“NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU BABY — jason todd.
PAIRING! jason todd 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! your roommate is the menacing red hood — who just happens to have a soft spot for you WORD COUNT! 1.5k WARNINGS / TAGS! roommates jason & reader, cursing, smoking, mention of alcohol consumption, reader is described to wear makeup, use of petnames ( doll ) NOTES! i need a vigilante bf sb. based on this req.!! © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified
THERE IS A STARVED DOG IN THE BACK OF JASON TODD’S THROAT.
It keeps barking, baring its sharp canines at whoever dares to step too close to comfort. It isn’t afraid to bite, to leave permanent marks in its wake because it had been hurt once before and the past hadn’t been so kind. So, it rips things apart, shows its strength to intimidate. A mechanism to keep itself safe. To remain whole.
The dog craves violence and roughness to represent the image it once created. It also craves touch, and not the bittersweet one. The kind that aches to feel, the kind that feels undeserving.
Jason isn’t a violent dog. He doesn’t know why he bites.
He’s chaos wrapped in leather. He’s the rumble of a motorbike tearing down an empty street, the smell of gasoline and adrenaline falling behind him. He’s sharp edges and electricity, the lighting that splits the sky just before the rain comes down. He’s a storm caged in a human shell, unpredictable and restless. Jason is late nights bathed in neon lights and the rush of speed that makes your heart race. He’s fire and fury, a protective shield made of calluses and scars.
You, on the other hand, are the softness in a world that’s far too loud. You’re the quiet that follows the first snowfall, the kind that blankets the earth in white stillness. You’re the warmth of vanilla in a kitchen. You’re the calmness of a gentle breeze, the soft glow of a candle against the darkness. There’s nothing harsh about you; you’re delicate without being fragile, a sweetness that lasts long after you first taste it. You’re a handwritten note, a favorite song played on repeat, kindness that doesn’t ask for anything in return.
Where Jason is a storm, you’re the eye. He’s the clash of thunder, you’re the calmness that follows. He’s leather jackets and combat boots, you’re large sweaters and bare feet on fluffy carpet. He pushes the word back with his fists while you disarm it with your smile.
Maybe that’s why he has such a soft spot for you.
Jason’s large combat boots were heavy on the hardwood as he stepped through the apartment door. He didn’t use one of the windows tonight since he had the luxury to change out of his vigilante clothing. The brown leather jacket still hung from his broad shoulders, but all the other equipment that created the complete look of Red Hood was safely stashed under the stairs of your fire escape.
Red Hood was one side of Jason’s many personalities he tried to shield you from.
He was quiet, mindful of his steps. He avoided the creaking spot on the floor, and he avoided closing the door too roughly. He had told you one too many times that he could take a look at the things that just made your life annoyingly difficult, but you waved him off with sweet words and he obeyed like a man possessed. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for his liking but he shook it off. You were supposed to be out anyway, something about a party your friends dragged you at.
The faint scent of cigarettes hit him before the quiet breeze of the night air rusted the curtains, and Red Hood was instantly on alert. His fingers moved before his mind could even process the situation, feeling the sharpness of his blade tucked in the belf of his pants.
His legs followed, taking him toward the balcony door and stepping outside into the night. He expected anything: a stray cat wandering through various apartments on a hunt for leftovers or even a rookie thief trying to break in. But he didn’t expect you, sitting on a plastic chair with a cigarette between your lips. One his cigarettes.
There you were, knees pulled close to your chest, the heels of your feet digging into the cheap plastic so you wouldn’t fall.
Draped in one of his hoodies he forgot on the couch earlier, you looked like you were ready to call it a day. Still, impossibly beautiful even with that tired look in your eyes. You pulled the cigarette out, puffing a white swirl of smoke into the darkness.
Jason stepped closer, his tall frame easily towering over yours. “You wanna tell me what the fuck you’re doing out here?” The sight of you, your cheeks flushed with alcohol and your hair a little wild from the chill wind, tugged at something buried deep in his chest.
Your glassy eyes met his and your lips tugged into a beaming smile. “Hey, Jason,” you mumbled his name out like it was a melody you hadn’t quite learned yet. “You’re home.”
“Yeah, I’m home. And you’re drunk. Smoking my shit.”
“I stole it from your jacket’s pocket when I did the laundry. I figured you wouldn’t miss one,” you held up the cancer stick towards him, as if to say, ta-da! Look what I found.
