#Press Plus Daily

[dennistorejaperez]

Val Kilmer, Iconic ‘Top Gun’ and ‘Batman Forever’ Star, Dies at 65

Val Kilmer, the versatile actor known for his roles in Top Gun, Batman Forever, Tombstone, and Heat, has passed away at the age of 65. His daughter, Mercedes Kilmer, confirmed that he died of pneumonia on Tuesday night in Los Angeles, surrounded by family and friends. Kilmer had been battling health issues for years after being diagnosed with throat cancer in 2014. He later recovered, but a…

[pressplusdaily]

Families of Duterte Drug War Victims Seek Investigation into Online Threats After ICC Arrest

MANILA, Philippines — The families of individuals killed during former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte’s violent anti-drug campaign are calling for an official investigation into a wave of online threats and harassment they say has intensified following Duterte’s arrest last month. On Friday, the relatives of four victims and their lawyer, Kristina Conti, filed formal complaints with the…

[clownpassing]

i am. so tired of swallowing a gigantic fistful of pills every morning

[joecoolburrow]

Protection ~Joe Burrow x Reader

summary — Joe gets protected of you when you have to walk past paparazzi

The white flash temporarily blinded you. Even through a small crack, the cameras were ready to pounce. Joe slammed the door shut. Blinking a few times, your vision readjusted to Joe and the room around you.

“Shit, they’re out here too.” Joe sighed.

Paparazzi, Joe’s least favorite aspects of being a star quarterback. He hoped to avoid them by leaving out the back, but when you're at the biggest pre-Super Bowl party in the city it was probably unrealistic to hope.

It was fun, but you and Joe were leaving early. He’d had a long day doing press and you both preferred pizza and movie in bed over a party. Other NFL stars (current and former), musicians, models, and their plus ones could be heard partying on in the distance.

Joe gripped your arm tightly and positioned himself in front of you.

“Stay close to me, ok?”

You nodded.

Seeing Joe's usual calm demeanor laced with anxiety made you nervous. In the year you and Joe had been together, you'd never encountered paparazzi before. Not-so-subtle bystanders trying to snap a quick, unnoticeable pic was a daily occurrence. But these professional voyeurs were a new ballgame.

Joe slowing opened the door, shielding you between it and his body. Immediately, you were bombarded with camera flashes and clicks. An echo of yells rang in your ear as the over stimulation set in.

You tried to focus on just Joe’s grip on you. He stood between you and the paparazzi like a human shield, his hold of you never wavering. Soon, you'd made it across the sidewalk and started to get into the waiting car.

"HEY!" Joe yelled, starling you.

His rage filled eyes were staring at a pap who was kneeling, camera pointed up towards you.

"STAND UP!" Joe demanded.

He lightly pulled you back so you couldn't lift your leg and inadvertently give this creep what he was looking for.

When the pap didn't move, Joe repeated "STAND THE FUCK UP! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?!"

Your heart pounded rapidly. You were afraid Joe and this pap might get into a physical fight. Of course, it wouldn't be much of a fight since Joe could easily take the overweight middle-aged man. But you dreaded the scene it would cause.

Security from the party (who you hadn't even noticed was present since Joe was guarding you so well) rushed over. They pulled the pap up and moved him away. His colleagues catching the whole incident with a million cameras snaps.

Joe ushered you into the car. He climbed in after and slammed the door. For a moment, you both sat in quiet solace of the car.

Peering over at Joe, you saw anguish on his face. You thought you could ease his tension with humor.

"I see why Britney chased those guys with an umbrella."

It worked. A smile crept onto Joe's face and he exhaled a little more forcefully. Then he looked at you apologetically.

"They're vultures. This is why I hate going out. I'm sorry you have to deal with it." Joe sighed.

"I'm fine." You assured him, rubbing his shoulder.

"Don't lie just to make me feel better."

Joe always saw through you.

With a frown, you admitted, "I'm a little shaken up. All the lights and yelling, it was sensory overload. I couldn't see where we were walking and I didn't even notice that guy trying to get an up skirt shot."

"I wanted to kick his fucking teeth in."

You laughed but knew Joe was serious.

"Thank you for looking out for me."

Joe pressed a kiss to your cheek, "Always, babe."

The car pulled away and you leaned your head onto Joe's shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you, his hand resting on your hip.

"I'm really sorry." He whispered.

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

Logically, it was true, but it didn't fix the guilt you could feel Joe carrying. You took his hand.

"Joe, you are the most incredible person I've ever met. I love you. Nothing is going to ruin being with the man of my dreams, not even those creeps."

You took his hand and Joe gave you a little squeeze.

"You're worth it." You said firmly.

You pulled him down for a kiss, tender and comforting. Your lips lingered against one another's. When your eyes fluttered opened you were met with Joe's blue eyes making you a silent declaration of love.

When you arrived home, you kicked off your heels and Joe threw his jacket on the couch.

"I actually had a great time tonight." You told him.

"Me too." He smirked, "but I think the two of us can have an even better time alone."

You knew that was true.

"We can, if only this dress wasn't in our way." You pouted.

Joe pulled you flush against him.

"Don't worry, baby. I won't let anything get in our way."

[ratatoilett]

episode title : the one where she suggests marriage (again)

nylu's note : excited to make this a mundane cutesy series of they're shenanigans omg!

tags : @toniiiiiireads @cuntyji @nakiich @rriwyu @your-mum3000 @lulunx @heiejdhdh @oracle014 @sukubusss @noooo-onee

INT. SUKUNA'S APARTMENT - TUESDAY - 11:00 AM

at this point, sukuna has accepted that you are an unavoidable disaster in his life.

like an earthquake. or a tornado. or a really persistent telemarketer that keeps calling even when he explicitly tells them to stop.

he doesn't know when it happened. one day, you showed up. the next, you never left.

and the worst part? he let's you.

not without protest, of course. plenty of "get out before i throw you out," and "touch my stuff and you lose a hand," and "if you breathe near me while i'm eating, i will make sure you regret it."

none of which work.

because here you are, again, sitting on his couch, eating his chips, watching his TV—wearing his hoodie (at this point he doesn't even care how you got that in the first place).

you're kicked back, feet on the coffee table, and way too damn comfortable for someone who has been explicitly told to leave at least 500 times.

sukuna scowls.

"okay", you announce, popping another chip into your mouth. "new plan."

he doesn't even look up from his phone. "no."

"you didn't even hear it yet!"

"and yet, i already know it's gonna be fucking stupid."

you ignore him, as always. "hypothetically speaking, what if we got married?"

his head snaps up so fast you think he might've given himself whiplash.

"the hell did you just say?"

"i said—"

"i heard what you said," he growls, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. "the question is, why do you insist on making me suffer?"

you tilt your head, lips curling into a grin. "oh, so you admit the thought of being my husband affects you?"

"i admit that the thought makes me want to set myself on fire."

you hum, unbothered. "well, that's not a no."

sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose. "explain. now."

"well," you begin, dramatically tossing a chip into your mouth, "if we got married, i'd finally have a legal excuse to annoy you forever."

"you don't need a legal excuse. you're already doing it."

you ignore that. "plus, think about it! you, me, joint bank accounts—"

"absolutely fucking not."

"—matching outfits—"

"i will end you."

"—and cute little pet names! i'd call you 'suku-bear'."

sukuna glares. "i will throw you off my balcony."

"come on! you'd have cute nicknames for me too."

he smirks, and for a second, you think you might've won.

then—

"yeah. it's 'nuisance.'"

you gasp, pressing a hand to your chest. "how dare you? i was going to give you my last name, and this is how you treat me?"

sukuna levels you with a flat look. "you break into my apartment on a daily basis. you eat my food. you talk too much. you leave your crap everywhere. i should be charging you rent."

"that's actually a great idea! hypothetically speaking, what if i just moved in permanently?"

sukuna exhales so hard you think he might combust. "get. out."

"but i brought dinner," you chirps, holding up a takeout bag. "your favorite."

silence.

a long, long, long silence.

"fine. you can stay."

you grin in victory, setting the food down on the table. "that's what i thought."

sukuna rolls his eyes, snatching the takeout bag like you might change your mind and steal it back. "for the record, i still hate you."

"for the record, you love me," you counter plopping down beside him. "and someday, hypothetically speaking, you'll admit it."

sukuna doesn't respond, too busy stuffing food into his mouth.

but later, when he thinks you're not looking, you catch it—

the way his eyes linger on you, soft in a way they never are with anyone else.

the way his finger twitch, like he wants to pull you closer but refuses to give in.

the way his lips curl just slightly at your stupid jokes, even as he scowls at you.

the way, when you eventually fall asleep on his couch (again), he doesn't wake you up.

he just sighs.

long. heavy. defeated.

then he grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over to you.

not gently, of course. that would be admitting things.

but he lingers. just for a second.

and when you mumble something in your sleep—something ridiculous, something about hypothetically marrying him—he just shakes his head.

because someday—someday—he's going to give in.

he already knows it.

and, damn you, so do you.

