#[ i have it tagged with all the proper triggers that i could think of?? ]

[naviculariis]

Ooooh I just queued something that I'm lowkey worried about posting

[cheesiedomino]

Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

[satyricplotter]

NSFW Alphabet — Dick Grayson, Jason Todd and Tim Drake

Be warned, I wrote this for myself but it got so long I was like, I gotta publish this, so a lot of the language is raunchy and joking. It's not polished whatsoever. It is also very fitted to my tastes, which isn't necessarily what I'd do for a story. Use of the second person, reader as gender neutral as I could, but I refer to a variety of scenarios with different genitalia.

WC: 6.7k

Triggers and tags discussed or mentioned: body image, biting, breeding, dubcon, noncon, cnc, mutual noncon, sexual assault (as a different category and a reference to Dick's canon) somnophilia, breath play, watersports, scat, blood, bondage, BDSM in general, pegging (implied), dildos, vibrators, toys in general, sensory deprivation, crying, crossdressing, porn, hentai, anal, PIV, cunnilingus, whatever the proper term for sucking dick is, cum, demeaning terms (cum dump, specifically), fingering, masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, age play, pregnancy and birth control, thigh fucking, frottage, edging, cumming in pants... maybe more. I am tired of listing things. Simply beware.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dick: somehow I don't think he has much time for aftercare. To me this dude always seems a little on the go and distracted by other things. Like, half the sex you have with him is quickies where upon his departure you gotta tidy yourself up, or they're hours long affairs with few breaks to think about moving. In these latter instances, he takes a long, long time to stand up and get moving after you're done. I think he's always secretly waiting for another last round even when it's clear you're both tapped out. He stays in bed and cuddles, uncaring for the drying substances on either of you. Most often he just kisses you, slow and tender, as he holds you. Eventually you gotta kick him out of bed and clean yourself up and then he's rushing to help you.

Jason: my man is methodical. This is His Job and he has His Way to do it. He keeps his bed crisp, towels at hand, water nearby etc etc. He's always the one to wipe you down, straighten you up if there's still clothes involved. You always whine you wanna cuddle a bit and he's like no. You'll get an UTI. Go pee. We'll cuddle after. And you shuffle sadly to the bathroom. The sheets are new when you come back. He dislikes being rushed and not being able to tidy, so you gotta be very strategic when you know you won't end up in bed.

Tim: Tim's a baby. Tim's the one you gotta clean up, the one you gotta lay down and tell him to stay put. He's very bad with being in the moment if he's got something else going on, so you gotta keep all electronics away from him. Mostly you gather him in your arms and run his fingers through his hair, while he absently traces circles on your skin, and then nods off eventually.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Dick: I think Dick really likes his forearms! A dark horse, of course, considering the stellar butt, but that seems to be a little of a sour point. I think he loves his figure in general, and the graceful line of it. For his partners, I'm thinking the waist to hip area—the tummy essentially, but also the lower back. He loooves to sling an arm around your waist and squeeze, loves to nip at the lower belly, loves a good pinch. He just likes grabbing. The sides of your thighs are always marked with his fingers.

Jason: man's an ass guy. He loves to watch that shit bounce. You can't miss with the bending over. He's behind you immediately, a hand on your hip like hey... As for himself, genuinely I think he likes his hands. They've gone through a lot. You can tell they're pretty banged up. But he's a maker, a fiddler—he builds his gadgets, he pulls the trigger. He's so into precision, I think he appreciates them a lot for the tools they can be. And his fingers pumping in and out of you are never a bad sight.

Tim: He's a cop out and would say brain. He likes his eyes best, I think. He doesn't strike me as the type of man who fixates on any part of his body but rather takes it in as a whole, and as such finds it difficult to like, separate it into pieces unless it's for a specific purpose. Oh, maybe his calves. They're nicely shaped. But his eyes are very pretty and he knows they're charming. As for you, he likes tits (big, small, pecs, etc). Just the chest area in general. Big fan of a nipple. Will suck and bite and twist until you squirm. If you're not sensitive, you simply haven't met him. He'll pavlov your nipples to harden upon seeing him and then smile evilly when you complain. A low cut anything is a direct challenge and he will take it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Dick: nothing will stop this man from coming inside eventually. He'll wear you down talking about how good it will feel to fill you up, or you will eventually come to beg him for it and he'll take the opportunity with no complaint. If you can get pregnant, keep that birth control schedule TIGHT. Nothing he loves more than watching cum dribble out of you. Loves to stuff you with it, loves to rub it over your entrance, loves to watch it squelch as he goes back in to pump you full of more.

Jason: actually very normal about it. He doesn't believe in pulling out, so he wears a condom and disposes of it safely. He does love to cum on your face. That's very much a thing. It's a relatively safe thing to do, and he likes it a lot when you try to catch it all with your mouth but it ends up dripping off your cheek. When your eyelashes are sticky with it—ooh. He knows it hurts if it gets on your eyes, and he apologizes while he wipes it off, but he's already semi hard again so you can't quite believe him.

Tim: if he's topping, he's pretty normal about it. Doesn't feel any type of way about his own cum, though he kinda likes it when you mix it with your own and feed it to him, but that's mostly because he loves your fingers in his mouth. If you're topping (and if you can cum from that inside him), he's suddenly the nation's number one cump dump. Stuff my man up. He can take it. Ooh, he wants to take it. He really, really wants you to blow a load inside him. A lot of the times, it's the feeling of being filled up that has him coming himself.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Dick: he's, like, very into somno, but he hates to bring it up first. The thing with Dick is that he's so good at denying himself things he doesn't care about but the minute he really, really wants something, he struggles real hard not to go get it. And he really wants that pussy (gn). He's the king of guilty fucking. I honestly think he likes being a little ashamed of what he's doing, like it just... Brings flavour to the table. But he's an Upstanding Citizen so while he looks at your ass while you're asleep and imagines what it'd be like if he could just roll your pants down a little and rub the head of his dick against your entrance, he will not speak a word until you bring it up or you find him jerking off over you at the thought of it.

Jason: easiest man to get to sub for you. Doesn't look like it, doesn't wanna admit it, but you get him at the right moment? Oooh baby. He's so easy to unravel, blushing to the tips of his ears and wet all over. You can literally do whatever you like with him in that state. He bounces off your cock (gn) so pretty, though he doesn't enjoy bottoming regularly.

Tim: mfing stalker. He takes pictures of you all the fucking time. You don't know the half of it. And he jacks off to the weirdest shit because it's not so much about how you look in that picture, but the idea of your innocence being corrupted (so corny) (you'd look at it and be like, tim, I can take nudes, you know, you don't have to masturbate to a blurry panty shot taken under the dinner table, you can't even see shit).

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Dick: this is dick grayson we're talking about. Be real. He's been around. He knows his way around the human (and alien, shoutout to my baby Kori) body. Nine out of ten times, he's the most experienced person in the relationship. And not only does he know what he's doing , he's good at it.

Jason: there's about three universes or so where Jason's not a virgin when he meets you. The rest of them my boy's simply too fucked up and/or busy for love, so he just... Doesn't. It doesn't seem to me like having sex was a priority to him, and while I think he regularly gets propositioned, he's the type of dude that just blinks at you until you slink away in shame, so he simply doesn't get laid until he's in a relationship. At most he's fucked two people before he fucks you.

Tim: this is dick grayson 2.0. he pulled steph, he pulled kon, he pulled bernard. He has by far the widest breadth of knowledge about sex, although most of it doesn't come from first hand experience. He hasn't had that much freaky sex, but he knows plenty about it. He's very adventurous.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Dick: oh, eugh, this man think you're a contortionist. He thinks you guys are equals. It doesn't matter how much you tell him he's far more flexible than you, he loves twisting you up into the weirdest positions in the book, and you know what? He's right. You do feel him so much more with your leg up in space and the other one around his ankle.

Jason: doggy. Again, my man loves to watch it jiggle.

Tim: he loves being ridden. Just infatuated with the sight of his cock leaving and breaching your entrance, and your thighs quivering, and how it all gets so wet. I think he'd be more partial to the cowgirl/boy than the reverse bc tits, but yk. Loves to watch you go.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Dick: He's sooooo into getting a laugh out of you with a stupid joke so he can ram into you and watch it catch on your throat. Thinks it's grand. He's the goofiest of them all, but he likes to make you laugh, and doesn't entertain your attempts to be funny. There's only one clown in this bed ☝️ So annoying.

Jason: he can be giggly at the beginning, like laughing into your mouth, but once he gets going, he's pretty serious about it. Not withdrawn, but he doesn't want to joke or, like, have a conversation. He's just laser focused on getting you both off.

Tim: he's alright on the jokes, doesn't particularly bring it to the bedroom. He's a little snappy, but not keen on super goofing around? Rather, I think you'd wanna make him laugh, just to get him to relax, and he'd roll his eyes and scoff but smirk a little. (I'm rlly picturing this with kon rn lmao)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dick: he's got himself trimmed and pretty! I think he just cares about looking good. Not his main concern in life, but, you know.

Jason: he's kinda got to groom himself bc I headcanon that the pit let him some after effects so his nails and hair grows really fast. He doesn't like it, finds it a real chore, but it's like a real bush if he lets it go untamed. And he does it himself, of course.

Tim: I don't think Tim concerns himself much with that, but I also don't think he really needs it. He's the type not to grow that much hair anyway.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Dick: he is so romantic. He's the type to whisper things he doesn't mean, not because he's trying to gaslight you into thinking he has feelings, but because he gets caught up in the heat of the moment and also believes those things should be said. He's soft and coaxing, even when he gets mean, and he's very into small gestures in the sense that he holds your hand when you're going to come, he presses a kiss to your temple. Just loving, I guess, even if he doesn't, like, love you.

Jason: he is unbelievably, unbearably intense. You will not be able to shake him off, emotionally speaking. Even when he's trying not to be intense, he can't help it. There is always so much weight and deliberation to his touch. Under his fingers, you feel the skin of your body bloom with heat. And the eyes. Never stops looking. So sharp and heady. You can't look at him for you, but he forces you to look into his eyes when you're about to come, grabs your chin if you don't wanna.

Tim: it depends on how he feels about you. If it's casual sex, he is very casual about it. He's not one to make promises if they can be used against him lol but if he likes you... You can see the saw trap plans he's concocting in his mind to never get you off his dick again just coming alive in his eyes.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Dick: My take is that dick is so funny about this because he so absurdly prefers coming inside you or fucking your thighs or your tits that whenever he can't and has to resort to jacking off, he's kind of churlish about it? Like right at the beginning when he's just starting, you'd just see him pouting with a hand caressing his shaft almost disinterestedly. He's so funny. Then he gets going and comes and is like oh that was a nice experience actually.

Jason: When he begins to jack off while thinking about you, he's ashamed about it for the longest time. It's not the act itself that brings him embarrassment, but the fact that he used to do it kind of perfunctorily, like just... body upkeep, or whatever. A little impatient with it even, just to get it over with. And he didn't think about anyone in particular, just flashes of the stuff he was supposed to think about. Then one day, after he meets you, he's just going at it as usual and the image of you pops into his head. And he can't stop thinking about it. The question of what you look like, how you'd feel under his hands, how you'd sound—it consumes him. When he thinks about you looking at him slouched over his couch, smiling at him and kneeling between his legs, your eyes fixed on him as you offer to help and take him into your mouth—oof. He's never come so much in his life.

Tim: he is so so hot about it. He doesn't think about it that much and is the type to neglect his dick for ages until he has free time and suddenly he has to unleash two weeks worth of cum upon you. So he starts fisting his dick, shuddering at the feeling of finally getting some release, and thinks, I should share this, and starts recording, but because he is evil, he doesn't let you see. He places the phone on his desk (because he's STILL working, he just couldn't hold it any longer), and begins jacking off under his shirt. So you only see his flushed cheeks, the hair covering his eyes, and the way the wet spot on the fabric grows larger and larger as he goes. Near the end that thing's so transparent and sticky you can almost see the angry red head every time it pushes against the fabric—and then he splutters against the fabric with a cry of your name and doesn't even let it dry before he winks at the camera and cuts the video, just as he's going to lift the shirt. Evil.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dick: well, I already said somno and breeding (I don't think he's into it for the children, like, seriously. Like if you can get pregnant and do, it's not going to be a nice surprise. He'll ride it out! But he's got commitment issues.) And thigh fucking. He's unbearable about it, particularly if you're wearing anything that gives him easy access.

Jason: My good honest man. He likes sense deprivation, I think, but he likes it being done to him. He's almost never not being in charge, however, so it doesn't come up often. If almost like a birthday special to him. He's also very into frottage, but I don't know if that counts as a kink? He likes coming in his pants a few times before the real deal.

Tim: is this a kink? He loves to make you cry. He just really likes bullying you to the point you're bawling. You can fuss and kick all you want, and it just turns him on, because the minute he removes himself, you're whining to have him again. I think that's his favourite way to make you cry, just to edge you unendingly until you're sobbing for him. He also likes age play, but he likes to play the younger part. I don't think quite mommy/daddy stuff (depends on the reader), but a bit of an emphasis on the age gap (think the blurry noona/hyung area in korean, when employed sexually. The terms are not translatable but that's the spirit of it).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Dick: everywhere. Does not discriminate. Inside the house, I think he likes bothering you when you're chilling in the couch. If your lying down there, he'll starts running up a hand between your thighs and he'll stop if you can't carry on the conversation. Outside, I think anywhere that is mildly risky—possibly the park? Kinda loves shoving you between trees and eating you out, or fingering you. When he comes onto you outside, it's mostly to get you to come so you have to hang out there, all sticky, thinking of him. He gets really thrilled by you running out of patience and pulling him out of whatever situation you're in just so you can go home and fuck. Sometimes you don't even make it home. You "force" him to fuck in a bathroom or in the car — closest relatively enclosed space you can find. He really enjoys those releases.

Jason: the bed. Give my boy his space and his nightstands! But outside that, no joke, the kitchen. It's more often than not his kitchen rather than yours, so he's there most often and it's where you find him and put your hands on him. Also god forbid you take anything out of the oven. He just shows up, takes it from your hands, presses you against the counter.

Tim: no joke loves to have you suck him off underneath his desk. He thinks it's funny when you bang your head against the top lmao but he also just likes to see you cramped into a tiny space and all over him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Dick: Hear me out. He likes implied corruption masked as salvation. That sounds dramatic: what he likes is the tension between helping you and succumbing to his own desires. He is very often the more knowledgeable, powerful, etc party, he almost always has some advantage over you, and he likes struggling against the feeling of giving you what you want and thereby taking advantage of you. It's a weird, false dichotomy, but he likes playing the hero a lot, and that makes him feel sometimes like what he wants is selfish, which means he tends to be secretive and manipulative in order to get it, and he winds up doing stuff that is suspicious and much closer to taking advantage of you than just being upfront would've been. And he unfortunately really enjoys those times. I associate him a lot with the "I can't help myself from doing this" sentiment. So to answer the question lol, when you look particularly put together and he gets to mess it up, or when you look at him with big, round eyes, or when you look really fuckable and are not aware of it, he really likes that.

Jason: He's a slow goer. You have to seduce him. He likes the motion of that, likes having you come onto him, likes it when you're flirty and a little risqué just for his benefit. Likes when you're self assured, and when you're a little mean with him. He could watch you forever, but to really make him spring into action, you gotta tell him how badly you need him. That'll bring him to your side in a minute.

