#Mean and unusual /j

[qtubbo]

Morning crew? More like mourning crew, haha gottem

what the heck

[shinobus-left-eye]

my valentine eve's nightmare lineup: kanata/chiaki/niki

[verxca]

Imagine Jason being so soft and sweet and clingy with you that when his siblings see him in a store with you they have to do a double take. It would be extra funny if his family didn't know about you yet xD

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ [ imagine #04 ]

[ j. todd ft d. grayson ] ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ ୨ ♡ ୧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

── . ✦ in which dick spots something very unusual from his brother at the grocery store.

Late night grocery trips were preferable to Dick for two primary reasons; One, being as the stores were usually less busy, meaning less people would spot him. And two, crime was typically preformed at night here in Gotham, meaning he could keep an extra eye out. It was like killing three birds with one stone!

Turning the corner, Dick hummed a random tune to himself upon entering another produce isle. He was just here to pick up some cereal and butter, nothing too important. As he leaned down to grab what he needed, a friendly couple entered the isle from the other side— giggling and holding hands.

Not wanting to seem nosy or rude, he didn’t stare, still scanning to find the brand he liked.

“Nope- All they do is knock shit over, claw your back, and piss all over the fucking furniture.” The guys voice from across the aisle sounded familiar, a little too familiar— almost like his brother Jason’s. But he ruled that one out quickly… It was obvious that the dude and Jay acted completely different. Though, the mysterious guy did sound like one of his old friends from high school. Maybe it was him— Damn, how long had it been? What a coincidence to see him here!

Dick looked up— fully expecting to run into an old friend. Yet, the realization of his mistake came crashing down like a punch to the gut as the boyfriend moved his face into view, eyes still glued down to his girl. Oh, it was Jason! What was he doing here at this hour? Dick chuckled, looking back down before snapping his neck up for maybe the fourth time.

Wait— that was Jason?

“But, like- Same for dogs! You have to walk them twenty times a week, and pick up their shit too. No animals are easy to care for, but cats are definitely easier!” You argued with your boyfriend, squeezing his hand to try and enforce your point.

You two had been dating for a good couple months now, but still, Jay was ever so reluctant to get an animal! Every time you brought it up, he’d make the same five points. “Kay- That’s fair, babe, but-”

Jay teased once more, laughing as you tried to protest. Fuck, was it ever cute when you got all defensive like that. It was definitely Jason’s guilty pleasure, and he couldn’t help but tease you when the opportunity was in front of him— practically begging to be taken. Jay quickly leaned down for quick kiss, hands moving to your waist. He hadn’t even realized the two of you weren’t alone in the aisle, nor that the other person here was his brother.

You couldn’t help but just melt into your boyfriend’s touch as he kissed you— moving his lips down your jaw and neck. Your hands steadied on his abdomen, as he lavished your collar in desperate affection.

“Holy fuck.”

Dick was completely in shock. Jason was not only acting clingy with someone— completely vulnerable and desperate, but was also with a god forsaken secret girlfriend he had never told anyone about! It showed in the way he kissed the girl’s neck, and in the way he held her tight, that Jay was in love. But still, was this all some fucking witchcraft? How in gods name did someone get him to open up and act all lovey-dovey like that?

He didn’t know what to do, but sure as hell didn’t want to get caught. Dick slipped out of the asile, your collective giggles still faintly audible as he entered the parallel row. He was debating on taking a photo or not… but he didn’t want to invade the girl’s privacy.

Instead, he made a mental note of the encounter, checking out and leaving, already picturing the faces of his family when he’d bring it up at the next dinner.

[mostly-imagines]

So This Is Love

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you show each other what love is supposed to be like

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: section 1: close-call panic attack for j, mentions of ptsd for j // section 2: implied sexual activity // section 3: mild angst w comfort // section 4: implied ptsd for j

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.

The nightmare wasn’t anything unusual for him, but it did feel particularly vivid tonight. It was more of a memory than anything, though. That same one that plays on a loop in his head throughout the night the more he tries to push it away during the day. It was the last thwack of the crowbar that had him jolt awake in bed.

You shift in your spot next to him, opening your eyes to see his rattled state. If he’d been in a clearer frame of mind he would’ve lied to you. He would’ve expertly leveled his breathing and told you everything was fine and to go back to sleep.

But instead, he looks over at you with wide eyes, chest heaving and shaking like he might start hyperventilating at any moment.

You shoot up from the bed, instantly on alert. This isn’t the first time he’s had one of these nightmares around you, so it’s not hard for you to guess where this is coming from.

“Jay? What’s—what do you need?” You know better than to try and touch him unprompted right now, you’ve panicked enough yourself to know that sudden contact only makes it worse.

“I—I can’t, I—” Now he really looks like he’s about to lose all control of his breathing.

You sit up further, moving onto your knees. “Here, let me—can I see your hand?” you ask gently, holding your own out.

He extends it to you without question, a tiny act of vulnerability that he couldn’t have dreamed of doing in this state before he met you.

You flip his hand over, palm-up and start tracing lines over it in the moonlight. You’re looking at his hand quite intently like there’s something very important on it. It’s enough to make him question what the hell you’re doing. 

“I can read palms.” You tell him, simply. 

“What?” His voice almost breaks, like he’s right at the edge of tears. 

“Yeah, my friend taught me. I can tell the future and everything.” You look up at him, fingers not stopping their trailing. “Do you wanna hear yours?”

All he can do is nod.

You smile and start to inspect his hand carefully, tracing over calluses and a few tiny scars. You draw your finger across the short, deep line parallel to his fingers.

“This one…see the way it curves upwards right there?” He nods. “That means you’re very resourceful and ambitious. Like a leader.” His breathing starts to slow as he watches you, trying to focus on what you’re showing him in the dim light from the window.

“And this one,” you trace the line that curves downwards in the middle, “This one says that you’re strong and stubborn, which I can confirm,” he huffs out a laugh. It’s little but it’s genuine. “But it also means that you’re resilient. You’re built to overcome things and bounce back even stronger because of them. Which I can also confirm.”

He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He takes in a deep breath, watching you draw patterns across the base of his palm.

The sensation soothes him in a way that he frankly didn’t know he could be soothed. He figures he usually can’t, except when it’s you. He tries to match your breathing, syncing up with you. If anyone else tried to get this close to him when he was on the verge of a panic attack they’d get punched, at best.

But you…you always know how to help him. He’s considered in the past that he did something really right somewhere down the line and you were sent to him as reward. He’d racked his mind for hours of every good thing he’d ever done, trying to find one that could explain your presence in his life. For anything that could explain why he deserved you. He poured and poured over every memory he could dig up but couldn’t find any good he’d ever done that surmounted to a single piece of the good in your heart.

There was a time when he would’ve thought—when he did think that you were only in his life to be taken away as soon as he felt safe. That would certainly be in line with previous experiences. But you showed him quickly that you have this way about you…it makes those loud thoughts in the back of his head shut up and just listen. Listen to your words, your breathing, your footsteps, your laugh…anything he could. Because it turns out, when he listens, he feels safe. 

He’s quiet for a long time, contentedly watching you work. He notices that at some point you’d stopped tracing the lines and began drawing designs instead. 

He breaks the silence after several minutes, softly commenting, “You don’t know how to read palms.”

“No, I do not.” 

But you continued to leave your invisible art on the palm of his hand just the same, both of you taking comfort in the sound of the other's breathing and the soothing feeling of each other’s skin.

The radio plays lightly in the background, surrounding your night with soft ambience. You’re working at the cutting board with tomatoes as Jason leans against the counter next to you, having just finished getting the pasta set up on the stove.

His hands find your hips, resting them there as he watches you work over your shoulder.

“Watch your thumb.” He comments when the knife gets a little too close for his liking.

You shrug him off, “I know how to do it.”

He eyes the way the knife stutters as you cut through the tomato, slicing through not very cleanly at all. “Doesn’t look like it.”

You ignore him, elbowing him gently in the abdomen. He’s joking, but he’s not. The skill level you’re displaying is only above Bruce and slightly below Tim, which is not great.

“Will you let me do it?” he asks you when he realizes there’s going to be no improvement. 

“Fine.” You relent with faux annoyance. 

You switch over to the stovetop, keeping a careful eye on the pasta as it cooks. It’s quiet for a moment as he works, chopping with much more efficiency than you had.  

“You didn’t have to stay here tonight, you know.” You say quietly, still intently watching the stove.

In spite of the music, your low volume does nothing to faze him as he continues his actions, “Why wouldn’t I?”

You stir the contents of the saucepan around. “Well, I know Roy wanted you to go out…”

“Not missing much.” He mumbles, opening up the above cabinet to get out plates.

You lull your head to the side, “Come on, he’s your best friend.”

Jason frowns. “He’s not my best friend.”

You turn your head towards him, “No?”

He meets your gaze, frown consistent. “No. You are.” He says it like he’s confused that you don’t know that. 

“Oh.” You smile, “You’re my best friend too.”

His eyes soften at that, a light smile gracing his lips. He knew that, and he knew you’d say it, but hearing it out loud just…does something to him.

You flick the stove top off, prompting him to on instinct reach for the Marinara jar and crack it open for you. He hands it to you and you accept with a smile, twisting it open the rest of the way as you turn back to the stove. The jar sputters as you open, spitting out sauce.    

“Oh, shit.” You hiss, when the splatter hits your shirt.

He takes one glance at the mess on your shirt and pulls his own shirt off his back. He’s tugging yours off just as fast, replacing it with his. You’ve barely processed what happened as he scans your body, eyes lingering on where his shirt stops at your thighs. “Can you wear this to bed tonight?” He asks, hands running over your waist.

You laugh, “Really?”

He meets your eyes, face serious. “Yes.” He squeezes your hip, “You look good.”

“In your shirt.” You say with a knowing smile.

“In my shirt.” He confirms.

You turn back to the stove to dish out the salsa, his hands skimming around your thighs as you do. He watches you as you work, though rather than watching your hands he’s fixated on the size of his shirt over you and how fucking good you look right now. 

“Or…” He sweeps his eyes over your legs before looking back up at you again. “Did’ya turn the stove off?”

You tilt your head at him, “I did…?”

He grins at you, lifting you up by your thighs til you’re a head above him. “Good.” He maneuvers you over to the counter, setting you on top. He brings your wrist up to his mouth to press a delicate kiss before dropping to his knees.

You’ve been laying in bed for at least three hours, bordering on sleep but never quite falling in. You and Jason had a little spat, though nothing insurmountable, it was still the biggest fight you’ve had to date. You’d tried going out (at night) to see your friend that was having a hard time, and yeah, you should’ve told Jason you were going. It was only five blocks, give or take, but in Gotham at eleven o’clock at night, it’s a risk to say the least.

You should’ve told Jason, you know. But he wouldn’t have let you go or would’ve insisted on putting hold on patrolling to accompany you. You always feel bad when he does that—people could be getting hurt somewhere because you needed your boyfriend to walk you down the street. Unfortunately, it didn’t matter in the end because he caught you red handed before you’d even made it a full block away. Of all the nights for him to come home early, it had to be this one.

He dropped down from the rooftop behind you and scared the absolute hell out of you, and you didn’t even have time to be relieved that it was just him because he was on you in a flash. 

“What the hell are you doing out here?” His voice was hard through the modulator, a rare tone for him to use with you.

“I just—my friend—” he sounded tired and angry, sure signs that he’d really not had a good night so far which was probably all the more reason that you shouldn’t have been out by yourself in the middle of the night.