[et6rnalsun]

YOU GON’ MAKE ME FALL IN LOVE FOR A WHILE (WOULD YOU FUCK ME?)

is your best friend really your best friend or is it just a way to cover the sexual tension that drowns out your lost common sense? good question.

95% of the time matt wanted to give in to that burning temptation, the other 5% he just did it carelessly.

that five percent had manifested itself on a saturday night filled with boredom and complete dullness, nothing interesting or stimulating enough to completely turn the day around — except for chris animatedly yapping about his umpteenth failed talking stage of the month downstairs. you were lying on matt’s bed while he absentmindedly fixed his hair in the mirror, getting ready to go out after hours of begging him to do so.

on one hand, he was also desperately trying not to look in your direction. christ, you should realize on your own that you were in a position far too provocative for any human with an ounce of hormones. you were lying on your stomach, shirt slightly hiked up to reveal your soft skin, back arched enough to highlight your curves that he drooled over daily. he had to get a grip.

“please, go and try not to wear emo clothes,” you subtly teased, your cheek snugly pressed against the palm of your hand as you turned your body more to watch him get ready. he just rolled his eyes at that, the sassiness of it enough to make you chuckle. “i’m not emo. black jus’ suits me” he turned to meet your gaze just as he was putting on his chain, his head bowed slightly. “plus i thought you liked it?”

you scoffed, but a smirk still tugged at the corners of your mouth. “i do” you shrugged, your eyes trailing down his frame and the way the chain dangled down his neck — making him shiver at the mere gesture. as you watched and talked to him, you noticed his obvious struggle in putting the thing on, probably not being able to latch it. so you stood up, adjusting your shirt that was out of place after laying down in that way, before approaching him.

“you could ask for help” you positioned yourself behind him, raising yourself slightly on tiptoe to latch the chain.

he chuckled lightly at the fact that you immediately sensed his need, and turned to look at you. he tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “alright, thanks,” he trailed, licking his lips. “you read my mind or somethin’?” you felt small under his gaze, and you crossed your arms instinctively, “it was simply a pitiful scene. anyone would’ve understood”

but his hands automatically rested on your arms seconds after your gesture, slowly unwrapping and bringing them up to move around his neck—his rings touching your skin made your stomach knot even tighter.

how the fuck were you supposed to react? you hugged each other often, yes, but this was too intimate to not miss a heartbeat or two. “are you tryin’ to suffocate yourself with my hands?” you tried to joke about it, easing the strange tension that was building between you.

matt was only fueling the tension, though. the fact that his hands had subsequently moved down your waist wasn’t helping; your bodies now close enough to touch, breaths mingling with each other. “you can try,” he replied, breathing a little too heavy as he took in your scent.

you rolled your eyes, trying not to meet his gaze. “looks like you want simple affection to me”

“maybe” but no, he didn’t. his touch felt too urgent to be something as simple as some friendly affection. you felt his hands squeezing your hips a little too tightly, fingertips digging into your skin little by little, desperate to feel you closer. and the heat of his body was strong enough to reveal his true state of mind. “it’s not weird for me to want it”

your arms wrapped around his neck more properly for a hug, letting your fingers sink lazily into his messy hair. “you’re right” you murmured lowly, letting him melt into you. you tried to ignore how his lips then trailed along your jaw to reach your neck, skin exposed by the position of your head, their softness sending little shivers down your spine. he had started leaving wet kisses, actions a little bolder after feeling how you tightened your grip on his locks, enough to make him let out a quiet hum against your throat. the sound made you head spin, your body responding to his touch before your mind could catch up.

"you feel so good," matt sighed, voice husky as his lips grazed your pulse. your own breathing was uneven now, your fingers threading through his hair as you let your head tilt further, offering him more—silent permission. his grip on your waist tightened slightly, and he let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin. “is this okay?"

“not really, no” your back was now leaning against the wall of his room, and you felt too much of a prisoner in those actions that seemed simply wrong for someone who had been your bestfriend for so long.

he raised an eyebrow, pulling away from your neck with a small and wet pop—the sound of his mouth letting go of the patch of skin he’d sucked and bit to leave a mark. “no?” he was skeptical, not believing your words. “bet you’re so wet as you say this”

you pressed your legs together. “i’m not gettin’ wet for this little” you challenged subtly, trying to keep your breathy tone hidden. you were pretty sure that your panties were now stained from the desire he had made you feel in just a few minutes, and you could clearly feel it dripping in a sinful, haunting way.

he placed a hand on your leg, slowly running his fingers up to where your shorts ended, moving closer to your inner thigh. “i think i should touch to see if you’re lyin’ or not”

you beat him into the game, placing your hand over the bulge of his pants, the corners of your lips turning up in a smirk as you slowly tightened your grip. “well, you’re so hard” you hummed, watching as his face changed with his lip bitten so hard by his teeth you were sure you’d see blood soon. “so you can’t really talk about me bein’ wet”

“no shit” he breathed out, placing a hand over yours to move it slightly, groaning softly at the sensation. you followed the way he guided your hand, squeezing it ever so slightly as it strained against the fabric of his jeans, begging to come out. he then rested his forehead against your shoulder, moaning against it, moving his hips to feel more.

“you’re not goin’ to cum on me, are you?” you teased.

matt rolled his eyes, both in pleasure and annoyance. “you think i’m that pathetic?”

before you could nod at his words and answer positively to the question, chris's shrill voice reached your ears from downstairs; “move your ass! i’m hungry and i’m not gon wait for you to finish fuckin’”

you pulled away with a giggle, taking advantage of his almost weak state to push him aside and free yourself from the wall he had created with his body that blocked your way. “you heard him” you shrugged as if you were innocent — as if you weren’t leaving him with a dripping boner, a white stain ruining the front of his pants. by the time he turned to react to everything that happened in a matter of seconds, you already disappeared down the stairs.

“fuckfuckfuck” he cursed under his breath, looking down at the mess you made. he was only going to die only after he made you pay for it, he was sure of it.

[lizardsfromspace]

There was lots of concern about AI and deepfakes spreading misinformation this election cycle, so let's check in on that!

A lot of right-wing accounts are trying to prove that Kamala Harris' crowds are fake - that all the photos of them are generated with AI. We'll get to that, but let's look at the most...amusing example first.

There's lots of people pointing at an image of a crowd that's obviously been generated with AI, due to extra arms and gibberish writing.

So obviously someone generated this image with AI. Who was it and why? Well, we can actually find the origin pretty easily. It was...

A right-wing satire account. Who put "unexcited Kamala Harris crowd" into a AI image generator to make a "wow, crowds are electric!" joke.

An image their own side generated as satire is now being spread by the right as something Harris/Walz created as proof they're doing the thing they're doing. Incredible. Just a masterclass

Now let's look at the dark stuff.

By and large, AI isn't being used for hoaxes. AI is being used as a excuse: people aren't being tricked by AI images, they're being tricked by accusations real images are AI.

So this hoax went around recently...

This image is old. It spread in 2017, it spread in 2020, and now it's spread in 2024. The Harris/Walz rally wasn't even in the Phoenix Convention Center, or in Phoenix. But it's now a core part of the "no one's attending their rallies!" campaign going on now

This may seem strange if you experience the news by non-conservative media, where you can't escape stories of Kamala Harris filling up massive stadiums & of Trump rallies full of empty seats. All evidence in reality points to Kamala Harris being extremely popular and to Trump's campaign faltering.

But in MAGA land, Kamala Harris' crowds were generated with AI.

Their claims: the crowd isn't in the reflection, and uh, the arms look weird. But also that there "aren't any other images".

But? There are? There was a livestream of that very plane landing (starting at 25)!

They're subjecting what they think is The Only Image of this rally in long Youtube videos and on Twitter and TikTok, and just...don't realize there's full, uncut, commentary-free video of it that was broadcast live. So why don't they realize that?

Well, I did a search for this rally on Fox News' website and guess what? They reported it exactly twice: once a interview with her while leaving that slammed her for "not taking press questions" enough, and a few clips of the Palestinian protestors at it, but not many, bc if you don't follow the far right they're trying to frame Kamala Harris as, like, a radical pro-Palestinian (or, as they say, "pro-Hamas") activist who wants to destroy Israel which, uhhhhhhhh

But another thread I found debunking this, by a former Trump-voting evangelical conservative turned critic of the same, gets at the heart of it

People who said AI and deepfakes would be used to mislead the right were missing how misinformation actually works. Fox News et al don't suppress information by confusing the audience with misinformation; they suppress information by never letting them see it in the first place. They know that they have a captive audience who doesn't watch non-right-wing news (unlike the left, who are constantly aware of what's going on over at Fox).