You were holding a piece of him. He crouched in front of you, his gloved fingers gently plucking the cigarette from your hand before you could protest. “Smoking’s bad for you, you know. I guess I’m a bad influence for you,” he muttered while his thumb brushed over the filter, the bark of the dog in his throat quieting for a moment. There was a faint pink outline on the white paper. A mark of your lips.
You tilted your head, studying him like you were seeing him for the first time. “You could never be a bad influence.”
Jason didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened as he put the cigarette against the railing, the faint hiss breaking the silence between you. Then, he flicked it over the edge of the railing, watching the embers spiral down into the darkness below. The city roared faintly beneath you, but here, on this tiny balcony, it was just the two of you.
“You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Like what?” your brows knitted into the frown he grew to adore.
“That I’m not a bad influence,” his lips twitched, caught between a smirk and something bittersweet. It was all a big joke to him; you didn’t know his true nature and yet here you were defending the man you thought you knew. The irony wasn’t lost on him. “You don’t know me as well as you think, doll.”
Tilting your head to the side, you gazed up at Jason like he hung the moon just for you. The look in your eyes softened. “I know enough, Jay. I know you’d rather jump off this balcony than let anything happen to me. I know you leave food for the stray cat, even though you complain how she’s too noisy at night. And I know that when you’re quiet like this,” you bumped your knee against his, trailing slightly into a quieter tone of your voice, “it’s because you’re hiding something.”
The dog inside Jason growled lowly, warning him to keep his guard up. To start building thicker walls around his bleeding heart. This would only end in tears and anguish. But you weren’t barking back. You held your heart in an open palm, extended toward him.
You leaned forward after a minute of his silence, hand brushing against his knee, and Jason stiffened. “You’re not mad, right? About the cigarette” you voiced your thoughts hesitantly.
Jason sighed, running a hand through the dark strands of his hair. “I should be. But seeing you out here like this . . . ” he trailed off, his eyes flickering over your face and cataloging every single detail. The flush on your cheeks and glass in your eyes. The aftermath of alcohol. “I can’t be mad. Just–don’t do it again, okay? You don’t need to mess with that shit.”
Your lips parted like you were about to argue, but then you closed them again, nodding slowly. Jason exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He stood up, holding out a calloused hand to you. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold out here.”
You stared at his hand for a moment before slipping your smaller one into it. His grip was warm, steady, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he could feel the way your pulse quickened under his touch. He didn’t let go as he led you back into your shared apartment, the door clicking shut behind the two of you.
The dog in his chest stirred, restless and uneasy. It barked once, softly, a reminder of all the ways he could ruin this. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, his jaw tightening against the weight of it. The dog craved destruction, violence, and chaos—it had always craved those things. But now, as he watched you drunkenly lean into him, the dog hesitated.
It whimpered. Then it lay down, its teeth still bared but its growl silenced, if only for tonight. Because for the first time in a long time, Jason felt something strange, something almost unfamiliar.
It wasn’t the absence of violence or the dull ache of longing. It was the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something in this world he didn’t have to break to keep.
Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.
It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks.
As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.
Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all.
Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.
Chapters containing smut are marked with a *
Updates are posted on the weekends, either Saturday or Sunday PST
This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE
NAVIGATION PAGE
CRCB DIRECTORY
Chapter 1 - The Introduction
Chapter 2 - Adjustments
Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language
Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful
Chapter 5 - What I Want *
Chapter 6 - One Step Closer *
Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry
Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost
Chapter 9 - Save Me
Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*
Chapter 11 - It's Coming
Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins*
Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together*
Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*
Chapter 15: Bonnie*
Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes *
Chapter 17: Alone
Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go
Chapter 19: Daddy Issues
Chapter 20: The New Normal *
Chapter 21: Crime and Punishment *
Chapter 22: I Won't Be Gentle
Chapter 23: Regrets
Chapter 24: The Last First Time *
Chapter 25: Animals *
Chapter 26: Fuck *
Chapter 27: Drown In It *
Chapter 28: Two Is Company, Three Is A Party *
Chapter 29: There's Something Wrong With My Omega
Chapter 30: Butterfly's Wings
Chapter 31: Forced Proximity
Chapter 32: The Tragedy
Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past
Chapter 34: The Whole Truth
Chapter 35: Threads
Chapter 36: To The Sea
Chapter 37: The Silence
Chapter 38: Shattered
Chapter 39: Life
Chapter 40 - Where Do We Go From Here
Chapter 41 - Revenge
Title card made by the beautiful @141wh0re
it is proven that majority of women can’t orgasm from intercourse alone. So imagine reader who can’t make herself cum, no matter how she touches her swollen little bud.