Tim: milfs. No joke. I think he's pretty attracted to cheery people he can make fun of. Oh, he really likes riling you up. That shit gets him fired up in a second. You're arguing with him and he's got to adjust in his pants, and he won't go down without a fight. He really, really likes bullying you lol He thinks it's so hot when you're annoyed

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Dick: no watersports/scat/blood (vampire universe exempt), and so on and so forth. It's a bit silly that he gets grossed out by it when he's so into cum, but, you know. Another thing is, he can't really be demeaning. It's not that he doesn't want to, but it never... hits? Like, he's unauthentic about it, in a way, and he's much better at praise. So it's not that he won't do it, but that it's a little mid lol

Jason: I don't think he can do CNC. Even if you really wanna, he just can't play the part without going limp. It's not in him to do that to you. He can't bear to hear you plead with him over that, it makes him feel gross and uncomfortable. He'll talk bad to you if you wanna, though.

Tim: breath play. He doesn't like the feeling of his airways being cut off even when he's at his most mindless, it always kickstarts his survival mode, and he can't choke you either because he doesn't trust himself to stop.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Dick: my good man #1 pussy (gn) eater in the house. He will be there hours. His poor cock will weep unendingly and he doesn't give a single fuck. Matter of fact, that first load after he finally slides into you? Best part of the job. Would not like it half as much without the various orgasms he drew out of you. And he's good at it, obviously. Practiced. I think he's also a decent cock sucker (what an image), but he's way more practiced with a pussy.

Jason: he also likes giving more than receiving, but he is soooooo hot when he lets you suck him off. It's the way he can barely hold back, how he falls apart in your mouth. The way his hands fist your hair despite himself, the way he weighs on your tongue. You have to beg him to let you suck him off first, but christ, if it ain't a gift when he acquiesces.

Tim: receiving, I think. I love to think about him sucking a dick, though. Very pretty. But in general, I think he prefers to be sucked off rather than being the one to give. He's fine at it! And he's not one to shy away from it if you wanna, or offer it when in the mood, but he thinks he's better with his fingers anyway, and he wants his mouth free for your nipples.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Dick: he tends to go more for the slow and sensual. It's part of the romantic vein of his style. He gets really close to you. He is also evil and very rarely loses control of himself, so he will fuck you however he wants, not how you beg him to, and because he's got so much experience, he usually has the better idea of how to get you to come.

Jason: i love him. Can't go slow. Okay, technically, he can, but he's got to work really hard at it. He just likes being inside you so much, he slips into that excitement too easily. His way of fucking is very bruising, very felt, much like his feelings. And again. My man loves to watch it jiggle.

Tim: he's the one man who will listen to how you want it. Mostly because he likes being ridden so you're setting the pace. He usually goes for slower rhythms, though, and if he's toying with you, he goes excruciatingly slow. Also knows to speed up exactly when your patience is about to snap.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Dick: again, half the sex he has is quickies so yeah, he likes them lol. I do think they appeal to him as an expression of unbridled want, in the sense of we want each other so much we have no time to savour one another and we still can't help ourselves from having a fleeting taste.

Jason: he dislikes not having time and space to do everything he wants to do, so he is mostly opposed to them. And he is very good at waiting, though the longer he waits, the longer you end up spending in the bedroom. He's also pretty big so he wants to have the room, time wise, to prep you to take him so the slide is easy and pleasurable for you, and the quickies don't afford him the space for that. He'll do it if you come to him real wet, though.

Tim: he thinks they're fun but he's very bad at them in the sense that once he starts doing you, he is very disgruntled that he has to stop. And he always fucking forgets it so he needles you to let him stick the tip in real quick, c'mon, just five minutes and we're done, and then you're having to bite down on his shoulder to pry him away from you before whoever you're waiting for comes in. And he likes the biting, so it's 50/50 whether he actually comes off.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Dick: yep. He's a little more conservative with what he's willing to try, and he doesn't like everything or want to implement it regularly, but he's very open to at least trying it ou. He doesn't come up with a lot of stuff himself, and he doesn't spend time researching on his own, but he'll see something interesting and bring it up next time if he decides he likes it enough to play out.

Jason: Jason has... categories. He's very intuitive when it comes to sex. He kind of already knows what he likes and can go off that knowledge to predict what he will like or not. And he's good at making modifications on things he finds uninteresting to better suit his needs, if you still wanna try. He doesn't like roleplaying in general, for example, but he will pretend you're both strangers so you can pick him up at the bar. Likes bringing you to the bathroom stalls and fucking you there.

Tim: oh yeah. He reads a lot. He's very curious. He'll go on the internet and read manuals, read reviews, take tests, etc. He's also much more likely to fixate on a certain kink for a period of time, or to genuinely incorporate it to his regular sexual life.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Dick: mr. first robin have been a vigilante since i was nine, have never not exercised, etc etc. Yeah. He ain't stopping.

Jason: the fucking pit. He keeps dying and coming back and it's like they pump more cum in his balls every time. Enough said.

Tim: see mr. grayson. I don't know how the spleen affects him, but I doubt he lets it hold him back. He will stop you after a while if you're topping tho. Doesn't like to be sore much. Which doesn't mean he'll stop altogether, you know, he still has a dick.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Dick: he hates your dildo. He's horribly, terribly jealous of it. At first he'd use it to tease you, but then he liked you for real and that thing became his sworn enemy. He despises the fact that he's away so much you have to resort to using it, basically, so it'll always kind of have a place in your bed. He resent a vibrator even more. It's super fucking funny to me. He's game for everything else that doesn't fuck you tho.

Jason: Jay likes gadgets for their ingenuity but I don't really see them coming up too often. A few restraints, blindfolds, maybe a cock ring? He'd like them better if you used some on him rather than him using them on you. He prefers to do the work with his hands and mouth and cock. Good honest work

Tim: I think Tim's game on toys for either participant. He'll make you watch him fuck himself onto a tentacle-shaped dildo, if that's something you're into, and he won't let you touch him. He's a terror with a vibrator, though, particularly if you have a clit? Dude. A remote operated vibe. Anal plugs with tails attached. A fucking machine? Get away from that man. When I say saw trap, I mean it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Dick: horrible. He is awful. Worst of all because he's also so very sweet, and tender, and he plays the fool to lower your guard, and then you're lying there, gasping around his cock for the umpteenth time because he will not let you come yet and nothing you say breaks his nerve, and he just. taunts you. He's also soooooo into walking around looking delectable and playing dumb about it. Sure, man.

Jason: this one is on me, but I love a reader who's just off-handedly disrespectful to him. I always pair him with the brats lol I think he handles that well, by which I mean he strips it down to bone raw frankness which is heady and intimidating (metaphorically, I mean, but also strips down as in naked, I guess). He's quippy, also, as a general rule, but that's two way banter so I don't count it.

Tim: horrible part 2. See: loves to make you cry. See: Loves using toys on you. See: loves torturing you. His nudes are not even explicit, they're just suggestive, but you know intimately what he looks like, so the mere suggestion is enough to drive you mad. And then his fascination with you is never ending. It's a cocktail for great and tortuous diversion.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Dick: soooo talkative this man will not shut up. You're like, my man, you've been speaking for two hours straight, doesn't your throat need any lubrication? And he's like, you're right and swallows when you come. He's a moaner, I think, but not any louder than average. Will play it up if he sees the neighbour eyeing you in the hallway tho lol

Jason: Grunts and gasps and overall very throaty. He murmurs a lot of stuff into your skin. He's not loud, but his voice is a spear right down your groin. He likes speaking against your ear and sometimes it's all you hear. If you top him, and with some very precise loosening, you can get him moaning so so pretty, but it's pretty rare.

Tim: bitch has the most obscene little whimpers. It activates apex predator instinct on you immediately, like a switch being flipped. It's impossible not to bite him when he starts giving the short, breathy moans. Sounds so needy, and when he gets like that, he can barely string a sentence together, which is just mind blowing considering who he is.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Dick: I think Dick has a COMPLICATED relationship with his body. Perhaps it's me projecting a little because I cannot imagine being such a beautiful man and being able to cope with it. First vector to the issue is the fact that this man knows his body from the tip of his toes to the last strand of hair on his head. He is much more in touch with every muscle in his body than the vaaaast majority lf the world, and he has been so since very early in his life. You know that quote from Ursula K. Le Guin, I think, about how dogs don't really conceptualise their size, and cats are the complete opposite, they know exactly where they begin and end and that's why they seem like water sometimes? And then she says dancers also know exactly what they look like, because what they look like is what they do. And that's exactly him, as an acrobat and as a vigilante both. And though he doesn't care much for it, he also knows exactly how well he is regarded for possessing the body that he does. It is flattering, yes, but it is objectifying also. There's not so much the worry that people won't look any deeper than his looks because well, most of the time he doesn't want them to look, and also his loved ones regularly bypass his handsomeness and treat him as a person, so he knows he can live beyond that. Then there is the matter of his continued sexual assault at the hands of Catalina, and the subsequent objectification she subjected him to for the weeks following that first time at the rooftop, which would irrevocably change his relationship to his body. I don't think she ruins it for him, but he does develop, like, a very deep awareness of the power he holds and how easily that can be taken away. There's a lot of deliberation behind his every move, and when he cannot put that much thought into his actions, he freaks. It's also kinda why I headcanon him being so enthralled by so many dub-conish situations, I think it provides him with a playground in which he can explore the extents of his desires and what acting on them means while acknowledging the harm they may create, thus liberating him from the pressure of the worry or the not engaging altogether. I think an instance of mutual non consent (or plain noncon of you, but I don't think most versions of him have it in them) would absolutely obliterate him, and do a lot of bad to his psyche in a way Jay and Tim could withstand much better. He'd think it a moral failure, in a way the other two could resolve, but he'd never forgive himself. It's a point of no return, for Grayson.

Jason: he finds porn really distasteful. He would honest to god rather pay to watch two people go at it than look at a film. He just can't appreciate it for what it is—the stories are corny, the dialogue is cringe, etc etc. I genuinely think my man is on the aspec to some level. He's got a healthy libido, he likes having sex, but it's very person specific. I suppose I'd say demisexual, but I do think he can have casual sex but it's a VERY rare thing for him to feel sexual attraction like that right from the get go.

Tim: he enjoys cross dressing, but he won't go out like that. It's a very personal thing, to him. He strikes me as a dabbler in genderfluidity. If there's something there, he doesn't really care to examine it. He's good at being a man and he's comfortable with it, too, so there's that. But with you, he can just try it out. Of course it's fun to fuck you with a skirt on, but it's not a sex-based thing. And, unrelated but he watches hentai unironically because man's a weeb.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I don't rlly understand this question sbhdhd all those suits are skin tight I think you can tell. I assume this is about cock size cuz we all know Dick's got an ass and Jason's vice president of the perfect titties club with nic coughlan so.

Dick: I think he's a little bigger than usual but nothing that'd give you pause. Well, maybe a little. It's enough to think "that's just unfair" but not to be appalled. Very pretty. Leans slightly to the left. It's got some heft to it, but I wouldn't comment on its girth, and it's very expressive (shshdj?). It twitches a lot, is what I mean.

Jason: fat. So so fat. Fat, heavy, and uncut. Coupled with his full bush—instantly mouthwatering. This one does make you blink a couple times in astonishment. The type that makes you say I don't know if I can't take this but by god, I'm gonna try. He probably has to prep you a decent amount before you can both be comfortable with him inside you. It really fills you up, though and the stretch is craaaazy. Also good balls.

Tim: perfectly average length, longer than it is girthy. Oddly straight. Stupidly pink. Rosy as fuck. Looks like he paid for someone to do his blush this morning, etc. Circumcised. The head is perfect, you always fall for it when he asks you to let him put in just the tip because you like it so much.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Dick: high, like, a bit of a concern type of high. The thing with him is you get him started and you both got time? That's your day. Good fucking luck getting out of there. And then he's the sort of man that can't quite keep his hands to himself also, so it spirals pretty fast because it's hard not to want him when you know he's good and tasty and ready for you.

Jason: Pretty normal. He will be the one to say no, let's just cuddle a couple of times. I think he likes the moment of non-sexual affection a bit more, though they are not in competition. He's got a healthy libido and a fuckton of stamina, so it may seem like a lot at times. He'll fall hook line and sinker every time you set out to seduce him, but he'll drag out the start a lot. He's a fan of foreplay anyway.

Tim: Tim can go weeks without having sex if he's got something to be absorbed in. He'll forgo having sex if necessary, as well, even though he likes it lots. It's kind of how like people forget to eat or drink while they're working and then when they look up and realize they haven't eaten since breakfast and it's 8pm they're ravenous. That's Tim. He will blink and the onslaught of pent up horniness will hit him, and he's like, oh I gotta fuck you for several days straight now. You kinda have to needle him to fuck otherwise if he's got a project going on, and he always stops a moment to get you bouncing on his lap, but you're done and he goes right back to work. When he's got free time, he's such a damn distraction, though. God forbid you don't have any time for him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Dick: Depends on how tired he's feeling. He usually really refuses to go and its kinda cute seeing him fight with himself when his eyelids are dropping and he's barely kissing you anymore

Jason: he stays awake waaaay past you, likes to watch you as you sleep against him or beside him

Tim: very, but again, you gotta cradle him and lull him

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

I’m glad I decided to leave Wattpad and stop using it as my main posting platform when I did years ago, because looking at it now, the censorship and the unfairness the platform gives its users are insane.

apparently your book could get shadowbanned if it contained violence, even if you rated it properly and gave your readers proper trigger warnings for them to decide for themselves if they wanted to go ahead and read it or not.

porn is allowed there but it has to be porn with plot. so porn without plot is banned if one of your readers decided they didn’t like what you wrote and reported your book to the platform. 🤡

listen… I wasn’t going to put 2 platforms against each other (if you like Wattpad and are okay with how they treat you as a writer and/or reader, then good for you), but meanwhile over here in AO3 we don’t have to deal with any of these censorship issues (and I hope it stays this way)

AO3 has a team of lawyers protecting its users.

AO3 doesn’t let any ad pop up on their site ever, because it’s a non profit organization, not one of those big corporations where you have to subscribe and pay for premium service if you want to keep using the app without an ad popping up every chapter.

AO3 — unlike Wattpad — is run by fans. for fans.

AO3 thrives solely on volunteers and donations because people appreciate how fairly it treats its users and how the platform refused to let censorship stop anyone from creating art.

you can write the wildest, most fucked up works on AO3 without having to fear your works might be reported. as long as you tag your works properly and make sure all the trigger warnings are there for your potential readers to decide for themselves if they want to read your works or not, you’re good.

*hence the “Dead Dove Do Not Eat” tag, which is very common on AO3.

just… if you’re looking for a sign to join AO3, I think this is it.

[whereireid]

𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

pairing:dark!boss!steve rogers x virgin!fem reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.9k | warnings: dubious consent ! power imbalance (boss!steve, employee!reader) sexual naivety, height difference [6'6 steve, 5'3 reader], oral m receiving, rough p in v, misogyny, sexism, breeding kink, daddy kink, housewife kink, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, praise kink, spanking, captain kink, dumb baby reader (in steve's eyes), nonconsensual pregnancy, reader loves big mean stevie and loves when he taints her <3

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. 18+ ! If any of these topics trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! This is a DARK!FIC, and is intended to come across as such. Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag.

summary: Steve Rogers is in deep need of a new personal assistant. You, an intern for Stark who often loiters around the Avengers Compound, put yourself forward for the position. You believe working under the Captain America will help you to get in good graces throughout your career. Little do you know, being America’s golden boy’s personal assistant means doing a little more than rummaging through files and writing letters.