They can just never mention or show Kamala Harris' rallies, or do so only in close-up, and they can frame Trump to only show shots where a crowd has gathered & make it seem like that's the norm, and their audience just has no chance to find out the truth. They're so propagandized that they just accept that there are no other images of that Kamala Harris rally, because, well, they were told there weren't, and would the news personalities they trust really lie to them?

And if any stray bits of reality float into the bubble, well, it was just AI. You know, how they have AI these days? AI's most important role in all this isn't as a vector for misinformation, it's as a rhetorical device for claiming real images and video are misinformation. You don't have to make images full of people with weird hands if you can get people circling real people's hands in red and pointing at it to prove reality was made in a computer.

These people don't know how popular Kamala Harris is. They don't know she's polling eight points higher than Trump. They don't know Harris is leading in right-wing biased polls. They're being told she's hiring actors at rallies, that her crowd photos are generated by AI, that Trump rallies are popular and hers are desolate.

This only likely to increase as we near the election because, well, Trump '24 is a shitshow. His campaign started out less popular than '16 or even '20, he picked maybe the worst VP pick in history, and he hasn't made a single effective attack on Harris/Walz. They were banking on facing Biden, and then on a chaotic open convention, but instead everyone closed ranks around Harris, and she instantly became the most popular Democratic candidate since 2008. We are cruising towards Trump/Vance not only losing, but losing in the closest thing to a landslide that's possible in our current system.

They're already laying the groundwork for, in the likely case of defeat, playing the "she stole the election!" card. Last time it was ad-hoc, because Trump thought he'd win. This time, they're already making "all her rallies are fake, all of her supporters are AI, they've already rigged it against Trump" a key strategy, and, I have to assume, their primary strategy as it gets closer to election day and the polls get worse. They've always lived in a bubble, but now it's a bubble designed explicitly to cause another January 6th. By claiming real photos have weird hands, and must totally be AI

[mariswxts]

—————————————— ————007.ᐟDICK THOUGHTS ᝰ.ᐣ

THE STREET WAS BUSY, busier than usual, and all you wanted was to get home from working in your 9–5 (you say that but it was a shift) with your complimentary coffee from Costa, weaving your way through crowd traffic. It was full of people yelling, on their phones or barging into people on their way to work— honestly, did people have no class nowadays? You served most of these bitches on a daily basis — look, there’s Miss Double-Cappucino-Hold-On-The-Foam — you deserved some respect.

Really, though, did anyone have a real reason for running through this street and making it a walking hazard?

DICK GRAYSON ran through the streets, a classified file that he just stole from a covert facility held in his hand in a vice grip as he sprinted through the crowd. Was he aware that about five members of said covert facility’s security team were chasing him? Very much so. Didn’t help that he didn’t look like the average civilian either— he was wearing a black coat, suit, tie and gloves, for goodness sake.

He needed a way to get into an enclosed space and hide.

That’s when his eyes landed on a civilian ten feet in front of him— you looked like a good manner of distraction, plus, your lips looked… not chapped. So he tucked the file in his coat, and went for it. His hands cupped your shoulders, guiding you into a side alley and muttering something about how he wasn’t going to hurt you, then kissed you.

A fucking stranger was kissing you. Wait, oh, my lord, he was amazing at it.

You gasped into his mouth, having half a mind to pull away, but nah, surely not, he was a great kisser. So you cupped his cheek by instinct, leaning into it, and his hand placement was just immaculate, his lips were so soft and like they were clouds, at least clouds which made your brain feel fuzzy, however wrong this was. While kissing your lips until they went numb, he wasn’t listening out for when the footsteps faded until he could pull back and take a good look at you. God, you were pretty.

Shit, he was hot.

He was like a real life Prince Charming, with black hair that had fallen in front of his eyes, which were blue as hell with pouty lips and flushed cheeks from all the… macking. And then said lips ticked up into a smile, laying one more on you before winking.

“Thanks, sweets.” He grinned, before turning on his heel and sprinting out of the alley, leaving you pressed up against a wall.

The fuck just happened?

[hazbinhotei]

running away.

happy ending. — bad ending.

warnings: disgusting yearning and pining, alastor is bad at feelings

word count: 4043 (yeesh)

summary: Alastor finds himself torn apart by his feelings for you—caught between the instinct to flee, as he always has, and the unbearable need to stay by your side.

alastor x gn!reader. ooooh boy. this one's gonna be a doozy, folks. if you like yearning, this one's for you. can you tell i was heavily inspired by mr. darcy's confession? (i honestly can’t tell if he's ooc in this because canon alastor has never shown a single ounce of yearning for someone in his 8-episode-plus-a-pilot lifespan—so feel free to let me know if he feels too ooc!) note: there will be a part two to this story, but it will be split up into two different endings—a happy ending, and a terrible, angst-ridden ending. buckle up motherfuckers.

Alastor was a creature of habit. Order. A strict, unshakable routine built over decades of meticulous control.

Mornings began with coffee (black, no sugar, piping hot). Then, a careful selection of the day’s amusements—perhaps meddling in Husk’s card games, spinning nonsensical riddles at Niffty, or casually terrorizing poor unsuspecting souls. If not that, then there was always his beloved radio broadcast, an extension of his own theatricality, his voice slipping into the airwaves with a whispered promise of chaos. He had his weekly tea with Rosie in Cannibal Town, the two of them exchanging pleasantries steeped in the unspoken understanding of what lay beneath their grins. And, of course, there was assisting Charlie with whatever new, doomed-to-fail project she had set her heart upon—whether it was trying to rehabilitate a particularly stubborn sinner or attempting to redecorate the lobby with decor so disgustingly cheery it made his teeth itch.

It was simple. It was structured. It was comfortable.

Then you arrived.

And now, nothing was comfortable anymore.

You weren’t supposed to fit in so easily. You weren’t supposed to slip into the rhythm of the hotel as if you had always belonged, as if Hell itself had been waiting for you. You weren’t supposed to make conversation feel like a game he wanted to play, something effortless, something that left him wanting to hear your voice just once more before you left the room. You weren’t supposed to light up a space in a way that made his carefully cultivated shadows feel... lesser. Weaker.

And under no circumstances should he have felt—what was the word?—relief whenever you entered. As if an invisible weight had been pressing on his chest all day and only when he caught sight of you did it lift, just slightly. That wasn't how it worked. Not for him. Not for what he was. He wasn’t meant to miss something he had never needed before. He wasn’t meant to ache for something so simple, so insignificant as your presence.

It started small. A twitch in his fingers when you sat beside him on the couch. An uncharacteristic pause before he replied to one of your jokes. A nagging awareness of how close you stood whenever you did your unspoken daily routine of passing him his morning coffee, your fingertips brushing his just barely—

Pathetic.

He was the Radio Demon. The very concept of intimacy was laughable—an absurd little mortal relic that he had shed alongside his humanity long ago. What purpose did it serve, this feeble notion of longing? Affection had never been anything more than a tool, a game, a means to an end. He had wielded it, manipulated it, destroyed those who mistook it for kindness.

Love, devotion, tenderness—these were things for weaker creatures, for those still clinging to the fragile remnants of their mortal selves. He had observed it time and time again, how it turned even the strongest into fools, left them raw and bleeding, desperate to be seen, to be wanted. He had laughed at it, mocked it, torn it apart with his own hands just to watch how easily it crumbled. Love was a trick, a trap, a cruel joke played by the universe on those too naive to see the inevitable decay waiting at the end of it all.

And yet.

And yet, you gnawed at the edges of that certainty. You, with your warm eyes and your easy laughter, your maddening persistence. You, who had never once cowered before him, who spoke to him not as a monster, not as a demon, but simply as he was. The idea of being wanted by you made his skin crawl, not because it was unpleasant, but because it was tempting. Because the very thought of reaching back, of grasping onto something that could slip through his fingers, made an unspoken and ugly emotion coil deep in his chest.

No. He would not succumb to it. He refused to.

But somehow, he couldn’t stop thinking about how your hands looked when they smoothed down a tablecloth. How your voice dipped just slightly when you spoke to him in a quiet room. How the simple act of sitting beside you made his chest tighten like an ill-fitting suit. How your presence, once nothing more than a fleeting amusement, had begun to linger in the back of his mind long after you had left the room.

He was losing his grip.

So naturally, he pulled away.

At first, it was subtle. Declining your invitations with a breezy excuse. Avoiding the library at the hours he knew you’d be there. Letting the space between you on the couch grow wider, until one day, he simply stopped sitting there at all. It should have been easy. He had abandoned attachments before. He had crushed them when necessary.

