you.” softly you say.

“why you still up? you ain’t tired yet?” he asks, lips tickling your neck more.

“jason,” you whine a bit, roll your eyes too, even in the thick bluey darkness, “it’s only midnight. i’m surprised you even went to bed.”

“i’m tired, honey.” he rubs his face into your crook like a sleepy child, “and it was a slow night tonight. figured i deserved a break.” you can feel him slightly move his hands whilst he talks, nod a small yes to yourself even though you still weren’t quite sure what it was that he did.

“i still don’t really get what your job is.” you state, wanting him to elaborate.

he strokes your hair and gently says, “later, baby. later.”

you pout.

“don’t pout.”

you drop your jaw and pull back to see his face, “how’d you know i was doing that?”

“cuz i know my girl.” you smile down bashfully: sincerely. he picks your head up by kissing you. sweetly at first but, like always, a little nippy and sort of wild.

he pulls away before anything escalates and his voice sort of drops to this low, honeyed kind of hum, “you know i trust you with my life, right?” he cups your face.

you smile and hold the hand that’s on your cheek and kiss it as confirmation, “and you with mine.” you retaliate, a little hopeful for if he’ll finally share his secret with you. he rubs his thumb, a soft movement on your cheekbone.

“the shit i do—what i do…it’s not safe or i guess you could say, not conventional.” he searches between your eyes for any sort of understanding, hoping you get his meaning.

“i figured.” you calmly respond. “so what is it?” you push him.

he sighs. or maybe groans. whatever it was, he quickly looks down with such a look of torn you’d never seen. it makes you worry a bit—startle you. you had prepared for the worst: hitman, supplier, even a villain’s ally, training yourself to being accepting given if it were someone with fairer moral value. maybe someone like poison ivy or…

“red hood.” he dissyllabically says, with no real discernible tone, though he looks straight ahead at you and stares.

“is…” you wanna ask him if that’s who he works for but if there’s anything the people of gotham know, it’s that the red hood works alone. so you swallow that obsolete question and instead present with: “i kind of already knew.”

he looks up at you, wide eyed and ready to hear more.

“well i didn’t know know, i just knew that it was something ‘unconventional’. i was pretty convinced you were a hitman, it always made sense to me that’d if given the opportunity you’d be a good shot.” you flirt sweetly but still genuine. jay smiles softly, his eyes grow curious, his head somewhat tilted.

“what gave it away?”

you point at the few bits of dirty laundry behind him thrown over a chair, “you come in with a lot of blood.”

his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and he even makes the expressions the brows as if he’s said it, but no sound comes out.

you see it as an opportunity to kiss him, gently let him know you’re still there, and to not let him drift off into despair. “i’m glad you told me.

he takes your hand and places it flat on his chest, palm desperately close to his heart: it drums. “thought you’d dump me.”

you smile and kiss his nose, “not a chance.”

a silence briefly erupts and the two of you just stare at each other, moonlight glazing each one of your doubled reflections in the other’s pair of eyes: an utter warmth of transparency and trust and bond that’ll never grow old.

“i…” you start, jason’s ears immediately prick up, attentive to hear anything you’ll say. “are you still sleepy?”

benignly: “less now.” he pauses, “why? what do you wanna do?”

“just talk,” the duvet cover’s fabric echoes as you move to slide your arm down, propping yourself up with your upright elbow, chin in palm. “tell me about one of your days.” you slowly blink, madly in love.

“when i’m out fighting?” he asks, heart swelling at how loving you’re being, someday he’ll marry you he thinks.

“anything.” you slow, gentle voice lulls.

his thumb trills your knuckles back and forth before he begins: “alright.”

© WHISPER 2K24 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[wh1sp3rr]

wait guys i miss writing for miguel sm might have to write a quick lil drabble

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: the picture on the left is michal mrazik who i edited to look like jason so i’d appreciate it if u didn’t use it.

JASON TODD who humps your ass any chance he gets. Not that he’s desperate for relief like some hound, but that it’s his own personal bit that sometimes reaps benefits. You weren’t trying to catch his eye when you were stretching out, on your hands and knees to extend your spine in a deep arch. Inhale after exhale, each breath relaxed you, until a perfect visible curve to your back sloped into your succulent backside and lured your boyfriend in like a fly trap.