it’s becoming more annoying as you keep trying, different speeds, pressures, and angles, but nothing seems to work for you! It’s gotten to the point where you’ve quite frankly given up on even touching yourself. You’ve tried for so long, yet always get nothing.
so imagine telling Simon when he asks you, oh so kindly when on deployment, to touch yourself with him to make you both feel good. The silence over the phone when you say you can’t.
“What?”
“I just can’t. I’ve tried, but it just doesn’t work for me.”
“‘Ave ya-?”
“I’ve done everything, Simon! I can’t, okay?”
it was clear that this was something that you weren’t comfortable with talking about. It made you upset that you didn’t “function correctly” like other women. So the night Simon came home, he greeted you with a soft kiss. There wasn’t any harsh underlying emotion, just soft and sweet love. His large and calloused hands would cup your cheeks and look at your eyes, watching the slight confusion slip into your gaze.
now laying against his sturdier chest, looking at yourself in the mirror with him behind you, you knew what was happening. He gently pulled down your sleeping pants, taking his time to let his fingertips brush against every inch of your thighs, all the way down to your ankles. And soon enough, off came your panties too. He started by admiring the slight glistening of your slick right by your entrance, using his fingers to gently dip into the fluid that he loved. Dragging his fingers upwards, he brought his fingertips to the side of your clit, letting your slick be the lube for his fingers.
Simon looked at you through the mirror, keeping eye contact as his fingers pressed onto your clit. The gasp that left your lips was sudden, almost reaching down to grab his wrist, but stopping when he gave you a stern warning look. Everything felt different - his touch felt electrifying, while yours felt like watching paint dry. Why was it so different? Your eyes fluttered shut, head resting on his shoulder when he started speeding up his small circular motion. Your thighs spread a little more, shuddering when you felt a build up in your lower tummy. That burn you never felt unless you used a toy, the burn you got before you were clouded with euphoria; it was coming. You let out small squeaks and whimpers as your hips lifted and you came undone. Usually that’s when you’d stop, let your body just relax, but Simon kept a firm hand across your torso, using his leg to keep yours pinned down so he could still rub you till complete satisfaction.
once his movements slowed and he was panting along with you slightly, he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, looking at your eyes through the mirror again.
“I don’t care what time of day it is, if ye need t’cum, y’tell me and I’ll help, love. Alrigh’?”
you mustered a small nod, droopy eyes falling to the wet and sticky mess between your thighs, and the lovely hands that helped you along the way.
:(
(Orig)
Late night secret
I feel terrible but I still have my fav character
smth about secrets, acceptance, and relief
open for better quality | no reposts | ID under the cut
[Image description: A four page comic of Kaveh and Alhaitham. In the spur of the moment, Alhaitham confesses something to Kaveh. Kaveh is surprised for a moment, but soon notices Alhaitham is tense and trembling from the sheer emotion. He gently holds his hands and talks to him. Alhaitham listens quietly and stares at his hands in Kaveh's. When he calms down, he leans onto Kaveh's shoulder.]
STILL WITH HEARTS BEATING
alhaitham x reader ⤀ warnings: gn!reader, insecurity issues, fear of vulnerability, hurt/comfort, selfship coded a/n: a vent drabble, so everything is super self indulgent + based on me lol
“tell me atlas. what is heavier: the world or its people’s hearts?” — darshana suresh
although he prefers to keep his nose buried in a book, alhaitham is still as perceptive as ever, taking note of all the minuscule changes in your demeanor, even whilst you don a mask to stifle your woes.
he sees it first in the wistful sighs scattered amongst your too calm breaths, in your crafted smile, too practiced to be natural, and the strained words that fall too heavily out your lips, each in a race to prove that everything is normal and fine—that any anomalous behavior might only be the ramifications of an exhausting day.
your name rolls so naturally off his tongue, as he reaches out to you, catching your wrist before you can disappear into the bedroom and sleep away your swallowed emotions.