—

So pretty, so perfect, so poised. Steve Rogers sits back comfortably in his chair, his eyes trained on you, never leaving, not even to acknowledge the poor waitress who puts his beer down in front of him. You speak proper, each word flowing from your mouth with purpose, your speech coherent, and your voice confident.

It makes Steve’s cock twitch in his trousers as he watches you. Your gaze on him doesn’t linger, but you do flinch when he reaches towards his beer too quickly. It makes his stomach flip, and he tries to hold back the hiss that threatens to slip past his lips. He knows he’s America’s Golden Boy, and that he’s supposed to be better than this; but he was raised in the 1930’s, and his ideals surrounding women never really fizzled out.

Your voice fades back in, and as you address him, it snaps Steve out of his train of thought. “So, I’m sure now that we’re well acquainted with each other, Captain Rogers—“

“Please. Just call me Steve. We’ve known one another long enough.”

He quirks a brow as your cheeks flood over in red, before beckoning you to continue your speech. “Well, then, Steve,” you swallow thickly, your voice dropping a few octaves, and Steve senses that he’s embarrassed you. “Now that we’re well - uh, better - acquainted, I hope that you can consider me for the position of your personal assistant.”

“What?” Steve’s blue eyes bore into yours, and they make you brood in anxiety. You feel childish, sitting in front of him in a flowery dress, at what could somewhat be considered an interview, asking to work for him. Perhaps you should’ve dressed nicer, more work appropriate? Yet, before you can blubber on, Steve continues; “doll, if you wanted to work for me, you could’ve just said. Did you do all of this to ask for the position?”

He blinks at you. Embarrassment washes over you like a tsunami wave as you blink back at him. Of course, you could’ve just said you wanted to work for him - you feel naive ever thinking otherwise. Steve’s not a stranger, you practically work with him every day, and he'd be more than enthusiastic to hear you out. He's not one of. the guys at work who ignore women and everything they have to say. He’s nice enough to always say hello to you and sometimes buy you coffee, and flowers if you were down. He's one of the good ones!“I thought it might’ve been inappropriate to ask you whilst you were training.” You shoot him a small smile, trying to ignore how the upwards tug of his lips makes your skin rise with goosebumps.

“Does Stark know you’re applying for this role?”

"He’s actually the one who suggested it.”

Steve takes a long sip of his drink. He stares at you over the rim of the glass, watching you squirm and ponder over his answer. He already knows the answer to your question, but watching you shuffle in your seat and act silly in front of him makes his cock throb, and he enjoys the feeling. You’re so innocent, pressing against the table, wide-eyed, acting as though your tits aren’t pressed together and basically on display for him. The dress is so low-cut. It makes him want to take you right here.

Did you wear that just to get him riled up? “Well, I can’t think of anybody more suitable to fit the position. You know the Compound, you know my office, and I’ve noticed you get on well with higher authorities. You seem like a doting employee.” He kisses his teeth slightly, looking down at the table, before looking up at you through his lashes. He tries to hold back the smirk on his face as he speaks, but it’s impossible not to: “of course, you will also be expected to work somewhat more flexible hours. Later start times, later finishes. We won't always be in the office at the compound - a lot of my additional work files are at my personal home office, but I can always make you up a key to give you easier access."

“Of course,” you chirp, nodding at him enthusiastically. “I’m okay with longer hours, and I can work around you and what you need.”

Steve grins. “Perfect.”

—

It has been about three weeks since you left your position as an intern at Stark Industries and began working for Steve Rogers. It was an exhausting process at first; the sudden change in routine, the heavy workload, the unsociable hours, and Steve often worried you would change your mind. If you couldn't bend for this position, you would break, and he was incredibly worried you'd do the latter. Perhaps because he hadn’t seen you frown so often before, but during the first fortnight of working as his assistant, your lips were always somewhat tugged downwards, and you were always so busy, unable to even joke with him.

You soldiered on, though. Managing to catch up to months worth of missed calls, avoided emails, old paperwork, and forgotten documents. Steve praised you every time you completed a task, and often he found you beaming up at him, prideful and flustered.

Yet, whilst peeking up from his desktop, he finds himself annoyed. You’re sitting quietly opposite him, noting down things and scheduling appointments, and he can’t help the twitch of his cock as he watches you do it. You're not incredibly busy anymore, and yet you're not engaging in any conversation with him. Steve knows you value professionalism, but he only really let you have this job because of his alternative motives when it comes to you.

His eyes flicker back to the computer screen, and then back to you. It's like before his brain can register what he's doing; he's doing it, but he doesn't mind. This is his office, after all, his space. You're his assistant, and if anything, you're supposed to assist him in doing it. His hands are wrapped around his thick, angry cock, and he pumps slowly, watching you intensely.

You're tapping away at your computer so innocently. Your eyes are wide and interested, and clearly whatever your scheduling for Steve has your entire attention because you don't even look up at him. He strokes his cock carefully, and slowly, and his breathing wavers as he runs a finger over his angry, red tip, using some of his precum for lube.

“You okay, Steve?” your voice fills the quiet room, and he looks over at you, his hands still wrapped around his cock. The naivety of your tone makes his cock twitch in his hands, and his pace slows. He makes eye contact with you, never breaking it as he slowly strokes his hand up and down his length. It makes him so much harder that you have no idea what he's doing, and he imagines what your lips would feel like wrapped around him.

“Fine, doll. Just a little sore.” Steve purses his lips as you nod. He meets your eyes, and you hold his gaze, concern plastering over your face.

You're so... modest. Completely unaware of what he's doing, and he loves it. Steve craves you; craves to taint the innocence which consumes you. You're too trusting for your own good, and one of these days, it's going to get you hurt.

Steve just needs to make sure it's him that hurts you, and nobody else.

“You do look awfully red, Steve.” You murmur across from him, concern painting your features. The heavy gaze your boss has on you makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable, but worry overrides any instinctive emotion. “Do you feel hot?”

Steve grunts in agreement with your question. He looks more disheveled than usual. His posture seems hunched, but he seems somewhat relaxed, and his gaze is hard and trained on you. You're unsure as to what's wrong - he's so red, it looks like he's burning up. Perhaps he has a fever, but you're sure the Super Soldier Serum ensures that he doesn't get ill. “Can I get you anything? Paracetamol? A glass of water?” you ask innocently, standing up from your desk chair, slowly walking towards him.

His computer monitor thankfully covers his crotch. Steve’s eyes don’t leave you, and it makes his cock leak when you softly begin to walk over to him. He’s almost certain you own nothing but inappropriate, seductive clothing; he’s seen more of your cleavage these past three weeks than he has anyone else’s, and it’s driving him crazy. The fact he’s managed to hold off from devouring you is insane, but he isn’t sure how much longer he can take.

Being the nice guy just doesn’t seem to be working. The hand which was stroking his cock stills, and he commands you to stop once you’re mere inches away, stood behind his monitor, so small he can hardly see you. “Do you own any appropriate clothing?”

His question is direct and his tone is reprimanding. Your knees wobble, and your head hangs slightly. Shame spreads throughout your body. “I didn’t realise this was inappropriate. My apologies.”

It’s unlike Steve to bark at you. Usually, he’s incredibly soft-spoken and considerate, yet it seems you’ve worn any patience he’s held for you thin. “Doll, every outfit you’ve worn this week has been low-cut and short.” He breathes, and your neck prickles with discomfort when you notice how dark and blown his pupils are. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been kind. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I don’t think these kinds of… outfits would be appropriate elsewhere. You didn’t wear these outfits when interning for Stark.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Your subordinate manner only makes his cock twitch more, and he’s thankful his hand is sheathing his cock, because the precum that trickles out of its covers his skin and not his trousers. “I’ll try to be more considerate next time.”

It’s painful to let go of his length, but he has to, and he shoves it back inside of his trousers and innocently buttons them up. “Are you wearing these suggestive outfits to get a rise out of me?”

You gasp. “No. Never. I - Sir, I aim to be as appropriate and considerate as possible. I’m sorry I’ve been misleading you.” Steve rises from his seat, and you swallow thickly, feeling incredibly small compared to your boss. You’ve often been close to him - side by side, brushing shoulders, but he’s always been soft-spoken and gentle, apologetic and genuinely caring. Now, it seems like his patience is worn thin, and as opposed to seeing a civilian Steve, you feel as though you're standing in front of a soldier. “I can go and change now if you want?”

“No.” His tone is so low it matches that of a growl, and you cower weakly as he towers over you. Fear pulsates in your being as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling incredibly unsafe, and your heart races in your chest. Steve would never hurt me, you remind yourself, he’s one of the good ones.

You open your mouth to speak, but Steve shushes you. His finger splays over your lips, and you feel scolded and childlike. “I think you do it for attention.” His finger pushes against you, as does his body, as he stalks forward and you shuffle backward, trying to keep any space between the two of you. “You know, it’s been hard staying silent for this long. Watching you from afar, never knowing what to say or do.” His hot breath fans your ear, and Steve’s nostrils flare. “Trying to be a gentleman. Buying you coffee and flowers and cards when you were working at the Compound as a way to be friendly and nice. But I don’t think you want that.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You squeak out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Steve’s fingers gently press against your skin, wiping away any that spill, his skin icy against your own. “I-I’ve appreciated the gifts. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He asks, his eyes shooting down at you. You nod your head eagerly, staring up at him, trying to ignore how the dark look in his eyes makes your stomach flip. “I don’t think you’re truly sorry. I gave you this job to be my personal assistant. I expected more of you. You’re dressing as whore, and you can’t even apologize correctly.”

You swallow thickly, staring up at him. “‘M sorry. I haven’t meant to present myself that way,” your voice wavers. “What would y-you deem a suitable apology, Steve?”

“Captain.” Steve’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you squeak slightly as he tugs at it. “You only get to call me Steve when you’ve been good, which you haven’t.”

“How should I apologize, Captain?”

Your voice is an incredulous whisper. The subordination you show drives Steve crazy, and it takes everything in him not to force your mouth open and push you onto his cock. No, he needs to coax you into it - make you agree that this is the best way to apologize. Any other way wouldn’t suffice.

It’s as though you can’t believe this is happening - and in a way, Steve can’t, either. He’s always imagined this happening - having you begging him to tell you how to do something in a way that’s deemed fit in his eyes, having you be in pain whilst doing it. He curses slightly, before breathing out, “use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me’. Don’t expect me to repeat myself again.” He warns, blinking down at you, before muttering, “you’ve dressed like a whore, sweetheart. I think it’s only fair the Captain treats you as such.” His thumb drags down your lips, and you look up at him with such hesitation it makes his balls throb. He feels as though the look on your face could make him cum already.

Warmth floods over your cheeks. It feels wrong as Steve’s palms press heavily on your shoulders, the weight of him coaxing you down. A shudder leaves you as he forces you onto your knees in front of him, and you stare at his trousers, which are tight by the groin. “Captain, I don’t think -“ you swallow thickly, shaking as he comes down to unbutton his trousers, and flinching once his hands clasp yours, “-I don’t think this is appropriate.”

Your voice comes out in a hushed whisper, and he glares down at you, relishing in your embarrassment. Your eyelashes are wet and tears prickle your eyes still, “You’re on your knees now, doll.” He huffs, blowing out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. Your hands shake as he guides them to his trousers. “You might as well get on with it.”

“No I - I don’t want to.” Your voice wavers as he uses your hands to pry his cock out of his trousers, which is an angry red and seeping with cum, and you feel like scurrying away from it. “I-I haven’t ever done anything like this before.” Steve is stronger than you and the grip he’s got on your wrists makes you feel as though they will snap, so you decide not to, rather cowering away from his length in fear.

“Are you a virgin?” His question makes your head shoot up in embarrassment, your eyes wide and distraught, and he groans. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking virgin.”

“I never said I was,” you mutter, yelping when his hands strike you against the face. Fresh tears fall over old tear stains, and you flinch as his fingers splay over your chin.

He tuts. “Don’t lie to me. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes,” you murmur, shameful, eyes watery as you stare up at him. You sniffle, thankful for his gentle touch, which replaces the cruelty of his hands seconds ago. It makes your heart bloom with warmth as he brushes your face softly with his fingers, although he’s wiping away the pain he’s caused.

“My pretty little baby’s a virgin,” Steve coos, and the tone of his voice makes pressure form in your lower belly. “This mouth has never been around anyone’s cock before? Ever?”

There’s almost a deluded tone in his voice as he presses his tip against your lips. You quiver below him, your eyes trained on him as he pushes himself in your mouth. It feels wrong to do this with him - it feels exploitative, and whilst you opt to pull away from him, the wetness in your panties warns you otherwise. You’re enjoying this, and it’s making you feel terrible. You’re letting your boss take advantage of you and you love it.

You'd be lying if you denied the fact that you found Steve attractive. You had a thing for blonds, and the Golden Boy reputation he had made butterflies form in your belly. The fact he was so unlike what he seems makes your thighs clench and your pussy throb. A Golden Boy with an urge to taint; and somehow, you want to be tainted.

You hum against his cock, and it makes Steve’s stomach explode with heat. The wet of your tongue and the hot of your mouth is everything he’s ever wanted and more, and as your teeth scrape against him, he hisses, trying to hold back the smack he wants to deliver to you. You’re not ready for that yet; you’re a virgin, a sweet girl who needs taking care of. He needs to be gentle with you. “Nuh-uh-uh, doll. Cover those teeth of yours and hollow your cheeks - yes, like that, baby."

Steve breathes heavily as you take it in. It feels intrusive to your mouth as you suck on his cock, your tongue swirling up and down his tip. His hands make their way into your hair, and he gently begins to slide your head up and down, going at a quicker pace. It makes your belly ache with warmth as he does it, the feeling of his hands wrapped in your hair making you feel surprisingly... horny? It makes your face flush when you realize you're enjoying being used by Steve, and you eagerly begin to run your tongue up and down his length, tracing his veins and making sure to pay extra attention to his tip.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his balls slapping against your chin uncomfortably, “make your daddy’s cock nice and wet.” Steve’s pace quickens, and more and more of his cock forces its way into your mouth until your eyes are pricking with tears and you’re almost certain his length is going to suffocate you. Gag after gag follows through with each desperate thrust of his hips, and you clasp your hands around his thigh, looking up at him, eager to breathe. He doesn’t let you.

“My perfect little girl. Let daddy cum in your mouth and he’ll forgive you for dressing like such a whore.”

It’s not like you’ve got much of a choice anyway. In Steve's eyes, he's waited long enough to paint you in his cum, and it doesn’t take long for him to finish. He pulls out slightly, spewing cum over your cheeks and lips, grunting with approval at the sight of you. His innocent little personal assistant, who has never felt a man’s cock before today, has just had her throat fucked as though she were a fleshlight. Steve groans, steadying himself by using your head for support, and your nose crinkles as you swallow his cum which had painted your tongue.

It doesn't taste that bad.

“Best you clean yourself up.” Steve murmurs as you clamber up, knees shaking, the heat between your legs throbbing. “I don’t want my personal assistant to look so... defiled whilst she’s working alongside me.”

“Yes, Captain.”