“What are you—no! Go home. Now.” You would’ve, you really would’ve, but your friend called you crying about her boyfriend cheating on her again and she needed the in person support. 

“Ja—” You’d cut yourself off, “It’s down the street, it’s fine—” He dropped his shoulders in a huff and faced you dead-on. You didn’t need him to take his helmet off to know exactly how he was looking at you.

He dropped down and hooked his arm around the back of your legs, lifting you off the ground with no discernible effort. “Wha—”

He started walking before you were even fully planted on his shoulder, arm wrapping around your legs to hold you in place. 

“Hood! I am so fucking serious, put me down!” You swatted at his back and struggled in his grip, though in the back of your mind you knew it was a pointless effort. Even if you were a match in size, whatever mood he’d been pushed in was enough to guarantee that you had no chance. 

He ignored you, not even pretending that you were giving him any difficulty with your squirming. He marched you back down the block to your apartment, not stopping until you’re outside your door. He set you down in between him and the entrance, digging into his pocket for his key.

He kicked the door shut behind him, finally letting you go. He wordlessly grabbed one of his spare guns and two cartridges of ammo from inside the closet by the door and turned back to you with a firm stance. “Stay here.”

You immediately tried to push past him again, at that point more angry about him dragging you back here than about having to duck out on your friend. He stopped you, holding you by the arms, which led you to respond by raising your voice at him, “Jason!” 

But he didn’t waste any time letting you know how it is, “I will lock you in this fucking apartment. Stay. Here.” Him cursing at you like that was very rare and not a particularly good sign, so through your anger you’d made the decision that it was better to relent, for now. Your posture dropped and you frowned at him resentfully, a visible cue that you were giving in without you having to say it. 

He stayed true to his word and locked the door on his way out, though knowing you could easily unlock it from the inside. You’d trudged into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you.   

Now you lay on Jason’s usual side of the bed, partially because you do miss him, partially because the bed feels a little less empty when you can’t see all the empty space. You know he was just trying to keep you safe after what was probably a rough start to the night, so you feel less than great that you’d yelled at him.

Your dwelling over the memory is interrupted by a quiet creak of the bedroom door. You blink up at him blearily, “Jay?” You sit up, furrowing your brow. You didn’t even hear him come home. “What’s wrong?” You figure he must be hurt to come in here—it’s not unknown for him to sleep on the couch if he feels like he did something wrong or upset you.   

Your eyes attempt to adjust to the darkness, scanning over him for any injuries. He’s out of his armor and in his regular clothes which means he must have showered already. And you know from dozens of nights patching him up that he always tends to his injuries before showering.

This leaves you confused, as you look up at him, waiting for an answer. “I can’t…I don’t want to sleep without you.” He whispers, eyes on the floor. 

You shuffle back into your usual spot near the wall and hold your hand out to him expectantly. You’re still a bit cross with him, but you miss him too much to care right now.

It takes him a second to move, but he eventually lingers away from the door and makes his way to the bed. He takes your hand as he climbs onto the bed, letting go only when you lay down after him, staring up at the ceiling next to him. 

You weren’t entirely expecting him to wrap his arms around you and tug you into his chest. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’d assumed he would lay on his side and you on yours and that would be enough for him to fall asleep with. Instead, he tightens his arms and buries his face into the crook of your neck. You lay there in silence for a couple minutes, both thinking.

“You’re mad.” He mumbles into your shoulder after a while. You know he feels badly about the dispute, you knew it while it was still happening. As hard as he tries, he’s not very good at hiding his emotions. Not with you, anyways.

You shrug slightly. “Barely. I’ll get over it. This is more important.”

He picks his head up to look at you, “I love you. You know that?”

You wiggle out of his grip a bit, making him frown. You use the new space to flip over to face him, before placing his arm back around your waist. You peek up at him, looking him in the eyes, “I do. You know I love you. Even when we fight.”

He looks at you like he’s a bit thrown off by your words. “I’m sorry. It was just…it was a rough night…I—I’m sorry.” He tells you dolefully.  

You shake your head, frowning. “Don’t be. I should’ve texted you.”

“It—yeah. Please. I just worry about you.” He looks so sad and it makes you feel somehow worse.

“I know,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”  

“Don’t be.” He kisses your forehead, not moving away after.

You feel like you can finally relax and your tense body doesn’t take long to slacken in his hold. Soon after, he does the same, both of you closing your eyes. You feel your heart slow and your mind starts to find a space of peace.    

Jason didn’t get it at first.

Honestly, he didn’t really realize that you noticed things about him that even he didn’t see.

Your neighbor was having their place remodeled and you knew there would be construction going on near your apartment all day.

Jason didn’t really care, planning to bury his head under the pillow and trying to sleep through it. You however, seemed very adamant about getting out of the apartment that day. You’d left hours before the construction crew had even gotten there, telling him it was a nice day out.

It was an alright day, but he let you have your way.

You held his hand as you walked down the street, looking into shop windows and commenting on things you think he’d like.

You led him into a book store excitedly, telling him about how the author he’d been binging had just published something new. He didn’t even know that.

You were browsing the sections, flipping through books as you went. You peered across the shop at a kid holding an absolutely massive pile of books, who was clearly struggling to keep them in his arms.

His mother tried to help him but he shook his head and strided away independently, albeit very slowly. The weight of the books though, did get the best of him, and you could tell by the quivering in his arms that he was going to drop them.

“Loud noise.” You said quickly, seemingly out of the blue. Jason turned to you, confused, before seeing the stack the books splat flat onto the ground. It was indeed a loud noise.

He tilts his head at you, though you’re still busy watching the little boy as he throws his head back in frustration.

“What was that?”

You look at him, “He dropped his books.”

“Yeah, I saw. But why—”

His question gets cut off by the kid bursting into tears, wailing. You turn back to look at him, your gaze getting caught by the new book you’d been telling him about. “Ooh!”

You grab his hand and pull him over with you, smiling widely when you have the book in your hands. The sight of you makes him feel so warm so fast that he forgets about the odd interaction all together.

A couple hours later, you sit outside a cafe and eat lunch together, his back to the road, you sitting diagnal to him.

He’s telling you about the shit Damian got in trouble for at school last week, holding your hand with his right hand and eating with his left.

“He thinks he’s not going to get expelled for pulling shit like that every other week, it’s ridiculous.” He says, tossing his napkin down on the table.

Your smile is wavers as your eyes move past his shoulder looking down the block before widening, “Car—”

The sudden noise startles him enough to make him visibly jump, hand flying to where his holster would be. He looks over at the fender bender, shoulders relaxing.

He turns back to you to find your eyes looking far more worried than they should. You seem to be scanning his face, looking for something and he’s about to ask you what’s wrong when it sinks in.

He does get scared by unexpected loud sounds, doesn’t he? He never really thinks of it until it happens, but his mind is trained to expect gunshots or crowbars making impact.

It doesn’t happen often, but it noticeably takes a little piece out of him when it does.

“You…” he tries, but falters. He’s not even sure he’s processing this right.

He’s never seriously tried to fathom that you love him half as much as he loves you, though love doesn’t feel like a strong enough word. He lives and breathes for you, you’ve become a lifeline he’d been stranded without for most of his life. But now you're here and you’re everything, you’re in his head all the time, in every emotion he feels.

He thinks he’s here for you, that he was brought back from the dead because of you. You can’t possibly understand how much his heart is full of you, he doesn’t understand it himself.

He knows you love him, he’s gotten that through his head. But he can’t get a grasp on the idea that he’s equally matched in the who loves who the most battle.

Do you really care that much about him to go out of your way to keep track of things that might startle him? He knows there’s a million things about you that are in the back of his mind at any given time, but surely you don’t operate that same way with him?

Do you?

There’s this burning in his heart that aches and it only gets stronger when he sees you looking at him like that. So genuine. With care, with love.

He squeezes your hand, “I love you. More than anything.”

The look on your face sinks back into that sweet, adorable look that he’s so used to and it makes him want to scream.

You smile that bright smile and it sends his heart rocketing into oblivion. “I love you.” You squeeze his hand back, “More than everything.”

He feels like his heart might burst through his chest.

[fluffylino]

serpent hybrid hyunjin 🌱🐍🌱

hyunjin never acted like this. you had never seen him behave so much like a serpent. was he experiencing an unusual kind of heat? did snakes do that...well u just gotta find out

i love this concept so much ill scream-

reblogging > liking

-contains mature themes (two dicks and a split tongue ahhh)

snake hybrids weren't exactly judged well in society. stereotypical beliefs calling them mean slithery liars who manipulate people.

they were just misjudged. misunderstood hybrids who needed affection too. maybe the energy exhuded made them look tough and deadly but deep down they were sweeter than even bunny hybrids.

thats why your boyfriend, hyunjin is always by your side.

theres nothing quite different about snake hybrids. except for the patches of scales on different parts of their body.

however some had no scales, instead just forked tongues. hyunjin was no exception. patient and mind numbingly soft at all times. snuggling into you every now and then.

thats why when you step into the house,you aren't expecting the strong whiff of a certain peculiar smell. its musky and fills the whole apartment.

you don't even know what you're smelling until you're embraced by him. his body warm, reeking of musk. intoxicating your senses.

"hyun-" you let out hurriedly, dropping your bag on the ground in shock. his face buried in your neck. hands running all over your body.

practically pushing you against the door, slipping his left hand between your legs while his right hand grabbed your backside. gasping at the way you seem to float off the ground. he's picking you up quicker than you can even process.

"what's going on? baby?" you say, trying to wriggle out of his firm hold. he's stronger than before and he continues holding you off the ground.

hyunjin hisses.

he fucking hisses.

and your eyes widen. thats only the second time he's ever hissed at you. once during an argument and right now. did that mean he was angry?

"heat." is all he says, huffing as he slams the bedroom door open. throwing you on the bed. not caring at the funny way, you bounced on the soft mattress.

"what do you mean? I thought snakes..don't get heats..."

you questioned. watching as he paced around the room, trying to control himself.

taking off his hoodie. arms out on display. shining with a thin layer of sweat. his hair soaked.

"fuck i don't know...i was washing our clothes and i got the smell of your shirt..."

he mumbles, and your eyes go down to where theres a prominent bulge in his pants. a wet patch staining the material.

"and its like my senses went wild. all I was thinking of was you. fucking you over and over again..." hyunjin slurs, his forked tongue peeking out.

"jinnie...your tongue"

you whisper. intrigued at how his tongue slipped past his lips every few seconds. he had never done that before.

"i can't control it-" he covers his mouth, gazing at you with needy eyes.

were his eyes always so sharp, you wondered.

"its okay baby, breathe" you reassure, opening your arms for him to come to you. and he does. resting his head on your shoulder, his weight pressing you down into the bed.

leaning into kiss him innocently when all of a sudden, his hands are on either side of your face, pulling you in for a needy kiss.

brain shutting off at the feeling of his forked tongue licking into your mouth. forcing you to be submissive because you knew you wouldn't win this battle.

.

🌱

.

"j-jinnie" squirming under him.

his hands pinning your lower half down. head buried between your legs. your toes curling everytime he maneuvered his tongue to simultaneously flick at your sensitive clit and slip between your swollen lips.

"shhh"

u don't know if he's shushing you or hissing at you.

because the next thing you feel is his fork like tongue pushing all over your folds. fingers digging into your hips with strength that had your cunt throbbing.

whining at the loss as he lifts his head up. teasingly using the tips of his wet muscle to prod at your bundle of nerves. face contorting in pleasure at your taste. breath heavy on your warmth.