“are you alright?”
he asks out of courtesy, but to him, the signs are clear as day: the sharp inhale and slow exhale as you rally to fabricate another facade, chin tilted just a smidge too high as you turn to face him, dull eyes glistening with the remnants of unshed tears, forced to retreat by the winged flutter of your lashes.
to him, the signs are clear as day that you are not, that you are only putting on a brave face, something which he finds odd within the threshold of your shared home.
“just tired is all,” you reply, speaking in half truths. after all, it's exhausting trying to keep up appearances when all you wish to do, is to curl into yourself and rot into your bed.
you flash him a quick smile, small and devoid of warmth; a lame imposter to the very one he’s grown so terribly fond of.
he repeats your name, this time softer, brows knitted with equal parts skepticism and concern at your empty words. filled with even emptier spirit, he notes.
nonchalant, rehearsed, refined—and yet, he can hear the melancholia that spills into your tone. see the downward twitch of your lead-laden lips and the watery shift of your eyes as you avert your gaze in self-consciousness.
“you don’t have to hide from me,” he murmurs, and you want to believe him, want to believe that you’re brave enough to lay down your defenses, that you can trust him to hold your porcelain heart in his hands without threat of endangerment.
you open your mouth to speak, but not a sound comes out as the words turn to bile in your throat. to swallow the bitter liquid, or to spit your heart out and lay it bare for him to see. for alhaitham, who is more than just an akademiya giant, but a cornerstone of sumeru itself: brilliant and brave, kind in spite of his unconventional displays. the sun who shines by the heat of his own radiance.
his moon, he calls you. and yet the moon does not glow; the moon whose only light is a reflection of the sun.
you purse your lips, internally willing yourself to believe that these tears will not spill. it'd be egregious—like coughing up blood when you too have a reputation to uphold, a certain presence to be perceived. for even the moon, who shines by grace of borrowed light, is steadfast in its quiet elegance.
“it’s fine,” you insist, “really.” it’s heavy under the weight of your pride, but at least your heart is safe here in your chest, isolated and tucked away.
you push until he relents, relaxing his grip around your wrist. good, you think, he's given up. but then why does it so painfully squeeze your heart in a way you cannot convey—like a hair-lined fracture upon your brittle bones.
but alhaitham is no fool; he intends to prove he’d catch you before you can shatter, freeing your wrist, only so that he might pull you into his arms instead. there is no shortage to the vast infinity of words he can say, but matters of the heart have never been his forte… and so he hopes that his actions might speak more profoundly than his words.
the sudden impact blows your eyes wide with surprise, tears already threatening to spill from the solace of just his embrace. there are no sounds other than his steady heart and even breaths, no scent besides the faded woody fragrance of his cologne. it's safe here, cocooned in his arms, and you think that for a moment, perhaps everything is and will be fine.
you relax against him, basking in his warmth, as you rest into the crook of his neck, absentmindedly staring at the patterns on the floor.
“you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he whispers, “but please don’t hide from me.”
your hands, pressed flush against his chest, curl into themselves, relieved that he cannot see the tears welling in your eyes. he does, however, feel that first crystalline droplet that slides freely down your cheeks, melting into the fabric of his clothes as more follow. alhaitham runs his fingers through your hair, while his other hand hugs you by the small of your back, holding you ever closer. the occasional sob racks your body, silent and reluctant, but it’s a start.
a heart is a complex web of earnest emotions, floridly woven into secrets he cannot fault you for keeping locked away in a vault. perhaps one day, you’d rely on him, let him in to share the burden. and if he should be so lucky, perhaps you'd deem him worthy to be your home, so that you might rest with him, without armor. as for now, he’ll gladly cushion your fall, give you a soft place to land.
in the night’s dark embrace, the moon’s milky light paints patterns through the stained glass window of your bedroom, and behind you, your lover’s arms stay wrapped around your waist, holding you close beneath the blankets.
“… alhaitham?” your voice is delicate, spun from silk amidst the quiet of the night.
“hmm?” he peaks an eye open at the unfamiliar use of his full name.
“if I ask you something, do you promise to answer honestly?”
“I don’t see any reason not to.” The low vibrations of his tone tickles your skin as he replies with a kiss to your shoulder.