As you attempt to scurry off to the bathroom, Steve stops you. “I want to make a few things clear about your position as my personal assistant, doll.”

You nod your head, uncertain as to what he might say next. The sight of you covered in his cum makes his heart bloom with pride, and he realises that he has finally got you where he wants you to be. “Your role as my personal assistant is to assist me with anything I deem necessary. Whether that be sexual or otherwise. You got that?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl.”

—

Your body has been aching and sore for days. Forcing yourself up from your desk chair, you jolt slightly at the sudden pain which shoots up through your spine. You look away from Steve’s hot gaze, which makes you feel flustered and funny, and you begin to flip through pages in your folder, desperate to keep yourself occupied and not draw too much attention from Steve.

“Come here, doll.” His voice is gentle, his arms wide and open, urging you in.

You nod your head, opting to agree. You've become conditioned to his sexual advances, and he accepts when you're not in the mood, saying that he doesn't want to pressure you. Steve is a good guy in that way; he wants you to move at your own pace. You only have to do this for a few more months or so, as that’s how long your contract is.

Steve taps his lap. You comply, carefully seating yourself atop of him, crinkling your nose when he gets too close. He notices, but he doesn’t care, leaning backward slightly and brushing a curl away from your face.

“What have I done for you to hate me?” his once confident voice is quiet, oozing with rejection.

You blink at him. “I - I don’t hate you.”

Steve hums, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. You shuffle uncomfortably in his lap, looking up at him with big, doe eyes, and it makes his cock twitch. You’re so innocent, so friendly, a big baby that needs protecting from the world. All Steve wants to do is protect you and keep you safe. “You don’t look at me the same anymore,” he notes quietly. “You used to look at me like I was a savior before you started working under me.”

You shuffle uncomfortably, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves slightly to get comfortable, and your breath hitches in your throat when his clothed crotch rubs against yours. “I still think of you as a savior, Stevie,” you murmur quietly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

You’ve worked for Steve long enough now to know that the way around difficult conversations is to stroke his ego. His hand snakes around your back, and he traipses his fingers up and down your back slowly. “No bra, huh? What have I told you about dressing appropriately?”

“S-sorry, Steve.”

“Mmm, I forgive you, baby.” His hands fall to your skirt, and his fingers slowly ride up them. The material parts with the moving of his hands, and your body flushes with heat when his finger slides up and down your slits. He tuts. “No underwear, either? This'll be a little harder to forgive.”

You squeak slightly as Steve pushes a finger inside of you. “Y-you asked me not to wear underwear when I'm around you.”

“Nuh-uh-uh. I don’t remember that, doll. Don’t make things up to try and make yourself better off.” Except, he does remember it because he practically commanded you to strip your underwear off the last time you wore some when working alongside him. But you don’t need to remember that. Steve wants you to believe everything you do for him is because you want to do it, not because he’s told you to.

“Really?” you squeak as he curls his finger inside of you, ensuring he hits against your spongy spot. You try to ignore the heaviness of Steve’s gaze, and you swallow dryly, stuttering as Steve slips another digit in, beginning to fuck you faster with a ‘come-forth’ motion.

“Yeah, doll. Maybe you just wanted your daddy to have easier access to this pretty pussy of yours. I know how much you like getting that little pussy touched.”

His fingers slow down inside of you, and he gazes down at you with a raised brow. You protest, trying to roll against his fingers, but he grabs your thighs and shakes his head. “Bad girls don’t get to feel good.”

“I’m not bad," you whine, and Steve shakes his head in response.

“You lied to daddy. Said he wanted you to wear no underwear. You said it like I’ve been forcing you not to wear underwear when it was your decision.”

The sharpness in his tone makes you recoil, and you still your lower half. against him, not wanting to make him anymore angrier than he already is. “I-I’m sorry. It was my decision. I’m sorry for lying.”

Steve sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You know, I’ve been holding back these past weeks. I wanted to break you in.” He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine in protest, but your sounds are muffled when he shoves them inside of your mouth. You suck instinctively, and he groans against you. “I’ve been wanting to use that pretty pussy of yours for so long, doll. Been wanting to defile you and make you mine.”

Before you can even react, the tip of his cock is pressing against your slits. “I’ve wanted to fuck you and fill you up with my cum for so long now.” His voice is a growl, and you feel frozen in place, beginning to slowly shake your head. “Fuck you full of my babies. And I know you want that, too.” He groans as he presses harsh kisses against your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin.

“No, Steve,” you breathe heavily as he holds you into place, your own body no match for the strength of his. “I- I don’t want that. I'm not ready for a baby."

“But you are. You just don’t know it yet.” His cock pushes into you, and you let out a whimper, struggling against him. Your walls sheathe him, and you let out a pained squeak. "Look at how well you take me, baby. You were made for me. You’re so wet for me. Look at you, trying to deny your rightful place as my subordinate. My pretty little girl.”

He forces his cock into you slowly. Your walls squeeze around him, sheathing his cock so well, and you whimper, squeezing your nails into his shoulders so hard you feel as though you're going to leave behind crescent moons. "No, Steve," you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut, desperately trying to get rid of the burn between your leg. "'t hurts. Stevie, I'm not ready."

"You're ready, baby," he seethes, throwing his head back slightly as he pushes his hips up further. "Your little virgin pussy is hugging my cock so fucking tight."

A mewl escapes you as his cock brushes up against the spongy spot inside of you. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, and mascara begins to brew below your lash line. Steve stares at you, his gaze passionate, wondering how he ever got so lucky. Not only has he got you exactly where he needs you, but he's also ruining you, tainting you for other men.

The only way he can truly ensure other men will leave you alone is to fill that belly of yours with his baby, so that's exactly what he intends to do. "Does that feel good?" he whispers, kissing your cheek softly. "You feel so full, baby?"

"So full, Steve," you whine, trying to adjust yourself to gather more comfort. Your walls rub against his cock as you adjust, and it feels kind of... good, so you do it again. Your hips slowly roll atop of him, and you whimper to yourself, pain mixing with pleasure.

Steve lets you bounce on him. It's a slow pace, and it doesn't hurt, though it feels unnatural to have something this big inside of you. It's not that you're entirely sexually naive - you've masturbated before, but this is completely different. Steve is huge, and with every roll of your hips, you can feel him. There's no room for escape, and your stomach flips as you throw your arms around his neck. "Steve," you breathe, eyes flittering shut as the coil inside of you threatens to break and snap, your toes curled in desperation. It feels as though you're just inches away from experiencing pure ecstasy, but you can't reach it, and it's making you so frustrated, you feel as though you could cry. "H-help me, Steve."

"You want Daddy's help when getting off?" he coos, brushing a curl away from your face. You stare down at him, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, and he groans slightly. So cute, so small, so ready for him. This is how you should be - begging for his help, needing him, relying on him. You're just a woman, after all; you need a big, strong man like Steve to take care of you.

His hips thrust up, and it's incredibly painful at first. Steve's pace is nothing compared to yours - you were being slow and gentle with your body, and he just wants to ruin it. His hips smash into you, his cock sliding in and out, and he peppers harsh kisses against your neck. You mewl against him, pressing up against his chest to feel him, your toes curling in your flats, your eyes dazed, mouth gaping. You look like a picture-perfect image, and Steve grunts as he fucks you, wanting to tip you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until the coil snaps. You murmur and shake against him, your thighs clenched as you cum, squirting all over his cock, drenching his balls and trousers. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you yell against him, his cock relentlessly fucking you throughout your orgasm.

"I'm gonna fill you with my babies," he growls, "drown your pussy with my fucking cum."

"No," you cry out, unable to move as he thrusts himself into you; again and again and again. You feel so helpless, so small and weak against him, and you stare up at him. His pupils are dark and blown, and his Adam's apple bobs desperately, his nostrils flaring as his cock twitches inside of you. "Please, pull out!"

"I don't think so, baby," he grunts, and with one final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you. Your walls squeeze him simultaneously, and he lets out a low, powerful groan, as he coaxes your walls with his cum. "Gotta make you a nice little housewife. Gonna have you popping out all of my babies."

Steve brushes away the tears which slip down your cheeks. He doesn't even realize how hard he's been holding you until he lets go, your arms riddled with handprint marks which he's sure will bruise. "Don't cry, doll," he murmurs, "you knew what came with the job."

"No, I didn't," you sniffle, pressing your head into his neck. It's wrong how his warmth and his smell act as a safety valve for you when he's the reason you're so upset. "I would've never - I would've never gotten into this if I knew what you expected from me."

A gentle sob racks your body, and Steve looks down at you, caressing your face gently. "Baby, stop crying. You're ruining that little face of yours." In honesty, Steve's patience is running thin. He's been good to you; caring, doting, paying you well for an easy job, and this is how you react? You cry into his arms after he tells you he's going to pump you full of his children? He's Captain America, for God's sake. You should be begging for it. "Just - Jesus fucking christ," he huffs as you continue to cry, grabbing your face harshly, and the sudden grip shocks you. "Stop crying. If you're going to speak, at least try and be fucking coherent."

Nodding your head, you wipe your eyes, which are tender and you assume, red. "I'm not ready for this," your voice shakes as you speak, and Steve almost feels a bit sorry at the sight of you. "I- I don't want this."

"Only good girls get what they want," Steve states plainly, staring at your disheveled face. He certainly got what he wanted - you look ruined, and you feel it, too. He imagines his cum is mixed with a bit of your blood; what, with him defiling you and all, he probably broke your hymen as well. The thought makes him grin to himself, and he utters, "I don't think you've been good, so you don't get what you want, baby."

"I'm sorry! I just - this doesn't seem like a fair punishment! I don't want this!" You cry out as Steve delivers a harsh smack to your ass, and you gaze up at him pathetically through your lashes as he tuts.

"I don't care if you think it's fair or not. You've been teasing me ever since you were an intern at Stark Industries, doll. I've been waiting to breed you for that long," his voice vibrates against you, and you shake your head, ashamed that you even thought you could get away with arguing against him. He's the Captain, and he has all of the control. "Anyway, you're just a dumb little baby. You have no idea what you want right now. But I do. I know what's good for you. Don't you trust me, baby?"

[ananxiousgenz]

pssst. pssssssst. hey guys. look at what i got y'all (IT'S MORE JARTHUR COWBOY AU)

this one comes with several pieces of info you need to know first:

@percymawce-arts and I are writing this fic together!!! we have entered into writers matrimony for this fic and we are super excited about it!! I wrote the bare bones of the scene you're about to read and he added almost all of the flavor and spice (while i was laying on my bed in the family guy dead pose bc of how good he made it). make sure to go show percy some love for this too!!

this scene takes place after one where john and arthur chase after larson, but arthur refuses to shoot him, and john is more than a little pissed off about it.

and some trigger warnings: this scene contains some fighting (both verbal and physical), child abuse, religious trauma, homophobia, and some suggestive themes

and finally, i will tag @ellamenop and @izel-reblogs bc i have a feeling you will both enjoy this :)

“What,” John snarled, slamming the cabin door shut behind him, “the fuck. What was that?!”

“None of your business,” Arthur replied, ever so prim and fucking proper. He kept his back to John, maybe to hide his face, so John couldn’t read him. Maybe because he was too much of a coward to meet John’s eyes after that stunt. John didn’t care what the reason was. It was only pissing him off more.

“No. Fuck that. It's all my business.”

“I didn't fire a gun. How is that making you upset?”

“You had him right in front of you,” John rumbled, his voice as low and dangerous as thunder on the horizon. Arthur shivered. “And you let him go. You had the opportunity to kill him. To end this, all of this. And you let it slip through your fucking fingers.”

“Maybe I didn't want to kill him.”

“What the fuck does that matter? He's too goddamn dangerous to be left alive!”

“It's not that simple, John-”

“The hell it is! I’m sorry you feel conflicted or whatever it is that’s going on in that head of yours, but this isn’t about you! All you had to do was fire the fucking gun. He was right in front of you, and you didn't shoot!”

“No, I didn't!”

“Why?!”

“You want to know why?” Arthur shouted, whipping around to face John, at last. “Because I can't kill another person! Even someone as awful as Larson! I’m not like you! This isn’t easy for me, alright?!”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Arthur’s face fell. John could see the regret wash over his face like a cloud over the burning sun, but it only lasted a moment before he was collecting himself. Putting on that same mask of polite-until-you-fuck-with-me he always wore around suspects and targets. John had never had that face turned on him before. He hated it.

“So that’s what this is about,” John murmured, his tone dark. “You think it’s easy… You think I’m a monster, and you’d rather let Larson go free than be like me.”

“No, John, that’s not-”

 “Who do you think made me that way?” John snapped. Arthur’s mouth closed so fast John heard his teeth click. “It was him, Arthur. It was Larson. And thanks to you, he’s going to go and do it to another lonely, scared Native kid with nowhere else to go!” John chuckled humorlessly. “Christ, Arthur, If that’s what you thought of me, why didn’t you just say it at the start?”

Arthur threw up his hands in frustration. “That’s not what I think of you, John. Jesus, am I not allowed to have a minor moral crisis over shooting a man?!”

“He’s not just a man! He’s a gangster! A robber! A killer! You told me so yourself!”

“So are you, John.”

“Yeah, and you shot me for it,” John reminded him. 

Arthur growled and slammed his fist down on the mantle of the fireplace beside them, hard enough that John could feel the vibration travel through the floor. “Jesus fucking Christ, John, I wanted to let the law deal with him! Is that so hard to understand?!”

John took a step in Arthur’s direction. “Oh yeah? The same law that ripped me away from my family and home? The same law that turned me into a monster? Too little and too much for everyone all at the same time? The same law that drove human beings off of their lands and into reservations? That killed thousands of people like me?”

“The criminal law would have placed Larson in jail. Like he deserved.”

John scoffed and crossed his arms. “You think the law cares that he deserves it, Arthur? The law is punishment for those who don’t deserve it and ignorance for those who do. There’s no justice in it.”

“What, so that means it’s your job to deal it out?”

“Yes!” John yelled. “If it means he can’t hurt anyone any longer, then yes. And vigilante justice works a hell of a lot faster than the court system will ever manage!”

“I thought you were trying to be a better man, John.”

“I was trying to be like you,” John said venomously. “My mistake.”

That was the final straw. Arthur took a step forward without warning and swung his fist as hard as he could. It made contact with John’s ribs (he could feel them shift beneath Arthur’s fist), and John made a soft oof sound as the wind was knocked out of his lungs and he was knocked into the fireplace mantle, the corner of it digging into his shoulder. 

The fight that followed was chaotic and messy in a way John had never experienced before, and when he tried to think back to it, it would only be preserved in blurry snapshots, like someone moving in the middle of a photograph. Arthur grabbed John’s braid and pulled. John clawed a deep gouge into his arm. He drew blood. Arthur twisted John’s arm. John cracked Arthur’s rib. Arthur knocked John’s legs out from under him, causing them both to go sprawling onto the floor. Arthur punched. John slapped. Arthur bit. John pinned. And then paused. And then…

In the midst of the fighting, John had ended up on top of Arthur, straddling his waist while pinning both wrists with one hand and grabbing a fistfull of Arthur’s shirt with the other. Both of them had frozen, the only movement the rapid rise and fall of their chests. Their noses were nearly touching, and John could feel Arthur’s breath fanning across his lips, staring into those dark, dark eyes. They weren’t so dark, John realized as he looked into them. They were brown, lovely and warm, with scattered flecks of gold and green nestled deep inside. Hidden gems, wide and wild with adrenaline, flicking back and forth across John’s face without any point of focus.