As if he could smell that you’re in a compromising position, he comes up behind you on the mattress. You can feel his weight shift as he walks on his knees to you, dick first. “What’re you doin’?” he asks coyly, and his hips bumps yours. You roll your eyes with a scoff; only he could assume you’re doing this for him. Easily, like he’s done a thousand times before, his thick fingers slot in the folds where your thighs connect to your pelvis, wedging between the fat there because of your stance. He keeps you steady as he swings forward, giving you congratulatory little humps. “Uh, uh, uh,” he orates with each thrust, as if narrating his entry with feigned moans. Each one’s harder than the last, and as he knocks against your tailbone, your body reminds you of the times you’ve been in similar positions.

The powerful placebo shoots through you with each connect, and you whine from the memory of him rearranging your guts in doggy style. He dry humps you yet you’re squirming and whimpering like he’s inside you, burying your heated face in the covers. He doesn’t fully register the extent of it, but he starts getting the picture, and he muses, “Yeah? Yeah, baby? Feel good?” while he’s rutting harder. You’re so stupid for him, you respond to him with all your pathetic confirmations. You’re banging against him, you can practically feel every inch of him plunging in you, his balls rapping against your folds. Both of you are playing the game, his cock hardening with each gradual increase of pace, and every manic thrust against you. The sensation of sex isn’t confined to memory, traveling through you like lightning, like he really is fucking you. It’s all imaginary though, clearly reminding you of cruel reality when he stops. Only to kickstart up again when you hear the familiar sound of his belt.

[wh1sp3rr]

stop this is so hot omgomg

[wh1sp3rr]

thinking fluffy thoughts of u & katsu !

ೀ masterlist ೀ requests ೀ

You sit at your vanity, back straight, Hello Kitty headband on, and begin pressing little dots of creamy white into your face, slowly massaging and bringing it out to where your skin stops and your hair starts.

Katsuki’s on your bed, one leg crossed over another, reading one of your feminist literature books, page turning every few minutes; he was a voracious reader after all.

Your focus on your reflection, on the meticulous routine you’ve perfectly curated, doesn’t allow you to notice the quick few glances Bakugo shoots at you, so curious and in awe of how pretty you look.

He never really had a skincare routine since he was blessed by the gods above with glassy clear skin, though he was always down for you working your magic on him by warming some sort of balm or essence into his skin or even the two of you putting on face masks together.

He’s always so aware of how different your dorm room is to his: how your bed is stacked with blankets and how your books were perfectly organized; your vanity with its massive oval mirror and the pretty string lights you have lacing its woody body.

He hears you slap your skin repeatedly, softly but still loud enough for it to break the threshold of silence that was once blanketing the room. He slots his fingers between the front cover and the page he’s at right now as to not lose his place when he speaks.

“What are you doing?” he asks, genuinely concerned.

“It’s serum,” you reply, still focused on the action in your large mirror.

He laughs breathily, “Okay... but why are you slapping your face?”

“It increases the blood flow to the skin.”

“And that does…?” he continues. You turn around in your seat, lacy pink silk robe swaying as you move.

“Honestly, I don’t even know,” you chuckle humbly, “but I know it’s supposed to be good for you,” you turn back around, continuing with your next step.

He walks over, book still in hand, and looks down at you before staring at you in the mirror, watching your precise motions with your fingertips. They circle a newer, thinner cream into your face and you glide it up your cheekbones, noticing the slight face lift it gives you each time you’d pull. You eye the corner of the mirror, Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar low in Katsuki’s hand.

“That a good book?” you ask, eyes honed in on your hands dragging the slick down your neck now.

He sighs, a quick break into humility. “Oh yeah, I’ve read it before.”

Your eyes widen and smile grows then turn around in your seat to look up at him; he immediately follows and smiles back down at you, “You’ve read The Bell Jar?”

He laughs gently: boyish. “Yeah, we did some of her poems in middle school and I liked them so…” he slaps the book against his hand, “just read her book. It’s the only one she’s got.”

“Oh yeah, I knew that,” you emphasize, “that’s why I bought it. Still haven’t found the time to read it though…” you trail off.