Then why did this feel different? Why did the absence of your voice press against his ribs like something suffocating? Why did the distance feel less like control and more like punishment? Why did that confused expression you gave him every time he avoided you make his dead heart shatter, his hands itching to cup your face and ease that look away?

He convinced himself it was working. He convinced himself it had to work.

Then you handed him his morning coffee.

"Here you go, Al," you chirped, the usual warmth in your voice melodic to his ears. Your fingers brushed his as you passed him the mug—his favorite 'Oh Deer!' mug, the one you had bought for him during one of your outings into the city—and the sensation burned. Not from the heat of the coffee, but from the sheer wrongness of how much he had missed that fleeting contact.

He didn’t mean to snap.

But it was all too much—your touch, your voice, your mere existence gnawing at the brittle edges of his carefully constructed distance. The words came before he could stop them, sharp and cutting, a desperate attempt to shove you back to the safe distance he needed you to be.

"You made this wrong."

A moment passed, your long lashes fluttering as you blinked at him.

"...What?" Your smile faltered, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat from the look of it.

His grip on the mug tightened, nodding curtly as he tried his best to turn a sinister smile onto you. "It’s dreadful," he exhaled, tone venomous and cold. "I would have preferred if you hadn’t wasted my time with such an amateur attempt."

The hurt in your eyes was immediate. A flicker of pain, confusion knitting your brows together, the brightness in your gaze dimming as if he had reached in and plucked the light from them himself. Your fingers twitched around the empty space where the mug had just been, and Alastor could hear the soft, uneven hitch of your breath—small, nearly imperceptible, but to him, it was deafening.

His stomach twisted violently, the pool of regret forming instantly, like a faucet turned on full blast. The sensation was foreign, unwelcome. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, his throat suddenly too tight. He should have felt triumphant, victorious in successfully pushing you away. Instead, all he felt was cold.

Before he could fully comprehend the wreckage he had caused, you took a step back, your face twisting with shock, wounded in a way that made his chest snap.

"I—I’m sorry," you stammered, voice smaller than he had ever heard it. Then, without another word, you turned and walked away.

He stood there, coffee steaming in his grip, staring at the place you had been just moments ago. And that's when the guilt slammed into him at full force, sharp and immediate, like a knife twisted in his gut. It was unlike any other regret he had ever felt—this wasn’t the satisfaction of a well-executed deception, nor the detached amusement of watching someone fall apart at his hands. No, this was different. This was wrong.

His fingers flexed around the mug, but the warmth no longer registered. He could call you back. Apologize. Lie and say it had been a simple mistake, that he was having an off day, that his temper had flared for reasons beyond your control. He could spin some ridiculous excuse, charm you with a quip, erase the damage with a well-placed grin and an empty promise that it wouldn’t happen again. You might even believe him.

But that would mean admitting the truth to himself.

That he wanted to reach for you. That he missed you already. That the very act of hurting you made him feel more like a monster than anything else he had done in both life and Hell combined. He had destroyed people, laughed in the face of suffering, relished in the chaos of agony—and yet, somehow, this was what made his stomach churn. This tiny, insignificant moment of cruelty.

His free hand clenched at his side. Was this for the best? Hadn't he convinced himself it was? Keeping you at arm’s length was necessary, wasn’t it? If he let you in, if he let you matter, what then? He couldn't afford to want something. He couldn't afford to lose something. He would lose you—if not by his own doing, then by Hell’s inevitable cruelty. And yet, in this moment, staring at the empty space you had left behind, he barely knew what to believe anymore.

But Alastor continued on with what he knew best: forced nonchalance. He went about his day as if his entire world (you) wasn’t being ripped apart from his very hands, ignoring the way his heart ached to see your figure roaming the halls of the hotel. You hadn’t shown your face the entire day, but Alastor simply understood that you were merely hiding from him.

Really, the idea of you avoiding him should have been amusing—should have been nothing more than an inevitable reaction to his own actions. But the reality of it? It gnawed at him. He had practically bared his teeth at you like a rabid beast, and now, the sight of your absence in the halls felt more damning than any glare or scorned remark you could have thrown his way.

He let your absence continue, let the days tick by, convinced that if he just waited long enough, this ache in his chest would fade into nothingness. But then came the third day, and you were nowhere to be seen.

By then, the irritation had settled in deep, poisoning his mood like rot spreading beneath the surface. His patience had thinned, his normally sharp composure fraying at the edges. Conversations that he once found amusing became tiresome. Charlie had noticed his snappiness, her ever-sunny demeanor tinged with concern. Angel had made an offhand comment about how he seemed to be 'on the fritz' before skipping off without waiting for a response. Even Husk, Husk, had the audacity to offer him a drink—as if he were some pathetic wreck in need of drowning his sorrows.

That was when Alastor realized, with no small amount of irritation, that your absence had begun to sink its claws into him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. And that? That was unacceptable. Entirely unacceptable! He should have been able to brush it off, should have been able to let the days pass without so much as a second thought. And yet, here he was, pacing his room like some restless specter, unable to drown out the gnawing sense that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

And then, there was the matter of worry. A most bothersome emotion, one he was neither accustomed to nor particularly fond of. You had never been one to isolate yourself—always eager to assist, to busy your hands, to play your part in Charlie’s grandiose little dream. If redemption were possible, he had no doubt that you would be the prime candidate, the shining example of doing better.

And yet, for all your goodness, for all your damnable persistence, you had vanished. No sharp retorts, no stubborn frowns in the hallway, no stiff exchanges over breakfast. Just… nothing. And Alastor—who had spent decades mastering the art of detachment—ached in a way that made his very being itch at the absence of you.

And so, after enduring three whole days of this insufferable torment, he found himself standing outside your door at the ungodly hour of 2AM, posture far from its usual effortless grace. He could have just appeared inside—after all, formalities were often wasted on him—but some part of him hesitated, some fraying, fragile thing inside him insisting that this moment required the courtesy of a knock.

His knuckles rapped against the wood, and for once, he felt the weight of his own heartbeat in his ears, his stomach twisting in ways that defied every carefully crafted illusion of control he had spent years perfecting.

Would you open the door? Or would you leave him standing in the dark, drowning in the mess he had made?

He barely had time to dwell on it before the door cracked open, revealing you standing in the dim light of your room. His mind went utterly blank. There you were—eyes still heavy with sleep, hair slightly disheveled, but unmistakably you. And despite everything, despite the coolness in your expression, despite the guarded way you held yourself, you were still the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Your brows furrowed. "Alastor?" Your voice was groggy, confused, and laced with a wary edge that made his gut twist. "What are you doing here?"

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because in that moment, every single wall, every flimsy excuse he had built to keep you at a distance collapsed. He was moving before he could think, hands grasping your shoulders before pulling you into him, burying his face into the crook of your neck to hide his expression. The moment he felt the warmth of you against him, something inside him broke. His arms tightened, his breath shuddering as he clung to you with the desperation of a man grasping onto the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

"You’ve got me completely strung up, darling," he murmured against your skin, voice shaking, uncharacteristically human. "My soul—it belongs to you. Somehow, in ways I never thought possible, you’ve infected every inch of me. My mind is shattered, torn apart at the very idea of needing someone so much, needing you so much. Ça fait mal même d'être séparé de toi."

You stood frozen, his words washing over you like a tide, overwhelming and impossible to process all at once. This was Alastor—the Radio Demon—collapsing against you, breath uneven, body taut with something that felt too much like fear. He spoke like a man unraveling, like a creature who had spent his entire existence untouched by love and was now drowning in it. You didn't even understand the words he said in French, but by the way his velveteen fingers held you like you were the most sacred thing in this realm, you only assumed it was an extension of his profession.

His breath hitched, and suddenly, the words were tumbling out faster, as though if he didn’t say them now, he never would. "I’m worried," he admitted, voice raw, cracking at the edges. "Worried that my entire existence before this was a sham. That every moment, every act of amusement, every indulgence, was just a hollow distraction to bide my time while I waited for your arrival in my life. Because all I want now—all I ever want—is to spend my eternity loving you. And that terrifies me."

"Je ne sais pas quoi en faire," he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what to do with you. But I—"

His fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeves, shaking ever so slightly. "I know I don’t want to let go."

Your heart pounded, but the moment you wrapped your arms around him, he melted. His ears flattened against his head as he exhaled, sinking into you with a shudder, as if the weight of his own emotions had finally exhausted him. He was so tired. You could feel it in the way he leaned against you, in the tension slowly unwinding from his frame, in the way his breath steadied the longer you held him.