John’s eyes flicked over the rest of Arthur’s face. Freckles smattered across his nose and cheekbones. Loose strands of auburn hair falling messily across his forehead. The crooked corners of his nose from being broken one too many times. Smile lines beside his tired eyes. Lips like flower petals, soft and pale. Slightly parted and inhaling, exhaling. At some point, John realized he had let go of Arthur’s shirt and was cradling Arthur’s face oh-so gently as he examined it, dragging his thumb lightly over his cheekbone, caressing it. Down the bridge of his nose to his lips, his perfect lips. Arthur remained as still as stone, barely even breathing as he stared blindly back at John.

Somewhere behind the haze of the moment, John wondered subconsciously what would happen if he kissed Arthur. Because, the truth, he realized, was that deep down, in the pit of his stomach, he wanted. He wanted Arthur, in a way he had never wanted anyone else before. He wanted to be close to him, close like this. Closer than this. To be around him always, to hold him, to kiss him. 

What would happen if he took what he wanted instead of what he was told, for once?

He hesitated when he heard Arthur’s breath hitch.But then, when no resistance came, he leaned his head down ever so slightly (there was barely any bridge to gap, by that point), and then he was kissing Arthur. And it was like the world had been set ablaze.

As he pressed his lips against Arthur’s, every nerve in John’s body was alive. It felt like a jolt from a live wire, like a burst of fireworks that would light up the sky on the Fourth of July, like the sparking tang of gunpowder before the shot rang out. It felt like energy, pure and bright and hot and lighting him up from the inside. He felt Arthur’s body respond in kind, arching up to create a line of contact that started at their hands and continued all the way down to their tangled legs, making John shiver. He tasted like whiskey, sweet and sharp beneath the campfire smoke and aftershave, and John marveled at how such a strange and sinful combination could taste like it had just come down from heaven.

He kissed harder, chasing the taste. He nipped at Arthur’s lip hard enough to draw blood, adding a coppery tang to the kiss and eliciting a small moan from the back of Arthur’s throat. It only made John want more. He kissed him again, and again, and again, Arthur’s lips and tongue moving against his with a practiced skill that made John dizzy. He kissed him until his lips were swollen and his head was swimming with nothing but Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. He only pulled away when his chest was burning and there was no choice but to come up for air.

Arthur’s face was flushed, his eyes wide and twinkling. “Oh God.” His voice was hoarse. “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, John.”

And an unbidden memory surfaced in John’s mind. 

He was back in boarding school, sitting for a mandatory midnight mass in the chapel, his posture ramrod straight. The priests had always been so particular about those masses. There was to be no slouching or fidgeting, and God alone could help you if you dozed off. John had been kneeing in one of the pews, focusing all of his attention on keeping his posture perfect and his eyes open and remaining somewhat alert. 

In the midst of silent prayer, one of the priests, a Father McKenna, had thrown open the doors to the chapel, and dragged another boy up before the altar by his ear. 

The boy had tears streaming down his disheveled face and his nose was red from crying, but the thing that struck John the most about him were his eyes. He just looked so… tired. Not the kind of tired that John was fighting, the kind where a seductive sleep was lingering at the corners of his vision, waiting for him to blink or close his eyes in “prayer” for a second too long. This boy looked like the kind of tired that shot through his bones and grew like rot and rust with every passing day, the kind that only shuffling off this mortal coil a bit too soon could cure.

Father McKenna said the boy had been caught ‘with’ another, with a fury in his eyes that made John wonder in the back of his mind if he had been possessed by the devil. He’d been too young to know what it meant to be ‘with’ another boy at the time, but he knew it must be evil. Father McKenna threw him down in front of the altar, and the boy- John vaguely recognized him to be a child named Alexander- just knelt with his head bowed, like he had accepted his fate before Fate came to dole it out.

Father McKenna was not pleased by this. He smacked the back of Alexander’s head. Hard. He didn’t respond. He picked up a hymnal and smacked him harder still. And still, nothing. 

The priest was trembling with barely concealed fury now, and there was a steady pit of dread opening up in John’s stomach as he began to eye the doors, the windows. Any potential escape from the devil and the punishment that awaited him.

But there was no escape, there never was. So John sat, quietly, and watched as Father McKenna began to beat Alexander.

It was horrible, but somehow John couldn’t tear his eyes away, not even as Alexander’s screams tore through his ears and began to echo off the vaulted ceilings, pleas to stop and promises to never do it again ringing in John’s mind. Not even as the boy’s blood began to stain Father McKenna’s hands and drip onto the marble stairs, as vivid and crimson as sacramental wine. Not even as two of the altar boys had to drag Alexander’s barely conscious, barely breathing body down the aisle and out to the hospital wing.

John was trembling by the end of it. He felt like he was going to throw up. He dreamed of that moment for weeks afterward, never able to sleep without witnessing another religious sacrifice, another crucifixion, another martyr behind his eyelids.

Suddenly back in the present– but not really, never fully out of the past– John scrambled back off of Arthur and pressed his back against a wall, wide-eyed and sweating in sudden, sickening fear. In another life he might have missed the feeling of Arthur beneath him, his waist between his thighs, his lips against his. But nothing could permeate that fear. Nothing would ever be bigger than the fear.

“Wha– John?” Arthur asked. There was fear in his eyes too, but it was different. It wasn’t fear of hell or Father McKenna or whatever had become of Alexander. It was fear for John. It was concern. John closed his eyes against it. “John, what’s wrong? What–,” “Shut up.”

“What?”

“Just, be quiet!” John snapped. “Please, please, just–,” his voice broke. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to stave off an oncoming headache. 

“Okay…” Arthur said, quietly. Gently, so cruelly gentle. John could feel the beginnings of tears burning behind his eyes. He squeezed them shut tighter. “Okay.”

“This…” John started. He didn’t want to say it. He knew there would be no coming back from it. No more fireworks, no more whiskey on flower petal lips. Never again would he be so close to Arthur Lester if he said it. But that was the point wasn’t it? Make distance.

Take what he was told, never what he wanted.

“This was a mistake,” John said, firmly. A lie, of course. Inside, his very soul was shaking. The strings of his heart were trembling in a tragic vibrato, a song with no recipient. But he’d always been good at lying. He stood, tossing his braid over his shoulder and brushing the dust of his shirt (his wrinkled shirt, stained with a speck of Arthur’s blood). “It never happened.” He didn’t look at Arthur, because he was a coward. He was everything Arthur thought he was, so he didn’t look him in the eye when he said:

“If you ever so much as mention this, to anyone, I won’t hesitate, Arthur.”

He opened the door to the cabin, ready to step outside, leaving everything he’d never known he’d wanted behind. 

“I’m not you.”

[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.5 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 4. Chapter 6.

Blushing

CW: Slow burn, Two fools trying to ignore their crushes, Rex being cute, firing practice, target practice, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Tag list (I am so happy people want to be tagged <3): @heavenseed76 @arctrooper69

Minors DNI

You had to be honest with yourself. 

Your aim sucked. 

As a field surgeon, you technically weren’t supposed to be anywhere near droids. Your main purpose was to stay behind the forces and perform surgery and intensive medical care to those with severe wounds.

Kix would be on the front lines and keep the injured alive as long as possible until he could get them to you. 

You could hit your targets, if they were big enough. Like a tank. Or if they were about 5 feet in front of you…

Ok, you couldn’t really hit your targets. You’ve been with the 501st for months now and you haven’t gotten any better. 

You debated going full clone trooper and just punching the droids. After all, the soldiers had just gotten proper armor for their hands. Maybe you could get a pair of armored gloves…

“Everything alright?” 

You perked up hearing the question from Rex, snapping your attention back to the present. You had zoned out, staring at the same datapad for several minutes now. 

Right, you had come to his office to help a supply crate mix-up. Someone hadn’t properly labeled the crates, so there were blasters mixed with medical supplies, and bandages mixed with armor…It was a mess. And to make sure nothing was missing, you and him were supposed to go over the numbers so no helmet or tube of bacta was out of place. 

You sighed, “Yea, just…thinking. That's all.”

The Captain raised a brow, silently encouraging you to continue.

Over your time with the 501st, you’ve been able to read Rex more than anyone else. You understood what he was thinking through his expressions. You could guess his feelings based on his stance and body language, even when he wore his helmet.

Perhaps it was your training as a doctor that allowed you to read him so easily. 

Or…maybe it was the growing affection you had for him.

It’s a passing crush, that's all. You told yourself, Clones aren’t allowed to have romantic relationships. This’ll pass. Don’t get your hopes up.

Shoving that thought out of your mind you put the datapad down, “I’m a terrible shot.”

Rex let out a soft and surprised chuckle at your blunt statement, “Well…you're technically not supposed to be.”

“No, I mean…even if I need to defend myself or the wounded…I miss almost every shot with a blaster.” You responded, “I’ve tried to practice but…I just can’t aim very well…”

He had a small smirk on his lips, “You can’t be worse than a clanker.” 

“I assure you, I am.” 

Rex laughed again, “I can teach you, if you want. Besides, I’m sure a break would be good for us both.” 

Your heart fluttered. 

“I’d like that.” 

Which is how you found yourself in the hangar, standing about 20 meters away from an empty crate with a painted target. There were scorch marks dotting the metal and yellow paint, indicating that you weren’t the first person to need aim training.

The makeshift target range was mostly out of the way and out of sight of everyone else in the hangar, offering some privacy.

“I didn’t know this was here.” You admitted, staring at the target. 

Rex shrugged, “Some shinies set this up. The General didn’t mind, so I kept it for anyone who wanted to practice their shooting.”

You nodded in understanding. Usually if something didn’t make sense, the answer was always ‘shinies’.

“Alright, now, pick up your blaster.” He took the tone of a commanding Captain. His arms were crossed as he watched you get your pistol ready. You wrapped your hands on your blaster, and got into the stance you were trained to be in. 

You didn’t even put your finger on the trigger before Rex spoke up, “Already, I see the issue.” he stepped towards you, putting his gloved hands over yours. He changed the position of your hold, moving one of your palms from the bottom of the grip to over your other hand. 

You blinked, “Oh, I was holding it wrong.” 

Rex had a relaxed smile, “It's a common mistake.” He stepped back and nodded, “Fire.” 

You pulled the trigger and the blaster kicked back as it fired. However, you managed to keep the gun relatively steady. Your shot missed the target, hitting the upper corner of the crate. With a sigh you looked over at the captain. 

He kept his arms crossed, “Focus on where you’re aiming. Where you look, that's where you’ll hit.”

With a steadying breath, you looked down the sights of your gun and pulled the trigger again. Your shot was closer to the target that time, however, still not a hit. 

“Better.” Rex approached again. This time, he got closer, putting his hands over yours and stepping behind you. You felt the plastoid of his chestplate on your back as he leaned into your body, “Raise the blaster a little higher and try again.”

Don’t get distracted. Don't get distracted. 

You swallowed and pulled the trigger. Again, your shot had gotten closer to the target, barely hitting the yellow of the first ring. Frustration hit you and you huffed. 

Rex laughed softly and it struck you how warm his laugh was. How lovely.

Stop it. Grow out of your crush, you're not some grade school student. You are a grown ass adult. Act like it.

“Just look at the target. Not the sights on the blaster.” The clone captain was rolling incredibly well with your failures. He kept his hold on you as you calmed your emotions to focus. You did as he told, staring at the bright yellow target meters in front of you.

With another breath, you fired. 

This time, you hit the target. Not a bullseye at all, but at least you hit inside the last yellow ring.

“Oh, hey I actually got it.” You perked up, smiling slightly. 

Rex, sadly, let go and stepped back, “Good, now do it again. I want to see you hit the target at least 4 more times.” He put his helmet on, crossing his arms to watch you. He was tense now.

You tried not to let his sudden shift in attitude bother you. He was probably worried that someone might turn the corner and see him so lax and uncaptain-like. Rex did have to be professional after all…

Still, you did miss the warmth he gave. 

Again, you pulled the trigger. Without him holding your gun steady, your shot veered slightly and hit the outermost ring, “That counts.” you stated, looking over to the clone. 

He nodded, “It counts. I’ll be nice this time. But just this once.”

You couldn’t hold back your grin and you shot again. Another hit. Still no bullseye, but you got closer. 

Hey, 3 for 3. One more.

Without getting over confident, you took a steadying breath and pulled the trigger. 

Again, no bullseye, but your shot landed inside the second ring. You were improving. Or this was just pure luck. Either way, you’ll take it.

You smiled and turned to look at Rex. He nodded in approval and stepped towards you, “Very good. You learn quickly. Better than most troopers who step off Kamino.” 

“Aw, you think I’m better than a shiny?” You joked, hoping to help him relax.

He huffed under his helmet, but you could hear the smile in his voice, “That’s not a high bar, Doctor.” 

“I’ll take the compliment, Captain.” 

He was about to respond when your and his coms both beeped. He answered his and you answered yours. 

“Doctor, there's a patient in the sick bay.”

“Captain Rex, you're needed at the command bridge.”

With a sigh, you shared a look with Rex and rolled your eyes. You gave him a grateful smile, “Back to work, then?” 

“It never ends.” He sighed, “If you want…if you want to practice again, just let me know.” 

Your answer was kind and sweet, “I will. Thank you, Rex.” 

As you parted ways, you tried to calm your beating heart. 

It's a crush. It's a crush. Grow up. Just grow up already!

Rex, on the other hand, kept his helmet on as he walked away, because he was certain he was still blushing like a damn cadet.

He’s a captain. Captains shouldn’t fucking blush!

[hana-no-seiiki]

Love the smart yandere who’s manipulative but not abusive. It really breaks my heart a little bit seeing fics tag as “yandere” despite the yandere in question only being straight up abusive psychopath with little to no actually love involved.

But quick question on your Smart Yan. How would they react if reader has the uncanny ability to sense people’s fakeness but instead of being mad, the reader wants to know the real him without any acting? Reader wants to keep it real between them and actually form a semi-normal relationship with him (wether platonic or romantic is unknown for now)

The Yandere genre is a spectrum (imo it just has to be unhealthy since that’s what it means in JP) but yeah seeing the abusive ones trigger me a whole ton. I write yanderes to feel better about my trauma and somewhat see the bright side of the things that happened so I don’t get how or relate to those writers that do it 😭 but if it makes em happy and they write proper trigger warnings then I have no right to say that they should stop.

Smart! Yan would love to have an equally if not more insightful partner. You complement each-other in the way that you two have no challenge with reading people. Except you chose the path of kindness and respect while they chose mind-games and manipulation. People from the outside just don’t get how the two of you and your brains work, speaking of complicated hypotheticals to downright ‘stupid’ ones that go on for hours and hours with no sign of stopping.

I feel like in this scenario smart yan! could turn it as a challenge to see how long it’d take to let your guard down and let themselves into the deepest crevices of your mind. You’re like the mariana trench to their thalasophillia. A place yet to be discovered, something that they can lay claim to. It is an extra challenge however to do it all without a mask or façade they can disassociate with if things go wrong. And boy do they not want things to go wrong with you at all.

I feel like to them, it doesn’t matter if you like/love someone else, are dating/married. They just want full, uninhibited, and exclusive access to that wrinkly brain of yours. They don’t even see anyone else as competition because everyone else is just so easy to decipher unlike you.