"breed." he blurts out, surprising himself. your mouth opening in shock when his nails dig into your waist.

his nails had grown longer, into claws and the once hardly noticeable scales on his forearms became visible. gradient shade of black and grey.

"hyun! h-hyunjin, baby b-bab-"

writhing higher into the mattress as he pushed your legs further apart.

nestling his split tongue over your swollen pussy. teasingly managing to place your clit in the Y of his wet muscle.

had his tongue grown longer because you could feel him so deep...

.

.

"h-hyun?" you whisper, gripping his arm to relax your body for him. scales textured and rough under your calloused palm.

"m'right here, baby" hyunjin cooes. placing a hand flat on your lower stomach. eyes fixed on where he was prepping you.

with both his dicks. rubbing the tip over your folds while the other pressed into your entrance. leaking more and more slick that mixed with your own arousal.

"almost in, my love" nudging the first one in with extreme care. your fingers grasping at him. his jaw hanging open as he pushed in, groaning when he slid halfway in.

spreading your thighs so he could start to push his second dick in. the sensation and stretch making you cry in a mix of pain and pleasure.

snake hybrids had two features that only a person who they were close to, would find out about. a forked long tongue means their dicks are the same as well.

hyunjin was not particularly big. actually he was slightly above average considering snake hybrids had longer lengths and lesser girths.

hyunjin had thicker girths and the length of both his dicks were just perfect. neither too big nor too small.

but right now, he felt bigger.

he felt longer. he felt hot.

thats why when he pushes both of them past your entrance, you let out a muffled scream. eyes rolling back at the fullness. quite literally stuffed like this, for the first time.

"f-fuck gonna take me all in"

lowering himself to look down at you. his arms on either side of your head. placing his larger hands on your face. lips brushing against your open mouth.

"thats my precious girl~" and your pussy spasms around him.

getting him soaked because the way the word 'precious' rolled off his tongue, could make you cum on the spot. rolling his s's and a few other alphabets in a serpent like way. something he'd usually never do.

a firm thrust that has your hands flying up to hold onto him. clawing at his back while he buried himself deeper into your cunt. stretching you out with every rough movement.

the scales on his back were larger and travelled down his spine. groaning as you scratched down his back, hard enough to leave red imprints.

"gonna take my cum like a good mate, yes~" hyunjin hisses, watching you so closely. letting his tongue run over your front teeth, all the way down to your bottom lip.

you nod at his statement. wrapping your legs around his waist. pulling him closer. not caring if his patterns of uneven scales scratched you here and there.

plush lips kissing you with such intensity. his nose pressing into your cheek. pushing you deeper into the pillow. trailing a hand down to where your chest touched his. grabbing a handful of flesh and squeezing hard enough to make you arch your back.

taking the opportunity to thrust in deeper. your bottom half nearly lifted off the bed with his strength.

pads of his fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nubs. hooking your leg higher so he could change the angle. filling you up with warmth. it makes your eyes struggle to stay open.

this was nowhere near over...

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hiss hiss need more snake hyunjin ideas FUVKKKKK

part two

[prokopetz]

I'm spinning this off of the main thread about tracing the origin of the term "d66" because it's not strictly germane to the topic – none of these examples actually use the term "d66" to describe their dice-rolling methods – but I'm going to post it anyway as a matter of general interest: following a conversation with Tumblr user @notclevr, it appears that before tabletop wargames (and, nearly concurrently, tabletop RPGs) got their hands on the mechanic, the principal (though by no means exclusive) users of the old "roll a six-sided die twice, reading one die as the 'tens' place and the other die as the 'ones' place" trick may have been tabletop American baseball simulators.

The most notable example of the type – and the only well-known example still in publication today – is J Richard Seitz' APBA Baseball, first published in either 1950 or 1951 (accounts vary). In this game, a d66 roll is cross-referenced with a card representing the active player and a "board" representing the current situation on the field:

For example, with Carlton Fisk at bat, a d66 roll of 31 would yield a result of "8". Assuming for the sake of argument that the situation on the field is a runner on first and a grade C pitcher, consulting the "Runner on First Base" board, this corresponds to an outcome of "SINGLE—line drive to left; runner to third".

(This example is, strictly speaking, incorrect, as Carlton Fisk didn't have his major league debut until 1969 and I'm using the wrong lookup tables for any year in which he played, but you get the idea!)

Interestingly, APBA Baseball is not the first game to use this setup. It's heavily derived from Clifford Van Beek's National Pastime, a game whose patent was registered in 1925, though it wasn't actually published until 1930. Even at a glance, the similarities are substantial:

Indeed, though National Pastime's lookup tables are much simpler than APBA Baseball's, where they overlap they're often word for word identical. It's generally accepted that Seitz plagiarised National Pastime without credit when creating APBA Baseball (ironically, given his own famously combative stance toward alleged imitators!), though he was within his rights to do so, as National Pastime had fallen into the public domain by the time APBA Baseball was published.

We can go back even further, though. As far as I've been able to determine, the earliest known tabletop baseball simulator to use d66 lookup tables for resolving plays is Edward K McGill's Our National Ball Game, first published in 1886:

A copy of the game's 1887 US patent application can be downloaded here. This one uses an unusual 21-entry variant of the standard d66 lookup table in which the order of the rolled digits is insignificant, with doubles being half as likely as non-doubles rolls; it's unclear whether McGill was aware of this when he laid out the table. Unlike later incarnations of the genre, there are no individual player statistics, with all at-bats being resolved via the same table.

[lizziesloopy]

NSFW ALPHABET W DARYL DIXON

A - Aftercare: I don’t care what anyone else says, Daryl is the master of aftercare. He’s always worried about you, so he always insists u rest and take a minute after u two do anything, and gets a warm washcloth or tissue to clean you up, and or water. If you’re the type to get tired after sex, he sleeps with you, lets u sleep on his chest while playing with your hair.

B - Body Part: He likes all of you equally, but he’s a sucker for your breasts and hips. I will DIE on this hill. Daryl has a thing for hips, holding them while he’s fucking you, keeping them down while he’s eating you out, brushing his thumb along them while kissing you.

C - Cum: Daryl has a breeding kink. He’s already generally protective of the people he cares about, especially you, and that doesn’t change in the bedroom. The idea of filling you up, cumming inside you, thats what does it for him.

D - Dirty Secret: Daryl is a pretty reserved guy, so I don’t think he’d ever admit to any kind of dirty secret unless you asked first. But, he secretly really likes the idea of you riding his face, and really likes the scent of you.

E - Expirience: The only expirience Daryl has is from before the apocalypse, and even then it was never all that good. He was usually intoxicated when he had the occasional one night stand, most of his sexual knowledge coming from Merle. But once he’s with you, he’s very eager to please you, whether he knows what he’s doing, he WILL make it his mission to learn.

F - Favorite Position: Contrary to popular belief, I think Daryl is a pretty vanilla guy. He mostly enjoys missionary, he likes to be able to see your face, and hold you close. He also likes spooning, it feels much more intimate, and it’s usually a go to for sleepy sex. He also never complains when you want to ride him because god does he love it. But I don’t think he’d like to bend you over something or do doggy style, he feels it’s too degrading or disrespectful.

G - Goofy: Things stay pretty passionate and serious between you too when being intamite. But, when something is akward and happens to be funny, a little laugh here and there isn’t unusual, especially in the beginning.

H - Hair: I mean, it’s an apocalypse, I don’t think people are all too focused on how well groomed thier bits are. Despite that, he doesn’t let it get crazy, keeps it tame, very clean. He doesn’t like the feeling of being unkempt down there, it’s uncomfortable. As for you, who could give two shits bush or bald, as long as he can get in there, he’s a happy man. And if he’s being honest, he’s likes when you have a little more hair because he likes the scent of you.

I - Intimacy: Daryl is extremely intimate nobody is changing my mind. I don’t understand how yall think this man would fuck you like an animal against a tree, absolutely not. He’s very private about your sex life and plans to keep it that way. He’s quiet overall, but that doesn’t stop him from absolutely ravishing you. He likes being as humanly close to you as possible, whether that be spooning you, reverse cowgirl, pulling you impossibly close to him in missionary, anything.

J - Jack Off: Daryl isn’t much of a masturbater. Never has been. He doesn’t have the highest sex drive, and when he does, he has you. He’d rather have you than his hand, always.

K - Kink: Like I said, he’s pretty vanilla, but not to say he doesn’t enjoy a thing or two. He 100% has an oral fixation, going down on you or you going down on him, obsessed with it. He also likes pulling your hair every now and then, but never too hard.

L - Location: Only the bed. Yall are crazy for sayin ‘over a table’ ‘in the middle of the woods’ like what the FUCK are you on 😭. He’s a very private man, who prioritizes your comfort over anything else, therefore, the bed.

M - Motivation: I mentioned how he wouldn’t have a very high sex drive, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get turned on by you. If you’re in the mood, that’s his motivation. But also, seeing you all sweaty or working hard, or when he’s teaching you how to use his crossbow, seeing you use it, that turns him on hella.

N - NO: There’s a lot of no’s for Daryl when it comes to intimacy for you. He would never hurt you in any way shape or form, that consists of spanking, slapping, hitting, restraining, choking, etc. IF you asked him to choke you he’d be ok with doing it very lightly, but still worried. He’s not ok with risky/public sex, degrading you, and certain kinks like mommy/daddy. I hate when ppl say he’d have that, he’d hate it.

O - Oral: ORAL FIXATIONNNNNNNNNNN!!! This man is a certified MUNCH. Bro feasts like it’s his last meal alive. He love love loves that he can make you feel that good, because he’s exceptionally good with using his tongue, and has learned all the ways you like it. He likes watching the way you loose control of yourself, your face and your body. He also loooves when you go down on him, but he never says that. He actually has an extremely hard time containing himself when you suck him off. He usually doesn’t last long. Seeing you on your knees, looking at him through your eyelashes with his cock in your mouth, it’s his wet dream.

P - Pace: Depends. Depends on the mood, how you wanted, how you both are feeling, if he’s stressed, if he’s relaxed. I mentioned earlier he likes being intimate, therefore I’d say most of the time he’s not too fast or hard, maybe when he’s getting close or knows you’re getting close though. But times when he’s stressed, or he can tell you are, he’s a bit more fast paced with it.

Q - Quickie: Nope. 100% absolutely not. He despises the idea of rushing sex. He needs to feel comfortable in a safe environment where he knows he has time and there is no danger.

R - Risk: No risks. He doesn’t take risks with places, kinkiness, or new stuff. Unless you specifically say you want to try something and he’s ok with it, or he thinks it something, than nah. The only thing I could think of is he loves cumming in you, so there would be the risk of pregnancy if you are fertile.

S - Stamina: Depends again. He can go for long if you can, but when he’s tired, one round is enough to put him on his ass. But, just solely pleasuring you alone, he could do that all day.

T - Toy: He is definetly not opposed to anything that makes you feel good. If he were to ever stumble upon something on a run, or some other way, he’d definetly grab it. Using something like a vibrator or a dildo on you is definitely something he’s very open too, but when it comes to him, he’d rather not use anything.

U - Unfair: There is lots of teasing in your relationship in general, but when it comes to sexual teasing yes, but very subtle, never things other people would notice. But when it comes down to actual sex, neither of you like to be kept waiting.