You glanced up at the ceiling of the hotel hallway, simply listening to his breathing mixing with yours as your thoughts ran wild. You'd be lying if you said your heart wasn’t hammering, your face burning from Alastor’s confession, from the rawness in his voice that still lingered in the air between you. You had always found Alastor appealing—too appealing. But you had banished those thoughts to the farthest, dustiest corners of your heart, convincing yourself that he was above feeling emotions such as yearning, that he was incapable of it.

So instead, you had settled. Settled for the little moments he allowed you. Settled for the quiet mornings where you made his coffee, a simple act that meant more to you than it ever should have. It had been your small way of being close to him, a selfish indulgence wrapped in routine. He never needed you to make it for him, but you had done it anyway, convincing yourself it was nothing more than habit. If you could not have his love, at least you could be something to him—another piece of his structured, predictable world.

Yet here you were, rubbing slow, soothing circles into his spine as he clung to you like you were his lifeline, as if letting you go would devastate him completely.

"This is new for you, isn’t it?" you murmured after a moment, a gentle tease laced with understanding. He only nodded, his grip on you tightening just slightly, as if the thought of you slipping away was unbearable.

You sighed, your fingers weaving through his bobbed hair as you whispered, "Then rest, Alastor. Come, let's get you some shut eye."

He barely had the energy to protest as you guided him inside your suite, leading him to your bed as though it was the most natural thing in the world. You pretended like this was natural, hoped this was natural for him as much as it was for you. You simply believed it was, because the moment he collapsed against you, his head resting against your chest as you cradled him, his body finally, finally relaxed.

He mumbled incoherently—his confession still spilling past his lips, but now softer, sleepier. Then, in a hushed murmur, barely audible against the quiet hum of the room, he rasped, "I didn’t mean it... about the coffee. It was perfect. It’s always perfect. I just... I just needed to push you away. And that was—" he swallowed, voice heavy with regret, "—an idiotic move, wasn't it?"

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the red and black strands of his hair, marveling at how uncharacteristically vulnerable he was in your arms. "Yes, it was."

A deep sigh left him, the weight of his own foolishness pressing down on him like an anchor. But as your fingers continued their soothing motion against his scalp, he let himself melt into your touch, his body going lax against yours.

You bit your lip, staring down at him as the last of his tension seeped away. Butterflies stirred in your stomach. His face had softened in sleep, the sharpness of his usual smile now gentle, almost innocent. You had never seen him sleep before. You wondered if he always looked this peaceful, or if it was just you that made him feel safe enough to rest.

A quiet hope bloomed inside you, cautious yet warm, as you tightened your hold on him. Maybe this would lead to something more. Maybe, just maybe, the Radio Demon had found something worth holding onto.

And as you watched him sleep, his face unguarded, peaceful in a way you had never seen before, you found yourself fighting the urge to sleep. But the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers unconsciously curled around the fabric of your pajamas as if anchoring himself to you—it was enough to lull you into a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing falling in sync with his. You didn’t fight it. The past few days had been exhausting—a whirlwind of emotions, too heavy to bear. As sleep crept in, everything else melted away. The last thing you registered was the feeling of Alastor shifting slightly, nuzzling ever so subtly into you, his body seeking yours even in slumber. His breath was warm against your collarbone, steady now, quiet—so different from the ever-broadcasting hum of his usual presence. For the first time, he felt real, tangible. Yours.

And just like that, the two of you stayed tangled together the entire night, wrapped in each other’s arms, as if the universe itself had been waiting for this moment all along.

The morning was peaceful.

You stirred awake with a soft hum, stretching slightly as the red glow of dawn spilled through the curtains. The warmth surrounding you was comforting, familiar—until you realized it was gone. Your brows furrowed as a cold chill seeped in where Alastor had been. The sheets beside you were rumpled but empty, the lingering warmth already fading. Your eyes snapped open.

He was gone.

Confusion rushed through you as you sat up, scanning the room as if expecting him to be lurking in the shadows. But there was nothing—no trace of him, no sign that he had ever been here at all.

Had you imagined it? Had the past night been nothing more than some fever dream conjured by your longing heart?

Then, your gaze landed on your bedside table.

A single note sat there, the paper slightly crumpled, like the writer had hesitated before leaving it behind. Dread pooled in your stomach as you reached for it, fingers trembling slightly as you unfolded the page. The cursive was rushed, messy—so unlike the usual pristine elegance of his writing. But you knew, without a doubt, who it belonged to.

Let’s not dwell on last night’s theatrics, dear. A lapse in judgment, nothing more. Best forgotten.

Your hands trembled as you read the words, once, twice, three times over, as if the ink might rearrange itself, as if the meaning might shift into something softer, something less cruel. But it never did. The more you stared, the more final it became, each elegant loop of his handwriting twisting the knife deeper into your chest.

Your throat constricted, a hollow ache settling in your stomach as the events of the night before played on repeat in your mind. His voice, raw and desperate. His hands gripping onto you like you were the only thing keeping him from vanishing. The way he had melted in your arms, safe, vulnerable—and now he was gone, pretending it had never happened.

A shaky breath escaped you, your fingers clutching the note so tightly the edges crumpled beneath your grip. You should have been angry. You should have cursed his name, torn the paper apart, stormed through the hotel to find him and demand an explanation. But all you could do was sit there, the weight of his absence crushing down on you, making it hard to breathe.

Had it really meant so little to him? Had it been nothing more than a moment of weakness, something he could cast aside come morning? And yet… the way he had clung to you, the way he had whispered his devotion into your skin—how could that have been a lie?

Your vision blurred as you pressed the note to your chest, curling forward as if the pressure could somehow hold you together. You wanted to believe this wasn’t the end. That this was fear, not indifference. That he was running not because last night was meaningless, but because it meant too much. But no matter how much you clung to that hope… the silence left in his wake felt an awful lot like goodbye.

But what if he never stopped running?

"Ça fait mal même d'être séparé de toi." = It hurts even to be separated from you. "Je ne sais pas quoi en faire" = I don't know what to do with it i am no where near even slightly fluent in french so please take these google translates with a grain of salt. stay tuned for part 2!

[martiansodas-blog]

if art got remarried, i don’t think he’d have a wedding. him and tashi were the brangalina of tennis. they would’ve had to invited so many people. photographers, sponsor representatives, and you know the press would show up uninvited.

you two would elope in yellowstone or someplace tropical. you dress up for the ceremony, nothing designer though. it’s a simple silk long white dress. and it’s practical enough you can walk in it comfortably and won’t step on it. art wears a simple black button down a slacks with a white bowtie made from the same fabric as your dress.

there’s one photographer and a priest to officiate.

it’s beautiful and peaceful. the rest of the trip is spent very casually. you’ve both just packed sweats and baggy t shirts.

you buy cheesy tourist keychains and eat greasy food from tiny diners.

you go on a few walks. they can’t even be counted as hikes. you wanted to take in the scenery without huffing and puffing. plus, art works out for a living. it’s rare for him to get a break longer than a weekend.

he picks a flower on one of your walks and places it behind your ear. there’s one on your tray the next morning when he gives you breakfast in bed.

ok the breakfast is technically room service but he still arranged everything in a visually pleasing manner.

he made a run to the local coffee shop down the street to get your daily iced latte. usually he’d just have a black coffee but hotel pots always seem questionable, so he ordered one for himself too. he just asked the barista what the most popular flavor was and ordered 2 of those.

he made it back before any ice melted.

both of your families and friends were pissed there wasn’t so much as an announcement.

oh well, they’ll get over it. this isn’t about them.

[incorrectbatfam]

Retail steph with damian and Jon? :) i love retail steph so much

(featuring Billy Batson because he only adds chaos and I love him)

Previous: Margie | Batkids | Rogues | Justice League | Retail batkids | Retail Bruce | Young Justice | Black Friday | Valentine's Day

[grocery store]

Steph, working the bakery section: How can I help you boys today?

Jon: We're getting a cake for our friend's birthday. Chocolate with buttercream frosting, please. 

Steph: Do you want it to say anything? 

Jon: Yes. "Happy 14th B-day, Billy!"

Steph: What color?

Damian: Red. 

Steph: *starts writing on the cake*

Damian: Please also add: "Despite your shortcomings and lack of maturity, you are a valuable part of our team and as you get older, I expect you to gain greater wisdom that will aid us in our goals and prospects."

Steph: *struggling to fit it on the cake*

———————

[coffee shop]

Damian: Can we try the five-drink espresso flight?

Steph: You sure?

Billy, eyeing an unsuspecting Jon: Yes.

Steph: Alrighty.

*moments later*

Jon, after his fifth espresso: I'M KING OF THE UNIVERSE!

Jon: *shoots through the ceiling*

Damian: *grumbles and hands Billy ten bucks*

Steph, sighing: I'll get the broom.