It’s just sad to see you avoiding them at times or choosing another person’s presence in stead of theirs.

But they know you’ll come to them in the end.

It’s inevitable.

You don’t really think you can beat them at their own game, did you?

[theflyindutchwoman]

I got asked this question and loved it so much, I wanted to open it up to the group.

If you could choose 5 Chenford scenes to rewrite, which would you choose, and how would you rewrite them?

Oooh thank you for 'tagging' me, Becca ♡ It is a great question! Let's see…

4.17 - The ending So technically, this isn't a Chenford scene… But this is partly why I would want it to be rewritten. Let's start with the most egregious part : having Lucy apparently forgive Chris and act like he hadn't just callously triggered her… or like she hadn't just watched the video recording her own death… That ending bothered me so much. Ideally, I wish she would have kicked him to the curb - or, at least, ask for some space after what he did… and I would have loved a final scene between her and Tim. One where she would have confided in him about watching the cam footages, where they would have talked about that day and her trauma… I love that she was able to work through it all by herself, that she found her voice so to speak and refused to play Rosalind's mind games… But somehow, I can't help but think that not having a single Chenford scene was a missed opportunity.

5.04 - The ending Since we're on that topic… Now, this was an even bigger missed opportunity. I still can't believe that we didn't get a scene between Lucy and Tim following Rosalind's death. And by that, I mean, a proper scene with some emotions and some feelings… I get that during the episode, they were too busy trying to find a way to save Bailey. I also get that things were still awkward between them. But come on, I don't believe for a second that this would have stopped Tim. This is the same man who didn't even think before grabbing her hand in the middle of their undercover op when they found out about Rosalind's escape… the same man who was panicking when Lucy was radio silent… I needed that same energy here. What we got instead was a bit too cold for me.

5.13 - Missing scene : the morning after You have no idea how much I was hoping for this scene… Something soft and domestic… with a reference to the DOD tattoo!

5.16 - Their fight about the five-player trade That scene still puzzles me. It felt forced and clunky. We didn't really get to see Tim's perspective and why he was mad at Lucy. In the shop, it sounded like he was upset with how her move would reflect on him… But in his office, they only talked about her going behind his back. So, in the end, it felt superficial. I'm not saying he was wrong by the way… I just wish his point of view could have been explored more. Both of their perspectives actually. Especially since Lucy paid a hefty price in the end. I guess the point was to show the cracks in their foundation, but it could have been done in a better way.

6.01/6.02 - Their fight Lucy's anxiety and potential doubts about UC were just swept entirely under the rug and the narrative simply focused on Tim's own issue with UC. But one issue doesn't negate the other. There were two problems here and only one got addressed - and barely at that. After all the crumbs from s5, all the times Tim walked away from having a real conversation on the topic, I needed more than 'I will deal with this' / 'we'll figure it out'. It's great that he was finally honest with himself but it still didn't go any further than that. And then, there's Lucy. I was hoping her anxiety would be the precursor for a bigger discussion about Lucy's future and her mental health, about her feelings about UC outside of Tim… but nope. Her spiraling was already forgotten in 6.02. And it is a bit frustrating.

[redemn]

＊ 𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐌 / 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐍 . ＊ independent , selective , private . ː 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 from rockstar's 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ➁ . penned by kat , she/her , 28. a study in ː the reclamation of the self , preservation of the moral code in sedition , and the perpetuation of circumstantial change .

i  always  knew  you  had  to  be  willin'  to  die  to  even  do  this  job  .      but  ,      i  don't  want  to  push  my  chips  forward  and  go  out  and  meet  somethin'  i  don't  understand  .      a  man  would  have  to  put  his  soul  at  hazard  .      he'd  have  to  say  :      '  o.k.,      i'll  be  part  of  this  world  .  '

⁰¹⋆ carrd. ⁰²⋆ pinterest. ⁰³⋆ spotify. ⁰⁴⋆ prompts. ⁰⁵⋆ hcs. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⁰⁶⋆ tyler owens. ( if i'm not here , i'm there )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤtruncated rules under the cut.

⁰¹⋆   on followers + following .   no minors please .   in fact ,   i'd be more comfortable with people over the age of 21 due to my own age .   i am not interested in keeping a large following of people i do not interact with ,   or who do not at least like my posts every once in a while .   whenever i'm on the dash ,   i try to do the same courtesy .   also ,   sometimes i don't keep up with developments in the rpc ,   so if you ever see me interacting with anyone who has been proven to be problematic in the past or even recently ,   please let me know so that i can cut it off .

⁰²⋆   on shipping .   like everyone ,   i love shipping ,   but i'm not someone wants to jump into it without proper development beforehand .   i prioritise and often populate my blogs with primarily platonic or non-ship-oriented threads .   i practice ship exclusivity ,   which means i will only ship with one version of a character ,   and i expect the same courtesy .   if your muse ships with another arthur ,   unless you are a very very close friend ,   i will not ship him with that muse ,   period .   [ … ]   on a related note ,   please don't ask to write smut if we barely know each other and / or haven't written any "regular" threads together .   i do write smut with those i ship with ,   mostly on discord ,   but pwp doesn't interest me at all ,   so save us both time and don't ask .   i'd write 10 fluff threads over a smut thread any day . my thoughts on the matter . i am also not open to shipping if we don't at least write threads on here . again , i am not interested in immediately shipping if we don't have something built up first , and it makes me feel like people don't appreciate it if they don't at least try to answer asks that i send or write some form of thread on here .

⁰³⋆   IMPORTANT .   i understand that arthur is a canon character and everyone's interpretations of him are different . but please do not impose what you think arthur would do or how he would react on my interpretation . please also do not try to ship without first plotting out a thorough friendship between them , because both i and arthur need chemistry in order for that to work . otherwise i personally will not be invested . arthur is demisexual and won't form any sexual attraction for anyone until he has a strong connection with them , and no , just saying "they've been friends" is not good enough for me .

⁰⁴⋆   on content .   triggering content will be present on this blog ,   due to the nature of the game and my own writing .   i tag all my triggers with "trigger //" for reference . most importantly , there will be mentions of terminal illness // here .

⁰⁵⋆   on activity .   i work a full time job ,   monday-friday .   please respect that in regards to my activity .   my other blog is penddraig .   hi .    :)

⁰⁶⋆   if you could like this post after reading my rules ,   i would appreciate it .   this is not mandatory ,   for those of you who are anxious about it .   i just like knowing and i like a little interaction .   i hope my rules don't sound too harsh to all of you .   i promise i'm not mean !!   i'm just old ,   i've been in the rpc for a long time ,   and want to nip issues i've encountered in the bud before they start .

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! Thank you for this blog. I was wondering if you could recommend any fics where one or the other or both at once think the other is dead?I love presumed dead fics.

Hello! You can check some previous presumed dead recs here, and you may also be interested in our #temporary character death tag. Here are some more presumed dead fics...

The Empty Flat & The Burning Bookshop by probably_publius (T)

It took a lot for Aziraphale to finally give in and give Crowley the thermos of Holy Water, and when he does, he is ladden with guilt. He can only hope that he doesn't use it on himself. In this storyline, Sergeant Shadwell takes just a minute longer to run to Mr. Fell's bookshop and misses Aziraphale after he runs to Crowley's flat. Meanwhile, Crowley is driving (if you can call it driving) to the bookshop. Aziraphale finds the demon goop and his thermos of Holy Water in Crowley's empty flat, his best friend gone. Crowley finds the bookshop in flames, his best friend gone. Warnings!!! You have been warned! Heavy angst, some swearing, reference to murder , reference to discorporation, reference to stealing, mention of Nazis, themes of and apparent suicide, themes of depression, self-loathing, and self-guilt.

Fractured Heart by Blue_Sparkle (T)

Angels are sturdy beings, but rigid and changeless and not meant to endure grief or loss. When thousands Fall and many more are slain in the Great Rebellion, they either literally break apart...or forget. Aziraphale's only memories of his lost beloved are his lover's skill at creating stars. Memories he cherishes above all else. It complicates matters when his heart starts attaching to a certain demon, but perhaps his time on earth can teach him how to heal.

Stitches by CaspianTheGeek (E)

Until now, Aziraphale's family has seen fit to ignore him slipping into the village to see his tailor-turned-lover. That is until the King dies and Aziraphale's brother decides it is time he finds a proper match. Crowley is sent to prison and Aziraphale is told he has died for daring to love the prince. Love isn't so easily stopped, and Crowley is determined to return to Aziraphale however he can. (I promise, this will absolutely have a happy ending. As all my stories do.)

Anyway, Don't Be A Stranger by Juno_Sunlit (T)

It's been 10 years since Crowley died, and Aziraphale has mourned for every single minute. It's also been 10 years since Aziraphale died, and Crowley, up in the stars, has done the same. To God's chagrin, neither is aware of the other's continued existence. Sick and tired of grief big enough to end a universe, She sends them both on a trip through their old haunts, hoping they'll meet. All is as well and good as possible until something happens to Aziraphale, and a grieving Crowley must unknowingly come to his rescue. Includes musings on existence, gentle, warm flashbacks, demonic heists of a homosexual nature, God in slippers, asshole Gabriel, tearful reunions, the inherent tenderness of loving someone ever so much, and, through all the sorrow, a very happy ending.

A Beautiful Fiction by Thestarlitrose (E)

Nineteen years after having his memories of Crowley stolen, Aziraphale encounters Warlock and has everything come rushing back to him. Together; with the help of an ex-antichrist, they embark on a journey through the Southeastern, United States to locate Crowley to bring him home, where he belongs. Chapters with smut and other potential triggers will be listed in the notes.

The Ghost of Husbands Past by A_N_D (E)

Az always knew that he’d be thrown out the moment his father found out he was gay. He hadn’t expected to be declared dead though - or for his husband to believe it! But their marriage had been a foolish teenage impulse (not to mention invalid in America), so when Az moved to a small town far upstate New York to start his new life, he moved alone. The kindest thing he could do was let Crowley mourn and move on, not be shackled for life to a now disabled partner. Tony Crowley never recovered from losing his best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his better half. He’d been drifting ever since; no plans, no hope, no money - and now, just before Thanksgiving, no job either. Given the stark choice of freezing to death or accepting his sister’s invitation to join her upstate, Tony reluctantly lives out the Hallmark cliche of Recently Unemployed Person Moves to Small Town for Christmas. It’s a time of hope, love, and family. It’s time for Az and Tony to find each other again.

- Mod D

[ask-an-innocuous-taco]

Dear reader,

Hey there! Welcome to my Inanimate Insanity-themed blog! You're in the right place if you're a fan of the show (and don't hate Taco.) Just a heads up, though: spoilers might be ahead, especially if you're not caught up with the latest episodes.

So, a bit about me—I've been obsessed with Inanimate Insanity for a couple of years now. It's basically taken over my life, in the best possible way. And I figured, why not channel that obsession into something creative? Hence, this ask-blog.

Oh, and before I forget, I'll be answering your questions and prompts mainly through text, with some headcanons thrown in for good measure. Just keep in mind that my interpretations might not always perfectly match the characters from the show, but I'll do my best to stay true to their essence.

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BLOG'S STORYLINE:

We're picking up after Microphone's reality check on Taco and after Taco's whole ordeal with kidnapping MePad. Lonely and needing someone to talk to, Taco switches MePad back on from slumber mode. And instead of just using him as a pawn like she did before with anyone else, she's opening up a bit, showing some genuine sincerity. Maybe some honesty wouldn't hurt.

Their conversation leads to MePad introducing Taco to this thing called Tumblr, suggesting that instead of dwelling on lost connections by letters, she could try making new ones here. It's a nice little moment of growth for Taco, don't you think?

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RULES:

Be Respectful: Treat others with kindness and respect. Harassment, bullying, or any form of hate speech will not be tolerated. !!REMEMBER THAT THIS IS A REAL PERSON BEHIND THE SCREEN!!

No Spamming: Avoid spamming the ask box with repetitive questions or messages. One well-thought-out question at a time is preferred.

Be Patient: Understand that the creator behind the ask-blog may have a busy schedule. Please be patient for responses, as I may take time to answer questions.

Keep it PG-13: Ensure all questions and discussions are appropriate for a general audience. Avoid explicit content or language. (Unless it's funny haha. I won't hesitate to publicize your inquiry, all in good fun, of course).

Respect Privacy: Avoid asking overly personal questions or prying into the personal lives of the creator portrayed in the blog.

No Plagiarism: Respect original content and intellectual property. Do not steal or repost artwork, writing, or any other creations without proper permission or credit.

Use Trigger Warnings: If discussing sensitive topics or themes, provide trigger warnings to alert readers of potentially distressing content.

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SPECIAL TAGS:

Taco inquiries - Asks that have to do with Taco.

MePad asks - Asks that have to do with MePad.

Mod 👓 - Asks that are answered by the mod.

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If you want to ask anything related to Taco or maybe even MePad, feel free to shoot me a message using the tags provided below. Can't wait to hear from you all!

- Yours truly, 👓.

[frownyalfred]

About writing a sequel for Sever the Blight (which was amazing to read btw) I feel like given proper warnings it should be fine?

Especially since the darker and/or uncomfortable themes are pretty common in Batman? Bruce has literally pushed his body to it‘s limits, dangerously so. He’s self-destructing. That‘s a big part of his character and background.

And in your story his decision to stop eating was very deliberate and pragmatic to him. (considering that he loves his sons, they were injured, still growing, etc., and they had no clue when/if help would arrive)

I would argue that most parents place their children‘s lives above their own.

You didn‘t give me the impression that you were promoting ED at all, especially since we had Clark‘s pov. We could clearly see how distressed he was at the situation and his own helplessness.

I could maybe see the issue if you had written it from Bruce‘s pov, downplaying and ignoring the effect starvation has on his body. Even listing all reasons why (to him) it‘s a reasonable/good/right thing to do while hiding it from his family.

But I feel you‘ve always handled the more difficult stories/plotlines really well? Especially when it comes to conflict in the Batfam, or within Bruce himself. Borderline being a wonderful example imo.

(You‘re actually my favorite Batman/Fam author because of how you write them all -I could honestly gush about it for hours- and their struggles without demonizing them)

Also, I would guess that a continuation would mostly deal with the aftermath? Specifically the road to recovery helped along by his family. Nothing that encourages ED.

Sorry if this is a rambly/annoying ask. just wanted to add my own opinion into the mix since I love your writing in general. To me, the characters make it clear when they make decisions due to an unhealthy mind-set.

I‘d be excited to see a (presumably) Batfam centric sequel of course! But no pressure :)

Thank you so much! I would love to write the sequel, absolutely. And I agree that the original fic didn’t promote ED tendencies, as much as is possible in a fic about starvation.

I think I just wasn’t prepared for the sudden flood of pro-ED comments and in my inbox and DMs. It was a lot to sift through mentally and it (briefly) turned me off the idea of writing more in this trope. I deleted some really concerning stuff.

I appreciate everyone’s support and confirmation that the tags and description weren’t harmful or triggering. I really do want to make sure readers have Bruce’s recovery — and the batkids’ reactions, which I think is the key/best part.

[trans-luis-serra-navarro]

TELL ME ABOUT TRANS LUIS!!! I WANT HIM TO BE TRANS SO BAD! (Also he has a giant neon sign over his head that says gay, this man reeks of homosexual)

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE OMG HEYYYYY HIIIIIII HELLOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!! I’m SOOOOOO sorry this took so long I had SO MANY THOUGHTS!!!!! I plan on SOMEDAY Doing Like. A properly credited and researched document on why I think Luis is trans so this post is more or less kind of a tl;dr rather than a super proper read?????????? And ofc obligatory ‘this is just my own reading and personal interpretation if you disagree please just keep your opinion to yourself!!!!!’