He drops his hand with the book and gives you a little frown, “You should. It’s good, I think you’d like it.”

You smile up at him then turn around and finish off your routine, “I’ll start it tonight.”

He still hovers over you, watches you peel off your headband then carefully put on your bonnet, leans down and presses a kiss between your exposed shoulder blades, “You look very pretty.”

“Thank you,” you smile, and you grab his free hand, rub your thumb over the two fingers it can reach back and forth.

“Want me to do your skincare?” you offer.

He puts the book down on the one spot of empty space, “Sure,” he says casually, like he wasn’t hoping you’d ask him that.

“Okay, go into the bathroom and wash your face!” you excitedly say, and he agrees, calmly follows your orders. “Wait!” you interrupt his egress.

He doesn’t say anything and instead waits for what you have to say; you bring your pretty red-bowed Hello Kitty headband and over his head, tip-toeing and arms stretching to reach his height even while he leans down to accommodate, and pull it up to hairline, spiky blond tufts sticking out over the soft white plush. “Much better,” you nod, smiling. “Now off you go,” you shoo him away.

“Okay, Mom,” he sarcastically obeys.

© WHISPER 2K24 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[arkhamslvts]

jason todd as a dealer who gets you extra high and rubs his hands on your thighs, he doesn’t even bother hiding how hard he is and he’ll lean you over the armrest just to give him head, he laughs when you gag and pushes farther into your mouth, but don’t worry, he returns the favor with a smile.

[luvacookie]

pinky pie.

when an unexpected persona approaches connie.

❥ warnings : sfw, drug usage, plug!connie, blk coded fem reader, proof read, intended usage of lowercase.

❥ cookie for ur thoughts ? : a lil drabble for plug connie xoxo i have an armin fic in the vault & an onny fic as a wip, so stay alert <333

plug ! connie meeting you at some party his friend eren was throwing

plug ! connie being so surprised by some cute girl decked out in pink and sparkles asking him for a pre roll

“i dont do pre’s, sorry pretty girl,” he shrugs at you

you pout your lip in annoyance, “can’t you do a girl a solid this one time ?”

plug ! connie muttering nonsense in spanish before agreeing to do the pretty girl a solid (just because she was pretty)

plug ! connie taking your money, watching you bounce away & not thinking anything of it

plug ! connie going home and getting a text from an unsaved number whilst on his xbox

??? : hiyaaa!!! this is connie right ?

connie : yo who’s this

??? : it’s y/n, the girl that asked for a pre ☺️!!

plug ! connie smirking at his phone, even the way you typed matched your exterior

plug ! connie saving your name as something sweet

pinky pie : i got ur # from 1 of my hgs

i hope u don’t mind 😣!

connie : nah u all good

what u need ?

plug ! connie waiting on your response patiently, checking his texts every so often between games with his friends, when you finally reply

pinky pie : i knoowwwww you said you don’t do pre’s but like.. i can’t roll >_<

so unless ur willing to teach me, can i get a pre ?!

connie : u funny ma i like that

send me ur @ and i can teach you a lil sum

plug ! connie instantly hopping off his console the minute you send him your location, telling the boys that he’s got business to attend to

pinky pie : AH TYSM <3 !

pinky pie’s location is active.

sneaky ! y/n getting excited that your plan to see connie again, without having to ask, worked !

<3 connieeee <3 : i’m otw give me 10 ma

[wh1sp3rr]

litch perf

[wh1sp3rr]

jjk twitter prn links!! ft. toji, sukuna & choso

masterlist

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

he’s fuckin hunggg ft. sukuna

he’s always down for u to sit on his face ft. boyfriend!choso

pussy & ass spanks till ur red! ft. toji

slow touches after sex ft. all of them tbh

more slapping lol ft. toji

invite him over n it’ll lead to this ft. boyfriend!choso

human pussy is the best!! 😫😫 ft. virgin!choso

sucking his finger whilst he chokes u ft. choso

he’s js so big 😣😖 ft. toji

feelin domestic lowk ft. husband!toji

this is SO sukuna ft. sukuna obvs lol

he dwarfs u so bad ft. sukuna & toji

© WHISPER 2K24 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED