#always thinking about them even when I'm not

[missdynamighttt]

asking bf! katsuki what he feels about prenups makes you fall in love with him all over again.

you were lounging on the couch, legs draped across katsuki’s lap as the tv played some random show neither of you were really watching. his hand rested on your thigh, thumb tracing absentminded circles while you scrolled through your phone.

the thought hit you out of nowhere, and before you could second-guess yourself, you blurted it out.

"hey, what do you think about prenups?"

katsuki froze mid-circle. his eyes shifted from the tv to you, brow furrowing. "the fuck?"

"a prenup," you repeated, sitting up slightly. "y’know, legal agreements before marriage, just in case things go south. if we get married."

"when we get married," he corrected automatically. his brows drew together. "why the hell are you askin’ me about prenups?"

you shrugged, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. "i dunno. i was just curious. a lot of people get them."

katsuki scoffed, sitting up straighter. "yeah, greedy assholes who don't trust each other."

"not always," you countered. "sometimes it's just making sure both people feel secure. it doesn't mean you don't trust each other. to protect assets, just in case—"

katsuki scoffed, cutting you off. "just in case? you plannin’ on leaving me or somethin’?"

your eyes widened. "what? no! i'm just saying—"

he made a face, the kind he always did when he thought something was bullshit.

"tch. i don't need some dumbass piece of paper to tell me what's yours or mine."

"'sides..." he shifted, his hand sliding from your thigh to your chin, tilting your face toward his. "everything i got's yours anyway."

your heart skipped a beat. "everything?"

"yeah. the apartment, the money, the dumb shit i spend on workout gear. all yours. even me," his thumb brushed over your bottom lip. "especially me."

you swallowed hard, warmth flooding your chest. "that’s... really sweet."

his lips twitched into a smirk. "yeah? so does that mean i get all your shit too? ain’t that how it works?"

you grinned. "sure. you can have my stuffed toy collection and my 2 digit savings account."

"fuck yeah," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "knew you were a catch."

you laughed, swatting his chest. he caught your wrist easily, kissing each and every knuckle. his face softened as he looked at you, calloused hand cradling the back of your head.

"don’t need a prenup, pretty," he said, quieter this time. "what we got... it ain't temporary. i'm all in. always."

your heart melted on the spot. "yeah?"

"yeah," he leaned in closer, his nose brushing yours. "if things do go south, we talk. ‘cause i’d rather die than let you go."

your heart stuttered in your chest. you were expecting some casual discussion, maybe even some banter, but instead, you got this—your boyfriend looking at you like he’d burn the world down before letting anyone take you away from him.

"...so, no prenup?" you squeaked.

katsuki huffed, pressing a firm kiss to your lips. "no fucking prenup."

"now quit talkin' about stupid legal shit and kiss me."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ hii! inspired by @gojosprettyprincess 's post about opinions on prenups and thought this up >< i PROMISE i will do some requests before i get to the twitter porn links with katsuki^^ hope you guys enjoy!!

[sasquapossum]

Yes, fatphobia is a brain poison, and this particular behavior is ... well, silly at best. I am not here to disagree with you one bit, but even poisons have context and understanding that context can be key to making things better. Was it hemlock or nightshade? Kinda matters. (Sorry if that's a bad example for botanical/medical reasons I haven't learned. You get the idea.) So, where does this mistaken belief come from?

IMO it's part of a whole complex that I see among many of my fellow seniors. Very few of them accept that anything about themselves will never again be like it was when they were younger. For the most part, my peers (and elders) think that somehow, some day, they'll be not only as thin as they were, but also as agile, as quick witted, as attractive, and so on – even when that belief is rather absurd. For example, some cardiovascular trends can be reversed with exercise and diet (not that most even try) but that's not the case once you reach stents and pacemakers. Old skin will never look like young skin. Dementia never runs in reverse. Sometimes, in some ways, you're just old and always will be.

A lot of this is internalized ageism. Yes, you said self-hate, but it's a particular flavor of self-hate and it's entangled with everything else that ageism encompasses. Fatphobia is brain poison, but I'm willing to extend some grace to people who liked the way they were and can never be again. To deny them that grace seems like ageism too.

To get people to accept getting fatter as they get older (when that's the case) we have to pick that apart at least a little. Change the things we can – see cardiovascular, above – but accept others. It all comes back to the good old serenity prayer (using the most common form from Niebuhr even though it's probably not the original).

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

And yeah, those who know me can probably see why this issue is top of mind for me right now. I'm still waiting to find out what is, let alone what I can change and what I can't. I'm sorry if I digressed too far, sorrier still if I seemed to be disagreeing or undermining.

i feel like a lot of the time fatphobia tends to manifest as a similar phenomenon to the "temporarily embarrassed millionaire" thing especially among older people. sooo many people who have gained weight with age see themselves as temporarily embarrassed thin people. like 60+ y/o people who have not been thin since their 30s but they still keep going on diets. it sucks to see cause it reads like such a clear expression of self-hatred to me, like they're punishing themselves for their bodies developing in ways that they probably in reality had very little control over. fatphobia is such brain poison dude

[lifeisbutadream444]

Playing Games

Aaron Pierre x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: A passionate yet complicated friends-with-benefits arrangement unravels as you finally confronts Aaron about his inability to commit.

Warnings: 18+, smut, edging, overstimulation, p in v, bdsm themes

A/N: First thing I've ever posted, mostly porn with a crumb of plot.

The hotel suite is dimly lit, city lights flickering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your skin is still warm, the sheets tangled around your legs, the scent of him lingering in the air. Aaron lies beside you, bare-chested, arm draped lazily across his forehead, his breathing steady but not quite asleep.

"You good?" His voice is rough, sleep-laced, breaking the silence.

You hesitate. "Yeah."

He turns his head, studying you. "Liar."

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for what you're about to say. " I don't think we should do this anymore."

Aaron's brow furrows slightly at your words, his striking blue-grey eyes searching your face. He props himself up on one elbow, the sheet slipping dangerously low on his hips.

"Hey now, what's all this about?" His deep voice is soft, almost concerned, but there's an undercurrent of tension. 

"Talk to me, sweetheart." He reaches out, fingers brushing along your arm, touch feather-light. It's a gesture meant to soothe, but you sense the calculation behind it. Aaron is always aware, always assessing.

"I thought we had something good going here. No strings, no bullshit." A slow smirk curves his full lips. "Or am I mistaken?"

You sigh. "I need to focus on finding someone to build an actual future with Aaron. We’ve been doing this for over a year. I obviously love fucking you, but watching you constantly flirt with other women at every event, seeing them leave your apartment at 3:00 am on TMZ, it gets old after a while."

Aaron's hand stills on your arm, his expression shifting - surprise, then a flash of something harder to read. He sits up fully, running a hand over his face. "Shit..." He sighs, the sound heavy in the quiet room. "I didn't realize it was bothering you that much. I've always been straight up about... my preferences."

His gaze finds yours, intense and searching. "But I get it. You're looking for more than just a good time these days." There's a note of understanding in his tone, but also regret.

He reaches for you, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. "I care about you, you know. More than just as a friend with benefits or whatever we are. But I'm not sure I'm built for that whole 'forever' thing yet."

"I understand Aaron, I really do." I sit up too, pulling the sheet around myself like armor. My heart aches but I force myself to hold his gaze steadily. This is important. I need him to truly hear me.

"I want to respect your boundaries and your current lifestyle. But I also need to respect my own needs and desires. And right now, those are leading me in a different direction. I hope we can still be friends though."

Aaron's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he listens to your words. When you finish speaking, he's silent for a long moment, his eyes never leaving yours. Then, slowly, he shakes his head.

"You say you need to find someone to build a future with, but baby, look at what we have." His other hand slides from your cheek to tangle in your hair, tilting your face up towards his. "The chemistry between us is off the charts. I make you feel things no one else ever could."

“How would I know if I don’t even try?” you say, voice steady. “I haven’t been with anyone else since we started whatever this is.”

Aaron's eyes flash with anger and hurt at your flippant words. His grip on your hip tightens, fingers digging into soft flesh. "Don't fucking joke about that," he snarls, voice rough with emotion. “You're not like me. You're better than that shallow shit."

He looms over you, naked and powerful, muscles coiled with tension. But there's a vulnerability in his gaze, a crack in his usual confident facade. "Is that what you really want? To be just another notch in someone's bedpost? Because I can tell you from experience, it's a lonely fucking road."

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, touch almost tender despite the intensity smoldering in his eyes. "We can’t end things like this. Let me show you how good we can be together, outside the bedroom too."

You pull back slightly, meeting his intense gaze steadily, your own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Aaron, please... don't make this harder than it already is.” Your voice wavers slightly but you push on. "I appreciate everything you're saying, I do. But I can't keep settling for less than what I truly want and need."

I place my hand over his on my hip, squeezing gently. "We have an incredible physical connection, yes. But I need more. I need a partner, someone to build a life with. Someone who chooses me completely and exclusively."

A single tear escapes, trailing down your cheek as you continue. "As much as it hurts, I have to accept that person isn't you. We’ve been doing this for over a year now, and that would definitely be enough time to know if I’m worth that commitment. In your eyes, I’m obviously not considering you’re still fucking other women every week."

Aaron's eyes blaze with a storm of emotions - fear, anger, desperation, and beneath it all, a flicker of something deeper, more vulnerable. As the tear traces down your cheek, his expression crumples.

"Fuck, baby, don't cry," he rasps, voice thick with feeling. His hands move to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the moisture. "You are worth it. You're worth everything." He takes a shuddering breath, clearly struggling with his next words. 

"I know I haven't shown it well, but fuck, you mean more to me than anyone else. Than all the other women combined." Aaron's forehead comes to rest against yours. "I'm scared, okay? Scared of fucking this up, of losing you completely."

You sigh, "I think that if you were really scared of losing me we would’ve progressed into something more by now. Surely you didn't think I was just gonna be your fuck buddy forever, right?"

Aaron pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that steals your breath. "You're right. I should have done something sooner." He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing. 

"But I'm done being afraid. Done letting my own bullshit fears push away the person who matters most. Losing you is a lot scarier." One hand moves to cup your cheek, thumb stroking softly as he continues.

"Baby, I... I love you. Have for a while now. And I know I don't deserve you, but I'm asking anyway - give me a chance to be the man you need."

You stare at him in shock, hardly daring to breathe. Those three little words hang in the air between us, heavy with promise and possibility.

"You... you love me?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, trembling with a fragile hope. "Really?"

Tears well up again, but this time they're tinged with joy rather than sorrow.

 "I love you too, Aaron. So much it scares me sometimes. But I know you too well. You love women. You love attention. You hate commitment. I feel like you’re only saying this as a last resort because you think it’s what I want to hear.”