V - Volume: He’s mostly quiet like usual. Grunts mostly, especially when he’s cumming, he usually burries his face in your shoulder to muffle himself. He loves to hear how vocal you are though. I think he could be a bit of a whimperer when you give him head too.

W - Wild Card: He doesn’t mind when you’re on your period, he’s just extra cautious with the mess. Puts a towel down or does it in the shower.

X - X Ray: He’s pretty big, not too big, but above average. It’s mostly the girth, cuz damn. Your first time with him had to be slow and steady because YOWCH.

Y - Yearning: Well, I already said this before but he had a medium sex drive, not awfully high. But if you do, especially if you’re younger than him, he’s more than happy to get you off. Eating you out, fingering you, letting you ride his thigh, whatever you want.

Z - zzzz: He gets pretty eepy 😴 He doesn’t like quickies because he likes to have his time with you, specifically time to cuddle you and sleep afterwards. Which is why he mostly prefer sex before bed/at night.

Hope you guys liked it!! My first time writing something like this, lmk how you like it and if I should do a SFW one.

[bethanythebogwitch]

I recently found out a show I liked is 10 years old now so to not be the oldest thing on this blog I'm talking coelacanths for Wet Beast Wednesday. Coelacanths are rare fish famed for being living fossils. While that term is highly misleading, it is true that coelacanths are among the only remaining lobe-fined fish and were thought to have gone extinct millions of years ago before being rediscovered in modern times.

(image id: a wild coelacanth. It is a large, mostly grey fish with splotches of yellowish scales. Its fins are attached to fleshy lobes. It is seen from the side, facing the top right corner of the picture)

Coelacanth fossils had been known since the 1800s and they were believed to have gone extinct in the late Cretaceous period. That was until December 1938, when a museum curator named Marjorie Courtenay-Latimer was informed of an unusual specimen that had been pulled in by local fishermen. After being unable to identify the fish, she contacted a friend, ichthyologist J. L. B. Smith, who told her to preserve the specimen until he could examine it. Upon examining it early next year, he realized it was indeed a coelacanth, confirming that they had survived, undetected, for 66 million years. Note that fishermen living in coelacanth territory were already aware of the fish before they were formally described by science. Coelacanths are among the most famous examples of a lazarus taxon. This term, in the context of ecology and conservation, means a species or population that is believed to have gone extinct but is later discovered to still be alive. While coelacanths are among the oldest living lazarus taxa, they aren't the oldest. They are beaten out by a genus of fly (100 million years old) and a type of mollusk (over 300 million years old).

(image: a coelacanth fossil. It is a dark brown imprint of a coelacanth on white rock. Its skeleton is visible in the imprint)

Coelacanths are one of only two surviving groups of lobe-finned fish along with the lungfishes. Lobe-finned fish are bony fish notable for their fins being attached to muscular lobes. By contrast, ray-finned fish (AKA pretty much every fish you've ever heard of that isn't a shark) have their fins attached directly to the body. That may not sound like a big difference, but it actually is. The lobes of lobe-finned fish eventually evolved into the first vertebrate limbs. That makes lobe-finned fish the ancestors of all reptiles, amphibians, and mammals, including you. In fact, you are more closely related to a coelacanth than a coelacanth is to a tuna. Coelacanths were thought to be the closest living link to tetrapods, but genetic testing has shown that lungfish are actually closer to the ancestor of tetrapods.

(image id: a scientific diagram depicting the taxonomic relationships of early lobe-finned fish showing their evolution to proto-tetrapods like Tiktaalik and Ichthyostega, to true tetrapods. Source)

There are two known living coelacanth species: the west Indian ocean coelacanth (Latimeria chalumnae) and the Indonesian coelacanth (L. menadoensis). Both are very large fish, capable of exceeding 2 m (6.6 ft) in length and 90 kg (200 lbs). Their wikipedia page describes them as "plump", which seems a little judgmental to me. Their tails are unique, consisting of two lobes above and below the end of the tail, which has its own fin. Their scales are very hard and thick, acting like armor. The mouth is small, but a hinge in its skull, not found in any other animal, allows the mouth to open extremely wide for its size. In addition, they lack a maxilla (upper jawbone), instead using specialized tissue in its place. They lack backbones, instead having an oil-filled notochord that serve the same function. The presence of a notochord is the key characteristic of being a chordate, but most vertebrates only have one in embryo, after which it is replaced by a backbone. Instead of a swim bladder, coelacanths have a vestigial lung filled with fatty tissue that serves the same purpose. In addition to the lung, another fatty organ also helps control buoyancy. The fatty organ is large enough that it forced the kidneys to move backwards and fuse into one organ. Coelacanths have tiny brains. Only about 15% of the skull cavity is filled by the brain, the rest is filled with fat.

(image id: a coalacanth. It is similar to the one on the above image, but this one is blue in color and the head is seen more clearly, showing an open mouth and large eye)

One of the reasons it took so long for coelacanths to be rediscovered is their habitat. They prefer to live in deeper waters in the twilight zone, between 150 and 250 meters deep. They are also nocturnal and spend the day either in underwater caves or swimming down into deeper water. They typically stay in deeper water or caves during the day as colder water keeps their metabolism low and conserves energy. While they do not appear to be social animals, coelacanths are tolerant of each other's presence and the caves they stay in may be packed to the brim during the day. Coelacanths are all about conserving energy even when looking for food. They are drift feeders, moving slowly with the currents and eating whatever they come across. Their diet primarily consists of fish and squid. Not much is known about how they catch their prey, but they are capable of rapid bursts of speed that may be used to catch prey and is definitely used to escape predators. They are believed to be capable of electroreception, which is likely used to locate prey and avoid obstacles. Coelacanths swim differently than other fish. They use their lobe fins like limbs to stabilize their movements as they drift. This means that while coelacanths are slow, they are very maneuverable. Some have even been seen swimming upside-down or with their heads pointed down.

(image: an underwater cave wilt multiple coelacanths residing in it. 5 are clearly visible, with the fins of others showing from offscreen)

Coelacanths are a vary race example of bony fish that give live birth. They are ovoviviparous, meaning the egg is retained and hatches inside the mother. Gestation can take between 2 and 5 years (estimates differ) and multiple offspring are born at a time. It is possible that females may only mate with a single male at a time, though this is not confirmed. Coelacanths can live over 100 years and do not reach full maturity until age 55. This very slow reproduction and maturation rate likely contributes to the rarity of the fish.

(image: a juvenile coelacanth. Its body shape is the same as those of adults, but with proportionately larger fins. There are green laser beams shining on it. These are used by submersibles to calculate the size of animals and objects)

Coelacanths are often described as living fossils. This term refers to species that are still similar to their ancient ancestors. The term is losing favor amongst biologists due to how misleading it can be. The term os often understood to mean that modern species are exactly the same as ancient ones. This is not the case. Living coelacanth are now known to be different than those who existed during the Cretaceous, let alone the older fossil species. Living fossils often live in very stable environments that result in low selective pressure, but they are still evolving, just slower.

(image: a coelacanth swimming next to a SCUBA diver)

Because of the rarity of coelacanths, it's hard to figure out what conservation needs they have. The IUCN currently classifies the west Indian ocean coelacanth as critically endangered (with an estimated population of less than 500) and the Indonesian coelacanth as vulnerable. Their main threat is bycatch, when they are caught in nets intended for other species. They aren't fished commercially as their meat is very unappetizing, but getting caught in nets is still very dangerous and their slow reproduction and maturation means that it is long and difficult to replace population losses. There is an international organization, the Coelacanth Conservation Council, dedicated to coelacanth conservation and preservation.

(image: a coelacanth facing the camera. The shape of its mouth makes it look as though it is smiling)

[petew21-blog]

An apple a day...

21st January 2021

Dr. Mikhail Varshavski, or how many people know him - Doctor Mike, is a famous succesful physician and an influencer making money out of his YouTube videos etc. Still taking a bit of his time to examine patients between his videos and interviews.

But today an elderly patient was suppse to come for a visit. Mikhail decided to make it a tv spot where the satisfied patient would come to the hospital and thanked him for treating him.

The patient's name was Arnold Jefferson, a 71 year old man suffering many conditions, such as diabetes, arthritis, hypertension and many many more. Quite common in older people.

Mr. Jefferson arrived an unaware of the upcoming spotilight was greeted by am assistant and led to a room with cameras.

Mr. Jefferson:"I was supposed to come for a vistit with Dr. Varshavski."

Assistant:"Doctor Mike wants to speak to you in front of the camera if that's ok? I am sure you have already signed multiple forms considering your privacy, while in his care. So we won't keep you long and I will go get doctor Mike."

Mr. Jefferson looked around confused. He came for a one on one dialogue, not an interview. He had no interest in all of this.

Docotr Mike arrived to the room. His hair ready, wearing his best scrubs that were ironed that day.

Mikhail:"Good morning, Mr. Jefferson. How are we feeling today?"

Mr. Jefferson:"Good morning. I.. well just as I normally do." he spoke nervously, looking at the cameras and the crew.

Mikhail spoke loudly for the microphone above them to hear and smiled way more than usual. "Amazing. We will do a standard check up and then we will take a look at your blood tests together. Is that ok?"

Mr. Jefferson nodded and was then examined in front of the camera. But they also did many photos where they were wearing masks and touched each other with elbows just to prove how safe they were while handling the ongoing pandemic.

He felt uncomfortable. "Could I please be examined alone for the part where I get to undress?"

The smile from doctor Mike's face disappeared. "Sure. Yeah. Can all of you from the crew go and take 5? Thank you. We will finish with Mr. Jefferson quickly.

The crew left and Dr. Mike was left alone with the patient.

Mr. Jefferson:"You complicated things for me, you know? I would have done this much sooner."

Doctor Mike had his stethoscope in his ears listening to Mr. Jefferson's heart. "What do you mean by that?" he said confused by what the patient said.

Mr. Jefferson placed his hands on Dr. Mike's head. "This". Flashes of lights shined between the two of them. Mikhail wanted to run away, but the force from Mr. Jefferson's hands was so strong. He couldn't let go.

Mikhail's eyes closed by themselves. He didn't see anything.

The first thing he saw as he opened his eyes was his reflection. Nothing unusual. He saw his face everyday in the mirror. But he felt anxious as soon as his body started moving on his own and flexed.

His body spoke out loud:"Oh my. It feels great to be this young again. It seems you take a great care for your body, Mikhail. Or I should say Arnold now."

Mikhail was in disbelief. What was happening? Is this all real?. "What did you do to me?"

Arnold:"I didn't hear that question for a very long time now. It will be easier to show you." he handed him the mirror. In the reflection was the same old man that he trested seconds ago. He touched his face and the reflection did the same.

Mikhail:"How are you doing this?"

Arnold:"Couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. I am honestly not sure."

Mikhail:"Why me? I am a doctor. I am not someone you should steal life away from."

Arnold:"You almost answered your question. If I don't have the right to do that then why should you? Remember my wife you treated? How you misdiagnosed her?"

Mikhail:"This is medicine. Mistakes can happen. It's not an exact science. Sometimes we don't have the power to save everyone."

Arnold:"Maybe. But my wife was special, like me, you know. We did the same thing I just did for you for almost a century. But we fell in love with the life that these bodies had. The love they had for each other, the family. We even had a new young couple found to move over to, but you just had to fuck it up. So... let my face be a constant reminder of what you messed up."