———————

[clothing store]

Jon: *dancing in the dressing room with light-up shoes*

Damian: *T-posing in a trenchcoat*

Billy: *filming them*

Steph: What are you doing?

Billy: Making a TikTok. 

Steph: Well, you can't have cameras in the dressing rooms. I'm gonna have to ask you to stop. 

———————

[drive-thru]

Damian: One vegetarian Batburger, one regular Batburger, and one order of Night-Wings. And an extra-extra-extra large Ivy Salad.

Steph: Did you take the Batmobile again? 

Damian: No. 

Steph: Why don't you pull up to the window and prove it? 

Damian, Jon, and Billy: *ride up on Bat-Cow*

———————

[furniture store]

Jon: What's a warranty?

Damian: It's a court order to arrest someone. 

Steph: That's a warrant. A warranty covers the cost of something if it gets damaged within a certain amount of time. In our case, the store has a one-year warranty on all items. What are you looking to buy?

Billy: *enters pushing a Pinball machine*

Damian: ...It's for school.

———————

[restaurant]

Steph: What can I get you?

Damian: We'll split a pizza. 

Steph: Okay, anything else?

Billy, as Shazam: An alcohol.

Steph: "An alcohol?"

Billy: Yes, your finest alcohol. Sharing size, please.

Steph: I'll need to see some ID.

Billy, nervous: What's there to see? I'm clearly an adult. 

Steph: I need them for everyone at the table. 

Damian: *pulls out Jason's crime lord license*

Jon: *sticks on a fake mustache*

———————

[call center]

Steph, stifling a yawn: Wayne Enterprises account support, how can I help you? 

Damian: Why are you still working? It's midnight. 

Steph: Overnight shift. This is a 24-hour line. What do you need, Damian?

Damian: Nothing. We just wanted to annoy you. 

Steph: We?

Jon: Hiya!

Billy: 'Sup.

———————

[sleepover at the Manor]

Steph: Alfred told me to bring you some snacks.

Damian: Excellent. 

Steph: *leaves the room*

Steph, internally: What do kids these days even do at sleepovers? 

Steph: *presses her ear to the door*

Damian: Truth or Dare? 

Jon: Truth. 

Damian: Which one of my siblings do you like best?

Jon: Steph, all the way.

Billy: I agree, she's the coolest. Remember when she drove us to get midnight breakfast on my birthday?

Jon: And when she promised not to tell my parents when I broke the café ceiling.

Billy: Or when she took us for a walk and actually explained why we couldn't make TikToks in the store instead of going "because I said so" like other adults. 

Jon: Plus, she gave all the leftover salad to Bat-Cow and helped us set up the Pinball machine downstairs.

Billy: Ooh, and she's really good at making mocktails. 

Jon: Also, she extended our free trial of the Daily Planet for our social studies project. 

Damian: Hm... point taken.

Billy: And she's hot.

Damian: Say that again and I will smite you with your own powers.  

Steph: *smiles softly*

[dennistorejaperez]

Families of Duterte Drug War Victims Seek Investigation into Online Threats After ICC Arrest

MANILA, Philippines — The families of individuals killed during former Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte’s violent anti-drug campaign are calling for an official investigation into a wave of online threats and harassment they say has intensified following Duterte’s arrest last month. On Friday, the relatives of four victims and their lawyer, Kristina Conti, filed formal complaints with the…

[pressplusdaily]

Philippines Denies Espionage Allegations After Three Nationals Arrested in China

Inside Story: Three Filipinos arrested in China on allegations of espionage amid rising maritime tensions. Chinese authorities claim confessions and cite alleged ties to Philippine intelligence services. Philippines denies allegations, calls the suspects law-abiding scholarship recipients. Manila links arrests to earlier detainment of Chinese spies in the Philippines. Diplomatic strain…

[darlingbabyboo]

Could you please make a part 3 of tr x bimbo reader with Hanma, Souya and chifuyu, please?? Have a great day or night <333

Note: I love this request! I thought ppl wouldn't like bimbo reader and I'm so happy that ppl are receiving it well :) These are such good characters too. I added a few people since I got to this late (also Hanma's is a little nsfw). Part 1 (Draken, Takemichi, Mitsuya, Baji, Smiley, Mucho) Part 2 (Kazutora, Izana, Bonten! Mikey)

"You're my angelic slut!"

♡ Even more Tokyo Revengers and their bimbo gfs ♡

Hanma Shuji

Oh my god I thought Smiley would be bad but this man would be a menace with a bimbo!gf

He lies to you on a daily basis bcs he knows that you'll believe him

He will be saying shit like 'recent studies show 🤓☝️' completely out of his ass bcs he loves the look you give him

Your bright eyes look to him, captivated with all the lies that he's feeding you

He thinks that your stupidity is hot af and the stupider you get the harder he is

Do not trust this man to help you shop bcs he will be giving you some floss as a top and and lacey underwear bottoms okay

And for my ladies who are bimbos but still like to cover up don't worry he'll give you the flashiest shit ever that probably says property of Hanma on the back

He loves you okay but be wary around this boy

"Ow babe, you know that hurts."

You eyes widen in horror, ripping your hands away from tracing the ink on his hands, "really?" You whisper.

He nods, sagely with his fake wisdom, "yeah, every few months the pain from tattoo comes back, when you touch me it hurts like a bitch."

"Oh, I- baby I didn't know!" You tear up, hating the thought of hurting Shu in any way possible, "I swear I didn't mean to hurt you!"

He nods, pulling you into his chest to calm your sniffles, "it's okay babe, you didn't know." He pretends to think, "and there might be a way to help me..."

You look at him, wide eyes looking to him and nod eagerly.

"Well... kisses always work."

"And it won't cause you pain?"

"None at all pretty girl."

"Okay!" You smile, peppering kisses on his hands, before cupping his face and pressing your lips against. He deepens the kiss, moving you so you're straddling his lap and grinding against his growing bulge.

He sure got lucky with you, huh?

Chifuyu Matsuno

He's so flustered at the sight of you

He's pretty confident in himself but he never actually expected to get a gf

Since you're his first one he kinda has no idea what to do with you

He rly doesn't want to mess things up

He doesn't even register the fact that you're 'slutty' bcs all he knows is that you're the hottest person that he's ever met in his life and he has absolutely no idea how to function without you

He worries so much but he's such a 10/10 boyfriend

Gets most of his ideas from manga but they usually get messed up because you would not get a clue if it walked up to you and gave you its number

Chifuyu will say something like, 'my heart is forever yours' and you're about call an ambulance bcs you think he's having a heart attack

Pray for him he's doing his best 🙏🏾

Certified good boi so he does his best to make you smarter but my mans is not God

He knows that you're a lost cause but he's gonna keep trying fr bcs he loves you

But he has a tendency to get distracted...

"And if 4 plus 4 is 8 and 4 times 4 is 16 then 4 squared is..." He watches you bite your lip and turn your wide eyes to him, hoping that he'll fill in the blanks.

He sighs, "baby, you're not gonna learn anything if I keep helping you."

"But 'fuyu!" You protest, throwing yourself across his lap, and jutting your lip out, "I don't get it without you explaining it for me!"

"That's the problem..."

Your pout deepens and you suddenly sit up straight. He blushes when you place your hands on the side of his face.

"I don't get it 'fuyu, more kisses pls."

He should refuse because he loves you more than the world itself but he knows that you're jackshit at math. His eyes look down at your puckered lips and he folds, moving you gently and pinning you to the bed.

When the both of you lock lips he knows nothing is going to get done today.

Souya (Angry) Kawata

We got another flustered boy here

It's made even worse bcs he was not the one who confessed to you

Smiley told you bcs he got sick of his constant ranting about how beautiful and kind and pretty you were

Angry hates his brother and loves him for it bcs you embraced him in a hug that got him feeling high for days

He worships you completely

Your slutty outfits

Perfect queen 🥰🥰🥰

He making homemade food for you for breakfast lunch and dinner

Compliments you all the time bcs that's what you deserve

Can you tell I have a favourite

He is in love with you so much and will not tolerate any sort of slander towards you

You best hope that someone doesn't call you stupid bcs they will be jumped by the entire fourth division he is not fucking around when it comes to you

He doesn't even take that shit when it comes to his brother

No one will talk bad about you under his watch

"Damn, your girl dumb as hell."

He looks to you. As of now, you're jumping up into the trees, attempting to catch a cat that got stuck up there from yesterday's storm. It's a noble attempt, if not a bit ruined due to the fact that you're ignoring the ladder of branches at the side of the tree that would help you get to the cat.

That wouldn't even be so bad if you weren't also neglecting to ask one of the neighbor's for a ladder, especially the one who has a ladder leaning against their front door.