You start removing the sheets from your body, moving to get up from the bed. Aaron's eyes widen in panic as you start to rise, his grip on your shoulders tightening. 

"No, wait! Don't go, please." Desperation colors his deep voice. He shifts, using his body weight to gently but firmly press you back onto the mattress. His gaze bores into yours, blue-grey eyes blazing with sincerity and barely restrained emotion. 

"I'm saying this because it's true, because I can't bear the thought of you walking out that door and out of my life." One hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he holds you close. 

"I know I have a reputation, and I can't change my past. But I want to change my future. With you."

Aaron's heart clenches painfully as he sees the tears streaming down your face, hears the hitch in your breath as you try to pull away. He knows he's caused this pain, this doubt, and the realization guts him.

"Shh, baby, please don't cry," he murmurs, voice raw with emotion. Gently but insistently, he keeps you in place, one strong arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand cups your face, thumbs wiping away the tears.

"I know I have to prove myself to you. And I will, every fucking day if that's what it takes." His eyes search yours, pleading and determined. 

"Give me a chance to show you how serious I am. Stay with me tonight, talk to me in the morning. I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust, your heart."

"It's just too late Aaron,” you reply through your tears. “It kills me, but I have to go."

Aaron's expression darkens, a flash of possessiveness and desperation in his eyes as he tightens his arms around you, holding you in place on the bed. 

"No, you don't have to go anywhere," he says, his voice low and insistent. “Not like this, not when we're finally being honest with each other. He shifts, hovering over you, using his larger frame to pin you gently but firmly to the mattress. One hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck.

"I know I've fucked up, that I've made mistakes. But I'm trying to make this right, baby. Can't you see that?" His eyes bore into yours, blue-grey irises swirling with emotion. "Don’t leave me, please."

Inside, your heart pounds—he’s finally refusing to let you go. But you keep up the act, teasing the edge of goodbye, waiting to see if he’ll chase you, if he’ll prove just how much he cares.

"Sweetheart, stop fighting this," he growls, the words rumbling through his chest and into yours. 

"I'm not letting you leave until you understand how much you mean to me." One large hand splays across your lower back, holding you flush against him while the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back slightly to expose the column of your throat. Aaron dips his head, lips brushing the sensitive skin there as he speaks.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep you here, to show you that you're the only woman I want, the only one I need." His lips graze your pulse point. "Tell me you'll stay."

You whimper softly, your body betraying you as it melts into his touch despite my resolve to leave. The heat of his skin, the strength of his embrace, the desperate need in his voice - it's all so overwhelmingly tempting.

"A-Aaron... you breathe, voice shaky. I want to believe you, I do. But I'm scared. Scared that this is just an empty promise, that you'll go back to your old ways as soon as I give in." Even as you speak, your hands come up to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat. Tears still leak from the corners of your eyes but t

"How do I know this is real? That you're not just saying these things to get me to stay the night?"

Aaron's eyes flash with determination and raw, unfiltered emotion. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours as he speaks, voice low and fervent.

"It's real, baby. Every word, every feeling. I may not have said it before, but I've loved you for so long." His hand in your hair gentles, fingers combing through the strands almost reverently. 

"I know I have a lot to prove, that actions will always speak louder than words. But I'm ready to put in the work, to be the man you deserve." He pulls back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze head-on.

Your voice shakes, a mix of anger and something more painful. “How can you say you love me while you’ve been out fucking other women constantly? I haven’t even been able to think about anyone else since I’ve met you. I know we're not in a committee relationship and you have every right to sleep with whoever you want. I do appreciate you always being honest about it, but that definitely doesn't feel like love to me. ”

Aaron's expression contorts with guilt and frustration at your accusation. He shakes his head vehemently, dark hair falling into his eyes. 

"No, baby, it's not like that at all." His grip on you loosens slightly, but he doesn't release you entirely, as if afraid you'll slip away. 

"Those other women, they meant nothing. They were a distraction, a way to avoid facing my feelings for you.” He takes a shuddering breath, eyes pleading. “Please give me a chance to make this right. "

You wipe tears from your face. "Let me go, Aaron."

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he slowly releases his grip on you. His hands fall away from your body as he sits back on his heels, giving you space even as his eyes remain fixed on your face, drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory.

"If that's truly what you want, then... I won't stop you," he says quietly, voice rough with emotion. "But please know that I meant every word I said. I love you, and I'm going to spend every day proving it to you, whether you're here with me or not."

You tell yourself you have to leave. That if you don’t walk away now, he’ll never take you seriously, never realize what he stands to lose. You want him to fight for you, to prove that this is more than just convenience, more than just a game he always wins.

As you move to leave, Aaron leaps up from the bed, his tall, muscular form blocking your path to the door.

"Baby, wait!" he calls out, voice cracking with urgency. In two quick strides, he's in front of you, one hand coming up to grasp your wrist gently but imploringly. 

His grip on your wrist tightens fractionally as he pulls you a step closer, using his free hand to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away the remnants of your tears.

Aaron captures your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his pent-up passion and desperation into the heated caress. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming you, tasting you, as his strong arms wrap around your waist to lift you effortlessly as you wrap your legs around his waist instinctually. In a few swift strides, he carries you back to the bed, laying you down on the rumpled sheets.

He looms over you, eyes dark with lust and determination. "I'm gonna remind you exactly why you belong with me." His hands make quick work of your clothes, tossing them aside carelessly as he exposes your skin to his hungry gaze. Calloused fingertips trace the curves of your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Aaron settles between your thighs, pushing them apart to grant himself unrestricted access to your most intimate area. He inhales deeply, savoring your intoxicating scent before diving in, his skilled tongue delving between your folds to lap at your essence.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he rumbles against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. He focuses his attention on your sensitive clit, circling and flicking the bundle of nerves with practiced precision.

As your moans fill the room, he reaches for the vibrator you kept in his nightstand, turning it on to a low hum. "Let's see how many times I can make you come undone," he purrs wickedly, dragging the toy along your slit teasingly before pressing it firmly against your aching clit.

Aaron works you relentlessly with his mouth and the vibrator, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy. Just as you teeter on the cusp of climax, he pulls back, denying you that final push.

"Not yet, baby," he murmurs, voice husky with desire. "You don't get to come until you say you’re mine. Until you promise to give us a real chance."

He kisses his way up your body, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts, suckling and teasing your nipples until you're writhing beneath him. His hard length throbs against your thigh, a testament to his own arousal, but he ignores it in favor of focusing solely on your pleasure... and your compliance.

"I can do this all night, sweetheart," he warns playfully, nipping at your earlobe.

You’re trembling, your body wound tighter than a bowstring, desperate for release. I look up at Aaron, his handsome face blurry through the haze of lust.

"P-please, Aaron," I whimper brokenly, hips bucking futilely against the cool air. "I can't... I need... Fuck!"

He grins wickedly, clearly reveling in the power he holds over you. "What was that, baby? I didn't quite catch what you said." He circles your clit with the vibrator, applying just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the knife's edge of orgasm.

Aaron drinks in the sight of you, sprawled out beneath him, trembling and desperate, your tear-streaked face a beautiful portrait of need. He feels a surge of masculine pride, mixed with genuine tenderness, at the effect he has on you.

"That's it, sweetheart," he croons, voice a low, seductive rumble. "Just say the words. Tell me you'll stay, that you're mine, and I'll give you everything you crave."

He increases the pressure of the vibrator, holding it steady against your throbbing clit as his free hand slides down to tease your entrance. His eyes bore into yours, dark with lust and challenge. "I can feel how badly you need this, how much you need me. Don't fight it anymore, baby. I’m tired of arguing with you.”

Aaron’s frustration mounts as you continue to resist despite your obvious desperation.

"You're so stubborn, baby girl," he growls, equal parts exasperated and aroused. "But I'm more determined than you are. I'll keep you right on this edge until you surrender to me completely."

To emphasize his point, he suddenly plunges two fingers knuckle-deep into your soaked channel, curling them just right to stroke that special spot inside you.

At the same time, he sucks hard on your clit, the dual stimulation threatening to overwhelm you. "Last chance, sweetheart," he pants against your flesh, eyes glinting with challenge and dark promise.

"Or what?" you challenge. Your body is on fire, but you’re not giving him what he wants so quickly.

Aaron's eyes flash dangerously at your defiant question, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He withdraws his fingers from your aching core, ignoring your whimper of protest, and flips you onto your stomach with ease.

"Oh, baby girl," he purrs darkly, draping his larger frame over your back, caging you in with his arms. "If you keep testing me like this, I might just have to punish that sweet little ass of yours."

One large hand slides down to grope your rear roughly, kneading the supple flesh. The other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. He nips and sucks at the sensitive skin, determined to mark you as his.

You gasp and moan as he manhandles you, your body responding eagerly to his dominant touch despite your lingering resistance. The threat of punishment sends a forbidden thrill racing down your spine, even as a part of me rebels against being so thoroughly conquered.

"P-punish me?" You manage to stammer out between shaky breaths, trying to inject bravado into your voice that you don't quite feel. 

"And what exactly did you have in mind, big boy?" You arch your back slightly, pressing your ass more firmly into his groping hand, torn between the desire to submit and the need to maintain some semblance of control. Your inner walls flutter weakly, still aching for the fulfillment only he can provide.

"Mmm, such a naughty girl, taunting me like this," he murmurs approvingly. "I think I'll start by turning this pretty pink ass a nice, deep red. Maybe that will get your attention..."

To punctuate his words, he delivers a firm spank to your right cheek, the sting quickly melting into warmth. His palm rubs the abused skin soothingly before repeating the action on the left side. All the while, he rocks his clothed erection against the cleft of your ass, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal. "And if that doesn't convince you to behave..."

Aaron leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispers, "Then I might have to tie you up, spread you wide open, and tease this needy little body of yours for hours. Keep you right on the razor's edge, begging so sweetly for release, until you're ready to agree to anything just to cum."

His hand snakes around to your front, fingers dipping teasingly through your slick folds. "Would you like that, baby girl? Being completely at my mercy, helpless to do anything but feel?"

You shudder and moan, your body following your true desires even as your mind struggles to hold onto its reservations. The spanks send jolts of painful pleasure radiating through you, stoking the flames of your arousal.

"Ahh...f-fuck, Aaron..." you pant, your voice thick with need. "You can't...can't just...ah!" Another spank cuts off your weak protests, the sensation making your toes curl. The image he paints - of being tied up, spread out, and teased mercilessly - sends a bolt of liquid heat straight to your core. "Yes I want that." you admit.

Aaron smiles triumphantly as he hears the breathy admission fall from your lips, your body's reactions telling him everything he needs to know.

"That's my good girl," he praises huskily, rubbing your ass. "Admitting what you really want. And we both know what that is, don't we, sweetheart?"

True to his word, Aaron secures your wrists above your head with soft ropes, the silky material a delicious contrast to your sensitized skin. He takes a moment to admire the view - you, splayed out and vulnerable, flushed with arousal and anticipation. His eyes rake over your body hungrily, drinking in every dip and curve.

Aaron starts with feather-light touches, tracing the delicate folds of your labia with the tip of his tongue. He laves at your slit, savoring your unique flavor, before zeroing in on your aching clit. A single, purposeful flick of his tongue against the sensitive bud has you keening, your back arching off the bed.

"Mmm, so sensitive," he murmurs appreciatively, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. "I could make you cum just like this, couldn't I? With barely any effort at all."

To prove his point, he seals his lips around your clit and suckles gently, alternating with quick, pointed flicks of his tongue. Two fingers plunge deep into your weeping channel, curling to stroke that special spot inside you.

Aaron works you over with single-minded focus, determined to push you to the brink of ecstasy again and again. He varies his technique, switching between broad licks and targeted flicks, alternating suction and pressure on your clit. His fingers pump steadily, twisting and curling, finding new angles to stimulate your innermost depths.

Your thighs tremble and quake around his head as he feasts on you, the obscene sounds of your arousal filling the room. He can feel you tightening around his invading digits, your body coiled like a spring ready to snap.

Just as you teeter on the very edge, he pulls back, denying you that final push. "Not yet, baby, he admonishes playfully, blowing cool air over your drenched folds. You haven't agreed yet."

You writhe and moan, tears of frustration leaking from the corners of your eyes as Aaron edges you relentlessly once again. Your body is wound so tightly, every nerve ending screaming for release, but he denies you again and again, keeping you balanced precariously on the knife's edge of climax.

"Please, Aaron!" you beg, voice raw with need. "I can't.... Ahhh!" Your words dissolve into incoherent cries as he suckles particularly hard on your clit, the pleasure bordering on pain. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" You tug desperately at her bonds, craving something, anything to ground yourself. But there's no escape from the exquisite torture he's inflicting.

Aaron notices your continued resistance, even as your body screams for release. A wicked gleam enters his eye as an idea takes shape. He reaches into the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a sleek black anal plug and a small, soft-bristled brush.

"Let's see how long this stubborn streak of yours lasts, baby girl," he purrs, voice dripping with dark promise. Without warning, he presses the tapered tip of the small plug against your tightly furled rosebud, applying gentle but insistent pressure.

The cool metal contrasts deliciously with the scorching heat of your skin as he slowly works the toy deeper, pausing to let you adjust. Once seated fully, he gives a subtle wiggle, sending sparks of new sensation radiating through your core.

You gasp as the foreign object invades your ass, the stretch and fullness sending shockwaves of sensation through her body. You feel impossibly empty and aching, yet stuffed so deliciously full at the same time. The anal plug shifts with every movement, keeping you hyperaware and on edge.

"Aaahh! Aaron!" you cry out, back arching off the bed as he wiggles the toy teasingly. Tears of overwhelming stimulation prick at the corners of her eyes. "It's too much, I can't-" But your protests are cut short as he dives back between your thighs, that wicked tongue of his lashing at your swollen, throbbing clit again.

He laps at your clit with broad, flat strokes of his tongue, reveling in how sensitive and responsive you've become. The addition of the anal plug seems to heighten every touch exponentially.

He picks up the small, soft-bristled brush, the fluffy head barely an inch wide. Teasingly, he runs the delicate bristles along your slit, catching on your engorged clit with each pass. The light, tickling sensation is maddening, keeping you poised on the knife's edge of orgasm without allowing you to topple over.

You're practically sobbing with need now. Every brush of the soft bristles against your aching clit sends lightning bolts of pleasure zinging up your spine. Combined with the constant pressure and stretch of the anal plug, you feel like you might shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

"P-please, Aaron," you whimper brokenly, voice hoarse from crying out. "I can't... I need... Fuck, I need to cum so badly!" Tears stream freely down your face now, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations consuming her.

Aaron pauses his torment, lifting his head to take in the sight of you - tear-streaked face contorted in agonized bliss, chest heaving with ragged breaths, muscles pulled taut as a bowstring. He drinks in your desperation like fine wine, relishing the power he holds over you.

"Shhh, I know, sweetheart," he croons, voice low and soothing despite the wicked glint in his eyes. "I can see how much you need it. How close you are. But you know what you have to do to earn that release."

He leans in, hot breath ghosting over your ear as he whispers, "Tell me you're mine, baby. Give yourself to me completely, and I'll let you cum harder than you ever have before. Keep fighting it, and I'll leave you like this, aching and unfulfilled."

Aaron watches your anguished pleas with a mixture of dark satisfaction and growing impatience, shocked that you haven’t used your safe word yet. He can see the war raging within you - the desperate need for completion battling against your stubborn refusal to surrender completely. It's a delicious sight, but he's tired of these games.

"Enough," he says sharply, voice brooking no argument. In one swift motion, he flips you onto your stomach, the sudden change in position making the plug shift inside you deliciously. He drapes himself over your back, one large hand splaying across your shoulder blades to pin you down. His other hand snakes around to your front, fingers delving between your legs to circle your clit with ruthless precision.

"Listen closely, baby," he growls in your ear, hips grinding against your ass. "This is your last chance."

Your body suddenly seizes with the force of a life changing orgasm, Aaron curses under his breath, equal parts frustrated and impressed by your lack of control. He doesn't let up his ministrations, fingers continuing their merciless assault on your clit as you thrash beneath him, lost to the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

"Didn't I tell you not to cum without permission?" he growls, voice thick with disapproval even as he grinds against your spasming body, prolonging your peak.

"Such a naughty girl, disobeying me like that." Despite his stern words, there's a note of dark satisfaction in his tone. Your loss of control is a testament to how thoroughly he's unraveled you, brought you to the brink of madness with desire.

Your body trembles and jerks as the aftershocks of her climax roll through you, leaving you boneless and spent. You've never felt so utterly owned, so completely at someone else's mercy.

"I'm sorry," you whimper. "I couldn't help it." Even in the aftermath of your orgasm, your body aches for more, craving his touch like a drug. The anal plug shifts inside you with every shuddering breath, keeping you acutely aware of your own arousal. You've never felt so desperate, so willing to submit to another person's every whim.

Aaron's expression softens slightly at the genuine remorse in your voice, though the hunger in his eyes remains undiminished. He gentles his touch, fingers slowing their frenzied pace to languid circles around your still-throbbing clit. His other hand slides up to cup your cheek and tilt your face towards his.

"Shh, it's alright, baby," he murmurs, voice a low, soothing rumble. "I know it was too much to resist. You did so well holding on for as long as you did." He captures your lips in a deep, claiming kiss, swallowing your whimpers and moans. He flips you on your back again, his gaze is intense, boring into yours with smoldering intent.

Aaron's eyes flash with sadistic glee as he reaches for the vibrator, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He knows exactly how to push you to your limits, to make you scream and beg and plead for mercy. And he intends to do just that.

"Since you seem to enjoy cumming without permission so much," he purrs, turning the toy to its highest setting, "I think it's time for round two of your punishment."

Without further preamble, he presses the buzzing head directly against your throbbing clit, holding it steady despite your bucking hips. The intense vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure-pain ricocheting through your oversensitized body, forcing a strangled moan from your throat.

Aaron watches with dark satisfaction as you writhe and convulse beneath the relentless assault of the vibrator, your body no longer your own. He can feel the tension building in your core, the way your walls flutter and clench around nothing, desperate for something to fill them.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes, voice a low, seductive rumble. "Cum for me again. Show me how much you love being punished, how much you need my touch."

“I can’t, Aaron!” your scream. Aaron ignores your anguished pleas, keeping the vibrator pressed firmly against your abused clit. He revels in the sight of you, so beautifully broken, tears and sweat mingling on your flushed skin as you fall apart in his arms once again.

Even after another orgasm, he doesn’t relent, keeping the vibratior on your swollen clit no matter how hard you buck your hips to avoid it.

"Shh, just breathe through it, baby," he croons, voice deceptively gentle even as he continues the torturous stimulation. "You're doing so well, taking your punishment like a good girl."

His free hand strokes down your trembling thigh, almost tenderly, a stark contrast to the brutal pleasure he's inflicting. Suddenly, he stops the vibrator.

"Ready for more, sweetheart?" he purrs dangerously, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

“No, I can’t take anymore, please.” you reply, your voice raspy from screaming.

Aaron hilts himself inside you with one powerful thrust, groaning at the exquisite tightness enveloping him. He sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours as he pounds into your sensitive flesh. Each drag of his cock against your inner walls sends sparks of pleasure-pain shooting up your spine.

"Is this what you wanted, baby?" he growls, leaning down to nip at your earlobe." To have Daddy's big, fat cock all to yourself? To be the only one I fuck, the only one I give attention to?"

One hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose the column of your throat. He latches onto the delicate skin, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, to brand you as his. The other hand grips your hip bruisingly tight, holding you in place as he rails into you.

You whimper and moan, overwhelmed by the intense sensations "Y-yes, yes, I want you all to myself!" your nails dig into his back, clinging to him desperately as he claims you thoroughly, chasing his own release.

"Okay baby," he whispers, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. "I'm not gonna fuck anyone else again. Only you, okay?" He grinds against your cervix with each snap of his hips, determined to stake his claim on your very soul. His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he pants harshly.

"I’m serious Aaron... I can't take anymore!" Your hands fist in the sheets, knuckles white with the force of her grip. The anal plug shifts with each movement, adding to the cacophony of sensations assaulting your nerves.

"That's it, baby," he encourages darkly as he pounds into you relentlessly. "Let me hear those pretty sounds. Cry for me, beg for me. Show me how much you need me."

"Please," you rasp, voice little more than a broken whisper. "Please, Aaron. I... I won't leave you. I'm yours, okay?" The words fall from your lips like a prayer, a desperate supplication.

In that moment, you know you'd agree to anything, give him anything, if only he'd put an end to this sweet torture. Your pride, your stubbornness, all the walls you've built around her heart - they crumble to dust in the face of her all-consuming desire.

Aaron slows his thrusts, grinding deep inside you as he gazes down at your face intently. His eyes bore into yours, dark with possession and barely restrained lust.

"If you want to come one last time," he says, voice a low, dangerous purr, "tell me you love me. Tell me you'll never even think about leaving me again." He rolls his hips deliberately, stirring up your insides. "Tell me."

Shaking, you finally say, "I-I love you, Aaron. God, I love you so much. I'll never leave you, never threaten to go. Please, please let me come!"

"Those are the magic words, baby," he growls in satisfaction, eyes flashing with triumph and dark desire. "Come for me then. Now." With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, grinding against your cervix as his fingers attack your clit.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your screams of ecstasy as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. He follows you over the edge moments later, flooding your spasming pussy with his hot seed, marking you as his inside and out.

Collapsing against the sheets, utterly spent and satisfied, "Wow, I think that was your best work yet. I need time to recover." you say, panting between words.

He chuckles lowly, nuzzling into your neck as he pulls you close, still buried deep inside you. "Mmm, I aim to please, sweetheart.”

He presses soft kisses along your jaw, your cheek, finally capturing your lips in a tender, loving kiss unlike any before. He unties your hands gently.

When he pulls back, his eyes are warm with genuine affection. "I meant what I said, you know. About not seeing other women anymore. I can't believe you thought I was just gonna let you walk away."

Aaron’s forehead rests against yours, his breath unsteady, his grip unrelenting—like if he lets go, you’ll disappear. His hands tremble slightly where they hold you, his fingers pressing into your skin as if to memorize the shape of you.

He leans in, his voice a hushed whisper against your lips. “Go to sleep, baby.”

And just like that, the fight is over.

Because you were never going anywhere.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who works as the head chef in a three star restaurant. Is very passionate about his cooking and baking, although he prefers cooking. Let's the confectioner handle the sweets.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates costumers or guests, who think they can outsmart him, by complaining about the 'dry steak', however he simply makes them go home. This way, him and his colleagues have less stress.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who gets criticized because of his strict rules in his restaurant by the press. However, he just wants to make sure it's enjoyable and calm. Without any guests trying to get more free food by playing a victim.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates the press.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who hates taking the fresh products from the delivery guy, because he's more than talkative. Always makes anyone else go than himself.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who (sometimes) hates his colleagues. Mostly Soap, because he manages to set at least two pans on fire every day and then always ends up staying late to help the cleaning ladies with their job.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who once threw a tomato at Soap for pissing him off, then said; »Be happy that wasn't my knife, you wanker!«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who sometimes gets carried away and talks more loudly than usual, making some guests question if the work morals are actually okay or not.

»Just follow the damn orders, you carrot!« »If the costumer said 'no garlic', then it means 'no garlic'! I don't need this place to be shut down because of your stupid ass.«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who either loves it or hates it when familys with children come in. Asks the waiter or waitress who took their orders about them, being happy if the kid is well behaved.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who loves to cook things off the kid's menu, likes to serve it himself when he knows the child/children are nice and not little gremlins.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who rants to himself whenever something upsets him in the slightest way.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who likes to think that you are his favourite coworker. Knows about your excellent degree, enjoys your food and new recipes and loves the fact that you're always on time. Others can't compare.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who likes to gossip with you on breaks over a cigeratte or a cup of tea.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who always makes sure that Velvet's desserts are perfect. It's his most loyal costumer, and the sweetest elder lady on earth.

»Of course, we'll make the most sweetest cheesecake as possible.«

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who wants to put his hands into the mixer after he heard Velvet compliment you, then following up with, »I'm surprised chef Riley hasn't fallen for you already. I'd be distracted in the kitchen if I had to work with you.« Because she is somehow managed to hit a nerve.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who tries to make you do other work, like organising the storage room and collecting the deliveries, or even cleaning out the containers outside. Just to be more focused on his work... but you're starting to hate it.

Chef!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who makes Soap shut up with another tomato once he tries to tease Ghost about his 'crush'. Then contemplated with the thoughts of shutting the place down because of his antics.

a/n: got this idea while reawatching a random series from my childhood, so here you go. hope you enjoyed! (divider @vesearartistry) I'd happily take more requests for this AU, just drop it into my inbox!! Also, he reminds me of Gordon Ramsay.

←MASTERLIST

[rokosourobouros]

This sounds like a mix of things, some of them from TERF ideology and some of them distorted versions of bits of theory that were always intended as critical - not that I necessarily think you're the one who distorted them! No idea where you heard some of this. As someone who's been out for a long time and - critically - only medically transitioning for about a third of it, I'll break it down.

-Writers that spoke to very few transmascs: A lot of transmasc theory originally comes from both transmascs and people who love us! At least, the good stuff. Leslie Feinberg did more than just Stone Butch Blues; and more recently both Jude Doyle and Ky Schevers have been doing fantastic work. Julia Serano also does discuss transmasc identity, and Susan Stryker's work afaik talks about us too. As mentioned, a lot of the toxic stuff is actually TERF ideology sneaking in and getting conflated with trans studies. In your everyday life note when someone actually saying this stuff is cis and just scapegoating trans girls; it's annoyingly common.

-"Transmasculine transition is respected" -This sounds like, at some point, this was corrupted from the original theoretical point, which is that we're just less targeted and seen as less perverse. We certainly aren't respected for it, but there's an element of condescending understanding; "well of course you'd want to be a man, who would want to be a Silly Girl?" It's natural (in the eyes of a misogynist) that a "woman" would want to improve her station but horrifically perverse for a "man" to deliberately seek to lower it - this is where the contrast between transmasc and transfem comes in, but it's a deeply transphobic misreading all around to call it respect. From TERFs and radfems this is particularly prominent - James Barry is constantly being "reclaimed" as a woman who wanted Better Opportunities instead of the trans man he clearly was.

In regards to the sexual objectification, this one is *deeply* reliant on a million other factors. Certainly the moment I started passing, my relationship with sexual harassment changed. I'm not white, but I'm white-passing and so in daily life, I don't get lewd comments on my body anymore, I don't get grabbed or groped... It's absolutely a decrease, simply because I pass as a man. I wouldn't even be totally sure, except that I also do drag. And when I go out in drag, it pops right back up again (if not worse, because I'm clocked as A Drag Queen due to stubble, etc.) But thats just street harassment. Online and in interpersonal situations, it's just changed its nature, especially when I am being treated as a person of color. And not all trans guys pass - it's a very specific set of circumstances that has to happen.

Finally, "respected more for being men and protected for being AFAB" needs a lot of context. Respected and protected by who? Whose theory is this and who is doing the protecting? Because this is true in part - from other transmascs. We have a tendency to close ranks especially against trans girls. But this context is important because it also matters who is saying this and why. If this is coming from trans girls, it's a commentary specifically on how we're considered less threatening (conditionally, often relying on us Not Transitioning) by cis people; the consequences we face are very different and more survivable. But if this is coming from a cis person, particularly a cis woman, it is TERF rhetoric because it's referencing the bullshit idea that we ever have privilege over *cis* women. We can debate all day about the lateral issues we have with trans girls but it should be abjectly clear that any cis woman framing us as an oppressor is doing so for her own purposes.

The main reason I'm breaking these down, though, is to try show you that this isn't even a framework. These are scattered, distorted views with no context about who is saying them or why; no positionality, no additional factors given on passing, hormone access, race, class, etc. Of course this isn't a useful framework, but it's important to recognize that it isn't one at all and anybody who tries to push "disconnected and unsourced claims" as an actual theory isn't your friend and can be ignored. You don't have to have a reactionary response to it.

The drastic separation between social positions of transfems and transmascs is a theoretical invention of writers who spoke to very few transmascs and tried to fill the gap by assumptions that stem from the "opposite gender" crap.

"Transmasculine transition is respected in the society because cis people see becoming a man as stepping up" is one of the most hilarious and sad examples of that, but there's also "coming out as a trans man leads to less sexual objectification" and "trans men are simultaneously respected more because they're men and protected more because they're afab".

None of it is real. This is just a calculated inverse of what transfems go through. We should abandon this framework for the sake of something that's actually rooted in reality.

[acid-ixx]

i feel like reader from again&again would end up being hypersexual, idk if anyone has mentioned it before but they’d up having a lot of trust issues and attachments issues.

— masterlist !

tw: sexual themes and talks of sexual assaults.

i was contemplating whether i should make them hypersexual or not!!! i'm speaking from my own personal experience that it's a very complicated feeling to portray. chasing for that momentary high, doing anything you can just to feel pleasure because you were always stripped from attention that you find it in other ways, the absolute disgust that comes after, the regret, yet the constant cycle of returning to that habit even after you promised to stop from one round, doing it over and over again even if at most times it feels like you're losing your enjoyment and doing it all out of the need for fulfilment; i can do that, but that will be bordering on dub-con and darker themes if i were to write it, which i'm not sure if some readers of mine will like, especially since conner is the love interest—

but truthfully, i think it would do well for a hurt/comfort prompt after they get together. you know, trying to push yourself too hard by trying to pleasure kon despite your inexperience, fearing that he'll leave if you don't do what he wants. the panic, the hesitance on even feeling his body because, truly, you've never held someone with different intentions, never been touched so intimately by others before yourself. and that kind of turns into an addiction, a need to do whatever it takes to keep his eyes on you even if it destroys you inside out.

yet your boyfriend is receptive, he notices how your lingering touches can sometimes feel cold yet done so through necessity, how you chase after your peak even if it brings more pained tears than pleasurable moans. how you beg for more yet shamefully hide yourself from a mirror right after. his confrontation after just a week, his soft voice promising that there's no need to rush it all out, how he doesn't see you as an object but his equal, his power, his everything. how there's no price to pay to obtain his love, your body an altar than an offering, how his was always yours to begin with.

and with how the family will react to this? honestly, the first person who would break at the moment he hears this information is dick grayson.

most portray him as a playboy, a puppet for most to sexualize. he takes advantage of that, turns it into his weapon, but deep within, he has his fair share of trauma being assaulted by not just one, but two (or more, depending on the comics) women. and with just how silenced and invalidated men are too when it comes to their trauma, it wouldn't be a surprise that, well, dick would be incredibly heartbroken realizing how his baby bird, the very same child he swore to protect, trudges the same path as him, carries the same burden on their back while pretending like everything's okay.

it destroys him, inside-out, how he's the oldest, the one supposed to guide the people around him, the one who buries all the pent-up anger, the turmoil at carrying the burden of all the terrible things that happened to him, turning it into motivation— yet ultimately failing to guide his very own sibling.

the one he introduced to the manor, the one he came to call his baby bird on the very same day.

i think about that a lot, a moment where he'll suddenly barge into your room, whether it would be before you'd be before you'd be kidnapped or not, and just... hugging you, burying his head on your shoulders while his hands just encapsulate your entire body. you don't know how or why he found you, don't know why he's shivering, why he's muttering sorry's and unbidden promises, desperate callings to your name like he just can't believe you're still alive, your shoulders damp with tears and dick just refusing to let go of you. i think about it a lot, how in the case of sexual trauma, you'd be dick's ultimate failure, a person he failed to protect from the very same thing that destroyed him. and yet he couldn't even bond it over with you, because you're so... so guarded and so broken that even if you and dick now share just one similarity, you still refuse his comfort, his promises that never again will you handle it alone.

it's not impossible that the reader would be hypersexual whilst still sporting insecurities. i have my own bodily issues too that i'm coping with; i typically emulate that onto the reader. so if anything from above fascinates my readers, i'm willing to write it out for future chapters because i love tackling complex topics, it helps me make my brain bigger teehee.

[goldfades]

im afraid i need more mamas boy hayes

i kinda went off the prompt but there's a little mama's boy hayes somewhere in there LMAO. also this is when hayes is a little older (i'm thinking 7-8 years old)

You had always been skeptical about Hayes playing football.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in him—you did, wholeheartedly. He had Joe’s talent, his love for the game, his competitive edge. But he was still just a kid, and no matter how many times Joe assured you that injuries were just part of the sport, that he’d be fine, that he’d be careful—you never stopped worrying.

And today? Today proved why.

The game had been intense from the start—two undefeated teams, the stakes higher than ever. Hayes had been playing great, making sharp plays, throwing with precision, running the field like he was born for it.

But then it happened.

It was one play, one moment, one second that changed everything.

Hayes had the ball. He was running, weaving through defenders, moving with that same effortless agility that Joe had when he played. You could hear the crowd cheering, your heart pounding, your fingers clutching the fabric of your jeans as you sat on the edge of your seat.

And then—a collision.

Hard. Fast. Loud.

Your stomach plummeted as Hayes was taken down, his body crashing into the turf with a force that made your breath catch in your throat.

Then, silence.

Not from the crowd—the crowd was roaring. But from Hayes.

He wasn’t getting up.

Your heart stopped.

Joe was already on his feet beside you, his entire body tensed, his eyes locked on the field with the kind of fear you rarely ever saw in him.

"Come on, buddy," Joe muttered under his breath. "Get up. Get up."

But Hayes didn’t move.

And that’s when you felt it—pure, unfiltered panic.

You shot out of your seat so fast your legs nearly gave out beneath you, your hands gripping the railing in front of you. The medical staff was already running onto the field, coaches kneeling beside Hayes, and you swore your vision blurred as you tried to see if he was okay.

"He’s fine," Joe said beside you, but his voice was tight, like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince you. His hand gripped your arm, steadying you, but you could feel the tension radiating off him.

He was scared too.

Your breath felt shaky, your heart hammering in your chest. You weren’t even aware of the fact that you were gripping Joe’s sleeve until he pulled you closer, his other arm wrapping around you.

Joe didn’t even think.

One second, he was gripping the edge of his seat, heart hammering in his chest, and the next, he was on his feet, storming down the bleachers before anyone could stop him.

You barely had time to register what was happening before you were chasing after him, weaving through the crowd as he marched straight past security, past the coaches, past anyone who might have told him to stay put.

His only focus? Hayes.

And you could see it—the fear in him.

Joe was always calm, always composed, but this? This was different. He looked sick, his jaw clenched so tight it could’ve cracked, his fists balled at his sides.

By the time you caught up to him, he was already dropping to his knees beside Hayes, voice low and urgent.

"Hey, buddy. Hey, I’m right here." His hands hovered, unsure where to touch first. "Talk to me, okay?"

Hayes winced, shifting slightly as the trainer kept a firm grip on his shoulder.

"My arm hurts," he muttered, voice small.

Joe swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes darted from Hayes' face to the trainer, as if begging for an answer.

"He took a hard hit," the trainer said, voice calm but firm. "We’re checking for a dislocation or fracture, but nothing looks broken right now."

Joe nodded once, but his face was still pale.

And you? You couldn’t take it anymore.

You dropped down beside them, brushing Hayes’ hair back from his forehead, your hands shaking slightly.

"You scared us," you murmured.

Hayes’ lower lip jutted out, his little brow furrowing. "Sorry, Mom."

Joe exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand down his face. His other hand finally settled on Hayes' good shoulder, gripping gently, but firmly.

"We’re done for today," Joe said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"But—"

Joe cut him a look, and that was it. End of discussion.

"We’re getting you checked out," he continued. "I don’t care if it’s just a bruise, I want a full scan. No debates."

Hayes sighed but nodded, letting the trainers help him sit up fully.

And that’s when Joe finally looked at you.

Like really looked at you.

And you saw it then—the sheer panic he’d been trying to bury.

His blue eyes were still blown wide, his breathing still shallow. He looked like he wanted to throw up, or punch something, or both.

So you reached for him, squeezing his wrist, grounding him.

"He’s okay," you whispered.

Joe let out another sharp breath and nodded.

And then, without another word, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Hayes' hair, lingering for just a second longer than usual.

And you knew.

Knew that no matter how much Joe loved this sport, no matter how much he wanted Hayes to love it too—

This?

This right here?

Was his worst nightmare.

—

The room was too quiet.

The kind of quiet that felt wrong, like the air had been sucked out completely. The kind of quiet that made your chest tight, your throat dry.

Hayes sat on the exam table, his small fingers curled into fists at his sides. His football jersey was wrinkled, his cheeks still red from exertion, but his expression was eerily blank. Too blank.

You knew that look. He was trying to be tough.

Joe stood beside him, arms crossed tightly over his chest, jaw locked. His knee bounced—a dead giveaway of the nerves he wasn’t voicing.

And you? You were perched right next to Hayes, one hand settled on his knee, rubbing slow, absentminded circles. It was instinct, really—the need to comfort him, to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

The trainer took a deep breath before speaking, eyes flickering between all three of you like he was trying to soften the blow.

But nothing could soften it.

"It’s a fractured clavicle."

Joe exhaled sharply through his nose. You felt Hayes stiffen beneath your touch.

"How bad?" Joe’s voice was tight, his usual composure barely hanging on.

"It’s a clean break, but it’s still a fracture. That means no football for at least three to four months."

Silence.

You swore you could hear Joe’s teeth grinding.

Hayes swallowed, the first sign of movement from him in minutes.

The trainer continued carefully. "Realistically, he’s out for the season."

Joe’s breath came out in a low, sharp exhale. He dragged a hand down his face, eyes closing for a second like he needed to reset.

You watched Hayes closely, your heart aching.

He still wasn’t saying anything.

But you could see the way his bottom lip trembled, how his eyes flickered to the ground, how his little fists clenched even tighter in his lap.

He was trying so hard to be tough, to take it like a real football player, like his dad would.

But he wasn’t Joe. Not yet.

He was still your baby.

Joe must’ve realized it too, because instead of arguing or pressing for other options, he simply nodded. "Alright. We’ll do whatever he needs."

The trainer nodded back, relief flashing in his expression. "We’ll get him set up with a sling and schedule follow-ups. He’ll heal up, I promise."

Hayes only nodded, but the way his little jaw tensed, the way he refused to look up—it told you everything.

Your heart cracked right down the middle.

Joe knew it too.

Which is why, instead of speaking, he just placed a hand on Hayes’ shoulder—the good one.

But Hayes barely reacted.

That’s when Joe finally met your eyes.

And in that moment, you both knew.

Right now, Hayes didn’t need Joe.

He needed you.

So without hesitation, you scooted closer, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in without waiting for him to ask.

And the second he was against you, he broke.

His small fingers curled into your hoodie, his face burying itself in your chest as a small, shaky breath escaped him.

Joe exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he watched, but he didn’t seem upset. If anything, he looked… grateful.

Because he knew.

No matter how much Hayes wanted to be like his dad—right now, he just needed his mom.

The ride home was quiet.

Hayes barely touched his phone, which was rare. Usually, he was either texting his friends about the game or watching highlights, but tonight, his eyes stayed locked on the window, watching the city lights blur past. His good arm rested in his lap, and the sling they’d given him looked too big, too awkward on his small frame.

Joe kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror, his fingers flexing over the steering wheel like he wanted to say something—anything—but didn’t know where to start.

So you reached over, threading your fingers through his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

You’d handle this.

Once you got home, Hayes shuffled into the house without a word. He bypassed the living room, the TV, even the couch where he usually flopped down after a game.

Straight to his room.

Joe sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

"He’s shutting down," he muttered, more to himself than to you.

"He’s upset," you corrected gently. "Just… let me try."

Joe hesitated but nodded.

So you followed Hayes down the hall, knocking lightly before pushing his door open.

He was curled up on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the dim glow of his lamp casting soft shadows across the room. He didn’t look at you when you walked in, but his brows furrowed when you sat on the edge of the bed.

"You need to eat," you said softly.

"Not hungry."

You sighed, shifting closer until you could run your fingers through his hair, something you’d been doing since he was little.

"You know I’m not letting you go to sleep without eating something," you murmured.

Hayes let out a small, defeated sigh. "Fine."

"Good choice," you teased, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead before heading toward the kitchen.

You made him a plate—nothing too heavy, just something simple—and brought it back to his room. He sat up enough to take it, murmuring a quiet, "Thanks, Mom," before picking at the food.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

When you stepped back into the kitchen, Joe was gone.

You frowned, checking the living room, then the backyard.

Nothing.

Then your phone buzzed.

Be back soon.

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched in amusement.

Joe had his own way of handling things.

—

Exactly 45 minutes later, the front door creaked open, followed by the sound of a paper bag crinkling.

You turned from where you sat on the couch, raising an eyebrow as Joe walked in with two large bags from a familiar ice cream shop—the one that was nearly an hour away.

"You’re insane," you said, crossing your arms as he set the bags down on the counter.

He just grinned, pulling out the pints one by one. "Tell me I’m wrong, though."

You sighed, shaking your head because—damn him—he wasn’t wrong.

You grabbed two spoons and followed him down the hall.

Hayes was still awake, lying on his side and scrolling through his phone.

"Hey, bud," Joe said, stepping inside. "Got you something."

Hayes barely glanced up—until Joe held up the ice cream.

The familiar packaging caught his attention instantly. His brows lifted in surprise, and for the first time all night, his expression softened.

"You drove all the way there?" he asked, his voice still a little hoarse from earlier.

Joe just shrugged like it was no big deal. "Figured it was a special occasion."

Hayes scoffed. "Getting hurt is a special occasion?"

"You being sad is," Joe said simply, handing him a spoon.

Hayes hesitated, then took it.

And just like that, the tension eased.

You settled in next to him, Joe took the chair beside the bed, and for the first time all night, Hayes actually smiled.

It wasn’t much.

But it was something.

[ziipzeepzop-eez]

Ooooo, juicy.

1. What are 4 tabs that you have open on your browser right now?

A c.ai chatroom [¬‿¬], the definition of self-actualization, this specific Tumblr page, and emojicombos.com.

2. Have you ever thought about seriously harming someone?

Yes. What's worse, they're all my blood-related family.

3. How are you feeling emotionally right now?

Excited! Mostly due to the Monster Energy I'm sipping on AAAAND the Swedish fish I'm munching =') I'm a sugar fiend, I know.

4. What type of place(Like building) are you in right now?       

My home sweet home, a cute little bungalow. 😌

5. Does anyone know your deepest, darkest secret?

God.

6. Have you ever tried to feign mental illness for personal gain?

Nah, they're too real for me to fake. (╥﹏╥)

7. Do you have any enemies?

The devil himself.

8. Do you have any people you only pretend to like?

I used to! But recently, I've been working really hard at being more upfront about my boundaries and cutting toxicity out of my life. & I don't know many people in the first place soooo . . . 🤷🏾‍♀🥲

9. What is one item that you never let anyone besides yourself look at or in?

My diaries and eyeglasses! (No temporary blindness on my watch!!)

10. Do you have any talents that people say you have but you don’t believe you actually have?

Being very scary/intimidating and therefore influential, personality wise. Is that even a talent? >< sjhdhd. I always thought people only listen because I'm tall. ☠

11. Something you like that other people generally do not like?

Food combos that could classify as pregnancy cravings but I eat them regularly.

12. Are you a Virgin?  

Yes!

13. Is there anyone that your grandma would hate that you are subscribed to on youtube?

I actually used to watch my YouTube channel with my grandma allll the time! She was bed bound so to entertain her if I was busy, I'd just put it on the TV & when I wasn't, we both watched together!! ^^ If I had to say tho, maybe DashieGames ☠ I love him but she'd probably hark on mountless scoldings and harrumphs due to his loud nature and all the swearing lmaoooo.

14. Introvert or extrovert?

Introvert unless I'm feeling energetic! ^^

15. What is the most used application on your device?

Instagram, I think!

16. How much fan fiction have you actually read?

Too much to count. 🫡 Been a player in the game since circa 2012 (I think).

17. Worst Fears?

Not healing in the way I actively am and retaining too much of my people-pleasing tendencies, not making it into Heaven, losing myself, getting hunted/mauled by a wild animal, and sewer rats.

18. Biggest mistake you’ve ever made?

Living Staying silent when I should have spoken. This applies ever since childhood! We're getting better, tho <3

19. Worst lie you’ve ever told?

Uhhh.. that is between me and the Lord! Only He could heal and forgive me for them too 😭☝🏼. But it had to do during a very dark time in my life, not very cash money at all. I said I was fine and I was very, very much not. We good now tho fam. 🫡 Trust.

20. Do you consider yourself a trustworthy person?

I try to be. But so far, yes. ( ◜‿◝ )♡

“I have nothing to hide” Asks

(For those daring enough to reblog)

1. What are 4 tabs that you have open on your browser right now?

2. Have you ever thought about seriously harming someone?

3. How are you feeling emotionally right now?   

4. What type of place(Like building) are you in right now?       

5. Does anyone know your deepest, darkest secret?

6. Have you ever tried to feign mental illness for personal gain?

7. Do you have any enemies?

8. Do you have any people you only pretend to like?

9. What is one item that you never let anyone besides yourself look at or in?

10. Do you have any talents that people say you have but you don’t believe you actually have?

11. Something you like that other people generally do not like?

12. Are you a Virgin?  

13. Is there anyone that your grandma would hate that you are subscribed to on youtube?

14. Introvert or extrovert?

15. What is the most used application on your device?

16. How much fan fiction have you actually read?

17. Worst Fears?

18. Biggest mistake you’ve ever made?

19. Worst lie you’ve ever told?

20. Do you consider yourself a trustworthy person?

[maxwellatoms]

Do you think were any kind of specific aspects of the culture, industry, economy, etc that made making cartoons in 90s / 2000s better or worse than trying to make them today?

They're literally different worlds.

As a 22 year old neurodivergent, I was able to pitch show ideas directly to executives. Part of that was because TV Animation wasn't a glamorous profession (quite yet), so the higher-ups were genuinely passionate about the medium. I earned good money for the time and was generally trusted to run my show and tend to the crew. I would periodically be handed portfolios, which I would personally review and pass on to other show runners. For the networks it was always corporate, cutthroat, and ultimately about the money, but as an artist you could still have a voice and make art while being paid a living wage.

The pay for a freelance storyboard in 2005 is almost exactly what it is today, but now you're likely to have less time and be required to do an animatic on top of it. Portfolios are online, and (beyond metrics) you'll probably never know if anyone looks at it or not.

Animation got big. Too big. The executives got "glamorous", then the talent got "glamorous". By then you probably wouldn't get a pitch meeting unless you were a celebrity or knew one willing to be connected to your project. Animation eventually got so big that it popped. And that's where we are now.

Most of the people I know from Kid's TV Animation are currently unemployed. I have been off Jellystone for over a year, and I'm starting to get genuinely worried. Like, "move away to save money" worried. Most of the employed artists I do know are on long-running legacy series, and they're concerned about their futures when/if those series end. Right now is not a fantastic time for "animation as a money-making profession". The "glamorous" part popped years ago.

That being said, there are still opportunities out there. If you're just starting out, apparently there's a planned surge in adult and pre-school animation. It's also a great time (as long as YouTube remains sane) to be crafting your own content. But I think that the time of Big Studio Patronage is over for most of the industry. It's up to the individual artist now more than ever, not only to make but to promote their own content.

Back at the height of Billy & Mandy, we mostly pulled fours and fives in the Neilsen ratings, but we occasionally got a seven. For reference, E.R. consistently got eights. It's difficult to say exactly how many people that actually was due to how those ratings work, but it was a big deal for the time. Millions. Enough people that if I had a dollar for each person that just watched that one episode, I would have been set for life. Now, nobody gets a seven. A four is huge. Back then there were maybe fifteen or twenty channels of programmed content as opposed to the streaming smorgasbord we were all just enjoying (and which now also seems to have popped). Point being, even though I wasn't paid-per-view, I was able to use those views as justification for an eventual raise. In modern times, streaming numbers are seemingly deliberately kept secret. You'll never really know how well your show was doing until it's over. Or maybe never.

In modern times, a million views on YouTube is enough to get you noticed online. It's a lower bar for entry in a way, but you've got to get there all by yourself. Once you're there (hello Hazbin) a network may indeed come and scoop you up. Even if they don't, you can probably make a decent living with numbers like that if you're savvy and willing to take the time.

I feel like I could go on all day, shaking my fist at the sky, gray-ass beard blowing in the wind. Was it better or easier making cartoons in the past? It seemed that way to me, but that was a world I knew. There was no AI to sell you out to, and the media was more of a "Wild West" than it is today. I do think that AI is going to continue to displace artists (and soon others), making it even more difficult to get anyone's eyes on anything at all.

Culturally, we lack the common cultural touchpoints that bonded our society in the 20th Century. I suspect that the media landscape will continue to become more "bubbly" and disjointed unless some powerful force swoops in to mandate a common viewpoint. Those are two very divergent, uniquely tiring futures, each presenting a different challenge for an artist's survival.

Outside of whatever our modern world is, animation was made for a century by photographing drawings. If Émile Cohl could do it in 1908, you can do it now. It's a lot of labor, but maybe that's part of what makes it special.

[yanderedrabbles]

Letter from your Yandere Valentine

You. You. It's always been you. Tempting, treacherous you.

God, I hated you at first. Always so pretty, so put together, so fucking alive. You had it all - the friends, the good grades, the effortless charm.

Every damn day I would spend hours imagining what it would be like to have just one day in your body. Just one day where I could be... perfect. Or as close to it as one person can get. You don't get it. You've never had to long for something as much as I have. Never had to be the loser, the kid at the back of class, the one person without a Valentine's card in their locker.

I know you had your own problems too. But it's total bull to say all problems are created equal. What did you have to worry about? Denting daddy's Mercedes?

I hated you. But... I wanted you. I still want you.

We ended up at the same college. I don't think you know that. Thousands of undergrads, why would you notice me? Even if we did go to high-school and elementary together, I was probably just a face in the back of your mind. As unnoticeable and unimportant as any background character.

I thought college would dim your sparkle somehow. Maybe you'd be one of those people who peakin high school and then it's all down hill from there. Chain smoking and cheap liquor and payday loans. I wanted that, honestly. To see you ripped down.

But no. You thrived. Had the picture perfect college experience. When I was stuck working two jobs to cover my tuition, you were studying in some fancy café and going out every weekend. When I was so haggard with stress that I could barely see straight, you were at pilates or out hiking or lounging in a sauna.

How is that fair? Hmm? I put in the work until my hands were fucking raw and all I got for it was minimum wage and leftovers.

And don't get me started on Valentine's. Fucking Valentine's. I'm almost glad they beheaded the guy way back when. I'd do the exact same thing if I could.

Every Valentine's day, you'd have a date. Rarely ever the same person, but somehow all of them had a propensity for huge gestures. Do you remember the one guy who hired a whole horse and carriage for you? Or the girl who took you on a late season ski trip?

Do you want to know what I got for Valentine's? Cafeteria mashed potatoes and mandatory overtime. Romantic, right? I'm swooning at the memory.

I tried to work on myself. Tried to overcome the differences in our birth and get on your level. What an education in disappointment that was. Turns out it's pretty fucking hard to spend two hours at the gym and three in the sauna when you're scheduled to work fifty hours a week and still attend lectures.

You graduated with honours. With a dozen glittering trophies for volunteering and leadership and student organising. You couldn't even hold them all.

I think that was the day I hated you the most. I couldn't stop thinking that should be me.

I thought I was rid of you after that. Thought I could finally go about my life without constantly comparing myself to an impossible ideal. Ha! As if I'd get so lucky.

I saw you again on at the start of February. Newest hire at the office, bright eyed and busy tailed despite the miserable fucking weather.

What are the chances of that? We're both working at the same company, in the same department.

I expected to hate you all over again. But then you introduced yourself to me. Actually shook my hand.

And oh, how I understand those idiots and their grand gestures. Their desperate need to please you.

All my life I've watched you from afar. Seen other people dazzled by you and never fully understood why. Always wondered why I seemed to be the only person bitter and jealous towards you.

I get it now.

You sparkle. You look in my eyes and I feel like I'm part of your world, like I belong in your fancy country club and at your VIP table. When you look at me, I don't feel insignificant anymore.

How do you expect me to let that go? I've spent decades watching from the sidelines and now I finally get a taste. How am I supposed to be normal about it?

I can't let you go. I don't care what it takes, I'm going to be part of your life.