Mikhail:"You can't do this. No one will believe you. Everyone will find out. I will tell them."

Arnold:"Yeah, not really my concern. Whenever one of you does this, they end up in a mental hospital. So I guess it's up to you now, if you want to finish the shooting quietly or get a quick ticket for mental hospital for the short rest of your life you have left. So what's it gonna be?"

They finished the spot and Mikhail in Arnold's body was escorted out of the hospital. He was old now. His body ached. Every step he took was like a needle. He was picked up by one of his family members. He had no idea who it was. His son? Grandson? Maybe they'll know more about the swapping. Maybe the clues will be inside the house. Or maybe none at all.

18th February 2021

Mikhail sat in his new arm chair and held a mug in his hands. It has been almost a month since he lost his body.

One of his grandsons played with a tablet next to him.

Mikhail:"What are you doing there, Joe?"

Joe:"You wouldn't understand, grandpa."

Mikhail:"Maybe I would. How about you show me?"

Joe gave him initial instructions he would normally give Arnold, but Mikhail already knew all of this and confidently asked for him to put up YouTube.

Joe was surprised that his grandpa now knew all this, but he did what grandpa asked him to do.

They found Doctor Mike's channel. There was only one new video from the last time that Mikhail has posted anything.

The video had a bad quality. The one who edited the video was definitely an amateur.

The name of the video was: Why I decided to quit medicine

Mikhail froze. His life was all about being in the medical field. And now Arnold ruined it all.

He played the video. Arnold seemed very happy with his new body, because he kept touching his arms, his pecs and hair even while talking about how unsatisfied he became while working as a doctor.

Mikhail took the tablet and searched for more information about his old body. He found information about a lawsuit for malpractice, that the new doctor Mike how faced.

But something kuch worse caught his attention. An Only Fans account.

Mikhail left the room with the tablet and his grandson screaming behind him. But he didn't care about that now. He opened the page and immediately subscribed while entering his credit card info.

The page unlocked.

Mikhail had tears in his eyes. There were videos of his old body pleasuring himself, embarassing himself, pleasuring others...

All of that for a bit of money from horny peopl, that wanted to see the famous doctor.

Mikhail decided to send a message that cost extra money.

He sat there for a while and thought about what it would say.

"Dear, doctor Mike. Or maybe you still remember your old name, Arnold. I wanted to say something mean about you ruining my life. But after watching the videos, I have to say I miss my body. Even though I would want it back I don't expect you'd give it like that for free. But maybe you could let me enjoy that body once again from someone else's view? What do you think? It might get a lot of views.

Sincerley,

Dr. Mike Arnold Jefferson"

On the other side of the screen sat Arnold in front of the computer, his dick hard. Reading the message from his old body.

"This might be interesting" he said, grinning mischievously.

Two woman called out behind him from the bed:"Coming to bed, honey?"

Arnold smiled and turned around. "Ready for round three?"

Anonymous request from inbox

Could you please write a body swap story where an elderly patient steals Dr. Mike’s body when he is seen by him for a visit?

[gh0stly-pages]

Painted Mornings (Ledger!Joker x GN!Reader one shot)

Plot: Joker has a habit of leaving in the middle of the night or early morning, vanishing without letting you know. You catch him one morning before he leaves and help him do his makeup.

Words: 2.5k

CW: just some minor swearing, reference to nudity

Notes: The next part to the series I'm writing should be out, hopefully, by Friday, but here's this to fill the void :)

______________________________________________

When you awaken, you reach your arm out, instinctively reaching for the space beside you in bed only to find it empty. All you can feel is the other half of your blanket, messed up and discarded to the side. You yawn as you sit up on your elbow, peering into the darkness around you. It seemed a certain clown had slipped away while you were sleeping. The Clown Prince of Crime, your boyfriend, the Joker, was nowhere to be found.

You sigh, getting up and kicking your feet over the side of the bed. It’s not unusual for Joker to disappear on you like this. You two may already be a year into dating, but that doesn’t mean Joker has adjusted to typical domestic life quite yet. You don’t think he ever will, and while it can get on your nerves at times, you don’t really mind. He isn’t like any other guy you’ve ever met, and that’s what you like about him. Joker has the tendency to slip away without telling you, sometimes for days at a time, and you never know what he’s up to until you turn on the TV just to see whatever scheme he enacted to mess with Batman. No doubt he’s somewhere now, rigging up explosives, barking at his goons to follow orders. You smile at the thought of it. The worst part is never where he is, you know he’ll be lurking somewhere in Gotham, it’s him vanishing and you never knowing when he’ll come back. Or if he’ll come back. The Joker was the biggest mystery in your life.

You stare at the clock and realize just how early it is, about 2:00 AM, but you know you won’t be going back to sleep anytime soon. So, you slip out of bed, and make your way towards the bathroom. Might as well shower or something, freshen up.

As you get to the door, a sound from inside makes you jump. You pause, pressing your ear against the door, hearing rummaging from inside. Someone is in there. For a moment, you think about possibly running to grab one of Joker’s numerous blades that he keeps around your bedroom. If someone has broken in, you know how to deal with it. But instead, you step back from the door, hope blooming in your chest as you call out. “J?” you ask. “You in there?”

For a second, you expect the worst, that maybe one of Joker’s many enemies finally found you, but instead your boyfriend's voice carries through the door. “Yeah, doll.”

Your heart swells. Joker was still there with you! Excitedly, you open the door to see your boyfriend standing in front of the mirror, his greasepaint sitting on the sink. He’s barefaced still, which means he must not have woken up too long before you. Before you even go over to him, you stand for a moment and appreciate the scene in front of you. Seeing Joker without makeup was one of the first times in your relationship you felt that Joker truly trusted you, and everytime you’ve seen him barefaced since then, you always make sure to appreciate it. You look at the mangled flesh that make up his scars, scars that you find beautiful, before your eyes drift to his perfect nose and then his perfect brown eyes. But seeing him without makeup, without his walls up, isn’t even the best part, it’s seeing the Joker in your apartment bathroom, in nothing but a black t-shirt and boxers, now that’s a damn sight. It was a side of him he kept only for you, and it made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer, doll” Joker murmurs, snapping you from your thoughts. You smile and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your cheek into his back. “Didn’t expect you to be, ah, up this early.”

You shrug. “I just woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. I thought you had left already.” You can’t help but smile even wider. “Pleasant surprise to see you still here.”

“Yeah? Well you caught me just in time. I was just aboutta put my paint on,” he says, smacking his lips together. “You should go back to bed, doll.”

You shake your head, moving so that you press your full face into his back. He smells like soap since he (thankfully) showered yesterday, but you swear you can still smell the lingering traces of gunpowder on him. “I won’t be able to,” you say, pulling back from him. “I wanna stay with you.”

Peeking around his arm, you can see him glower in the mirror. “You need your rest, and ah, I’ve got plans today.” He licks the inside of his cheeks. “I can walk you to the room if you’d like.” You almost laugh at seeing him all upset over you not getting all the sleep you need. It’s his odd way of showing affection, getting upset when you’re not taking care of yourself properly. If you ever forget to eat, he’ll grumble and complain, leaving you as if he doesn’t care until you find food sitting on the kitchen counter. He isn’t the kind to sweetly bring you to the kitchen and cook up a meal for you, or tuck you into bed, but you know he cares, even if he doesn’t show it in the softest of ways.

You adjust yourself, shifting so that your chest is against his side so you can look at him in the mirror. He puts an arm around your shoulder. “Can I stay with you until you’re done?”

“Doll-”

“Please, J, I’ll go to bed right after. Just lemme stay with you until you’re done getting ready. Then I’ll sleep.”

He considers you for a second before sighing. “Fine, you’re, ah, lucky I’m feeling generous.”

Your arms slip away from him, and you grab his tin of white greasepaint. “Can I…can I do your paint for you?”

“My makeup?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. You expect him to deny you. You’ve washed him, dyed his hair, seen him naked several times, and yet there’s something that has held you back from ever asking to apply Joker’s face paint. You’ve been in the bathroom plenty of times when he’s put it on, watching intently as he rubs each color into his skin, slowly morphing into the infamous Gotham villain everyone knows him as. Yet another side of the Joker you love, but one you share with the rest of the city. There’s just something ritualistic about his makeup application, something you have never wanted to intrude on. It’s Joker making himself Joker, and you’re not sure if you have any part in it. You hold your breath until Joker finally responds. “Mmmm, sure.”

It’s a short, ‘whatever’ response but you’re thrilled, trying not to let your excitement show too much, though you’re sure Joker can see it on you. He was always better at reading you than you are at reading him. You grab the rest of Joker’s greasepaint and use your chin to gesture to the toilet. “Take a seat.”

Slowly, Joker sits on the toilet lid, and you settle in front of him, bending down. Again, you just sit there and admire him, reaching up and tracing along the scar on his right side, feeling the ragged flesh beneath your fingertips. Joker leans into your touch for just a second before pretending to try and bite at your finger. Well, you’re sure he would bite you, just not hard. “Focus, doll, I have places to be.”

You pull your hand away, smirking before opening the tin of white greasepaint, unscrewing the lid. “What’s your plan this time?” You dip two fingers into the paint, reaching up and smearing it on Joker’s cheek. The paint feels nicer than you thought.

Instead of shutting his eyes, Joker looks intently at you as you apply the white all over his face. “Oh ya know, a little this, a little that.” He licks his lips. “A bit of destruction here and there.”

His answer is vague, which leads you to believe he has something big up his sleeve. You’ll have to keep your eyes peeled on the news later. When it comes to Joker’s schemes, that’s yet another part of him he tends to keep on the down low, but occasionally he’ll let you in on a plan or two, showing you his erratic sketches and notes in his journals. It’s not that Joker doesn’t want you to know what he’s doing, he just likes to be secretive, likes a good surprise. “Sounds like fun, J.” You finish up smearing the white all over his face. It’s a bit splotchy, but it usually is, and you think it adds to the look. “Gonna have to close your eyes now, gonna put the black on.”

“Aw, but I’ve got such a nice view,” he complains, his voice a low, tired growl and your stomach flutters. 

You poke his chest. “Eyes. Closed. Now.”

“Bossy, bossy, bossy.” He grumbles, but obliges, though you know he isn’t actually upset over you bossing him around. You can tell he’s tired, the way his eyes shut immediately, his head tilting, but he’d never admit to being tired. He manages to stay awake from a mix of black coffee and adrenaline. 

You grab the black paint next, popping off the lid and diving in, rubbing the paint around Joker’s eyes. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

He sighs. “Dunno, doll, maybe a day or two. Depends just how much of what I do goes right, assuming Batsy doesn’t mess it all up.” His ‘t’s are more pronounced when gets upset, and honestly, you find it awfully adorable. “Chaos is un-pre-dictable.”

When you’re done with his left eye, you move on to the right. “You know, it’s not very fun to wake up and see my boyfriend has vanished without a word to shake up the streets of Gotham…” You trail off, not quite sure where you’re going with this. You’re not angry. You weren’t even planning on saying anything about it. But sitting in front of J, in this quiet, sacred space, you felt the need to say something. To get it off your chest. 

His eyes blink open. “Should I, ah, leave a voicemail next time?” He’s joking about it, trying to defuse the tension, but that makes you even more upset. “Send a letter?”

You drop your hand, frowning. “J, I’m being serious. You worry me.”

“You know I’ll be fine.”