He turns back to Smiley, scowling at the insult, "don't talk about her like that." Hands curling into fists, no matter what you do he can't stand the thought of you being disrespected.

Smiley holds his hand up, not in the mood to get his faced bashed, "fine... but you should really go help her."

He looks back to you, seeing that you've now started to meow to the cat, trying to convince it to come down by itself.

He can't stop the smile creeping up.

He's so in love with you.

Ran Haitani

You would assume that he'd be a menace but he's surprisingly sweet

Most people assume that he's with you bcs he wanted some arm candy but he's really just in love with you

Rindou is the unfortunate witness to how obsessed Ran is about you

When Ran sees you're being a dumbass all he does is smile and do his best to answer the question

He loves when his girl starts asking him how he can tell if it's AM or PM

He thinks you're too adorable

His love is not an act okay

He lives sleeps and breathes you

Half the words out of his mouth have to do with you bcs he thinks you're just so amazing

Rindou stops himself from screaming when he sees Ran leaning against the kitchen counter. The last time he caught Ran awake in the middle of the night the other had almost skinned him alive.

A Ran that just woke up from a nap was not a good Ran.

He relaxes when he sees you move to Ran's side, offering him some hot chocolate. Ran would never expose you to his violent side. "Thank you angel," He says as he accepts the drink, taking a sip and placing his arm around your waist.

"Ran..." You start, and Rindou can't wait for whatever bullshit you're going to spew this time.

"Yeah angel?"

"Why does your tattoo keep changing?"

He raises an eyebrow and looks down at his arm. Experimentally, he flexes it.

"It happened again!" You exclaim as his muscles tense, art rippling with the muscle.

Rindou has no idea how he deals with you sometimes. You're sweet, you're just... something else.

Ran doesn't react to the strange question, only offering a half-hearted shrug. He runs a hand through his hair, "I think it's because my skin stretches as I flex or something... and the tattoo is on my skin so it's affected too." He watches you, wondering if the answer is satisfactory.

You beam at the response and curl into him, placing your head on his shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

Rindou slinks back upstairs and tries not to throw up. He hates being around you two.

Hakkai Shiba

It's a miracle how Hakkai even started to talk to you

It was a struggle for everyone involved

Everyday Yuzuha and Mitsuya were considering jumping off a window more and more bcs every interactions you had went like this

'How are you Hakkai!'

'...'

'That's nice to hear! My day went well too, are you going to the festival tomorrow?'

'...'

Bitch is like this on the outside 😐

On the inside he's 🥰😍😘💕💓❤️

And Mitsuya and Yuzuha have to listen on like 🙃

Yeah Hakkai she is beautiful and her dress was rly nice today and she's the kindest girl in the world why don't you tell her that

His confession was so awkward but my man's had to do smth bcs he's not the only one who wants you

"H-hey," He calls your name, wincing when you direct your eyes to him. His stomach twists, he needs to do this he needs to do this.

You beam at him, "Hakkai! What's up? You don't usually talk to me like this."

Yeah, he doesn't. He's completely out of his comfort zone here. He really should have asked Taka-chan to be here to support him. He looks down to avoid making eye contact but is met with your plump thighs.

He swallows.

"A-are you going to the f-festival with Akihiko?"

You tilt your head, "no, why would you think that? Me and him are just friends!"

Akihiko has not been subtle about about talking about how attractive he's found you and how much he would love to have you as your girlfriend. This includes wrapping his arms around your waist and calling you 'wifey'.

"He flirts sometimes," You laugh, "but we're just friends."

Sure, and he just wants to kill him.

"Wouldyouliketogowithme?" He blurts out, flinching when everything is out. He watches your eyes open wide, mouth falling open. He's so embarrassed, of course this wouldn't work he should have kept his mouth shut-

"Of course I wanna go Hakkai!" He catches you as you jump up to wrap your arms around his neck. His face turns even redder when you smack a kiss on his cheek. "I'd love to!"

"C-cool." He says knowing that the this moment will be replaying in his head on the walk home.

Seishu (Inupi) Inui

Y'all are complete opposites bcs while he's off being brooding you're being your bright and sunny self giving a hug to anyone who asks

Koko wonders everyday how you two started dating but love is love

You two have the best fashion tips for each other, truly a couple that uplifts each other <333

My man treats you like you're not the dumbest bitch on Planet Earth

Inui is a feminist (when he threatened Yuzuha he did that for the women's rights movement okay)

So he knows that you have great value even if you're not smart in a conventional sense

He will pound anyone into the pavement if someone starts to act a fool okay

Inui brings knives to fist fights if you don't think he'll pull out a glock for the person he's completely obsessed with you're insane

"Inui, how do we know that we're on Earth?" You question, head tilting to the side, looking to him waiting for an answer.

He doesn't sigh, he knows you're genuine about this and he would hate to embarrass you. He raises an eyebrow for clarification.

"I mean- how do we know we're not on Mars?" You eyes bug out, "what if we've been on Venus all along and we don't even know it!"

He hums but stops when someone snickers beside them. He tenses, already reaching in his pocket. "You got something you want to say?" He snarls.

The guy, some dumb lackey, smirks, "your bitch know how stupid she is?" He looks over to you and checks you out not-so subtly, "good thing she's hot."

He pulls out the knife and presses it against the other's neck. "At first I was going to hurt you but now I'm going to fucking kill you." Who cares about the rules about in-fighting, no one's going to talk to you like that and get away with it.

"Inui..." You ask innocently, watching the two with concern.

"Look away darling, okay, I gotta deal with this piece of shit."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Domestic fluffy things you say? I’m here to hopefully help with that!

Can we get some cuddling hcs with the Lin Kuei trio? For example are they big on cuddling, favorite cuddle position, how is it like cuddling with them, ext. Just a lil idea I had and thought was cute and simple and classic also I hope you have a better day :)

Tomas Vrbada

Is MASSIVE on cuddling.

He loves it, lives for it, craves it. Cuddling to Tomas is therapeutic and gets his mind off of things that would normally disrupt his ability to get proper sleep.

It helps ground him and redirects his mind to focus on you and how your presence gives him comfort, reassured him of his insecurities and daily stresses, bringing him into a more relaxed state.

His top 3 would have to be;

Honeymoon cuddle

Sweetheart cradle

Good old fashion spooning

They’re all very self explanatory so I ain’t going to go into details. The man just likes holding you okay?

Cuddling either Tomas is bliss. Utter bliss.

He made you forget about everything that had ever concerned you, everything that had caused you pain, fear, anger, despair. He made you believe that everything was alright because you were within his loving embrace and that nothing else should matter.

Even his evened out breathing made you feel calm as it focused your mind onto his breaths, reminding you that lying beneath you was a living, breathing man who’d do anything you could ever possibly ask for and request for nothing in return. Tomas heart was too kind for most people, even you didn’t feel deserving of something so pure and beautiful despite everything he’s seen and done in the past, you were surprised that such a man still exists in this day and age.

So as a solemn vow, you swore to have this every night, not just for you but for Tomas too, where the both of you would be able to shed the worries and daily stresses. Only to eventually forget all about them as you fortified yourselves within the comforting arms of the other; Sleeping more peacefully than either of you had in ages.

Bi-Han

Isn’t massive on cuddling, he doesn’t like anything that might portray him as weak or soft in the slightest.

A mindset he’s developed overtime, repressing any and all childish wants and desires he might’ve had at the earliest convenience. Not wanting any distractions on his road to power. Plus he’s cold in more ways than one because like Kuai Liang, due to his body temperature, it makes something seemingly easy as cuddling difficult all of a sudden.

Even if you did ask hypothetically what his favourite cuddling positions, Bi-Han would probably say ones that requires the least amount of contact on his end:

Back to back - so he can feel that you’re still there.

Back cuddles- you’re the one cuddling up against that broad back of his.

Shoulder to shoulder - same reason as back to back; knowing that you’re still with him.

Cuddling Bi-Han is…something and I don’t mean this negativity but it’s Bi-Han, what else can I say other than cold, rigid, and a little awkward? The man is on guard even in his sleep and cuddling him the way you do doesn’t necessarily help.

Besides that there’s some semblance of companionship when you press your back into his own. It felt as though you had each made a nonverbal pact to have each other’s back in your most vulnerable states; Something that naturally comes with a sense of trust being put in the other and Bi-Han isn’t one to trust blindly.

Cuddling Bi-Han maybe awkward and a little finicky due to the walls this man had put up in order to protect himself from everyone else, he oddly enough made you feel safe, he made you feel guarded and warm, which was weird considering how abnormally cold he was in every possible way. Yet you knew he held honour- or his version of it at least- highly, so you didn’t feel like you’d have to second guess his every actions because that wasn’t the type of man Bi-Han was…

Even though cuddling him was obviously something he wasn’t attuned to, he nonetheless made you feel regarded in his own special way.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang runs extremely warm, which could be considered overwhelming or perfect depending on the type of person you are, so whilst he likes contact; he likes to keep it minimal unless told otherwise.