It was always supposed to be me. Not your parade of dates, not your one night stands, none of them. It was always supposed to be me.

Why else would our lives run parallel? Why else can I always find you in a crowded room?

You're meant to be mine. I'm meant to be yours. I don't care what I have to do to make it happen.

Your Valentine,

X.

[thatguyjam]

Divers + Wags with Male!Tattoo Artist!Reader

Headcannons

Tattoo artists tend to have a lot of tattoos, so these headcannons operate on that assumption

A/N: Guys I haven't written about Lily Zneimer in a week. I'm in heavy withdrawal.

Oscar + Lily

Oscar isn't very vocal about his love of your tattoos, but rest assured, he never stops thinking about them

Lily also isn't very vocal about your tattoos, but she's always looking at them

When it's just the three of you, they'll both be more vocal about it

They'll pin you down on the bed and just ooh and awe about them as if you aren't even there

Lily is open of get some small tattoos, as long as you are the one who does them

Oscar keeps changing his mind on what he wants

One day he wants a sleeve, another he just wants matching couple tattoos, and another day he wants a tattoo like Fernando's samurai back tattoo

Max + Kelly

Probably ended up accidentally encouraging a drunk max to get tattoos

You never tattoo him while he's drunk, but he ends up with a steadfast determination to get you to tattoo him when he's sober

Kelly can't because of her job, but she'll brainstorm with Max for fun ideas that he won't regret

He ends up getting the Barcelona and Zandvoort tracks, along with a small star for each of his championships

He doesn't tell anyone about these besides you and Kelly, but whenever he thinks of them he smiles

If your tattoos aren't colored, Penelope will color them in with washable markers whenever you are over

Especially when she was younger, but she still does it

Kelly ends up managing to get small tattoos on her hip for you, P, Max, and their new baby

Charles + Alex

Charles finds your tattoos very hot

Alex likes them, but Charles drools over them

When they first saw you, your tattoos were definitely one of the main reasons you caught their eye

When they were flirting with you, they got small couples tattoos to spend more time with you

When you joined their relationship, you got another matching one

Like Alex = moon, Charles = sun, you = stars

Every time you get new tattoos done, they make sure you take perfect care of them

Even though you're literally an expert, they just enjoy pampering you with skin care

And maybe keeping you shirtless whenever you get back/chest tattoos

Alex + Lily

They, unlike Oscar and Lily, are very Vocal about their love of your tattoos

They first say you at one of Lily's golf tournaments, and seeing your tattooed arms in a polo shirt made them instantly fall head over heels

Witnessing them attempt to flirt with who they perceived to be the hottest man they had ever seen in their lives was truly a treat

You had also fallen for their antics instantly, but hadn't given in so soon, just so they would keep being so cute and flirting

After just five dates they instantly demanded that you tattoo them

They got matching tattoos with each other first, Lily and F1 car, and Alex a golf club, but they got you to tattoo something relevant to you onto them as well soon enough, and you ended up with a golf club and F1 car yourself

Valtteri + Tiffany

Valtteri always tries to goad you into taking more clothes off by saying he wants to look at your tattoos

You did his What's Next tattoo

You and Tiffany have matching ones

Valtteri loves tracing your tattoos with his fingers when he's half asleep

He claims it helps him sleep

You're pretty sure he's just obsessed with you

Tiffany calls you rabbits but you catch her staring at your tattoos just as much at Valtteri traces them

Valtteri is extremely tempted to just get full sleeves of tattoos, says it would match his brand, but has to wait to retire for that many tattoos

He is now pretty exited for retirement

Or at least the next winter break

Taglist: (comment or DM to be added)

@koalapastries @justaf1girl

[stormclouds-chainmail]

[ID: an anonymous 4chan post by Anonymous titled Shrimp saved my life on 09/12/18(Wed) 18:48:30 No.2813016

>be depressed, suicidal xanax-addicted incel

>one day I go to my /aq/fag uncle's house for some shit

>he has pet shrimp, never seen anything like it before

>he offers to get me some

>throw them in a barely cycled tank with some shitty rock

>several shrimp die

>realize that I killed them with my apathy

>realize I need to take responsibility for once in my life

>do research, learn about water parameters and so on

>eventually I have a beautiful planted tank with no more deaths

>notice a female shrimp carrying eggs

>haven't felt this excited about anything in almost a decade

>the eggs disappear and I once again think I fucked up

>a few days later I see a tiny transparent baby shrimp

>I suddenly know how the shepherds felt as they gazed upon the newborn Christ

>by this point I live and breathe shrimp

>all my spare time is spent on shrimp research and watching shrimp videos

>I spend most of the money I had saved from my last job on shrimp products

>quit the Xanax to support shrimp spending

>start putting effort into college in hope of getting a good job for my shrimp

>grades improve, no longer facing the prospect of dropping out

>relationship with parents improves since I am finally passionate about something and applying myself

>I see genuine happiness in their eyes when I talk excitedly about my shrimp

>for my birthday my mom makes me a shrimp cake

>it even has fondant legs and little chocolate eggs

>cry like a little bitch when I see it

>mom hugs me and tells me she's always been proud of me

>college dorm neighbours demand to see my shrimp

>shit they're gonna think I'm autistic

>they actually think my shrimp are really cool

>they start inviting me to their social events

>start interacting with girls, get told by girls for the first time in my life that I'm fun and smart

>I think my shrimp would be proud of me if they knew

We're gonna make it bros. Even if you can't do it for yourself, do it for the animals that depend on you.

End ID]

does anyone have that 4chan post about the guy who got like. deradicalised from being an incel because he started taking care of shrimp?

[unacknowledgeable]

I absolutely adore your rise TMNT with yan batfam short clips. Like the whole why pick them over us becomes 10x worse like. Reader is living in the sewers most of the times and basically decided that the turtles were their brothers and not batfam. They rather live in the sewers with a rat as a substitute dad and they prefer it. I can imagine how much of a blow that would be to them! Also the family knows nothing about them till bam here they show up with a different hero/vigilante group. Want to throw my two cents in that the reader likes to use war pain/ let's Micky pain on a mask that helps them blend in with the crew ( also I can imagine they don't like wearing the color black).

Oh yeah the Bat family is coping sooo hard.

 After they, quite rudely, take you back to Gotham they are gonna be on. Your. Ass. About how  “better this is” and “ isn’t this so much nicer then some nasty sewer” but you quite literally are having none of it

Every snide comment about how it’s “so much more open and spacious right?” is met with “I literally had a skate ramp outside my room Tim, fuck off” or “at least i was allowed to leave the sewer whenever i wanted, unlike here”

Like, 80% of the Bat family isn't blood related and even LESS than that have actually been formally adopted, so they can't even try to pull the “but we’re your REAL family” card with you, though Damian will still absolutely try. Of course, you always remind him that he literally stabbed you in the leg when you two first met. Yes you're still pissed about it, HE STABBED YOU! IN THE LEG!!

Jason’s bear hugs? Weak sauce compared to Raphs. Do you even lift bro? Also, don't you like, kill people? Tf are you doing here? Also aren’t you DEAD?!

Dicks puns and jokes? Yeah no, Leo’s funnier, also he’s not a cop, so.

Tim tries to wow you with some techie nonsense? Donnie learned that when he was 7, it’s not that impressive. “Also your formula is all wrong, get your shit together man, aren’t you supposed to be smart?” It wasn’t wrong, but watching him panic for the next half hour was priceless.

 You strictly call Cass by her last name because you already know Casey and Casey Jr. So yeah she’s been demoted to Cain. You'd have been nicer about it but then again she was complicit in your kidnapping soooo, no.

Bruce tries to scold you for being mean? Gee that's big talk coming from a guy who didn’t even know my birthday until about a week ago, you know who didn’t forget my birthday? My rat dad. Bitch.

Not to mention, you won't even talk to Alfred because you know he was the one who sold out where your apartment was. You're fucking pissed that he chose the rest of the family over you. Again.

Despite not particularly liking the color, you exclusively wear black arm and leg wraps to match with your brothers. Otherwise, it is nowhere to be found in any other article of clothing you own. Only the brightest of highlighter colors for you, thanks.

As for a mask, I'm thinking Winter Soldier vibes lol. You have a few of them at your disposal, with varying designs from both Mikey and yourself. Angelo will also doodle on your shield a lot, it’s basically his noncommittal doodle board. You have a full photo album dedicated to your favorites.

The Batfam also tries to gaslight you soooo much too, like, “if they really cared about you then where are they, it’s been weeks now and they haven’t even made an effort to look for you, doesn’t seem like they actually care all that much. But don't worry, we’ll always be here for you!”

“One, don’t you dare take that tone while talking about my family again, and two yeah my brothers are a little dumb but they're MY LITTLE brothers so they get to be. I know for a fact that once they realize I'm actually missing they will rip this place apart and I, for one, cannot wait to watch it happen”

The bats will totally think your bluffing, that is until a fucking sword slices through the literal fabric of reality and you fall backwards through a glowing blue portal before they can even sit down for dinner. They really have to reevaluate what they’re up against after that.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Something About Curly Hair and Any Character You Have in Mind

I've always had a fantasy of someone playing with my curls. Delicately pulling on them, like a kid pulling on a string. Playfully and adoringly watching the curl bounce back. Maybe the person could even praise it, saying it's cute, or beautiful, or mesmerising. Especially if they don't have curly hair.

A few minutes ago, my girl friend did it to me, exactly how I've always dreamed, even if inside I wanted to pull away, afraid that she would mess it up, I didn't, and she didn't, and even if she did, I wouldn't care, because I'm starved. So here's this little scenario that I finally felt courage and inspiration to write.

This was written based on my own experience having 123B hair, that has some volume on it (how do you even measure that??), with definition, so you must imagine it was very indulgent.

Also works for Readers of any race!!!! I just specify they have natural curls, didn't even mention the colour.

Gn!Reader and Gn!Character so you reaaaally can imagine whoever you want. But the character probably doesn't have curly hair, and learns to do different hairstyles on you (it's different doing it on yourself and then doing on other people, so you still can imagine any gender or appearance on them). Sex is mentioned. I'm tagging this with the first characters that come to my mind while writing this, just to make it easier.

Might edit this later because it's currently 3am and I'm sleepy as fuck

Divider

They love you. That means they love everything about you. And they love your hair.

They think the volume is sexy. Think clouds can't be softer. Think the way the light reflects on it is ethereal. Think the curls smells heavenly. Think the shape is unmatched.

When you move your hair, it's like being a kid and having a first crush again. Especially if the action causes the delicate smell of it travel through the air faster than they can blink, and they're swallowed in a fog of you.

When you sleep in the same bed together for the first time, and every other time after, they like to wake up before you. Just to admire your peacefull beauty for a while. Like the rest of the world doesn't exist. That's the best way to start a day.