“No, I don’t.” Your words have a bite to them. Because you don’t know if he’ll be okay. Joker is afraid of nothing, and you’re scared one day this will be the death of him. You’re not expecting Joker to ever fully settle into domestic life, to be the prized boyfriend a younger you may have wanted. You like the wild, chaotic relationship you have with Joker. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t scare you. “What if one day you go out, never tell me, and I lose you and don’t even get to say goodbye?” Your voice cracks. Shit. You wipe your eyes. You weren’t expecting to cry.

At the sight of your tears, Joker softens, his shoulders deflating. He reaches up and grabs your face, his palms gently settling on your cheeks. “Hey, uh, don’t cry doll, I didn’t mean to joke. You know I can’t help myself.” He shifts awkwardly. As ever, he is still clumsy at dealing with your emotions, and if it were any other time you may have laughed. “That stupid Bat isn’t gonna get me, neither are any of those Gotham crooks, come on, darlin.”

“Just because you’re scared of nothing doesn’t mean I’m the same.” You sniff. “I’m scared of losing you, J. And here you are, vanishing in the early mornings before I even get the chance to know.”

Joker isn’t exactly empathetic. He doesn’t deal with emotions in the same way you do. You cry, he blows things up and fights fellow criminals. He tries not to feel things. But you’ve certainly softened him, allowed him to feel more than he has before. You can tell it scares him. He’s trying though. Really damn hard. “Aw, well, doll, next time I make my way out for a, ah, night on the town, I can let you know beforehand.” He smiles, leaning in closer. “You shouldn’t worry about me.”

“But I do.”

“I know, it’s upsettin’.” Before you can even react to his words, he continues. “I don’t mean as in I’m angry, but I don’t like knowin’ that every little thing I do is gonna worry you.” Joker was not the best with words either, but you can tell what he was getting at. He wasn’t gonna say it, but you being upset over him made him upset for you. He didn’t like seeing you upset. His version of sympathy, you suppose. “I know I seem reckless, but I really have been tryin’ to be careful ever since you came along.”

Careful was not a word you would use to describe Joker, but you didn’t think he was lying. Had he really been trying to be more careful? Just for you? “Really?”

“Really, doll. I won’t go dyin’ on you anytime soon. If I was gone, other people could have you all to themselves, and I won’t let that happen.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “So greedy.”

“Only when it comes to what’s mine.” His hands drop, but he lets one finger trace along your lips. “Stop the frownin’, doll, you look so serious.”

The Joker was unlike anyone else. He would not say he was sorry, or that he loved you, because those words meant very little to him. Joker was all action. He may have made you upset over his disappearing habits, but now that you brought it up, you knew he would start trying to be better at it. Frankly, you were glad he didn’t apologize. The words would mean very little to you either. You needed to see him actually do something about it, and you were confident he would. “J…” You lean in and kiss him, smiling against his lips. “You’re really hard to stay mad at, you know.”

He smiles back at you. “I, uh, believe you need to finish up my makeup.”

“Oh, right! Well, I was just about done with your eye makeup. Gotta work on your smile.” You take the red greasepaint, putting some on your fingers and tenderly swiping it across his smile, starting at the tip of his left scar and moving towards the other end. “Beautiful. I think I just might have to start doing your makeup more often.”

Joker grunts, getting up and looking at himself in the mirror above the sink. He leans in real close, analyzing every little detail as if he’s some critic. You can’t help but laugh. “Mmmm, you did do a pretty good job, dollface. There’s only one person this makeup would look better on, though.”

“Who?”

He spins around and grabs you, and you squeal as he lifts you into his arms. “You.” His mouth lands on yours hard, and you wrap your arms around him, desperately clinging on. It’s a messy, desperate kiss that is sure to leave red paint all over you. 

Just what Joker wants.

[queenshelby]

Chemical Reactions (P. 1)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity 

Words: 1,867

Note: The fic is spoiler free and fantasy. 

It was just before Christmas when you took up a scholarship at Berkley and, since you were young woman at the tender age of twenty-two, you still could not believe your luck.

You got in to one of the most sought-after courses in the US when it came to quantum physics, which was a field so new and progressive that, to many, its attributes appeared to be rather absurd whereas, to you, it was a way of understanding the world.

The class you had applied for was that of J Robert Oppenheimer who was a well-known physicist and whilst you had only ever read about his works in the academic papers at Harvard, you were eager to finally meet the man whose work impressed you so much.

Being female in the field of physics, however, came with a price. Your skills had often been disregarded because of your gender and being excluded from experiments was not unusual either. As such, you were cautious and kept your obvious excitement at bay as, no doubt, criticism was a concept that your fellow students knew just too well and, in your mind, it was always easy for others to criticise those who they did not yet know, i.e., the new and possibly only female student in their class.

***

On your first day, when you arrived to the impressive building, you realised that you were over twenty minutes early and this, too, was not surprising.

You were punctual most of the time and when you weaved your way through the building, you were surprised by how little time it took for you to find the lecture room, which, thankfully, was unlocked and had a few other students already inside.

You selected a seat one row from the front, in a spot that, to most professors, said "I am eager to learn” which you hoped was beneficial seeing that, at least for now, you were the only woman in the room.

“Would you be accepted by your peers?” you pondered, but your thoughts were quickly interrupted when, who you assumed to be your professor, entered the room.

He was a frail but attractive looking man, wearing a grey suit that was matched by a white shirt and a dark coloured tie. He was smoking cigarette and put his dark brown leather satchel on the table in front of him, rifling haphazardly through the mess of papers inside.

Against your will, you felt a displeased look settle onto your face. Is the professor's class going to be as disorganised as his abyss of a bag, you wondered? Were those other students' assignments in there, begging to be lost?

You smirked for a minute at the intrusion of your very own thoughts about Dr Oppenheimer before you instinctively pulled your cheek in between your teeth which just when more students began to fly in to the room.

“Oh look, someone must have gotten lost” one of them was quick to say with a grin as he had spotted you and your neatly laid out stationary.

“The biology classes are conducted down the hall, in the third room to the left” was what another one said, causing you to rise from your seat in order to speak up against this nonsense just before the professor himself did it for you.

“And what makes you presume that she is in the wrong room, Mr Handley?” Dr Oppenheimer asked almost sternly and his reaction most certainly surprised you as, until now, you did not think that he had even noticed you.

“She is a woman, sir” the man stammered somewhat reluctantly, causing the professor to furrow his eyebrows.

“And you presume that this prestigious establishment seeks to exclude women from studying in the field of physics?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked, causing you to grin silently. “That seems rather absurd, wouldn’t you agree?” he then went on to add, causing the young man to nod.

“Of course... I mean, of course not” the student stammered just before Dr Oppenheimer began to call roll which is something you did not even notice as you were too transfixed on his demure and the way he presented himself until, eventually, your hand shot up at the sound of your full name.

“Present” you said, feeling a blush coming to your cheeks as the class and Dr Oppenheimer looked at you, the latter's blue eyes lingering on you a bit longer than the others.

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, not sure of the intention behind it and then, suddenly, he spoke:

"Miss Y/LN, now tell us, what have they been up to at Harvard these days? This is where you have transferred from, correct?” the professor then asked just as his look towards you intensified even more. His deep blue eyes were seeing right through you and yet you managed to answer him confidently.

“Not much in so far as the physics department is concerned, Dr Oppenheimer. In the last year we experimented with nuclear fission, but I assume that, considering the current political climate, so has everyone else. We then looked at metaphysics, stars, the universe…” you explained before sharing some of your findings and conclusions which impressed not only Dr Oppenheimer but also some of the other students.

When listening to you talk, it became obvious to him that you were rather intelligent even at such a young age and your interest in science was one of great significance.

“None of this is new” one of the students then said nonetheless after you finished your explanations and outlined your conclusions, to which you responded rather sharply yourself.

“I didn’t claim that it was. I simply answered Dr Oppenheimer’s question” you pointed out and the professor was quick to take your side again.

“And I appreciate your thorough explanation Miss Y/LN. It helped me understand where you are at when it comes to the presumed knowledge for my class” Dr Oppenheimer went on to say and you knew that, whatever the true reasons were behind his questions, his intent was not as innocent as he made it out to be. He wanted to know whether the physics department in Harvard knew more than the physics department at Berkley which, luckily for him, was not the case.  

The entire profession was well aware of the ‘program’ about to implemented by the US government and several physicists and educational departments began to protect their research with more earnest for a chance to cash in on the war.

But, Dr Oppenheimer did not appear to be one of those reserved physicists who were just in it for themselves. To the contrary, he really cared about making a difference and his research to date was well known within in the industry. He did not mind sharing his findings even if they were inconclusive and you have heard many stories about how he enjoyed working in the faculty as part of a group rather than on his own.

He was a leader but also a team player and, as such, when he wrapped up his questions for the day and announced the research project for the coming days, every student around him broke out into appreciative chatter as you remained in your seat, slightly dumbfounded, as the students were broken up into four groups.

---

“You worked in experimental before, have you not?” Dr Oppenheimer asked as, after a little while, he approached you and the group to which he had assigned you.

“I am pleased to know that you have read my file Dr Oppenheimer” you smiled after giving him a nod, which too is when you realised just how handsome he truly was. He must have been in his late thirties and seeing a wedding ring on this man’s finger came as a disappointment to you.

“I have read all of my students’ files” Dr Oppenheimer assured you just as you stood awkwardly at your table for a moment, debating whether or not to take the courage to ask him the millions of questions you had for him already until, suddenly, he prompted you to do exactly that.

"Did you have a question for me?" Dr Oppenheimer asked innocently as if he could have read your mind.

“Uhm…” you paused while cursing yourself already for having started your sentence with that godforsaken 'uhm' which, in your opinion, made you sound like an idiot.

"Yes, actually. I was wondering if, with this formula, you have considered the possibility…” you began to question, seeing how he had arrived at the calculations already presented to you and, just as you spoke with such great determination, you trailed off a bit as his gaze intensified.

“Quite frankly, you lost me there, at the end of your calculations but that is not to say that you are wrong” Dr Oppenheimer said almost politely as you looked at him somewhat flustered, causing your fellow students to chuckle and whisper behind your back.

“I must have lost my own train of thought just then. I am sorry sir” you said with blushing red cheeks as all of your confidence flew out of the window and you suddenly became aware of the way he was standing, with his hands against his hips, and the way he looked all together.

“Don’t be sorry Miss Y/LN. In fact, I am interested in exploring that idea of yours further, perhaps even after today’s lessons if you have time” Dr Oppenheimer then said as he adjusted the way he stood and smiled.

“That would be my pleasure, sir” you responded as you watched him spread his arms out on the table in front of you, far past shoulder width. He was leaning on his hands, causing the veins on his forearms to bulge slightly, which were exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his white button-down shirt. He had his head tilted down a bit to look at you with those deep blue eyes until, eventually, he snapped out of his very own and somewhat intrusive thoughts which were thoughts you knew had nothing to do with quantum mechanics whatsoever.  

Dr Oppenheimer then licked his lips lightly before speaking again, distracting you from the first few syllables of his sentence.

"Good, then please come and see when you finish for the day, Miss Y/LN. I will be right here, trying to figure out what you were on about” Dr Oppenheimer then said just as the bell began to ring and the students started to pack up their bags, seeing that most of them had experimental workshops to attend to in the afternoon which, of course, included you. You too had a workshop, which was one you did not look forward to.