He prioritises your comfortability over his own and understands that his abnormally body heat can be a bit too much at times. Outside of that he’s more than accepting of cuddling.

Kuai Liang’s top 3 favourite cuddling positions would have to be ones that were less on the physical context but unlike Bi-Han, it typically ends up with him cuddling you in some form of him protecting you:

Leg hug- incase you get overwhelmed by his body heat and need space but also wanting to keep touching some part him.

Face to face - this one’s a personal favourite of his because he loves waking up and falling asleep to your face.

Chest rest -the one where your heads on his chest and he’s keeping you in place with his arms.

Cuddling Kuai Liang is warm and secure because when you’re in his arms, feeling his warmth deep into you just as his arms tightened their grip, you’ve never felt more protected in your life then you did in Kuai Liang’s hold.

You never had to worry about being hurt, especially when Kuai Liang was there to shield you from all possible forms of harm; nor the way he always had his back facing towards the door so that if something were to happen then he was able to keep you safe with his body.

It was his duty to protect you, as he would often say whenever you asked him why this was.

You couldn’t act as though his declaration didn’t have your heart melting into a puddle.

So now you just allow his warmth to consume you like a thick, warm, weighted blanket that blocked out any and all cold that threatened to try and get to you; all the while you snuggled closer into him because despite every last part of you touching every last part of him wasn’t enough, you needed to be even closer to him. You wanted your souls to touch and feel the presence of the other but since you physically couldn’t do that, you settled for forehead touches instead. It was just as intimate after all.

[soggyriceee]

silly arguments , daryl dixon (18+)

hen you and daryl argued it was never for long. in this modern world, you both depended on each other. the idea of a walker coming and taking one of you, or another group even, was not worth a silly argument over who didn’t do the dishes last night.

you had brought out a new side of daryl, one that nobody in his group had seen. you both met when Ricks group arrived at Alexandria. you had already been there about a year at that point, found your own job, own place to sleep at night. you worked in the infirmary with Denise, passionate in medicine even before the world ended.

daryl noticed you the second he had his first visit. Deanna wanted his whole group to go get checked for any bugs, viruses, just make sure they’re in good general health. He took the first visit for granted, not really making much convo with you, barely even looking at you. You were the first woman to make him nervous. but the second time?

he went in for a stupid splinter, assuring Rick that he couldn’t get it out himself and needed to go in. it was just you and him, Denise on her lunch break. “you know for such a manly man, i’d expect you to handle this yourself.” you would poke fun, noticing the smallest smile tug his lips. “yea well.. guess i can’t.”

from that day on Daryl visited daily, whether he had a dilemma or not. on his fifth visit he would finally ask you “out”, planning on going to Carol for a recipient or something he could make for you.

and from that day on you both were insuperable. daryl checked on you before he went on runs and as soon as he got back. he would bring you small things he’d find, if anything. you loved each other a lot, it felt good to love someone nowadays.

again, your arguments were typically really small and you guys were talking again before bed. but this one?

daryl was badly hurt on a run, his arm gashed open. Rick did everything he could’ve done before they made it back to town. “yourw done going on those runs, until this is fully healed.” you said, stitching his arm in your shared bed. he scoffed, his free arm pressed against his eyes as he laid back. “y’know that’s an impossible ask.”

you looked to him, stopping the needle. “i’m serious. you cant risk another injury like this. it can get infected, you can lose your arm. we have supplies here Daryl but that doesn’t mean go and be careless.” “nobody was careless.” he’d spit back, “just stitch me up.”

and so you did, fighting back tears as you did so. you didn’t want to lose daryl. seeing him be so careless, so close to death, it gave you genuine anxiety. you didn’t know what you’d do without him. you felt safe when he was home, safe when you heard his snores as a result of his long day. going back to not having that made you feel sick.

you’d finish the last stitch, pushing yourself out the bed and out the bedroom. you’d hear him call after you, saying that this was stupid. but you couldn’t stop your feet from walking out the house.

when you’d come back the next morning, staying in the infirmary instead, Daryl was gone. Rick was around, as well as Michone and Glenn. Deanna never let them go on runs alone, so where exactly was daryl?

“yea we uh , we were actually looking for you.. thought y’may know.” Rick would say, shaking his head. your stomach dropped, eyes brimming with tears. “it’s okay.. we’re gonna go out and look for him.” Michone would reassure, placing her hand on your shoulder.

the rest of the day was full of nerves. you could barely focus on your work. when sun set hit and they still hadn’t come back, you began to feel the nerves times 10. you’d excuse yourself, rushing to the bathroom to puke at the idea of them coming back either without daryl, or with a dead daryl.

“go home.. get some rest. he’ll be back by the time you wake up i’m positive.” Denise would assure, “plus it’s only 30 away from closing. i’ll be good on my own.”

you didn’t eat when you got home. you went to shower and bed. you’re appetite was non existent if Daryl wasn’t here. you’d sob into your pillow, gripping onto his and pushing it into your chest. you needed him. stupid arguments, you regretted even leaving last night. now, the idea that that was you guys last convo haunted you even in your sleep…

it was about 3am, your house was dark and still. you’d finally fallen asleep, ignoring the throbbing paid you had in your head from crying. daryl pillow had been in your arms still, the faint smell of him relaxing ypu just enough.

you hadn’t heard the front door or bedroom door creak open, heavy boots making their way across the room. you hadn’t felt the dip in the bed, or the calloused hands gripping your hips. what you did feel, was the pillow being stripped from you, and replaced with something bigger.

your eyes shot open, meeting the top of daryl’s head. his face was in your chest, arms wrapped around you. he listened to your heartbeat, it calmed him. “d-daryl?” you’d almost scream.

he’d simply pull you closer, breathing in your scent. you laid frozen before squeezing him tighter. “m’sorry..” hee say into your chest.

your fingers would graze over his stitches, noticing how they were all still intact. a relief. “me too.. i shouldn’t have walked out.” you said, wiping the tears that lined your eyes. he shook his head, “nah.. you had every right too.. should’ve listened.”

his head would look up to you, his heart clenching at the sight of your puffy eyes. you’d smile softly, cupping his face with your hands. “please don’t leave again.”

he’d stare at you for a second, before pushing his lips against yours. swiftly, he’s on top of you, hands sliding under your shirt to grip your waist. your mouth opened, letting his tongue slide in. it was a sloppy, needy kiss. he regretted the hours he spent away from you, only to be at a nearby lake.

“m’not leaving baby ..” he’d say, breaking the kiss just to go right back. your hands found his shoulders, gripping them as his hands slid down your thighs.

you’d never wear pants to sleep, who really does? his hands cupped your cunt before he pressed his thumb right on yours clit. “m’so sorry too..” he’d pant, looking down to your eyes.

his thumb moved slow, gentle against yours panties. he’d huff as he watched your breathing pick up, your eyes squeeze shut.

he’d look down to the tent in his pants, his other hand beginning to work on solving that. spitting on the tip, his hand moved up and down slowly, groaning at the sensation.

“d-daryl-“ you’d whine, your hand going to grip his wrist. “yea?.. g’nna cum huh?” hed question, bucking his hips into his hand. you nodded, looking into his eyes, pupils so big.

you and daryl never had raw sex. in an apocalypse? hell no. you knew the infirmary had morning after pills, but you and daryl were both too nervous about the chance they didn’t work. so, condoms were a must for you both. but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t dream and touch himself to the thought of how your pussy felt for real.

his heart was pumping as he realized the opportunity he had, feeling his orgasm just on the edge. you looked so pretty, the moonlight shining right on your wet plump lips. he looked down at the wet spot that stained your panties. he saw how your legs began to shake, how you began to come undone.

he couldn’t help it! he’d whimper as he shoved your panties to the side, stuffing just his tip in you as you shook beneath him. your eyes would widen, frozen as you processed what was happening. but the view from below was just too hot too reject it.

he was a whimpering mess, holding the rest of his cock still as he shot his cum into you. his thumb kept working on your clit, riding your orgasm out but also giving him a better one. “f-fuck..” hed whimper, avoiding your gaze entirely as he slid out. he watched as his cum and yours leaked out of you, fuck it was hot.

it was quiet for a moment, before you spoke up. “i’ll get the pill first thing when i clock in then.” you weren’t mad, not at all. in fact, you wanted more. but you knew that this was risky enough, not wanting to test your luck anymore than Daryl’s already done for you ..

wooo my first daryl smut. id happily carry his baby tho idk idk idk