Sometimes, boredom doesn't get to them because tracing curl patterns in your hair with their eyes is entertainment for a lifetime. Never before have they noticed that someone can have more than one curl texture, and how unique and perfect that mixture can look.

There's moments where they get distracted by you. You, taking their attention from something supposedly more important at that moment. Either you smell too nice, or look too good, or shine too bright. And they just can't seem to find anything more interesting than looking at you and your hair.

The first time they touched it, they were surprised by how soft it was, like cotton. Almost weightless, despite it's volume and length. Other people's hair surely doesn't feel like this. They spend so much time touching it the first time, that you have to ask them to stop, or you wouldn't have a nice hair day the next day. They looked like a kicked puppy, so you taught them to gently scrunch from the bottom.

They think bonnets are funny at first, but not in a bad way. They're not laughing at you. Mostly giggling, actually. They understand you may have needed some courage to look like this with them around. And it's like a tiny, almost nonexistent, relationship goal. To be intimate enough to feel confortable wearing a bonnet in front of your partner. And they love that you have no problem doing it.

They even buy silk sheets and pillows if it might help you. It might be morte confortable and not mess with your hair. And they understands sex while having curly hair might be frustrating at times.

Speaking of, they won't pull or mess with it unless you ask for it. They took very seriously your lesson from the first time. And if you have some instructions to give them on how to do it while causing less damage, then you certainly will lift a weight off some shoulders.

Oh, and the difference of how it looks when it's wet and then dry? They can't believe their eyes for a moment. Logic seems to escape. It feels impossible. But it isn't. And they're amazed. Almost jealous for not being as gorgeous as you. They understand why someone would be jealous of you.

Actually, they partially think others should be. If someone dares to utter you are less than stunning, then oh boy. God help them.

Any styling is great. And they're so in love with you, so focused on you, eyes solely on you, that they think no hairstyle looks as good on other people, as they look on you. Even if you hate it, he thinks it looks way better than it would have on anyone else.

Also, they learn some things. They learns to curl with their fingers, how to put on clips, how to do some braids, or buns, or pigtains, or anything you wear often. Even something you never did, but they think will make you ethereal, they will do it on you. They might not even teach you, just so you'll need them for something.

They feel part of their heart breaking if you straighten it. Sure it looks good. If it makes you happy, than they're happy. But it's far from a favorite look on you. It's not the natural you. And they love you. They might love a modified version of you, but only because they love you. Just the way you are.

And if you ever feel insecure, I assure you, they're gonna fix you right up.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[vvkyomi]

(1) dating itoshi sae

i. acts cold, but he's so whipped

sae isn't the type to shower you with compliments, but he shows his love in subtle actions

remembers everything—your favorite drink, the way you like your ramen, even the fact that you always lose your socks

if you get cold, he'll throw his jacket at you without a word. if you try to thank him, he just shrugs. "don't be dumb. you'll get sick."

if you tell him you love him, his response is always a quiet “i know”. but on rare occasions, when he's really soft, he'll murmur back, “love you too.”

ii. he's not big on PDA—except when he's jealous

sea doesn't like public affection—no hand-holding, no kissing in front of others. but the second someone flirts with you?

he'll casually wrap an arm around your waist, and say in his usual deadpan voice, “they're taken. try harder next time.”

if someone really doesn't get the hint, he'll stare them down until they leave

iii. he shows love through small gestures

sends you texts like “eat.” or “don't stay up too late.” instead of actual sweet messages

if you complain, he'll roll his eyes but later send something like “i guess i don't want you collapsing or something.” (his version of: i care about you)

if he sees you're stressed, he'll silently hand you your favorite snack. he won't say anything, just sit beside you until you feel better

iv. he's secretly super soft when it's just you two

when it's just the two of you, his walls come down

will lay his head in your lap after a long day of training and let you play with his hair

if you initiate a hug, he'l grumble at first but will always hold onto you for longer than necessary

the kind of boyfriend who will pull you closer in his sleep but deny it in the morning

v. he's blunt, but he never lies to you

sae doesn't sugarcoat things. if you ask for his opinion, expect brutal honesty.

“that outfit is terrible. i'm not letting you go out like that.”

but if you look good? he won't say it directly, just smirks and stares a little too long before muttering, “hurry up before i change my mind and keep you here.”

vi. he'll always put soccer first, but you're a close second

soccer is his life, and he won't pretend otherwise

if he's away for games, he won't text much, but when he does it's always something unexpectedly sweet

“scored a goal today. thought you'd want to know” (which is basically his way of saying i was thinking about you)

if you ever doubt your relationship, he'll just look at you and say, “i chose to be with you. that should be enough.”

vii. he's unintentionally romantic

would never plan extravagant dates, but somehow, the small things he does feel more intimate

if you fall asleep on the couch, he'll carry you to bed without waking you up

when he's overseas, he always brings you something back—even if it's just a keychain or a snack from another country

“it looked stupid, so i got it for you” (translation: i saw this and thought of you)

viii. he'll never say it, but he needs you

sae is used to being alone, but with you, it's different

he won't ask for affection, but if you pull him into a hug, he'll sigh and melt into it—like he's been waiting for it all day

you're the only person he lets see his vulnerable side

[fertile-void]

doing them all again.

1. Favourite song of all time - currently - somehow the wonder of life prevails by Mark kozelek

2. Go-to karaoke song - I don't really sing karaoke but it would be soak up the sun or welcome to the black parade depending

3. Tattoo you'd get of lyrics - My first tattoo was "second is the rest" from smog's "drinking at the dam." I also have a stick and poke of "ys" on my ankle.

4. Music tattoo that isn't lyrics - Nothing comes to mind that'd be important enough to tattoo.

5. Song that makes you cry - The instrumental swells in first weeks - gem club

6. Song you love you hate to admit - I don't hate to admit liking anything. There are artists who I don't exile from my mind because of shitty things they've done in their personal life, because I don't believe in that, so I would not love talking about that with dogmatic people, but personally I don't hate to admit liking anything.

7. What song makes you think of your parents - mom would be lady of shalot by loreena mckennitt, dad would be nothin' by Townes van zandt, anything by Paul desmond or cactus by ferron. stepdad would be don't stop believing by journey

8. Best song to play at sexy times - Jupiter 8 by Sharon van etten

9. Top 3 bands or artists - 1. Bill Callahan 2. Joanna Newsom 3. Dory Previn or Sun Kil Moon

10. What band were you obsessed with as a child - I really liked Queen. Yeah they're still great.

11. Best live show you've been to - Colin Stetson

12. Band you've never seen you're dying to see - Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

13. Album you'd frame and put in your house - my own. Recorded the Celtic originals I wrote with my bandmate between 2017 and 2020, and it is taking forever to mix and get set up because she had kids, I had deaths, life got insane etc and it's not our main gig, but it will happen eventually and that's the beauty of it being a side passion for both of us. And when it does, I will hang it up :)

14. Music related home decorations - Ross and I were in alela Diane's "of love" music video and we were on the ad, so I printed that and it's in our music corner. We also have an original portrait of us painted by Mickey Avalon in our bedroom.

15. Song you're obsessed with at the moment - love takes miles by Cameron Winter

16. Song ruined by an ex - none. My only serious ex is still a really good friend of mine, and "situationships" that were even deeply unhealthy have kind of just faded from my being, I don't hold onto resentments. So I can still listen to songs that once made me spiky and sad. Love is all by tallest man on earth would have applied about 11 years ago though.

17. Song to listen to go pump you up to do something difficult - Caravan by Joe Stilgoe from Whiplash lmao. "Get over yourself stop bitching and just do it" motivation really works on me.

18. Song you can't help dancing to - curtains?! by Timber Timbre

19. Greatest love song of all time - I can only answer this subjectively like anything but my faves would be thunderbolt's goodnight or change of time by Josh Ritter, or what comes after certainty by bill callahan

20. Band tshirts - I don't think I have any anymore tbh. Merch at shows are too gd expensive

21. Best album of all time - my favourite is Benji by sun kil moon. I think it's a one of a kind masterpiece with nothing remotely like it.

22. Band with the most interesting story - idk, Charlie Manson

23. Do you create your own playlists? How many? - yes, and a lot. I only listen to my "found post 2025" and my wedding playlist that I add relevant love songs to currently though. I'm at a point lately where the entire past needs to be compartmentalized honestly. Thinking about any part of the past other than my love with Ross is too painful, there's just been too much loss over the last 2 years.

24. How many hours a day spent listening to music - idk. Not too much. When I drive and cook mostly.

25. Any activity you can't do without music? - no. I value silence a lot.

26. What song do you always associate with a movie or TV show - obviously many, but Springsteen's I'm on fire has a way of making it into really good evocative scenes consistently

27. Which artists wardrobe would you steal - Anais Mitchell always has great clothes that look comfy and casual still

28. Most underrated band or artist - idk. There are so many.

29. Most overrated artist - not to be that person, but Taylor Swift. milquetoast songs af. She's skilled at marketing and doing mediocre and bland impressions of what will sell at any given moment in time though.

30. Do you sing along in the car/shower/other places? - yes, I like singing

🎵🎸🎹 music ask game 🎵🎸🎹

what is your favourite song of all time?

what is your go-to karaoke song?

if you were to get lyrics tattooed on you, which would they be? (or tell about what you already have!)

if you were to get a non-lyrics music tattoo, what would it be? (or tell about one you already have!)

is there a song that always makes you cry, no matter what? what is it?

is there/what is a song that you secretly love but you hate to admit it?

is there/what is a song that always makes you think of your parents?

what do you think is the best song to play during sexy times?

who are your top three all time favourite bands or artists?

what band were you obsessed with as a child? do you still like them?

what is the best live music show you've ever been to?

who is a band or artist that you've never seen that you're dying to see?

what's an album cover that you would frame and put up in your house?

do you have any music related home decorations?

what is a song you are obsessed with at the moment?

is there/what is a song that has been ruined for you by an ex or a former crush/situationship/relationship?

what song do you listen to if you need to pump yourself up to do something difficult?

what's a song that you absolutely cannot help dancing to?

what do you think is the greatest love song of all time?

do you have any band t-shirts or other clothing items and what are they??

what is the best album of all time?

what band do you think has the best or most interesting story? (toxic breakup, bandmates in love, etc)

Do you create your own playlists? If so, how many do you have?

How many hours a day would you say you spend listening to music?

Is there any activity (walking, housework, studying, etc) that you cannot do without music?

Is there/what is a song that you always associate with a movie or tv show?

which musical artist's wardrobe would you like to steal for your own?

Most underrated band or artist?

Most overrated band or artist?

Do you sing along to songs in the car? In the shower? other places?