“Yes doctor. I will see you this afternoon” you told him with a reluctant smile as you pulled your lab coat closer to your chest and forced your face to remain neutral, even as you felt the heat burning up your neck. You then gave him a curt "thank you" before lifting your chin and turning to leave.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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[witchofawoman]

LATE NIGHTS ⋆｡°✩

3. Fragile ⋆˙⟡

featuring : jj maybank x kook!reader

summary : You didn't know what you were doing, you were high, once again, and your heart took control of your mind, so you let it slide and called him, he was at your door, and you were more fragile than ever...

words count : 1.6k

warnings : drug and alcohol usage, explicit content, angst, violence, addiction, cheating, smutt, sough rex, oral.

a/n : This is the 3rd part of the serie !!

Who were you? What were you even doing—calling JJ Maybank? Your boyfriend's sworn enemy. The most annoying, cocky, and dangerous guy in all of Kildare.

What happened to Y/N, the Kook princess, who wouldn’t have even bothered to look his way? And now, here you were, calling him because you wanted to understand what being "the girl" even meant.

Before you could finish another bottle of vodka and spiral further into your headache-inducing thoughts, a knock at the door pulled you back. You mustered all the strength you had left, stumbling down the stairs but somehow managing not to trip—not before you had your answers.

"Hey, Y/L/N," JJ said as soon as he saw you. He didn’t know where to look—your house was a mess, with everything scattered across the floor, almost as if you’d had an outburst just moments before. He hadn’t known what to expect when he got there, but this wasn’t it.

You were beautiful, he thought, but something was definitely off. You didn’t look as calm and collected as you usually did. He couldn’t admit it, not even to himself, but he’d always watched you from a distance, even when you didn’t pay him any attention. This time, though, something was different. Something was missing in your eyes. He couldn’t figure it out and kept staring at you, confused, trying to understand what had happened to you.

"Hi, J.!" you greeted, your voice unusually joyful, almost like you couldn’t wait to see him. JJ raised an eyebrow, thrown off by your sudden shift. Before he could say anything, you added, "How are you?" and pulled him into a hug that lingered longer than he expected.

"I’m fine, but... what are you doing?" he asked, trying to mask the concern creeping into his voice.

You glanced around, almost brushing off his question. "Well, I know it’s a bit of a mess, but we can go upstairs," you replied, your words rushed and scattered as you grabbed his wrist and led him through the chaos to your room. JJ followed, his eyes darting over the overturned furniture and scattered items on the floor. Something was definitely off.

"So?" JJ started, glancing around and trying to choose his words carefully. "Why did you want me to come here?" he added, attempting to sound casual, though you had his full attention. His mind was consumed by you and nothing else.

"I don’t know. I guess I was bored," you said with a shrug.

"Bored? That’s why you called me at 2 a.m.? You’ve gotta be kidding me. That’s BS," he replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Well," you started, your voice faltering as you avoided his gaze. "If you really want to know, I just wanted to ask... what the hell did Kie mean when she said I was ‘the girl’ you talked about?"

JJ froze for a moment, then chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "You caught me off guard," he admitted, noticing the serious look in your eyes. "I told them a girl might come with us on a dayboat sometime, just casually hanging out, of course." He smiled, watching as relief softened your expression.

"Oh... cool," you replied, your voice quieter now.

"Well," JJ said with a smirk, leaning back slightly. "Since we’re asking questions... why didn’t you come this morning? From the way you sounded, you were all needy for me to see you," he teased, his smirk growing wider.

The question hit you like a brick. You couldn’t answer it. So, instead, you did the only thing that came to mind.

You got up, stepped close to him, and kissed him.

JJ froze for a split second, his brain short-circuiting. But then his hands found your waist, and he kissed you back. It was slow at first, testing the waters, but quickly grew more passionate. He couldn’t ignore the way it felt, like your lips fit together perfectly, like this was something that was meant to be.

SMUT***

Your kiss grew heated, and soon enough, his hands were everywhere, tracing your curves and pulling you closer. He lifted you off the ground effortlessly, carrying you to the bed.

He laid you down gently, his lips trailing along your neck, tasting every inch of your skin. His hands slipped under your top, exploring and caressing, igniting sparks wherever he touched. You couldn’t take it anymore, so you helped him pull off your sweater, tossing it to the floor. His mouth continued to wander, leaving soft, fiery kisses down your torso, each one making your breath hitch.

As he reached your most sensitive spot, his hands lingered on the waistband of your shorts, teasing you with gentle traces. He looked up at you, his gaze seeking permission, and when your desperate eyes met his, you gave a small, eager nod. He slid your shorts off slowly, revealing how much you needed him.

His lips and tongue worked magic as he explored you, his movements deliberate and precise, drawing soft, shaky moans from your lips. His mouth focused on your clit, swirling and sucking, while his fingers teased at your entrance. When he finally slid one finger inside, your back arched, and a gasp escaped you.

"J..." you whispered, your voice trembling.

He smirked against you, adding a second finger and curling them just right, hitting a spot that made your head fall back and your moans grow louder. Each motion was unrelenting, his pace quickening, his touch perfectly in tune with your body. You grabbed at his hair, your voice breaking as you cried out his name, every nerve in your body alive.

Even as you neared the edge, he didn’t let up. He kissed his way back up your body briefly, his lips brushing yours in a heated kiss, before returning to his focus. The intensity was overwhelming, and moments later, you unraveled, crying out as waves of pleasure overtook you. He didn’t stop until you were fully spent, his lips and chin glistening as he looked up at you with a wicked grin.

"Wonderful," he said, leaning closer to kiss you again, his voice husky. "You taste like candy."

But the hunger between you didn’t fade. You needed more. Your hands moved to the waistband of his jeans, helping him tug them off. Soon, he was bare before you, and your heart raced at the sight.

He turned you around, guiding you until you were on top of him. His hands rested on your hips, helping you align with him. As you lowered yourself, the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and heat that made you feel completely consumed by him.

You moved together, your bodies in perfect rhythm. His hands guided your hips as your movements grew faster, your breath coming in gasps, your moans filling the room. The connection was raw, intimate, and electric.

When he felt you nearing your peak, he shifted you again, gently turning you onto your back as he positioned himself above you. His movements were faster, deeper, and the intensity had you clinging to him. Pain and pleasure blurred together in a way that made your body tremble, and tears welled in your eyes, spilling over as the emotions overtook you.

He watched you, his gaze full of something unspoken—something deep and real. "You’re so beautiful," he whispered, his voice ragged.

It didn’t take long before you shattered again, your cries echoing through the room as he held you close, his pace steady until he followed you, releasing with a groan that sent shivers down your spine.

That had been wonderful, even better than the first time. Now, the two of you were spooning, and for a moment, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be. But the feeling didn’t last long. Guilt crept in, gnawing at you from the inside. Why had you done it again? Why had you cheated on your boyfriend? What were you going to do about it? Was this going to become a forever thing? Were the two of you always going to hide like this?

Before you could spiral deeper, you got up suddenly, startling JJ awake. It probably looked like you were sneaking out after a one-night stand—except it was your house, and this wasn’t just a hookup. As you dressed quickly, putting on your jewelry, JJ blinked at you, still half-asleep, his confusion clear.

"Don’t you live here?" he asked sarcastically, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Well, yes," you muttered, fumbling for your cigarette pack. "I’m just gonna take a smoke."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly thrown off by your abruptness. You sighed, feeling awkward under his gaze. "Wanna join me?" you added.

"Uh, yeah... give me a minute," he said, still looking at you like you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out.

You left, heading to the backyard and praying no one would see him naked through your windows. Leaning on the door connecting your kitchen to the back porch, you tried lighting a cigarette, but your lighter refused to work. Frustrated, you went back inside, started your coffee machine, and grabbed the kitchen’s blowtorch. With your coffee in hand and the torch in the other, you settled on the patio couch, putting the cigarette between your lips and preparing to light it.

Before you could, JJ’s laughter rang out behind you.

"The fuck are you doing with that, Y/L/N? Don’t you have a proper lighter?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"To your surprise, I actually do," you said, not looking up. "But it’s out of gas, so I make do."

"Didn’t know Kooks could make do," he replied with a smirk, pulling a lighter from his pocket. "Here."

"Thanks," you muttered as you lit your cigarette. You turned the lighter in your hand for a moment, noticing the engraved initials on its surface. It was cool, understated. You handed it back to him, offering him a cigarette in return.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the quiet stretching between you. It felt heavy.

"So, what are you doing today?" JJ finally asked, breaking the silence.

"I’m going shopping with Sarah," you said, your gaze fixed anywhere but on him. You knew if you met his eyes, you’d probably start crying.

"Oh... cool," he said awkwardly, standing up and brushing off his jeans. "I think it’s time for me to go."

"Mmmh..." you replied softly, finally looking up at him. His blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, the air felt heavier. You stubbed out your cigarette in the ashtray and got up to walk him to the door.

When he reached it, he paused, turning to face you. The look in his eyes caught you off guard, there was frustration there, maybe even a trace of hurt.

"What do you want from me, Y/N?"

a/n : and that's how the story ends for now... Hahaha I'm sorry guys but as it's the week-end now I might be able to post more content in here ! Hope you enjoyed it, tell me if you have any suggestions !!

[ratedfleur]

watch, don't touch.

pairing 🔪 jang wonyoung x reader

themes 🔪 genre ౨ৎ explicit

note: i know some of you guys were asking for a ghostface!wonyoung part two so i hope this makes up for it! it's not much but happy reading!

🔞 / smut warnings: wonyoung is ghostface in this, knife play (and i mean a lot of it..), knife fucking (kinda but not really…. idk how to explain)

wonyoung is sadistic. she loves using you for her own personal gain, wonyoung is obsessed with seeing you do anything just to keep yourself safe from her list of potential victims. 

her eyes watch as you shakily held up one of her smaller knives, one of the knives that was once put against your neck when you threatened to call the cops on wonyoung after she pulled a stunt on you— kidnapping you for her own entertainment. 

you twisted the knife in your hand, letting the cool blade cascade down the valley of your chest as you watched wonyoung film you. wonyoung’s gaze is soulless as she watches you play around with her knife, but her mouth waters when the blade presses against your nipple, making you gasp as your eyes shook when you see wonyoung’s eyes get excited. 

she even sits herself down in front of you, eyes still fixed on you teasing yourself with her knife, “press harder.” wonyoung says, eyes moving to look up at your scared ones. 

shutting your eyes for a second, your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as you press her knife harder against your skin, dragging the blade on your breasts as they leave a red line on them. 

the cool blade makes a shiver run up your spine when it hits your nipple, making you whimper. 

wonyoung’s eyes burn with lust as she watches you shake, her eyes flicker up at your tongue that swipes against your lip, releasing a little breath of relief when wonyoung orders you to stop. 