“am I…,” you hesitate, voice wavering as you contemplate whether words whispered into the wind might write itself into stone. “am i… enough for you?”
the seconds seem to stand still, as if all the world and even the sky itself, were holding its breath in bated anticipation.
finally, a creak cuts through the silence as the bed shifts alongside alhaitham, who now hovers over you, his body and arms trapping you in between. the intensity of his gaze prompts you to look away, but he reaches for your chin, holding you gently so that you have nowhere to look, save for his technicolored eyes.
enough for him? is that what you were upset about? what a shame, he thinks.
“If you could only see what I see,” he murmurs, with a kiss to your forehead. his moon, his stars, his entire night sky, who guides him in the dark.
“intelligent, intuitive, independent,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and down your neck in between each word. “outspoken and fiercely strong. beautiful, capable of anything…”
alhaitham glances up, only satisfied once the insecurity is dispelled from your features, replaced by an absolute reassurance.
"… which I knew from the moment you made me fall completely in love with you."
he peppers your face with little kisses, and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh, almost embarrassed. “haitham…”
alhaitham pauses at your first genuine smile of the night. “I mean every word. you’re more than enough, just as you are. and no one can should be able to take that away from you, so…”
he rolls back into bed, pulling you with him as he goes, so that you might drift to sleep with your head rested atop his chest, listening to the steady tune of his heart, as it sings to you in your dreams.
a/n2: this was actually vry therapeutic but i did not intend for it to get this long, and so i m a bit embarrassed (don’t perceive) however if u have made it this far, as always, thank u for reading ♡
© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform
Normal conversations to have on the plane
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Meant To Be - Soulmate AU: Draken x fem!reader Masterlist
Summary: You become the assistant to one of, if not, the most successful businessmen in all of Tokyo and while working for him you meet his 2nd in command. How will things unfold when one is a hopeless romantic and believes in the idea of a soulmate while the other doesn't care for it and has already made up their mind not to give their soulmate a chance?
☆ warning: aged up characters, some manga spoilers, fluff, slight angst(?), alcohol, and I'll add more as we go.
☆ updates: every other day around 9pm MST. i've been wanting to work more on this one but i also still want to focus on NAISIC.
☆ disclaimer: i don't own any of the characters mentioned. pictures are just for the story, they aren't how y/n looks! she looks however you want her to.
Intros:
• Y/n squad | Draken squad
Chapters:
• Chapter One: Make Me Sound Bad
• Chapter Two: Humor Us
• Chapter Three: One To Talk
• Chapter Four: Itadakimasu
• Chapter Five: Are You Okay?
• Chapter Six: Theory Has Been Confirmed
• Chapter Seven: Taking You Home
• Chapter Eight: Give Me A Warning
• Chapter Nine: Shouldn't Have Said That
• Chapter Ten: Y/n Is The Main Character
• Chapter Eleven: Not Typical Draken Behavior
• Chapter Twelve: A Good Time
• Chapter Thirteen: Simp Sauce
• Chapter Fourteen: I'll Be Your Soulmate
• Chapter Fifteen: Ruined It For Us
• Chapter Sixteen: Cashed In My Favor
• Chapter Seventeen: Y'all Hiring?
• Chapter Eighteen: Looking Respectfully
• Chapter Nineteen: Be Here All Weekend
• Chapter Twenty: Whoa Mama
• Chapter Twenty One: Have That Thing
• Chapter Twenty Two: Stop What You're Doing
• Chapter Twenty Three: Oh. Oh. Wow.
• Chapter Twenty Four: Did You See It?
• Chapter Twenty Five: Detective Senses Are Tingling
• Chapter Twenty Six: Sickening
• Chapter Twenty Seven: Interesting
• Chapter Twenty Eight: She's Really Upset
• Chapter Twenty Nine: A Little Sus
• Chapter Thirty: Thanks To My Besties
• Chapter Thirty One: Stole Her
• Chapter Thirty Two: So Dense
• Chapter Thirty Three: Really Lucky
• Chapter Thirty Four: So Stressed
• Chapter Thirty Five: Still Processing
• Chapter Thirty Six: Fucking Clown
• Chapter Thirty Seven: Wrong Picture
• Chapter Thirty Eight: Best Girl
• Chapter Thirty Nine: I Don't Cheat
• Chapter Fourty: Let It Go
• Chapter Fourty One: Still Bitter
• Chapter Fourty Two: Candy Crush
• Chapter Fourty Three: Do Something Wrong
I have zero URs oh well