Also this isn’t proofread like. At ALL so please ignore any sentences that seem wonky or weird HDBEHENDUDJX

ALSO also I do NOT give permission for this post to be screenshotted or reposted ANYWHERE!!!!!!!!!!! No part of this!! Don’t steal!!

Trigger warning for just general mentions of transphobia, religious transphobia and also I talk the death statistics for trans people near the end, so please keep that in mind when reading!!

Ok so, I’m gonna try and put this as chronologically as possible BXBSHDNSHDND but starting at the beginning from when Luis was little there’s already a few things we can pick up on

Luis has a pretty unorthodox family; his mum died when he was little and his dad left so he had to be raised by his Grandfather, and, ask any Trans person around you and they’ll tell you it’s oftentimes the people in their lives who weren’t their direct parents who decided to pick them up and raise them and accept them as they truly are- I feel like you could probably read this with Luis’ grandfather if you really wanted to, too. From what we can TEEEEEEELLL Luis held his grandfather and the memory of him very near and dear to his heart (ie referencing him in conversation, saying ‘not again’ when the medicine burns in seperate ways etc) so you could probably guess that maybe Luis’ grandfather was a surprisingly accepting figure in Luis’ life!!!!!

Which would also line up with the little we know about him- their house was somewhat far away from the rest of the village and from what the notes about him read, his grandfather was a bit of an outcast????? It seemed like the only person who checked in on him regularly was Bitorez- once again, another positive male figure in Luis’ life that he could theoretically look up to and admire.

AND we know that Luis’ grandfather encouraged his love for science and biology- something that prooooobably would’ve been frowned upon in a super conservative catholic glorified cult. So already, Luis and his Grandfather are a bit unorthodox in the setting they live in.

Then we cut to Don Quixote; obviously there’s a LOT to dissect about Luis and his love for that book, and it’s pretty common knowledge how,,,,,,,,, g a y that book is HXNEHENEUDIX like MAAAAAANY-a historians have already pointed that out I don’t need to beat a dead horse but ask literally any trans person around you and they’ll tell you about how they had a fascination with like,, Warrior Cats or Animorphs or Percy Jackson or Peter Pan growing up only to find out they were trans later. Trans kids are pretty drawn to books with unlikely protagonists who don’t fit the usual stereotypes and go on adventures with a whacky misfit family they formed by themselves- and Don Quixote kiiiiiiiiiiiinda falls under that pattern????? It’s a REALLY weird book and I wanna get into why later but it wouldn’t be shocking to assume that Luis probably grasped onto that idea of finding love and acceptance even though he was weird and unusual and he too could go on chivalrous adventures and do good in the world and be loved for who he is (I’ve kinda gone into this before and I plan on going into it again I’ll tag you in that post!!!!)

There’s also something to note about the fact that none of the village notes reference Luis by his first name. Luis is apparently a very “strong and masculine” name so if we ARE going off of the assumption that Luis is trans (which like,,. Duh HDNEHENDHS) then we can probably assume he picked that name for himself

It’s also pretty notable to note (hah) that like,,,,,, just in general, a lot of kids who grow up in a super religious environment just. Turn out gay and trans. I dunno why. I dunno what’s the exact statistic for that but like. Cmon. We’ve all seen it. We all know it right

Then huzzah! Luis’ Grabdfather dies!!! How sweet of him!!!!! /s obviously but Luis takes his death as an opportunity to run from home- again, something that’s sadly quite common amongst younger trans people it seems. When you loose your only support at home, and suddenly that home becomes unsafe, oftentimes the only solution is to run.

Now I’ve talked MUUUUUUCH more in depth about it in this post but considering the fact that Luis was probably a young teenager, an immigrant from the middle of nowhere, and had zero family or support- there’s a less than zero chance that he probably would have stumbled across the queer community one way or another. See, all throughout the 20th century, the queer and poc/immigrant communities were VERY intertwined- now I am WHITE AS ALL HELL so their history isn’t something I’m able to speak on with any amount of grace as actual people of colour could, so I’ll keep this breif and also if I’ve misrepresented anything PLEEEEAAASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME

Basically, like I said- the communities were very intertwined. They’d help each other and were sometimes seen as like the same circle of people when it came to what they were fighting for. All throughout history, this comes up time and time again- which is why I can only assume that Luis, a young person of colour having come from basically the middle of nowhere, would most likely find solace and a place in both communities- and would ABSOLUTELY have explored his gender and sexuality because of it. Even if he WAS cis there’s no way he wouldn’t have at least dabbled in a bit of the ol gender exploration every now and then

((Also, VEEEERY important to note that yes although trans and poc history are very intertwined they are still very seperate histories. It’s VERY IMPORTANT to not erase poc voices from this discussion when talking about this aspect of history- listen to your poc friends first and foremost before all else))

It’s also probably good to note that a few universities around that time were pretty notoriously open about being queer-friendly but we have no clue what exact university in Europe Luis would have gone to but idk we can probably guess he fooled around with some men and women HANSYWNEYENDUCJX

Then we cut to umbrella. I and a few other people have gone into how umbrella would have most likely groomed a young Luis into being excited to work with them and willing via offering him a place to stay, a college degree, a stable life etc etc but there’s also a sense of horror there when you take into account they could’ve offered him the ability to medically transition. Something that was NOT easy or very safe to do at the time. And plus this is resident evil so we can only guess what magical hoodicky they would’ve gotten to do that GDBEYWNDYDJ

From what we can tell, luis honestly enjoyed his time with umbrella!!!! He seemed to be friends with his coworkers and he was proud of the work he was doing (Yknow, before he would have found out it was all a lie and was going to kill millions HXBEHENEH) and honestly isn’t that every trans persons dream????? To have a job where you’re accepted and can feel safe at??????? To have friends who can accept you???????? It just makes what all went down all the more heartbreaking to me if we DO view him in the lens of being a trans character!!!!!!!!!

And then, of course, for the second time in his life; everything comes crumbling down. I’ve done seperate analysis on this and I plan on doing another cuz what I’m about to mention just hits,,,,,,,, S O O O O close to home to me, but when everything in his life gets destroyed AGAIN;

Luis chooses to go back to Valdelobos.

And isn’t that just so devastating?????? Because we as humans ALL do that- when life gets so bad and so intense we have no clue what to do, we all wanna turn to our parents or our childhood homes and get a hug and that feeling of nostalgia and safety from when we were kids that we missed.

But ask any other trans person and they’ll tell you that a lot of the time, that’s not what you’re gonna get; and that’s what happened to Luis. He went home, hoping- BEGGING- for some kind of support from the nightmares he just went through, only to be thrown straight into another one. Los Illuminados had been taken over and reverted his childhood home into something totally unrecognisable and forced him to work for them or else he’d literally be tortured. And isn’t that just,,,,, made all the more depressing when you look at it from a trans angle????

In this case scenario, when a lot of Trans people are forced to return to unsafe homes- they’re forced to push down their identity for their own safety. And reading that in Luis is just all the more devastating

And then there’s the whole thing where Luis literally SELF SURGICALLY REMOVED THE LAS PLAGAS FROM HIMSELF????????? WHY DONT MORE PEOPLE TALK ABT HOW TRAUMATISING THAT MUSTVE BEEN????????????? I know @/katabay made an INCREDIBLE post going into a religious reading on this and how I’m Don Quixote Alonso himself preforms an excorsism on himself and it’s weirdly erotic?????? And how that translates to Luis’ Plagas removal- they also made INCREDIBLE art go check it out- but throughout history there are a LOT of poems made by “”””women who want to be men”””” (aka trans men) who were religious at some point and describe the sensation of binding or getting top surgery to that of having an exorcism (this was mostly done to convince local churches that Hey no it was totally cool actually just let us get gender affirming care pretty pretty please) so, y’know,,,, maybe that meme that Luis showing Leon is scar was actually him coming out as trans wasn’t that far off HEBWYENXUXJXJDNC

And there’s also just the whole fact that he was a scientist that plays into this, too- Catholicism, specifically the hardcore Catholicism that Luis grew up with, absolutely HATES science. And the fact that Valdelobos seemed to be permanantly stuck in this 18th century cult-like state only confirms that they probably would have been anti-medicine, too; not only adding onto Luis’ guilt but also making him a prestigious scientist all the more impressive. Imagery that Luis is shown with (like that lil casket he carried around in seperate ways filled with the suppressants Ada needed) is often used by people in cults similar to Valdelobos to prove that ‘oh science is the devil!!!��� Etc, and y’know what else is related to science????

Medically transitioning babey!!!!!! A lot of the times hardcore religious people, again in similar cults to Valdelobos, use terms like ‘mutulating’ to describe medically transitioning and use already devil-associated imagery like science and modern medicine to hammer home that hatred of trans people (also obligatory not all religious people are like this in fact MOST religious people aren’t like this I’m talking specifically situations like the Gloriavale cult etc etc)

So like,,,,, again, that whole meme that Luis made his own testosterone wouldn’t be too far off BXNSHENDHDNX

But then we get some light at the end of this very depressing tunnel HXNSHENDUJ;

Leon, Ada and Ashley

Now from here on out I’m gonna get into some more like,,, CHARACTER dissection so I figured here would be the best place to put this HDBEYENEUS; Luis fits ALL the stereotypes of a stealth queer person during his time period. Like,, you know the song Gay or European????? Yeah that isn’t a joke that’s a real rhing European queer and trans men did to basically hide the fact that they were queer. It’s like. The oldest trick in the book. Which is why it’s SOOOOOO funny to me when I see Reddit dudebros going “errrrrmm actually Luis isn’t gay it’s just his Spanish charm!!” LIKE DUDE. YOUVE FALLEN FOR T H E TRICK. THIS IS THE EQUIVALENT OF A BIRD USING THEIR TAIL FEATHERS TO DISTRACT A PREDATOR.

And also Spain in general just has a very long and very beautiful Queer and Trans history- obviously it’d be way too much to fit into this one post but I highly reccomend just,,,, looking it up for yourself. Queer people have always been around :))

Ok ok, back to Leon- I plan on someday taking apart and dissecting EEEEEEEEEVERY interaction between them cuz it’s just. It’s all SO GAY. But in general, Luis treats Leon SO much differently than Ashley and Ada but in a good way!!!!!

Luis isn’t afraid to be open around Leon. He isn’t afraid to be flamboyant and jokey and flirt with him- and hell, he probably did enjoy that chain scene HXNEHENEUDJDJ he isn’t afraid to be more vulnerable and just generally what you wouldn’t consider a stereotypical “manly-man;” he doesn’t conform to western societies of stereotypical masculinity, and he isn’t afraid to show that around Leon.

He’s open with Leon- he’s vulnerable and he very openly CARES about Leon. He truly wears his heart on his sleeve and this is for a MULTITUDE of different reasons but I think a big part of it is not just because he’s genuienly attracted to Leon but because leon is a shining example of a chivalrous knight to him

I and many others have gone into this further; but when Luis first met Leon in that body bag, it probably honestly WAS like he was meeting his very own Don Quixote for the first time. He was probably a shining example of everything he wanted to be; brave, kind, never makes mistakes- and again I’ve gone into this further but this truly does play into his character and his very noble quest for redemption and forgiveness a lot and viewing this from a Trans angle just gives that quest SO much more power

Capcom does their best to make Leon out to be a super strong manly-man and @highball66 has gone into some of Leon’s own queer coding, but I think Luis also sees through this. He sees through his macho dudebro masculinity and he sees a genuine and kind human being underneath; just as Leon had done for him. Leon is everything Luis wants to be in a man- just like his grandfather and probably countless male figures in his life before him. So he’s not afraid to open up to Leon; he isn’t held back by that expectation of toxic masculinity because he wasn’t raised that way.

And he’s the EXACT SAME with Ada and Ashley too!!!!!!!! He CARES about Ada! He’s CONSTANTLY looking out for her and giving her the benefit of the doubt and he’s always so polite and kind around her!!!!!!!! Like yeah he puts on the front of being a ladies-man but again like SOOO many others before me have mentioned that’s probably just a safety front!!!!!! He wears his heart on his sleeve around Ada and Ashley, too- he’s always SO polite around her I feel like not enough people point that out????? He offered his hand out for her to take before inspecting the blood, he’s always asking for permission before he touches her etc he’s so nice people don’t give him enough credit for that!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And theeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnn it aaaaaaaaalll comes crashing down when he diiiiiieeeeeeessss,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

It’s pretty important to note that Luis is killed by Krauser; and again, other people have gone into Leon and Krausers queer relationship coding a lot better than I have, but it’s pretty interesting to note that Luis was killed by the guy who pretty much encapsulates all forms of toxic masculinity (again, that meme that everyone jokes about that Krauser killed Luis cuz he was jealous of Leon’s new boyfriend might not be far off HXHWHDUXHSH)

Luis uses his final breath to save Leon- to save the man who has shown him forgiveness and empathy and love for the first time in god knows how long. He opens his heart up to Leon in his final moments; he does one last ‘such a loss to the ladies of the world eh?’ As a last-ditch effort to try and convince Leon that he tooooooootally isn’t queer you guys and to try and hold onto that sense of normality; but he drops that act immedietly after Leon shows him that he’s taking this seriously

He opens up to Leon and admits that he led a pretty shitty life. He spills his heart out to Leon and asks him if people can change. And I’ve said rhis before and I’ll say it again; this is Luis looking for some kind of confirmation. Some kind of forgiveness and some way of saying that Yes his life DID mean something- that people CAN change and CAN be loved like he loved Leon and Leon loved him. And, hell, if we’re REEEEEAALY tryna stretch here (which I mean this whole post is tbh HXBSHSNEHDNSHD) you could even read this as Luis asking for somebody to accept him as he truly is, and see past the facade of a super flamboyant cis straight man. It’s not a stretch to say this moment is him looking and hoping that Leon can see through his past actions and see the beautiful human being underneath- so it wouldn’t be crazy to view it under a queer light either

Then, of course, Leon says that iconic line; you were a fine knight, Don Quixote. Confirming to Luis that he WAS like the chivalrous knight he always looked up to when he was little. Not just for his bravery and confidence; but also for his exploration of gender and non conformity in his sexuality. Leon confirms that for him in his final moments.

Then of course there’s the nature of his death; the fact that he dies below his childhood village is pretty telling to me.

Now this is where I’m gonna get into some depressing statistics, so readers beware, but unfortunately, there is a good chunk of trans people who will die in their childhood homes for many reasons. There’s been a good chunk of trans people all throughout history who have lived long, full lives but still were buried in their childhood homes and towns under their dead name or under the gender they were assigned to at birth. It’s depressing and there really is no making light of it- which is why Luis dying in the village he grew up in and tried so desperately to escape from hits so hard to me.

• Now HOPEFULLY obviously I am N O T comparing Luis’ death to actual real trans people’s deaths. But as somebody who HAS lost trans friends to suicide, the manner of his death absolutely REMINDS me of that and thus hits home harder for me. Go give your trans friends a hug, basically

But on the bright side, at least he didn’t die alone. He had Leon; he had somebody who could, theoretically, show the world who he truly was and remember him by his true name and nature. Luis won’t be totally forgotten underground; he’ll have Leon and Ashley and Ada ro remember the man he truly was just like how many, many trans people who have passed away will have friends and loved ones who will remember them for who they truly are.