“lie down, you know what to do.” she says, shuffling back to give you some space. you let out a little whimper as you lied down in front of wonyoung, your legs pull themselves upward as you spread them for the woman who seems quite interested in how you did things your way. 

it was unusual for you to do so, you always liked to follow wonyoung’s orders as though you were a little mutt and she was your owner. 

lying down differently, your cunt is on display as the back of your thighs are against your chest, your plush cunt clenches over nothing as your hand holds onto the knife’s blade, letting the blunt handle prod against your cunt that swallowed it up, coating the handle with your juices. 

wonyoung’s mouth waters when she hears you let out an accidental moan when the handle slips a little too deep than anticipated. she sighs in content behind the camera as her spare hand wanders up her skirt, letting her nimble fingers rub her own wetness as she watches you slowly fuck yourself with her knife. 

your little gasps and moans become breathier as you start to properly fuck yourself with wonyoung’s knife, your cunt clences around the handle as you push it in and out of you. 

right when you see wonyoung settling the phone down on the bed, you stop her from inching closer, “j-just watch.. no touching..” you shudder as the handle prods against your sensitive spot, making wonyoung nod as she stays put in her seat, throat growing dry as you fuck yourself faster and harder with her knife. 

looking up at wonyoung who’s eyes are mesmerized with your cunt, you call out to her, “hey g-ghostface, will you let me cum?” you stutter. 

wonyoung’s eyes glitter at your words, “you’re actually aroused? if so, then yes. i’ll let you cum.” she says with a glint in her eyes as you nodded, head throwing back with a moan as you fucked yourself faster, “oh god, i’m gonna cum! i— i’m gotta cum!” you start to moan, forgetting you were ever put in such position where you were forced to please ghostface. 

she watches as your thighs start to shake as you fucked yourself, your cunt visibly clenches around the knife as you moaned wantonly, your pace slows down as you clench hardly around her knife, the knife slides out of you with a pop when you unclench, letting your cum drip out of you when you clench over nothing. 

grabbing and throwing her knife on the ground, wonyoung navigates her way in between your legs, hovering her face above yours, “you’re absolutely insane.” she says before smashing her lips against yours, unveiling a new version of wonyoung that you never knew of.

  © RATEDFLEUR — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[rdr2gifs]

''the morning light, when it comes to me, it was there but I could not see''

Arthur’s life was profoundly shaped by his self-hatred, lack of self-worth and disbelief in the existence of kindness in a seemingly dark and cruel world.

I strongly disagree with the statement that Arthur only became a ‘’better’’ man after being diagnosed with tb. His struggle with his true/inner self is apparent as early as chapter one. ‘’You are not who you think you are, sir… which is lucky’’

He has lived a rough life, raised by criminals and surrounded by violence ever since he was born. It was installed in him early that his value lied within being a violent enforcer and he has lived this life since, knowing nothing else. As a highly aware person, Arthur's actions weight heavy on his soul. He accepts that his actions have consequences. He knows that a person who has caused so much suffering is not meant to have happiness in life. His way of life has caused him to believe that he is not worthy of love or redemption. He doesn’t want to believe that a person like him could be capable of any good. (a thing to note here is that imo, Arthur’s actions near his death weren’t attempts at redemption but rather a strong desire to do right and possibly be his true self.) This is why he keeps living as he does as it’s the only thing he’s ever known, it’s the thing that brings him profit, praise from the person he looks up to and he is already damned so he might as well continue living this life anyway.

The internal problem Arthur faces is that this violent, cruel way of life doesn’t align with what I’d call his true self/ideals. He is torn between the harsh reality he has known and an unconscious yearning for righteousness/love. To be able to carry on with his actions he must enforce certain ideals within himself, such as: I am bad, ugly, nasty, ignorant, mean etc. He also decides to see the dark side of reality, telling himself that the world is a grim dark place and this is just as things were meant to be. This is why he feels so uncomfortable being complimented for his good deeds, because a bad rotten person like him should not be able to do good. It breaks the image he has built for himself and he doesn’t want that happening. This can be seen a lot during the ‘’Money Lending and Other Sins’’ missions where he is unusually mean (even for his standards) to each of the debtors. Imo, he acts this way because he must truly convince himself of being a terrible man to be able to carry out a job which revolts him so badly. In the last debt collecting mission with J. John Weathers, it can be seen in his face/expressions how much he is struggling to put on a tough, uncaring, heartless act. He needs to maintain a ruthless persona to survive in the world he knows. He must convince himself of his own cruelty.

''Forgive me, but that's the problem. You don't know you.''

Contrary to Arthur’s beliefs, he is a naturally kind-hearted person who is unconsciously drawn towards kindness. And yes, even before he was diagnosed with tb. This can be seen in the people he respects the most and, in his willingness to help strangers (notice how he often does unnecessary acts of service for total strangers such as: carrying their things, holding out hands etc. even though they had already troubled him). Despite the life he has lived, Arthur does not enjoy violence, he does not enjoy hurting people. He doesn’t want to dominate over others. He thinks mostly about others and not about himself. This fact alone is very telling of his character.

He writes about Charles, a man who he truly respects: ‘’He’s a better man than me. He does not need to think to be good. It comes naturally to him, like right is deep within as opposed to this conflict between GOOD↔EVIL that rages within me.’’ A man who is not struggling with his inner self would not have written this. To me this clearly implies an inner desire to be a better man. He writes about his mentors: ‘’I love Dutch like a father, but in many ways, I love Hosea even more. He’s kind and fair and like a human being. Dutch is something else.’’ Clearly showing a preference for Hosea who is of a more gentle nature and shows genuine kindness. Unsurprisingly, these are the people who see through his dumb/though act and encourage him to drop it.

When he comes across Brother Dorkins for the first time, he writes: ‘’(he)was one of those innocent people who make you feel better about human beings and about yourself a little. Must be odd to see all that goodness in the world. Place always seemed dark and brutal to me.’’ Expressing how he does not see goodness in the world, implying lack of good examples/kindness/good experiences in his life. Yet, the monk leaves an impression and imo, this encounter (seeing genuine goodness) disrupts Arthur’s perception of what the world truly is. ‘’Just as evil begat evil your whole life long, so good may begat good’’ (what strengthens my belief in this, is the following, symbolic scene of Arthur realising the consequences of his actions right after picking up a crucifix. He was aware of them before sure, but is unable to truly ignore them now having seen it right in front of his eyes). If only Arthur was presented with more examples of goodness in his life.

''You have it in you... I can tell!''

His desire to do as much good as possible after realising he won’t live long is instant. This would not be the mindset of someone who did not already possess kindness in his heart. ‘’Know glory and forget about shame.’’ Arthur’s shame and self-loathing caused by his previous actions were what was holding him back from allowing kindness into his life. Knowing that he has limited time left has not made him into someone he wasn’t before. The diagnosis was a catalyst, allowing him to embrace that love/goodness truly does exist and accelerate the process of chipping away from the persona he has made for himself. This was a newfound understanding for him as in the past he was rejecting any notion of kindess. In himself and perhaps the whole existence of it. ‘’You keep hidden all that matters, even from yourself.’’

After being diagnosed, he writes: ‘’What kind of a man have I been? What kind of a man am I? What world is this we live in? A land of fury or a place of love? Am I being prepared for eternal damnation? Am I past any kind of saving? Is that all fairytales? Man ain’t got much good in him. I ain’t got no good in me… I don’t think and yet I see goodness. I see it. If not in me, in good folk. In Abigail and her love for Jack. In that silly monk. In Downes, I guess. Begging not for himself but for the poor, even though he was near starving himself. Maybe I don’t want salvation. Part of me has always longed for death.’’ This entry perfectly shows how deep Arthur’s self-loathing goes and just how much it has damaged him. As his journal allows a look into his true feelings, he truly does not see a single good thing about himself. He knew for a long time that the way he lives is detestable but he could not let go of it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because it’s all that he has ever known. He didn’t believe in anything else. This sudden acceptance of goodness has allowed him to see clearly, which was obscured from him before, and for the first time, enabled him to act free of past regrets for what is right.

⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪

Arthur’s redemption is not about becoming a good man. It is about finding the strength to change and recognise your true self despite a lifetime of self-loathing and breaking free from destructive beliefs of the past.

In Arthurian legends a stag is a symbol of the unending quest of spiritual knowledge/enligtenment

[rafesveryrealgf]

being friends with jj for years and yall are really keeping it in the dl that youre fucking but your new friends are constantly drooling over him asking you to hook them up and you try not to laugh in their face you really do but he JUST got thru digging you out in the twinkie and they think they have a shot? please

AHAHA this is too good 😭

okay so you and your friends decide to go to a beach party where you also end up spotting JJ. he’s nursing a beer while talking to john b. and pope. you tell your friends you’ll be right back and you go up to JJ, pulling him away from the boys and since you’ve been close for the longest it’s not unusual for you and him to run off to god knows where, so nobody really thinks anything of it. once you’re far enough away from your friends he’s pulling you close to whisper in your ear. saying “c’mon, the twinkie is unlocked.” and you know he’s insinuating a quickie. you’re both giggling as he pulls you through the crowd and when you get to the twinkie you’re pulling your panties off from under your sundress. he’s quickly unzipping his cargo shorts and pulling both his shorts and boxers down just passed his ass. you both know neither of you can go full nude because you’re on a time crunch. “we gotta hurry, j.” and you’re both breathing heavy while getting into position because it’s just so exciting to the both of you. the adrenaline rush makes it so much better and when you’re both done you head back to the beach and go your separate ways. you go back to your friends and he goes back to john b. and pope. and your friends are all like where were you?? and you make some shitty excuse about JJ needing to show you something and it’s a really shitty excuse but your friends are drunk off their asses at this point so they don’t press it any further. “so maybank, huh?” your friend says and you’re fully expecting your friend to say how you and him would make a cute couple. “he’s a cutie. do you think you could set us up? or at least just, like, introduce us and i’ll do the rest.” and your eyes go all wide because that’s your man. i mean he’s not really your man but he’s YOUR MAN!! “oh, um, he has a girlfriend.” you shrug, pursing your lips. and your friend is all disappointed now and you’re like yeahhh i knowww what a bummer!!

[liketwoswansinbalance]

If Rhian were a villain as his own character, in character, I feel like he'd be the kind of villain to explain his whole Evil plan, giving it away completely instead of keeping it to himself because he's incapable of keeping it to himself. He would be hyped up with excitement for his vision coming to fruition, and most importantly, he would want to do it for the showmanship as he's theatrical like that. Then again, he may be too smart to reveal it all.

If you recall his thematically-appropriate outfit during the Circus of Talents, he seems to love causing a scene, and while Rafal does share this tendency towards the dramatic, I don't believe it's to the same effect or as extreme as Rhian's.

And this brings me to the point that it's just flat-out unusual for Rhian to wear essentially the same outfit for 200 years.

I mean, that seems unlike him and extreme. For evidence, it's implied by TLEA, by the image of his midnight blue robes hanging on a hook in the tower like a relic at the beginning of the book, that he's worn that selfsame outfit all that time. Sure, he must've not had an occasion to dress up for, but when did that ever stop him? Did imitating Rafal mean he had almost given up on his fashion sense? It's not like anyone had seen him. He didn't have anyone to perform in front of after all. Maybe that's the reason: no one would see him, so it wouldn't matter? He'd probably become depressed, and perhaps, the loneliness drove him insane and away from old behaviors.

Yet, how could Rhian, the man who was a fashion icon in his better days, be reduced to wearing the same midnight blue robes for 200 years, as the first trilogy implies? Even villainous Fall Rhian with his pure spun gold cloak did better than this version of him.

Wearing the same clothes like a uniform is Rafal behavior, and while taking that trait completes his disguise, which I'm sure Rhian had down by SGE's present, if no one had the faintest memory of what the real Rafal was like, what was keeping Rhian from caring about his appearance like he once did? He only seemed to fall back into fashion and indulge in it in order to appeal to Sophie and that's it. Did he never regain the right state of mind for fashion to be of any importance by himself? Did Sophie revive that lost part of him?

In conclusion, that is the most implausible thing about the Fall twist: Rhian's lack of fashion sense. /j