Now I don’t wanna end this whole analysis on such a depressing note so I’ll add this at the end; I genuienly think that even if you DONT headcannon Luis as Trans, adding that element to his character not only enriches his already INCREDIBLY well written story but also just generally means the world to trans people in real life, too

Like,,,,, I’ve mentioned this before but I’ll say it again; seeing a character who is so genuinely confident in themselves, so open about their emotions and their identity and who holds themselves in a way that isn’t stereotypically “masculine”- that honestly hits so much closer to home than any other trans headcannon ever has. I’ve gone into detail about how much Luis as a character means to me, but seriously, reading him from this angle lowkey makes me want to cry with how much it means to me HDBEHENEHDJX

Luis is a Beautifully written character who shows the best and worst in all of us humans- who shows that we all just want to love and be loved and be forgiven and given the opportunity to change. All trans people deserve that, too; we all deserve the opportunity to live our lives to the fullest.

Even if you want to comment ‘ErM weLl CapCoM woUlD nEVeR hAvE a TrAns ChaRaCTeR-“ does it really matter???? Does it matter if a character has a canon label slapped onto them, if people can already analyse that character from their own perspective and find deep meaning in that themselves????? Is a character who is canonically queer any more meaningful than a character who isn’t????? I don’t think so, cuz clearly, myself and many, many others find solace and comfort and relatability in the fine knight that is Luis Serra

And finally; André Peña, Luis Serra’s voice actor, has been VERY vocal about his support for trans people and has even said he absolutely 100% believes that Luis would believe in trans rights- so suck it transphobes!!!!!!!!!!!!! Luis is for US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ladamedusoif]

It might be the cold meds talking, but I feel like I need to have a ramble about writing - partly because I’ve seen a few “you write for YOU and whatever you WANT” posts over the last few days, some of which have been spot on and some not so much.

To clarify: this post isn’t about me. Or at least, it’s MOSTLY not about me. It’s just some observations about fic.

This is a lovely and important message. Ultimately, we do all write for ourselves. Of course we do.

But saying “write for you and only for you!” is easier when you’re someone who routinely gets hundreds of notes on a fic within the first couple of hours. Or when you’ve got a massive audience already. Or when you write something that seems to get more attention than anything else in terms of popular characters and tropes (ahem Joel age gap smut ahem).

Trends come and go in literature of all kinds, whether properly published works or fics. That’s par for the course.

But the problem is when it feels like only a certain kind of story gets any attention. When stories with real heart and love and care and feeling seem to be routinely ignored because they don’t fit the bill: they’re slow burns, they don’t involve popular tropes, but they’re proper stories that could exist without any connection to the fandom they’ve been written for.

And, worse, when the people writing those stories start to feel deeply disheartened and as if it’s just not worth it.

We talk a lot about anon hate (spoiler: don’t do it) and nine times out of ten that seems to be based on the idea of people writing potentially triggering or taboo topics saying they’ve received “hate”. (Sometimes this is actual hate and sometimes it’s genuine, considerate questioning around warnings etc.)

Thing is: the people writing the ‘unpopular’ stories get hate - genuine, real, nasty hate - too. This post isn’t really about me, but as an example: I’ve not turned on anon asks in months, because of the last shitfest. And I’m not alone, because I know what people have had sent into their inbox in response to the most inoffensive, sweet stories. It baffles me.

All this is to say - I wish people would be a little bit more open in what they want to read, and would recognise that “anon hate” isn’t just about puritanical prudes trying to “tell people what to write” as seems to be the general assumption. People keep trying to put a bit more diversity out there in the fic buffet, to write loving and carefully crafted stories, and for all the “write it for you” posts it still feels like it doesn’t matter. Like no one wants it. And that’s when writers start to think they’re awful, their ideas are bad, their style is weak.

Worse? They get shitty, mean-spirited asks and comments. (Even if it’s not “hate”. I’m still baffled by the people who say they couldn’t finish a one-shot of mine because there wasn’t a significant age gap between the Reader and the male character… but I don’t think that’s strictly hate, as such. Dispiriting, though.)

And what happens then? They stop writing. The stories cease. And the fic buffet becomes more and more one-note, more and more dictated by prevailing winds and a particular kind of purple prose style. And the readers - who might have found those stories if more people had engaged with them and reposted and shared them - wonder why no one seems to write for them.

A while back I wrote a tag that was something like “there’s room for everything”. Unfortunately, that “everything” remains a little limited, at least in terms of what actually seems to get picked up and gain traction. And “there’s room for everything” doesn’t mean that all writers are above reproach, either.

Try something new, people. Give a soft story a go. Who knows, you might like it.

[averysmolbear]

A Second Chance

CW: This is pretty self ship coded. It's vaguely fluffy so not really a need for a ton of tags, I'd think. It's a female reader fic. I'd say the reader and Pietro would be around in their twenties. It's definitely part of a possible series of one shots so it's the beginnings of a friends to lovers type situation. The only thing that could be maybe triggering is the kind of vague mentions of Pietro feeling "trapped" and the reader is there to kind of psychoanalyze him to a certain degree. I'm not sure how else to word that honestly.

Fandom: Marvel/MCU

Pairing: F!Reader x Pietro Maximoff

Word count: ~2.3k

Just a quick note that this would be well after Age of Ultron and I don't care if it's unrealistic, Pietro survived what happened in that movie because I said so (and yeah, that means this is the MCU version of Pietro, not the one in the X-Men movies) so prepare to suspend your disbelief or something. Or don't. I can't tell you what to do. This also means that the reader works for whatever entity really kind of popped up after AoU that the Avengers would sort of be working for before Captain America: Civil War.

Pietro Maximoff felt like an animal trapped in a cage. He didn’t know why they were keeping him locked away. He had healed and was ready to get back out into the world. He felt like they had to know this, especially with all of their incessant poking and prodding. Whenever he asked someone anything, his questions were brushed aside and they would reassure him that he would be out of there before long. And then the cycle would repeat and Pietro would be left alone in the sterile room that reminded him of his time with HYDRA more than he let on.

It wasn’t the fact that he was getting antsy that pushed Pietro to ask when they were going to let him out. His sister needed him, didn’t she? At this point he was starting to doubt that Wanda was aware he was alive, although maybe that was the reason they were keeping him inside. Maybe they weren’t sure how to break it to her that Pietro had survived. It didn’t matter what the reason was though because he knew that eventually they were going to have to let him out and he wasn’t going to waste any time getting as far from this place as he could when that time came.

He paced the length of the room, moving at a natural speed for once. When he first woke up and was moved to his current room, he would run from one end of the room to the other. It didn’t take long before Pietro realized it wouldn’t do him any good. He wasn’t getting out and it only wasted his energy to zip around the room. At the moment he didn’t want to waste any energy on running around the small space but he felt that pent up energy building up and he hated that he didn’t have a proper outlet for it.

When someone knocked on his door, Pietro ignored it. It was common for someone to knock before dropping off food. If it was a doctor, they would enter without his permission anyway. He waited for the slot in the door to open and a tray to slide on to the ledge on his side of the door. It seemed too early for lunch but it wasn’t as if the speedster had any concept of time. He didn’t know how many days had passed, losing count quickly. He didn’t have the patience to keep track after a week had passed but he assumed he had been there for at least a month, maybe longer.

There was a second, more insistent knock on the door and this time Pietro moved cautiously but curiously toward it. No one knocked more than once and he thought that the sound held some level of urgency to it. His head tilted slightly as he listened at the door, not sure he would be able to tell who was on the other side if he tried. Someone knocked again and with a sigh, Pietro finally asked who it was. It was clear they wanted his attention and now they had it, not that he cared too much about who it might be.

“Pietro?”

He noted that the voice wasn’t familiar but it was soft and feminine and youthful. It wasn’t someone he had met before, as far as he could tell. They sounded hesitant which caught his attention more than the knocking. Not many people around this place were hesitant around him. Most seemed to know that there was security everywhere and he wasn’t a threat. He stepped closer to the door when he noticed the little slot had opened. He could see someone peeking inside but he didn’t recognize them. Pietro didn’t say anything but he did place a hand on the door, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I’m going to assume you can hear me, Pietro,” you continued. You cleared your throat. “My name is (y/n). Can I … can I come in?”

Pietro’s brows furrowed but he quietly backed away from the door. His new visitor had him too curious to not let her inside. He moved over to the bed and sat down but didn’t speak. He could be at the door and out of the room before anyone realized what was happening but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Still he was being stubborn, not wanting to give anyone anything that they could use against him. If they were going to try to use him for who knew what, Pietro was going to make them work for it.

You walked in, opening the door wide enough to be able to slip in. The heavy door slammed shut behind you, making her jump as you heard the door lock, but you didn’t look back at the door. Your eyes were intently fixed on Pietro as soon as you saw him. Someone on the other side of the door gruffly told you that you had 15 minutes before they would come in and you muttered a curse under her breath. 

Pietro noted that when you had whispered, it hadn’t been in English and for a moment he wondered what language it was. It sounded roughly like Sokovian but not enough that he was certain he recognized the language. He wasn’t curious enough to ask however. You bit your lip as you stayed near the door, looking him over slowly.

Pietro folded his arms across his chest but still didn’t speak. Instead he fixed you with an intense glare, his brows pulled tightly and a scowl on his face. You were pretty, which he noticed immediately, but he wasn’t going to let them lull him into a false sense of security. He might have been a flirt but he wasn’t an idiot. He wasn’t sure who had taken him in, SHIELD or HYDRA, and Pietro wasn’t sure he trusted either of them. That meant he wasn’t sure if he trusted you since he had no idea what your intentions were.

You swallowed thickly as your gaze turned down toward the floor. You weren't trembling but you looked close to it as you slipped your hands into the front pockets of your jeans. You stayed close to the door, timidly glancing at Pietro before looking away when your eyes met. Clearing your throat, you found your voice. “My name’s (y/n),” you repeated, not sure if he had heard you. Your gaze flitted around the room now to avoid making eye contact. “I’m here to talk.”

Pietro rolled his eyes, his arms still folded across his chest as he let out a sigh. He wasn’t sure he trusted that you were as timid as you seemed. It could have been an act. The fact that you seemed afraid of him annoyed the speedster as well. It wasn’t like he was going to hurt you. “I’m not feeling very talkative,” he bitterly said. “After all it’s hard to want to talk to people who keep me locked away in a cage.”

“Oh …” You looked up and stopped short at the look on Pietro’s face. Your lips curled up in a brief smile, trying to show you were there to help. Your hands fell to your sides and you shook your head. Your face softened as you took a couple of steps away from the door although you still kept some distance between yourself and the speedster. “I … I don’t think that’s what they’re trying to do here, Pietro.”

He watched as you moved toward him, his arms falling to his sides. He was still cautious so he stayed where he was, not wanting to let his guard down too soon. He especially didn’t want to let his guard down to a pretty face only to have it backfire. It was better to keep a bit of cautious optimism for the moment. Pietro wasn’t sure what you were doing there after all. He hoped that if he said as little as possible, you would tell him what he wanted to know. It seemed to be working so far although he wasn’t sure if you were as concerned about him as you appeared to be. He supposed it would be easy enough for someone to fake concern.

You swallowed hard again and took another couple of steps until you were standing at the foot of the bed where Pietro sat. “I can’t help you if you won’t let me,” you softly said, your gaze still locked with his for the moment. You bit her lip and nodded to the bed, finally glancing away from Pietro. “May I sit?”

Pietro silently nodded and watched as you carefully sat down. You seemed like you were both terrified and worried. He wondered which would take precedence, although it seemed like it was going to be your concern for his well-being. He felt his features melt into something less intimidating but he didn’t speak, still not sure he could trust you.

Even if part of him wanted nothing more than to trust you. Pietro knew, in the back of his mind, that he could use a friend.

You sighed, reaching up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “I’m sure all of this has been very difficult for you. I don’t doubt that it feels a lot like we’re keeping you here against your will,” you said, nodding your head slightly as you spoke. “I know that you have no reason to trust me but I promise that I won’t lie to you, Pietro. If it was up to me, we’d be having this talk somewhere much more comfortable than this.”

You waited for Pietro to speak and when he didn’t, you let out a nervous laugh. Your eyes roamed his face before you looked at your hands as they rested in your lap. You were too nervous to hold eye contact with him for long. “I don’t have much time but I wanted to introduce myself. I’m going to be coming by every day and I won’t stop trying until you open up to me,” you explained. 

You looked up and frowned at the distrust you saw in Pietro’s eyes. “I know how that sounds but I’m not going to try to break you. I’m barely a licensed therapist but that’s why I’m here. I need to evaluate you before they’ll agree that it’s safe to …” You shrugged, gesturing toward the door.

“Before they let me out of my cell.”

You looked up, your eyes widening as you shook your head. “No, Pietro. This isn’t a cell. You’re here for your safety,” you said, your frown deepening. “After what happened, well, no one was sure how you were going to react to being … alive.”

Pietro narrowed his eyes again and sighed, shaking his head. He wasn’t going to let you tell him to trust you and then freely give you that trust. He knew your name but he didn’t know anything else about you. Clearly you knew about him or you wouldn’t have been there. He didn’t like being at a disadvantage like this. If you wanted his trust, you were going to have to earn it.

You bit her lip as Pietro sized you up, your cheeks heating up as you took a deep breath. You glanced toward the door briefly, knowing your time had to be dwindling faster than you would have liked. It wouldn’t be long before someone told you that your time was up and you knew you had barely gotten Pietro to speak to you. When you looked back at him again, you smiled shyly. “We have all of the time in the world. As much time as you need. So tell me how I can win your trust, Pietro.”

Pietro shook his head, shifting his weight as he moved away from you. He didn’t like the feeling of being psychoanalyzed, even if you claimed that you were ‘barely’ a therapist, and he didn’t like that you had piqued his interest. He leaned against the wall at the head of the bed, trying to look disinterested. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” you said with a quick shrug. Your voice was gentle and a bit timid. You tried to smile as you watched Pietro process what you were saying, hoping he would believe you. “It matters to my boss and his boss. It matters to a lot of people. If you can’t trust me, I don’t know when they’ll let you out of here. I just want to help get you out of this room and out somewhere that doesn’t feel so stifling.”

Pietro laughed humorlessly, rolling his eyes as he looked away. He wanted to trust you. He wanted to get out of this room because he was tired of staring at these same four walls. The problem was that Pietro didn’t know where to begin so he figured he could keep feigning disinterest until you told him something that made him feel safe with you. You seemed unassuming but it didn’t mean you were. Pietro was well aware of that.

“I’ll come back later and see if you feel more talkative then,” you said with a nod. You slowly stood, pausing as you watched Pietro. Your smile grew a bit as he looked at you but it was still timid. “I think we’re going to get along if you’ll trust me. I think we can help each other actually. You just have to trust me.”

Pietro watched as you walked to the door. He debated for a split second whether or not he should push you aside when the door opened to let you out but he stayed where he was. He was still staring at the door after it closed behind you. He didn’t know if he could trust you but there was something that was telling him to try. Maybe it wouldn’t lead to anything but if he could get out of this place, he knew he couldn’t keep being so stubborn about this for long. Eventually you would stop trying and Pietro wasn’t sure what would happen to him after that. 

He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out either.